Leap Day blues...

It's Leap Day and I think I might be baby blues-ing.

This morning, I sent (a version of) this e-mail to a friend, and it was good to get it out..:

I have a cold. It's kicking my butt, so in addition to being sleep deprived and still sore, there's that to contend with.

Clair is a lovely baby but not inclined to sleep alone at night. This is problematic as we are not the co-sleeping family, which you know. But I do like having her near. She's such a sweetie!!

The boys are ignoring her for the most part although Cary did say last night, as we were going up to bathtime, "Baby Cware comin too." I thought that was so cute! Dean had been handling her arrival just fine but this weekend he started being a real BEAR about every damn thing -- and I have no idea what to do about it. I feel like I'm constantly putting him in timeout, or speaking sharply to him or giving him the stern eyes or being generally disapproving because he has seriously gone nuts, girl! I don't know if this is just prepping for the terrible 2 year old madness, or if it's Clair-related or both.
But it is not fun.

Lester and I are stressed and tired and at each other's throats. We had newborn/family photos taken yesterday and they were fairly ruined by the fact that we'd been arguing for an hour before the photographer got here, and I'd been crying and I'm sick and he threatened not to be in the pics and by the time she got here I was exhausted and sad and less than enthusiastic about doing anything but going back to bed. Which I did. And I felt better after my nap. And he has since apologized. But I am nursing residuals. And we're just not clicking really. So even our non-argumentative moments seem tense to me. Or maybe distant.

My breasts don't work. I'm giving up the nursing and it's not really something I want to talk about much more beyond that because it makes me cry.

Did I mention I am a huge hormonal mess? I cry a lot (about things both happy and sad) and I know this is normal, but it is hard for Lester, I think. There's a lot of pressure on him. He's doing just about everything alone and his wife is weepy half the day. So if only for that reason, I'll be glad when things inside my body have balanced out.

I know this sounds quite gloomy, but I honestly am in love with my daughter and I have the sense enough to know that "this too shall pass." So I'm just trying to get through these first few very difficult months with as little collateral damage as possible. Ice cream is helping!! :-)

OK. I need to go scrounge around for breakfast. Lester usually brings me some in bed (that is something really sweet he's done) but today he had to run to the bank b/c the cleaning lady is here and we totally forgot she was coming, so we have no cash to pay her. So I guess he forgot about breakfast, today. It's OK. I don't blame him (at least for this). He really has been doing so much!! I suppose I need to remember my goal to be a more grateful person, yes?

As this was a note meant just for my friend, I had no problem with being perfectly open and honest with her. But putting it out here on the blog makes me feel vulnerable and whiny and a little bit crazy. I considered notposting it. But it is me at my most honest, and that is what this blog is supposed to be, right? Also, the more I re-read it, the more I think I may actually have a little case of the baby blues, exacerbated by a stupid head cold, and post-surgery soreness and sleepiness and a microscopic longing for things the way they used to be (simply because I was used to them that way.)

And baby blues is to be expected right?

So, putting it out there, I am! And I hope if anyone reads this, now or later, and is helped by me admitting very personal, vulnerable things, that I'll have done some good. It at least helped *me* to write it all down. What's the word? Cathartic, I think. Yes.

Meanwhile -- PHOTOS!!

This is what my daughter does between 10 p.m. and 3 a.m. Checks out the scenery, stares at me or the headboard, fusses some, flails some, and just generally wants to be social. Methinks I need to break out my sleep training book that we used for the boys. But she's just so little and cute and singular! Awwww!:



This is what she does during the day. Sleeps comfortably while on someone's chest (usually mine) and sleeps fitfully in her bassinet. But look how sweet and cozy she looks!:



This is what my boys do all day. Perpetual motion. Harass one another. Tantrum. Defy. Get sent to time-out:



And, as if on cue, they have become very "big brother"-like lately. Here, they are cracking up because I said "soup," and they mutated it into "poop." Just like any self-respecting big brother should. I gotta admit, this made me laugh out loud and giggle right along with them.
This is why children are awesome!



I may be baby bluesing, but it can't be that bad, because I look at these photos and all I think is, "Lord, I am so blessed and lucky. Thank you!"

Chronos vs. Kairos

A friend in my Unbalanced Mommies group sent a link to this article a couple days ago.

It echoes a lot of the sentiments I've expressed here about parenting: It's wonderful AND it's hard. It's fulfilling AND it's frustrating. And mostly that it's OK to admit that you don't always love, love, love every single minute of it. It's a funny article and worth reading.

But the best part about it, to me, is how the writer breaks down the different ways to view the time we spend doing all the things we do all day every day. She talks about Chronos time -- the day-to-day grind; and she talks about Kairos time. According to this writer, "Kairos is God's time. It's time outside of time. It's metaphysical time. It's those magical moments in which time stands still."

Her advice is to try to step outside of Chronos time as often as possible and view things through Kairos time. I don't know if I'm wedded to the words she uses, necessarily, but I have been trying to do that more often.

I am in a phase right now where things are really hard and really beautiful all at the same time. My abdomen hurts, my breasts don't work, my house is a wreck, I miss playing with -- and doing for -- my boys, and I'm hormonal and sleepy and sluggish from hydrocodone.

But I also have this tiny perfect little creature who curls up into a ball on my chest and breathes little fairy breaths into my neck. Her hair is so soft and her hands so small, and she smells like love.

Focusing on that, instead of the other stuff doesn't make the other stuff go away. It just makes it more -- much more -- bearable.

As proof, here are more photos of my little fairy girl.

Meeting Clair for the very first time:


Holding Clair for the first time:


In her bassinet (where she sleeps just fine during the day and refuses to even entertain at night):


In her baby swing:


Meeting my good friend, her Auntie Kelly:


Meeting her cousin Russy, who told me he is getting "his own baby," a new little brother, in about 4 to 6 weeks:


At her first doctor's visit, in the bathtime bunting her Daddy bought her:

Sleeping peacefully.

Bringing the drama.

Now you tell me she isn't worth it all, a million times over.

World, meet Clair Elise Davis!

Thanks to my sweetie's thoughtfulness, you all know by now that I am now the proud mother of one utterly adorable and completely unpredictable Clair Elise Davis!

We're home from the hospital now and I am exhausted and sore (good GRIEF this C-section incision hurts!) and hormonal and oh-so-happy!

I have so much to say about this labor/delivery/hospital stay/little baby girl -- but Lester covered the gist of it (wasn't that such a cute post? I didn't even know he was going to do that! Awww!) so I'll instead do two things.

First: Thanks and shout-outs and love-grams forever to Beth for coming all the way out to Baltimore with FOOD!!! for the freshly-home-from-the-hospital Davis family and also -- just because she is JUST that awesome -- gifts for Clair, as well as for Cary and Dean!!! Seriously, she wins the blogfriend of the year award with that wonderful move. And honestly, I think it's way past time I stopped calling her a blogfriend, don't you? I'd like to think that she and I are just plain ol' friend-friends now. And I'm so happy and blessed to count her among the many amazing women I hold dear to my heart in that category.
Thanks so much, Beth! My entire family thanks you!

Second: PHOTOS!!

Clair Elise, born 2/16/12 at 11:21 a.m. -- 7 lbs., 14. oz of pure loveliness.



Hmmm. Shall I give Mommy a break and nurse today? Or ever? No. I don't think that I will.



Headed home from the hospital. My first car ride. My adorable hat. My enormous pacifier!



Curve Ball -- curved into a ball. (I love this photo.)



It is not an exaggeration to say that this man has lost his ever-lovin'-mind over this little girl. Lost his mind, do you hear me? Hello, Daddy? Meet Clair's little finger. Then twist yourself right on around it. It's a wrap for you, sir.



Cary and Dean meet their little sister for the first time, two days after she's born. The jury's still out as to what they think about her. I won't get into it here, about how differently they reacted to her -- and me -- on this day. I'm sure there will be many posts about this topic in the future.



Cary, coming in for a closer look.



Contemplative Clair.



Silly Clair.



She's got a lot of personality already, folks. Hold on to your hats! This is gonna be one fun ride!

Hubby Guest Blog - The Curve Ball Cometh

Tanika and I should have known that our carefully scripted birth plan would not stand a chance against baby No. 3.

There's a reason we nicknamed this child Curveball.

Just a few days ago, the doctors told us to plan for Tanika to be induced on Monday. So, we mapped out a plan that had us arriving at the hospital at 6:30 a.m., with Curveball making her debut sometime thereafter, possibly at dinnertime.

There was nothing in the plan, however, that called for Tanika to start painful cramping (which we later realized were full-on contractions) at 6 a.m. TODAY, a full five days before we were ready to officially welcome our new bundle. Clearly, God was working from a different script.

Since Tanika was scheduled today for a regular appointment, we figured she would get to the doctor’s office and they would send her home with a diagnosis of pre-labor, and tell her to put her feet up and rest until her induction on Monday.

Meanwhile, the “cramping” intensified.

I knew it was time for me to shut the hell up when Tanika shot me a look as I told her to get ready for the mother of all contractions because the squiggly line on the contraction monitoring machine was forming the Mount Everest of peaks.

So, with a closed mouth, I decided the best thing for me to do was to rub my sweetie’s back and be sympathetic. A few minutes later a nice nurse named Jennifer came in to tell us that she was sending Tanika to the Labor and Delivery unit.

We were in labor and delivery less than 30 minutes when a doctor examined Tanika and said “she’s 8 centimeters.”

I wanted to raise my hand and say “but it’s not Monday and we’re not ready just yet for Curveball. I still have to hang the cute wooden letters in her bedroom.” I remembered the earlier look from Tanika and thought better.

We knew our wonderful plan was out the window when the doctor said “I hope that’s not what I think it is.”

Uh, say what doc?

We soon found out that our baby girl, who had been resting for weeks in a perfect-for-delivery, head down position, was now in the nightmarish double footling breech position.

The doctors said that because Tanika was almost fully dilated they did not think they had enough time to see if the baby would flip into the correct position. This meant that a c-section, which Tanika did not want to have, would be her new course.

I was tossed a pair of scrubs and Tanika was wheeled into the operating room. A nurse came to get me once Tanika was prepped for surgery.

The surgery happened so quickly. I felt like I had been in the room only minutes when they pulled our 7lbs, 14 oz Curveball from Tanika. We waited a few seconds before hearing the most beautiful cry in the world. We then both thanked God for a healthy baby and healthy mom before laughing at how upset Clair Elise Davis sounded.

There’s something incredibly beautiful about a baby’s first cry. They sound so sweet, pitiful and pissed off all at the same time.

Welcome to the world, my beautiful baby girl.

Big Day in the Davis household!

Yesterday was a big day for the Davises.

After my appointments, the doctor called in the afternoon and said they have scheduled me for an induction on Monday, Feb. 20th!! So there it is -- Curve Ball's birthday already penciled in!

I can't believe it's less than a week away, but somehow it still seems like an eternity. Mostly because I am not sleeping hardly at all anymore, thanks to discomfort and last-weeks-of-pregnancy insomnia. So I'm exhausted all day long, no exaggeration. And consequently, I have no patience for my three guys when I'm at home. They probably think I am the world's grumpiest person.
I also keep going back and forth between feelings of excitement that my baby daughter will be here next week, relief that I will no longer be pregnant, and anxiety about all things induction-and-labor-and-delivery-related, newborn-related, and adding a third child to a family-related, too. My brain is constantly going, going, going, with so many disparate and heavy thoughts.

And of course, I'm still thinking about all the tedious leftover things I have to do. Last night, I had the beginnings of a sugar low, so I got up at 1:30 a.m. to eat a snack, and while eating, I made ever more lists of stuff to do, including things I need to finish at work, and personal things like get Thank You cards written, addressed and mailed, figure out how to put the Bundle Me on the infant car seat, and send out paper invitations to my sister's baby shower. All before Monday.
So, yes, my brain is going non-stop!

Add to the mix the fact that we also got word yesterday that Cary and Dean got accepted into the pre-school we wanted them to go to! HOORAY!! Sooooo exciting! Pre-school!

We have options, too, about how often we want to send them, which makes my brain hurt even more.
We had been considering the 5-days-a-week half-day plan, which would have them in school from quarter to 8 until 11:30., giving them an introduction to school, a steady weekly routine, and giving Michelle a very small break, since she'll also have Curve Ball now to care for.
But because there are plenty of openings, we were told we can also send them three days a week, half-day; or three- or five-days a week full-day (which would end their day at 2:30).
Three days a week, half-day would be cheaper, saving us a little money (which is always welcome, especially during the Year of Austerity).
But to make Michelle's life easier, we're now leaning toward the three days a week, full day.
This way, she'd have three days a week where she is mostly home with only one little baby. And two days a week where she has all three munchkins.

Those of you who have been through the pre-school thing before, what do you think?

• Is 7:45 to 2:30 too long of a day for 2-and-a-half-year-olds? (They'd be starting in the fall).
• Is it better for kids their age to be in school 5 days a week for continuity's sake? Or is it sorta nice for them to transition into school slowly, and still have two days at home with their beloved babysitter? (This is my line of thinking, btw.)
• If you were a sitter of three kids, who was woefully underpaid, which school scenario sounds more appealing to you?

Either way, we are quite excited about our boys going to school in September, carrying little backpacks and leaving their baby sister at home, like the BIG boys that they are!

Big boys in school! New baby girl at home! Life is pretty exciting around this house these days.

I just hope Curve Ball doesn't decide to add any more excitement by arriving earlier than Monday! Please Curve Ball, in this case, don't live up to your name! :-)

1 week or less...

I'm officially working from home this week, thanks to the kindness of my boss, who was probably tired of watching me hobble around the office, looking like death warmed over.

I had monitoring and a doctor's appointment, though, on my first day working from home, then I came home and ate lunch, so now I really do have to work.

But here's the update:

Curve Ball is acing monitoring, so no worries there.

At the OB's I got a cervix check. I'm up to 1 cm. dilated, which means my cervix is "favorable."
That means induction it is!

The docs want to schedule for the day I turn 39 weeks, which is next Tuesday, but I asked if they could do it on next Monday -- one day shy of 39 weeks -- instead. That's because it's President's Day -- and Lester is off, but Michelle will be here working.
So my work-crazy hubby won't have to take a day off and we'll have babysitting covered, at least most of the day. So it just works out. It'd be fine on Tuesday, too, but I just thought I'd ask.

The doc has to check to see if she can schedule me for one day shy of 39 weeks, because there are rules apparently about that. So we'll know later on this afternoon or tomorrow morning if we will be going in for an induction on the 20th or the 21st.

So the countdown is on! Tick tock, tick tock....

(And that's all if she doesn't decide to come on her own before-hand, just to show everyone who is boss!)

How sweet it is to be loved by Cary and Dean

I know I always make my children sound like whirling dervishes, and that's true a lot of the time.
But they are also really, really sweet.

Yesterday, when I got home from work, I was POOPED! (You're saying, 'What else is new?' but honestly, I had a lot of unexpected energy the night before, so this level of pooped-ness was more noticeable.) I actually took a nap on the couch while Lester fed the boys dinner; that's how pooped I was.

After their dinner, we were all on the couch, hanging out. I was on one side of the sectional, wrapped in a blanket, and the boys were jumping all over Lester on the other side of the sectional.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Dean staring at me. Then, he climbed down off the couch, grabbed a smaller blanket that was lying on the floor, climbed back up on the couch and ambled his way over couch pillows, books, toys and Lester to come plop himself down right next to me. He then pulled his little blanket up over his chest, up to his neck -- just the way I had mine. And he turned his head, looked up at me and smiled. "Ma-ma, blanket," he said. "Dean, blanket."
It was soooo cute.
It's like he thought I was lonely over on my side of the sectional.
And until he came over and put his little warm body next to mine, I hadn't realized that I was!


Then, a little bit later on, Cary and Dean were exhausting themselves playing with a scarf of mine, throwing it over each other's heads and faces and walking around like a camel with no head. Much falling over and giggling hysterically ensued, until Dean took a tumble and Cary fell on top of him, BAM, on the hardwood floor.
Dean is a little hardier than Cary when it comes to spills like that, so he didn't cry so much as whine. But still, I felt sorry for him.
Before I could comfort him, however, Cary stood up and hugged Dean from behind, squeezing his chest. "Brudder!" he said. Then he leaned his head into the back of Dean's neck and whined (sympathetically). "Brudder!" he said again.

I swear, I almost cried.

These boys melt my hearts -- whirling dervishes that they are.

(Me and all THREE of my children, on a different night of couch-playing. I love it when I can coax them both into a hug!)

One quick thing about each of my children

Quick report on the Davis children:

CARY:Yesterday, Cary pulled up his pajama shirt, pointed to his mid-section and said, "Baby!"

It was adorable! He was so proud!
Despite his enthusiasm, I explained that, no, Mommy is the one with the baby, and lifted my shirt to show him. He rubbed my belly, leaned in a little closer, and then yelled, "OUT!"

My sentiments exactly, buddy. My sentiments exactly.

He said it again -- "OUT!" -- so I had to tell him that the baby wasn't ready to come out yet. To which, he replied, "Toon?" (soon)....

Not soon enough, buddy. Not soon enough. :-)

DEAN: Lester had to stay home with the boys today because our sitter has jury duty (darn civic-minded woman!) and I skipped work Monday because of all our jillion dr's appointments, so I had to drag myself to the office today. While hanging out this morning with them, Lester sent me this photo of Dean, who had just eaten an entire apple, all by himself, without anyone cutting it up for him.
Here's Lester's words about this: I just finished reading a book to Cary when I noticed that the apple was gone. I asked Dean what happened to the apple and he said "eed it." I asked him where the apple went and he stuck his finger in his mouth. He ate everything except for the stem.

My child is such a gifted snacker. LOL. (But seriously, what a milestone. No more chopping every darn thing into tiny little pieces! Hooray!)

That's Cary's pajamed-butt in the shot, FYI.

And you might note that you rarely see photos of Dean these days without Cookie Monster near. Yes, Cookie has become the daytime "lovey." But never fear, Dean is still a complete and total nut for Puppy at night. This reminds me of an old, old song by Mary Wells: "Two Lovers."
In it she sings, "Well, I've got two lovers and I ain't ashamed. Two lovers and I love 'em both the same!"
That's totally Dean. Such a playa!

CURVE BALL: During monitoring this morning, I finally decided to bite the bullet and ask the tech about something that had been bothering me for many, many weeks. Since the gender scan at 19 weeks, not one person in the perinatologist's office -- not even the perinatologists -- will call my baby a girl. They never say "she" or "her" or anything. I know they try hard not to disclose the sex of a baby because so many people don't want to find out these days. But I already know! And they know I know, because they ask me at the start of every sono: "Do you know what you're having?" "Why yes, it's a girl." And even still -- they always call her "baby" or "it" or (my least favorite, because of how grammatically incorrect it is) "they" or "their." As in, "Baby's got their head in the right position!" "Baby's practicing their breathing!" Ugh!

I want to scream every time -- She's a GIRL! And she's JUST ONE GIRL, so how could she possibly be a "their?" UGH!!

It was starting to make me slightly paranoid. I thought: What if she's NOT a girl? What if they just thought she was a girl way back when things were not as clearly formed, but they know now that she's a he, and they don't want to tell me?? What will I do with the girly room? All the girl's clothes? We don't have a name for a boy!!! (I know this makes no sense...)

Anyway, today, I just finally asked, rather sheepishly: Can I take a peek at her girly parts again? I just want to make sure she's still a girl.

The tech quickly zeroed in on her bottom section, and sure enough, girly parts, plain as day!

I have a photo, which gives me great joy (the room can stay covered in flowers and hearts, Yay!), but Lester made me promise not to post "pornographic pictures" of his daughter's private parts. (His words, not mine.)

So you'll just have to take my word for it.

She's a she. Yay!

37 weeks daydreams

I'm 37 weeks today. And I can sorta see the light at the end of the tunnel but it is faint, folks. Like, that tiny little pinlight that the eye doctor shines on a wall a million miles away and asks if you can see it.

I just told a friend this morning in an email that the biggest thing is that I am SOOO, SOO, SOOO, SOOO tired. I'm too uncomfortable to sleep at night, and then when I do drift off, I have to pee 10 seconds later. And I'm starting to get emotional because I'm so tired. This morning I wanted to cry because I couldn't find the small containers to go with the matching Tupperware tops. And Lester said, totally benignly, "Maybe you left them at work?" which -- for some reason -- made tears well up in my eyes. Like, "Don't ACCUSE me of losing the Tupperware! I am doing the best I can here!"
Isn't that crazy? Seriously, I am a tired, uncomfortable, cranky, tired, tired, tired mess.

I frequently have daydreams about sleeping. Last night, I had an actual dream about sleeping.

And yes, I know that sleeping is going to be a mere memory once Curve Ball is actually here. But let's cross that bridge when we come to it.

Other than sleeping, here's what else I daydream about:

• Walking up the stairs without feeling like I'm climbing a mountain
• Getting out of the bed without rocking or rolling or needing assistance
• Warm brownies with vanilla ice cream
• Being able to wear my regular clothes
• Being able to sit my boys on my lap again
• Pillsbury slice 'n bake cookies, hot out of the oven
• Putting my shoes on in less than 5 minutes (and without grunting and groaning)
• Seeing less of my bathroom
• Not being mad at my co-workers when they go to our single office bathroom without asking me if I have to go first, because, HELLLO! Of course I have to go.
• Friday night Chinese take-out
• Salt 'n vinegar potato chips
• S-E-X (well, OK, not really. But I do daydream about the day when I will daydream about that again.)
• Middle of the day napping with my peacefully sleeping baby
• Seeing her face for the very first time

But mostly, if I am honest, I daydream about sleep. And I can't wait until that dream becomes a reality again.

(A year from now. LOL.)

Post-consult update

Lester and I spent the morning in consultations with the perinatologist and the OB.

Here's the deal:

Curve Ball is doing great! She's doing amazing during the monitoring sessions; her weight is good and my pressure is good. There's plenty of fluid; she's moving around. The docs aren't worried so much about her size -- the computer has her at about 6 lbs. 12 oz. (give or take 20-percent).
Everything looks wonderful.

Which means that the doctors are no longer as worried about her as they once were -- and also that it was a really good thing I stopped being a wimp about the insulin and just did what needed to be done. I'm so happy I don't have to worry (as much) about her as I did before. I really do feel lighter after hearing that news. My baby's OK! Yay!!

But all this over-achieving that my child is doing makes the delivery situation a little more complicated. When the docs were thinking she might be the size of a baby hippo at birth, they were pretty sure by this point, they'd be talking C-section or induction pronto.

But now, both doctors agree that I can continue to gestate for two more weeks -- at which point I'll be 39 weeks. If I haven't gone into labor naturally by then, they both independently suggested induction.

Two things to note about what I just wrote. 1) The docs are thinking I can deliver vaginally! This was pretty much out of the question a couple months ago! And I may still have a chance of going into labor on my own! This is great news to me. 2) TWO weeks is all I have left. TWO weeks!

Curve Ball is due on Feb. 28, but 39 weeks will be Feb. 21 -- the day after President's Day. Lester is leaning toward delivery on President's Day because, ever the practical one, he's thinking about the fact that we'll both be off work, but Michelle will still be working. I suppose that is a pretty good idea, actually. Curve Ball?? Listen to your Daddy!!

Two weeks, people!! The countdown is on!

So much to do!!!!!!!!!! Gotta pack my bag; gotta figure out the child-care situation. Gotta wrap stuff up at work. Gotta wash her clothes, fold them and put them away. Gotta make some dinners and freeze them! Gotta find a stupid baby store that sells baby hats!! (Babies 'R Us says they're sorry, but they're getting ready for spring, so no hats for your infant's daughter poor exposed head. Target doesn't have any either. My child is going to freeze to DEATH!! Ugh!)

One more time for the record: TWO WEEKS!

Showered with love!

Yesterday, my Mom and two of my good friends threw me (and Curve Ball) a little baby shower.

I had hoped to post some of the great pictures I took at the shower (using my actual camera, and not my phone, for once) but of course, I left my camera at my Mom's and who knows when I'll see it again. Sigh.

So this is the only picture I have, sent to me by my sister from her iPhone:



She's 6 weeks behind me, but you could never tell that by looking at us. She's huge!! (And I mean that in a good way!) I have the feeling her son and my daughter are going to be best of friends. They're probably in there in this picture, talking to one another, plotting to take over the world (and our hearts).

It was soooo nice to be around good friends and family and to open up the most adorable little dresses and sleepers for my soon-to-be-here daughter. I had SUCH a good time, I can't even tell you. And I truly, truly am blessed because you have no idea how many lovely things Curve Ball got. I was expecting a "sprinkle" and got a full-fledged shower!!

Everything was just beautiful, but a couple things just really touched my heart:

My friend Kelly bought me this book, which she said always makes her cry when she reads it to her daughter -- a sweetiepie who is exactly a month younger than Cary and Dean.


I read it today, when I had time to really sort through her things, and got all choked up. I mean, with lines like this, how could I not?

Words can be worrisome,
people complex,
motives and manner unclear,
grant her the wisdom to choose her path right,
free from unkindness and fear.

UGH!! Talk about tear-jerker verses. I love it.

Then, my friend Stacey gave me four soft-as-can-be onesies that she personally embroidered, with sayings like, "Sweet" and "Darling." Look at this oh-so-sweet gray one, which says "Love"! Oh, yes, more tears ensued when I opened these.


And THEN, my sister hand-painted wooden letters to spell out my lovebug's name! The letters are adorably whimsical and made-with-love and are absolutely perfect. This is the last letter in Curve Ball's name -- R -- and on it, Tahira (my sister) wrote her a little personal note. Isn't that the sweetest???


I'm going to put the letters up on the wall in Curve Ball's room, in the empty space you see here, between the crib and the changing table-dresser-thingy. I'm thinking vertical. Anyone have thoughts on that?


And here are a couple other photos of Curve Ball's room, which is, finally, basically done. Yay!
It's hard to get a good angle of the whole room, because it's small and configured in a way that is not photo-friendly. But you get the gist.


Here's the reading/rocking nook. The frame on the wall holds two of her sonogram photos, and has space for three of her newborn photos, when we eventually get those done.


I'm going to order a dust ruffle for the crib and obviously we're going to put sheets on the crib mattress, and a Boppy cover, and put the hot pink changing pad cover back on, after they're all washed. But other than that, this is pretty much it. I'm pretty happy with it. I hope she will be too. :-)


P.S. Speaking of washing, this is just ONE of the baskets of Curve Ball-related stuff I have to wash, fold and put away before she gets here. I think I need to take a week off from work!

OK -- gotta go. The Super Bowl is over and my husband is demanding the laptop. And I need a snack!

G'night!

Embrace the crazy

I think I am coming to the end of my crazy-at-work-days, or at least, I'm getting close. There still may be one or two days next week that are hectic. But I can see a light at the end of the tunnel.

Meanwhile, my boys have stepped up the crazy!

Yesterday they woke up at 5:30 a.m. (Ugggggh!)We put them in our bed and told them to lie there quietly (yeah, right) so we could snooze until the alarm went off. Genius that I am, I placed my trusty body pillow between them, to prevent them from kicking each other, stealing each other's loveys and just generally being pests to one another.

Did this stop them? Pllllbbbt! What was I thinking? They kept popping their little heads up over the body pillow, peeking at one another and giggling hysterically. They reminded me so much of a live version of Whack-a-mole, I couldn't help but laugh. And then I was wide awake, and not grumpy at all.
You two are craaazy, I thought! But so, so cute!

Then this morning, while I was in the shower, the boys pulled the clothes out of their hamper and crawled into it. They do this a lot, actually, and we don't stop them because they find it so fun, calling the "amper" a "nunnel" (tunnel) and laughing. But today, apparently, they were laughing and frolicking a little too hard, and so rolled the hamper -- while inside of it -- out of their bedroom, into the hallway and down the STAIRS!!
Thank GOD we have a landing just two steps down, so they rolled only as far as the landing. But it scared them to no end, especially poor Dean, who took a spill out of the hamper and bumped his little (big) head. It also scared Lester who I heard go barreling into the hallway, screaming, "Noooooo!"
(I won't make any sweeping judgmental comments here about certain people who NEVER did install the baby gate at the top of the stairs...Ahem.)

Like I said, thank God for the landing and thank God no one was hurt. But still ... those two are craaaazy, no? How much mischief can they manage to get into before 7:30 a.m.? Sheesh.

Lately, they have found more and more ways to be crazy. They push their blocks and small toys into the slats of our living room radiator. They drink so much bath water, they choke themselves just about every night. They have learned to take their clothes off, and so, as often as not, are shirtless in the house, speeding around, yelling "running! running!"

(Lester sent me this picture this morning, showing me that Cary didn't last 5 minutes downstairs before discarding his pajama top. What they were doing lying side-by-side on the floor is anyone's guess.)

They make us laugh so much with their antics and the things they say: like waking up this morning immediately asking to go "ow-sye" to "pway" with our next-door-neighbor's son, "Baby Greg." And then reciting the names of Michelle's dogs, whom they've only met through pictures on her phone: "Petto, pees! Zoe!!" And then demanding we turn the "noose on!" And then asking us to give their loveys a "tiss." Over and over.

All this before Lester and I can muster the energy to even get out of bed.

Their boundless energy and happiness is a total pick-me-up, and I'm so glad -- even at 6:10 a.m. -- to have their little toes kneading my thighs, and their smiling faces leaned over my head, waaaay too close for that time of the morning, demanding I get up and get this party started!!

I love, love, love their utter craziness. And I'm crazy in love with them.

Canceled!

I feel so rejected.

My car insurance company just divorced me. By certified letter.

Remember the bread truck incident?

Well, I guess that was too much for them to handle. So they opted to break up. De-friend me.
I'm kicked to the curb y'all. Canceled.

Sigh.

I really do feel rejected -- and mad!

Who divorces a pregnant woman??? Sheesh.

Mean ole car insurance company! I want to call them up and say, "Listen -- I am a good person and a good driver! Both accidents I've had recently have been when I was pregnant. And I'm not going to be pregnant anymore after this. So give me another chance!"

But then, that makes me feel like a beggar. And I start to resort to my old single-gal dating mantras:
Why would I want to be with anyone who doesn't want me?
I'll find someone better than you!
One monkey don't stop no show.
Good riddance, meanie!!

Seriously. I had a minor, minor accident when I was pregnant with the boys and then the much more serious (and expensive) bread truck crash while carrying Curve Ball. Before that, nothing for years! No tickets or anything! It's clear that pregnancy affects my driving somehow.

Waaaaaah!

Friends, be honest, shouldn't it be a form of discrimination to cancel a woman while she's 9 months pregnant!?

Ugh! Off to find a new company. Add that to the ever-growing list of things to do.

Uh-oh...sibling rivalry already?

I don't usually post twice in one day, but I just remembered that I needed to get this down before I forgot.

Two nights ago, I'm sitting on the sofa, while Cary and Dean are crawling all over me and the pillows, being busy as usual.

I had my shirt pulled up and the elastic maternity-waistband thingy on my pants pulled down, giving my poor, itchy skin a breather. So my belly was on full display.

Cary spied this, came speed-crawling over, and yanked my shirt down.

"Close!" he said.

"You don't want to see Mommy's tummy?" I asked, thinking maybe this distorted, stretch-marked monstrosity grosses them out (because Dean does the SAME thing, whenever my stomach is exposed.)

"Noooo!" he said. "No baby! Noooooo, BABY!"

So...apparently, it's not the gross tummy he's opposed to. It's the baby inside he's got a problem with.

Uh-oh. And I thought Dean was gonna be the problem.

On talking, reading, singing and talking some more

Last night I had an appointment after work, so on my way there, I called home to talk to Lester and the boys, who were playing a little before getting ready for dinner.

Lester put me on speaker-phone so I could talk to the boys. Cary just wanted to push the buttons and giggle, but Dean had something to say:

Dean: Hi, Muh-muh.

Me: Hi, Deanie!!

Dean: Mo racka? (Lester had given them crackers to tide them over before dinner, and Dean wanted more. Lester had already said "no" a thousand times. So now he's asking me.)

Me: You want more crackers?

Dean: Pre-pees. (For some reason, he always says "pretty please," even though no one seems to recall teaching him that.)

Me: No, sweetie. Daddy said the crackers are all gone. It's almost time for dinner.

Dean: Dinner. Ah-mose.

Me. That's right. It's almost time for dinner. Do you want some good dinner? Daddy's gonna give you dinner soon.

Dean: Nooooooo! No dinner!

(Lester, in the background: "Cary, do you want some dinner?" Cary: "Noooooooooooo!! Nooooooo! Pway! [play]")

Me: Ummm, OK, babe. Talk to you later. (I felt meltdowns coming on any second and, to be frank, the radio was rockin' in the car, and I much preferred some sweet tunes to the cacophony of screaming toddlers.)

I recount this little scene to point out that I had a fairly intelligible phone conversation with my not-yet 21-month old baby, the one who is actually the least talkative of the two.

This just goes to show you Moms of infant twins or twin-Moms-to-be (you know who you are, DCAngel and Wiley) that all the books that tell you that twins will likely be speech delayed, and that boys will likely be speech delayed, and that preemies will likely be speech delayed -- all those books don't know diddly.

Now, I'm not saying don't read the books. I read them and I continue to read them. I just ordered the next in the series of Ames books to help me understand year 2 for the boys. The books ARE helpful. But they are not the end-all, be-all.

YOU know your kid(s) better than anyone. And you can defy the odds (barring any actual developmental issues that need outside intervention) just by doing what comes naturally to you: loving your babies, reading constantly to them, talking to them not at them, repeating things 800 million times, etc. etc.

It fueled me every time I read that twins were likely to get HALF the attention that a single baby would get. It drove me to say, That's what you think, baby books! My boys are going to get DOUBLE the attention. Ha! Take that!

And so I made it my mission. I made my sister read to them in the NICU when she came to see them. My Nana laughed at us that we read to them at one week old. "Will you look at this?!" she cackled. "Reading books to them already!" We never designated a "storytime." Anytime was a good time to read. We play music (kids' songs) everyday, regardless of how sick we get of hearing them. We sing to them ALL the time. They see TV in the mornings, when we're getting ready for work ("Noose!" they demand, if we don't have the Today Show turned on fast enough) and during football games (Lester insists). But other than that, no TV. We are with them, doing things and talking about what we're doing, explaining and expounding and then explaining some more. It's exhausting, if I'm being honest. But it's important.

(Two months old, already dreaming about books:)

And I'm not patting myself on the back here -- there are a million things I could and should do better as a parent. (Oh, yes, sooo many things!) I'm just saying that we were determined to make their early years language-rich, and so we try really hard not to let ourselves lapse in that area.

It goes to show you that determination can pay off!

Now...enter Curve Ball in a few weeks.

Will we have the energy to do it all over again?? Seriously, when I say that all that talking/reading/repeating/explaining/singing is exhausting, I mean it. How will we ever muster the energy to do this all again??

"Yes, CurveBall. That's a spoon. A spoon. Do you see the spoon? You have a blue spoon. We eat with a spoon. Mmmm. Eat! Do you want your spoon? Cary has a spoon. Dean has a spoon, too. Let's hold your spoon. Do you want to read the fun book we read yesterday about the dish running away with the spoon? Let's get the book and read it. Book. Mommy will go get the book. Mommy LOVES to read books. Do you like books?"

Lordhavemercy. I'm tired just thinking about it.

I pray I have the energy, the strength, the wherewithal to do for my ONE child what I did (and continue to do) for the two first-borns.

Which is why I ordered ... two books about that! :-)