evening out

Last night, my husband and I went out for an incredibly rare evening without kids. When I say rare, I mean once or twice a year if that.

We had gift certificates to the movies (a place we never spend money) and saw Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End. I loved it. (I must confess, I knew something of how it ended since I convinced a friend to spoil a few details.) It was really good in my opinion. I don't typically care for Disney's kid's movies as there are too many unnecessary innuendos, however, they do make relatively clean adult movies by contrast (yes, some suggestive things, but not as frequent as in the kid movies!).

And now, I just can't wait for it to come out on DVD because I have an obsession about watching movies with their subtitles. . .I catch more of what is said that way and I understand the plot better. Perhaps it has to do with being an avid reader, who knows. I just know that during this movie, there are lots of accents and rushed words with tons of background music, so reading it clarfies it for me.

Anyhow, we had a fabulous time in a completely uncrowded theater while my sister-in-law struggled with tired kids at bed time out of their normal routine. (The babysitting was part of her birthday present to her brother/my husband; I wonder how soon she'll offer again?)

on morning sickness

Ooohhh. The nausea has kicked in. I mean, bad.

I have never been a thrower-upper, remembering one once or twice gagging over the toilet with one of my pregnancies (really getting sick is different, but I still don't puke as often as the average person). Instead, I typically have food aversions that evolve out of cravings. I wanted Mexican one week, now writing the words or driving by the restuarant tend to give me an awful sense in my stomach. I gagged in the car yesterday before lunch, but after driving past such a restaurant. I am forcing my eyes away from the words above so I won't think on it too much...for real.

This week, I made one of my family's favorite meals: "Stir-fry"...not in the traditional sense. It's ground meat (turkey or beef usually, browned with garlic and onion powders), rice, and veggies all put together with some soy sauce. The veggies change out by what's on hand, and way back before allergies in our house I made it with eggs and cheese, too. Anyhow, I could barely stomach a few bites. Everyone else devoured it. I was trying to decide if it was the seasoned oil I sauteed the veggies in or if I put too much soy sauce by accident. No one else seemed bothered, but I'm still bothered by the leftovers every time I open the refrigerator door. Swallow-swallow-closedoor-swallow.

Some mornings, I can get up and eat a decent meal; sometimes I can make a moderate lunch and get most all of it down; by dinner, I pick and force a bit in, then need to have the entire meal moved from my sight. Leftovers make me want to hurl. Food options are starting to run slim (chicken is exceptionally bad on my list). Oh, except pizza. That's been an old stand-by necessity from both pregnancies. (By my third trimester, I typically want it once a week.) And a few salty chips or pretzels help a tiny bit.

So, breakfast anyone? If I choose wisely (leftover pizza anyone?), I'll survive the next few hours since I didn't wake up feeling miserable. That's a good sign for the first part of the day. Man, I'd forgotten how bad this could be. Somehow, the first week or two of feeling pretty good tricked me into thinking this pregnancy wouldn't make me so sick. haha! It got me.

the bottle

Not usually one to post lots of articles, I cannot help myself here ; it's one more reason why "breast is best" (when it comes to feeding your baby). Of course, this goes much further than just babies. It's about us, too. . .
Read here to see why.

independent streak

Miss C has an independent streak a mile wide. She is bound and determined to do some things on her own, no matter what.

Today, it was changing clothes. This has been a frequent effort on her part recently. Now, mind you, she turned two less than four months ago, so this is not exactly simple for her yet. She is becoming quite adept at removing articles of clothing from her body (though so far, the snaps on her cloth diapers are a hinderance in becoming bare-bottomed, thank goodness!). However, placing clothing onto her body appropriately is a desperate, agonizing struggle. And she adamantly refuses any help whatsoever.

I heard her crying in the play room (aka, dining room with with toys but no dining table). Really a frustrated cry. I spoke to her, then checked on her. She had stripped herself of the pretty green t-shirt dress and "sparkly" shoes and was attempting to put on yesterday's light blue shirt with a turtle. I offered help, I offered encouragement, I spoke soft and kind, and I made suggestions. The only response I got was "NO!" Add some futile crying. I finally stepped away. She would not let me touch her, shrinking from assistance. Offers of a simpler shirt were also turned down.

I continued to keep tabs on her progress. At some point, the shirt had found it's way onto her body, but was posing as a strapless top, as both arms were through the neck. Again, all attempts to assist her were denied and I left her to her self-imposed task.

I would say it was close to twenty minutes of this shrieking and persistance total. At long, long last, she found me in the living room (connected to above mentioned play-room), sobs slowly abating from complete exhaustion, one arm in a sleeve, the other still through the neck. Backwards. Mildly satisfied but still not wanting Mommy's help to finish the job.

She crawled into my arms and let me hold her, snuggling into oblivion as sleep overtook.

Yes, she's my independent girl. But at least she still needs her mommy.

little b

Where did this past school year go? I'm amazed. Something transpired quietly in the last ten months. My little boy is missing his two front teeth. He walks and talks with more confidence. He is reading and doing math on a first grade level; he's almost ready for chapter books. His awe of the world around him has enhanced and grown. He loves science. He has developed and matured. And come Friday, he will no longer be a Kindergartener.

There has been something so reassuring about my son being in the cradling care of Kindergarten, not the throes of "regular" grades. I know he will just keep growing and amazing me and maturing and most of all being my sweet little man. I know that if I blink, he'll be a teenager. Instead, I'll gaze at him steadily. . .

roller coasters

I've never been a roller coaster fan. I even hate the kiddie roller coasters, having the odd sensation it's about to come off the tracks--it does not entertain or thrill me! I just get horribly tense. The summer after I got married, my husband and a young friend of mine convinced me to get on a massive ride that locked you into a seat but kept your feet dangling above the ground and went upside-down. Fast. I could barely get off the thing and shook for half an hour, hardly able to walk. Literally. N E V E R A G A I N. Understand?

The roller coaster of pregnancy leaves me emotional versus shaking. And, man, I'd forgotten how easily those darn tears can surface. The first week or so, I thought, "Hey, this pregnancy won't be so bad." Uh, I spoke too soon.

I was at Super Target (practically my second home) and kept seeing little people--the kind under one year old and some under two. I wanted to stare, I wanted to coo and I wanted to cry...my own big kids are way, way past that baby-ness. And I wanted to cry because I was going to have that priveledge again. I probably could have just sat down and leaked tears for no real reason, the truth be told.

I locked my keys in the van after an extra long day (read more about it below). Fortunately, my parents were with me and have AAA (I'm thinking I should get it). I was hiding the keys in the back area for my dad who was still in Target with Little B, and Mom and I were walking next door to Kohl's with Miss C; I deliberately unlocked the back with the key AFTER locking all the other doors electronically. But, apparently, the back only agrees with what the electronic system says and overrode my decision (it often is unlocked, but must be when the rest of the doors are)! The wait for the 4 minute operation to get into my car took well over an hour and a half--right through dinner time! (But see, God provided here, because a little earlier, my mom who'd not had lunch, was hungry and I stopped to get her some scrumptious Chinese food which my kids liberally shared with her--they didn't even notice they missed dinner time!!). Again, I was just barely keeping from being weepy. I know it was a stressful thing, but it really wasn't stressful once I stopped kicking myself for the mistake. The kids were great, the weather was beautiful, I took the stolen opportunity for a decaf latte (my favorite) and it just wasn't a big deal over all. But I was so stinkin' emotional about it! Argh. And I was soooo tired.

And the big nasty coaster I was on:
I went to field day yesterday for my son. I took Miss C along (who thought she should try every single event and was very upset at being denied the fun). There were several breaks in the when the kids would go back to the classroom for water or snacks. We trooped along, usually the stroller holding the diaper bag and purse since my daughter preferred holding hands with Little B or his classmates (they adore her, boys and girls alike). She would sit next to her big brother at his table, proud as could be. As we lined up to go back outside on one particular trip, she was quite suddenly missing. I mean, not anywhere in my sight. Only half the class was out the door, and the boy she typically held hands with was already out, as well as the teacher's daughter (same age, same doting). I worked the stroller down the line of kindergarteners and searched for Miss C. With every second, my eyes scanned faster and the panic began to set in as we reached the outside with no sign of her. The teacher's daughter was in the midst of the class, but mine was not. I rushed back in, heart racing, and found her in the arms of a teacher, with a kind janitor standing along side. Apparently Miss C thought she'd try out Limbo, diagonally across the hall from the classroom. She'd mixed right in with another class headed that way and was probably startled not to find me with them. I started to cry. I mean, involuntary, cannot stop crying and won't let go of my little girl. I was so, so glad she was in a school and one I trust. Fortunately, my parents arrived a few minute later and made keeping up with her three times easier.

I crawled into bed and fell soundly asleep for a good, long night. It was lovely. I could probably cry I slept so well. ha!

1st, 2nd, 3rd

1st test


2nd line


3rd pregnancy


Yes, I'm having another baby! We could not be happier and are only surprised by how quickly it happened. I have some health issues that make getting pregnant a bit tougher, and have learned that using a natural progesterone cream balances my hormones so that by the 2nd or 3rd month I am able to get pregnant. This time around, it was the first month I used the cream and I wasn't nearly as consistent as I have been in the past--and I am so pleased! Perhaps my body wasn't as off kilter this time around, which is a good thing.

I'm having afternoon/evening sickness rather than morning sickness, and I have absolutely determined that I will walk throughout this pregnancy...I started yesterday with my garage sale jogging stroller and the steep hill on my street. If only I could find someone to walk with, I'd do much better! I've been attempting to work on my abs for a lot longer than I want to admit, and kept telling myself I had at least 2, probably 3 months to tone it, but. . .well, it didn't work that way! So, I just need to be consnistent with walking and stretching and I'll do some mild tymmy exercises while I still can.

In the meantime, I plan to savor the thoughts of this tiny little being being knit together in my womb. . .

highlights

There's not been too much excitement this week, but here are a few highlights of our life as it is:

• There were two darling children at the kitchen table the other afternoon, adorned in the finest their closets offer, having a tea-party (water for tea, wheat-thins for cookies). When I added dinosaur chicken nuggets and just made it an easy dinner, they were happier than ever! That little girl will do almost anything her brother suggests, and he told me he knew girls like tea parties. What sweetness!
• My husband finally reaches my mature age of 31 this week. We were discussing how life is a bit like a roller coaster; full of peaks and valleys, and the longer you ride, the faster it goes! Watch out, life!
• I've filled out and turned in Miss C's paperwork for her 2 year old evaluation of her Brachial Plexus Injury (you can read more here and here) from birth; it was suggested we have her evaluated each year until she turns five, due to changes in growth. (I can see her compensating for some weakness, but then again, I'm her mother and I look for those things.)
• We have found a new product that we want to try with Little B. It's a nutritional supplement and there have been incredible reports in how it helps children with sensory processing disorder among other things (like autism!). We're waiting for school to end before trying it so there aren't too many changes at once. Our therapist even highly recommended it and currently has a client who uses it. Perhaps I will blog on it after we see how it works.

And now I should really get off the computer and take care of some housework. . .

the excuse

When a toddler needs an excuse to touch a forbidden object: just handing it to mommy, of course. "Here Mommy!"

Glasses from the nightstand, phone from the end table, coffee mug (with coffee) from the table. Yup. Even to bring it across the house to mommy who is washing her face. That's how coffee came to be on her pretty shirt. And she knows that technically, she wasn't playing with it or hurting it. Too, too smart. And a sweet little smile, as though being such an incredible helper, to top it off.

Little stinker.

twilight zone

It's amazing what can happen in 20 or 30 minutes.

I stepped out side to hang a bit of laundry to dry--something I'm trying, and rather liking. First, I folded and brought in what was already out there. Then, I took the load from the washer and let Miss C run around while I hung what would fit on the line (two shirts are draped over the basket sitting on a tall stool).

That complete at last, I was debating on lunch at home right then or loading the van with the two of us and letting her nap in her seat before I ran my few errands. Instead, as I began double-checking the status of my diaper bag, my phone rang. It was my husband, and he was on his cell versus at the office . . . . ?

The call was not to tell me he was going out to lunch, but that apparently for the short time I was outside hanging laundry, the school had called, my husband had called, and even a friend of mine who my husband checked with had called (oh, and the next door neighbor may check in on my later, too--my husband was worried about me!).

It seems that Little B had no lunch. By the time my husband reached me, he was going to be faster getting lunch to our son than I would have been (I'd have had to remake it, he was getting close to a fast food place...that should make my son happy!). Lunch was over by this time, and I felt so bad. Of course, had I been in the shower, no one would have reached me, either, probably. I didn't go AWOL, but sure felt like it. Mostly, I hated that my husband had to drive the distance from the office. But, he will take the time to sit with his little boy for a few minutes, which will hopefully help his day--Little B had a total meltdown, is what my husband was told.

What I am wondering is where oh where did the lunch I packed this morning go? I know that inside the Buzz Lightyear lunch box with shoulder strap attached, resides an ice water, peanut butter and jam sandwhich, apples, wheat thins and a blue party napkin. I remember packing it; I remember placing it in the book bag; I even remember the weight of it as I lifted the bookbag to help my son put it on his back.


**It was misplaced in the classroom. Go figure.**