Aiming For a Happy Monday.

It's safe to say that this morning I've been a little off my game.

I mean, I'm just a little snippy this morning. Annoyed, maybe? Do you ever have days where you're just ... annoyed? Maybe not. Maybe it's just me. But there are days where I wake up and everything just kind of bothers me, for whatever reason, and today was one of those days.

Dishes. Laundry. Again. And again. 

Lydia spilling Dad's cologne. Again.

Groceries being put away, food prep for the week getting finished, again. And again.

Me attempting a Pinterest dessert that ended up looking like a mutant giant slug.

Again.

And again and again and again.

These mundane tasks are usually something that I don't mind. I enjoy them, to some extent. Or, rather, I enjoy the sense of satisfaction when they are complete. Ahhh, DONE!

But, they aren't really done, because they will be there again tomorrow. And around and around we go.

As I was loading the darks into the washing machine, I could hear myself sighing. Do you know the sigh? The SIGGGHHHHH. The heavy one that is an obvious indication of discontent. And mid-sigh, I stopped myself. Why was I sighing? I stood up and looked around. Why was I so grumpy this morning?

Everything in my house is the same. The laundry room is the same, the kitchen is the same, my tasks and chores are all the same. 

The problem, then, became blaringly obvious: ME. 

I AM THE PROBLEM.

On my phone's lock screen, I have this verse:

Let the morning bring me word

of Your unfailing love,

for I have put my trust in You.

Show me the way I should go,

for to You I lift up my soul.

Psalm 143:18

It became clear to me that my morning was, in most ways, the same as it always is. But amidst the getting dressed and the grocery shopping and the food prepping and the scrubbing yogurt out of the kitchen chairs, I hadn't once paused to thank God for the day. To seek His guidance, to experience the joy of placing the day in His hands.

Of course this pause is not a guarantee that anything in my day will go well, at all. But in that still moment, my attitude is prepared for both the expected and the unexpected. And I find myself immersed in the reality of a Greater Purpose, the realization that the mundane is necessary and good. And that this day, like all of the days, will slip away soon and I won't get it back. 

And dang it, I can at least try to suck it up and have a good attitude.       

So, even now as my baby, lightly scented in Acqua di Gio, is climbing in my lap and impairing my ability to type, I say to all of you, this is the day that the Lord has made. 

And I will rejoice, and be glad in it.

Happy Monday.

School, yo.

A reader recently asked how we came to the decision to put Cub in a pre-3 program this year. The question comes in light of past posts that discuss education options, like homeschooling. I used homeschooling curriculum with Cub when he turned two and I loved it, so now the question comes as to why I chose to not continue in that route.

This is our approach: We take each year one year at a time. If something works one year, it doesn't necessarily mean it will work the next, and our ultimate goal is to continually reassess our options and make sure that our kids' needs are being met in what we feel is the best way possible. Rather than swearing to one type of educational method or another, we're going more with the belief that our kids grow and change and therefore their needs grow and change. Maybe they'll stick with one way and it will work great. What's most important to us is that we are plugged into their education and proactive in their learning.

I never thought that I would put my kids in preschool, especially a pre-3 program. My intention was to keep them home with me until they absolutely had to be in school (if we were not homeschooling), which would be kindergarten. I love having them with me. Then as spring rolled around last year, I began to get a feeling about Cub being in school.

Yes, a feeling. Super scientific, right?

I can't really explain it. I love having Cub home with me. And yet I felt this growing desire for him to have this experience. It was hard for me to recognize that my desire for him to be home and my desire for him to get the opportunity to go to an early preschool program didn't have to conflict with each other. Sending him to school didn't mean I didn't want him home. It meant that I wanted him to have this experience and that I felt that he was ready. Simple as that. There is a private Christian school in our town that offers pre-3 two days a week. For us, the school had to be a Christian school. In these early years especially, we are not comfortable having Cub in a school that does not adhere to Biblical teaching and, thankfully, we have been blessed with the option of sending him to a really great school. After reading the curriculum and having discussions with parents who have sent their kids there, my husband and I felt that this would be the best option for Cub.

We love that he will get to make new friends his age (most of his friends are younger or older). We love that he will be exposed to new kinds of learning. We love the order and constant movement of his day. We love that he will go to chapel. His teacher is kind, assertive, and communicative. Best of all, Cub loves it, too (so far).

Does this mean we'll never homeschool? No. The co-op I would want to join begins taking students after they turn four, so if by next year we feel that this is what we are being called to, we'll start taking steps in that direction. If not, we'll keep him where he is, if he loves it. One year at a time. For now, we're excited about this school year for Cub.

And there you have it!

Have a lovely day.

Love: Triplets.

No. I'm not pregnant with triplets. Ha ha.

I found pics of my big kids when they were five months old to compare to Lydia. I always thought she looked just like Caleb, but now I'm not sure. Either way, it was fun to see all of my babies at the same age and can I just say, time flies. As in, I blink and my five month old is three and the other one is two and I suddenly have a brand new five month old. Goodness gracious.

So, there you go, some baby yumminess to start your weekend off right.

Have a lovely weekend, friends.

The Quick Fix.

First of all, thank you for all of the travel recommendations! I pooled your ideas together and came up with some things that will hopefully aid in our journey. I went to Target this morning and attempted to snatch up some goodies from their dollar aisle ... can I just say, running around with the three tots is a bit of a challenge. It was hilarious to see me literally throwing stickers, sketch pads, magnets and Slinkies into my cart while zooming through the aisles. Speed is key, in my opinion, and wow, we were fast today!

So. Thank you. I'll let y'all know how it goes.

Secondly.

Cub walked up to me today with my husband's broken helicopter and asked what happened to it. Before I proceed--does anyone else have a husband who owns a similar toy? The kind you see in the mall? Anyway. My husband is a gadget guy and hence, the helicopter. I've gone to friends' houses and laughed when I see a similar helicopter on the shelf ... there must be some kind of mini-helicopter movement afoot. Anyway. So, when Cub asked how it had been broken, I told him it had crashed and the blade fell off. He then sighed and muttered, "Well, I guess we need a new one."

I cocked my head and told him that no, we just needed to fix the old one.

And he looked at me kind of funny and asked, "Why don't we just get a new one?"

I saw a Pinterest picture the other day that showed an old man and a woman (probably a stock photo) and it wrote that their marriage had lasted so long because they were married in a time that when something was broken, you fixed it, you didn't throw it away. And as I looked in my son's blue eyes, I couldn't help but wonder if we've done a good job showing him that truth.

This day of technology is a tricky one because it is often true that when a phone, tablet, or computer breaks, it's usually only slightly more expensive to completely replace it with a nicer, newer model than to fix the broken older model. There isn't anything wrong with that, per se, if the device is something useful to you. But I'm realizing more that the speed of technology is causing most of us to embrace an "I need it now" mentality. My diapers.com orders come the day after I order them. I can transfer money into my bank account with my phone while sitting in the drive-thru at Starbucks. Netflix gives us instant movies and shows, and Pandora gives us whatever music we want based on the genre we like. Now, now, now.

And yet we kneel in front of our kids, gently grasp their shoulders, look in their eyes and tell them they need to be patient. To wait for the things they want.

It is blatantly contrary to the world we live in. The world of NOW. How do we stand firm when the culture of immediate satisfaction pushes against us?

It's something I struggle with. Teaching our children to wait. It means we have to show that we can wait ourselves, which, for me anyway, can be hard. "I want it NOW!" screams Veruca on Willy Wonka. I hear you, girlfriend.

But maybe it's as simple as fixing a broken helicopter...even if it's tempting to replace it. That when those opportunities arise, we should take them. Because really, easy-to-replace technology is one of the few things in life that's easy to replace. Friendships and relationships cannot be replaced. They have to be fixed in order to work. And what a weighty responsibility it is to show our kids how to do that.

My husband and I celebrated our seven year anniversary today. Every year I understand more how awesome it is to celebrate marriage.

Because it gets harder.

The kids take time. The job takes time. The balancing act of mother and wife gets tricky as the kids multiply and our time is compromised. It takes work, and by that, I mean it takes WORK. We really have to work at it to make it work. I love my husband more with each year, but it's because we work to make it happen and I love him all the more for it--it's really amazing. The best things in life, in one way or another, require constant work. Or, so to say, constant fixing.

I hope I can figure out how to show that to my kids.

Have a lovely day, friends.

Love: The Week.

Daddy and his littlest lady. He's quite smitten.

As I headed out the door to Zumba, my little girl fussed and my big girl wanted "up". See why I want to be strong?? ;)

Way yummy fish tacos: White corn tortillas, guac, fish (I recommend tilapia but had to use salmon, since it was all I had--quite fishy!), shredded red cabbage, drizzle of jalapeno ranch. Yum.

An attempt at a pic whilst grocery shopping. Welcome to the parade! (Look at Lydia's tiny head and that huge yawn! She loves to sleep in the sling.)

I attempted white jeans for the first time. They weren't as scary as I thought they would be. I took this picture to send to my Mom. Who already owns white jeans. Also, whenever I take mirror pictures, I raise my eyebrows. Why is this? My natural smile has un-raised eyebrows, but when I see my reflection, up go the brows. I notice this when other people take mirror pictures, too. What gives? Hence, I look slightly evil. Sorry.

Food, jeans, babies, grocery shopping. Welcome to my week. Welcome to my life, actually. :)

Have a lovely weekend.

Backseat Driver.

Driving in the car. Pouring rain.

Cub: Mama, why are we going this way?

Me: Because it's faster.

Cub: Why is it faster?

Me: Because we don't have to stop as much.

Cub: Why don't we have to stop as much?

Me: Because there aren't as many stop signs.

Cub: But there's a stop sign.

Me: Yes, there are still stop signs, just not as many.

Cub: And there's another stop sign.

Me: Yes, two stop signs. Two. As opposed to, you know, eleventy billion.

Cub: Two stop signs?

Me: Yes.

Cub: So it's faster?

Me: Yes.

Cub: But why is it faster?

Me: Because there aren't as many (dang it, don't say stop signs!) ... cars.

Cub: Not as many cars?

Me: Not as many cars.

Cub: So there's just our car?

Me: Well, no, there are other--

Cub:--because I see another car!

Me: YES THERE ARE OTHER CARS.

Cub: Why are there other cars?

Me: Let's turn on the radio.

Sweet Weekend.

The girls and I headed to Arkansas to visit my parents for the weekend, after I realized I had not left our town since I was 36 weeks pregnant, which was, oh, almost three months ago? IT WAS TIME TO BREAK FREE.

It was really fun for Naomi to be the oldest sibling for a few days. She was the center of attention and loved every minute of it. Her Pepere made her favorite food (EGGS) and she got to mix birdseed with her Memere. And, they all enjoyed lots of time outside together in the beautiful sunshine. It was so sweet and so fun!








(I love this picture--so typical of trying to get a group shot with two little ones!)



And I got some extra sweet time with the littlest sister, too.






A lovely girls' weekend, indeed.

Have a lovely day!

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Friday Funny.

Have y'all seen that Disneyworld commercial? The one that shows a lot of happy families having fun in the sunshine with One Republic's Good Life playing in the background? That chorus is just so catchy, I recently made it my ringtone.

You can probably see where this is going.

Picture it: Thursday morning. Cub is crying because he got in trouble for not being nice to Naomi. Naomi is crying because Cub was not nice to her. Lydia is crying because I'm putting her in her car seat. And all while we're trying to hurry out the door. Chaos, crying, rush, Mama frantically trying to contain the crowd.

And my phone rings.

Oh, this has gotta be the good life,

This has gotta be the good life,

This could really be a good life, a good life...

The peppy chorus was barely discernible above the little moment of chaos that was playing out in our entryway.

I stifled a smile. And then burst out laughing.

Hooray for moments of hilarity in the midst of a morning rush.

Have a lovely weekend, friends.

Mom Jewelry.

You may remember my post a year ago regarding mom jewelry and how it used to kind of scare me to death. Then I realized that I could have jewelry that I like that is simply representative of my kids, not necessarily caricatures of my kids dangling precariously from my neck and my wrist.

Behold: Three rose gold stackable rings--two with white stones to represent my two girls and one with black stones to represent my big boy.

Worn on my left hand because I'm still terrified of cutting Lydia's little thigh with the solitaire of my wedding ring. :)

Yay. I love their sparkliness. But mostly I love the loves they represent.

Have a lovely day.

Some Thoughts.

I've had a few people ask me if I regretted taking medication the day of Lydia's birth, after planning and preparing to go medication-free.

It's a fair question. I wrote the birth story post the night of her birth and I've had a week to reflect on the experience.

I think it's always hard when things don't go the way you plan. It's okay to have an idea in your mind of how you want things to happen, and even though you realize it might not go that way, I think it can still be hard to accept that things didn't turn out the way you had hoped. Obviously, a healthy baby was the end goal of Lydia's day and that goal was achieved. Honestly, in my case, I have no regrets. I wouldn't change anything.

I gave birth in a hospital because I trust my doctor's care. When the presence of meconium was discovered, I felt that it was as big of a deal as the doctor was saying, though some might disagree. One specific friend comes to mind who came too dangerously close to losing her baby because of meconium and since then I've never taken the issue of it lightly. When that came into play, I was open to whatever my doctor instructed, even, ugh, pitocin.

Out of my eight hours of labor, seven were without an epidural, and five of those hours included pitocin. I wouldn't change anything about it. I wouldn't have gotten the epidural sooner. Despite the pain, I actually, in some indescribable way, enjoyed labor. I was able to take a deep breath as soon as the contraction began, to inhale and close my eyes and completely relax myself bit by bit, to make sure my hands were unclenched, my toes were uncurled, my face was limp, as the contraction built and built. All of my focus was on complete relaxation and breathing (a high-five to yoga), to the point that when the contraction was over, I was almost asleep. It was amazing. I literally fell asleep between contractions because I was so relaxed. It was the most blissful comatose state. For as painful as each contraction was, the rest time in between was just as restful. I was in awe of the experience and loved it.

As the pitocin increased, my rest times decreased, to the point where relaxing between contractions and tolerating excruciating back labor was becoming pretty futile. From what I understand, transition, the period of dilation between 8-10, is the most difficult part of labor, and my doula explained that what I was feeling at a 6 is what I would have been feeling at an 8 if I wasn't on pitocin. When I received my epidural at a 7, I was at peace with the decision. The epidural was short lived, as I quickly progressed and began pushing within the hour. I still felt the pressure to push and felt that I was still in control. Because I only had the epidural for a short amount of time, I recovered well and was able to get up and move around soon after Lydia was born.

Her birth was wonderful. When it came time for me to push, my mom and my mom-in-law happened to be in the room with my doula and my husband and I. As the nurses set everything up, I asked my doctor if they could stay (totally a last-minute decision on my part and much to their surprise!) and she said they could. So, they were able to be there for the birth of what we think will be our last baby. This is something that I would not have necessarily been open to with my other babies, but this time the timing was just right and I wanted them to stay. I think it's easy to forget in the midst of the hustle and bustle of birth that the experience itself is truly a miracle, and hearing my two moms gasp and cry as Lydia was born helped to give the moment the poignancy it warranted. It was amazing.

So here I am, the mother of three. THREE. Wow. The song I chose to listen to while I was in labor was "Jesus, Draw Me Ever Nearer" as performed by Keith and Kristyn Getty. This song is special to me because it is the same song that saw my Dad through chemotherapy when he had cancer three years ago. The lyrics are simple and powerful. I find myself, now that Lydia is here, singing them to her as her lullaby, in the quiet hours of the night.

Jesus draw me ever nearer

As I labour through the storm.

You have called me to this passage,

And I'll follow, though I'm worn.

May this journey bring a blessing,

May I rise on wings of faith;

And at the end of my heart's testing,

With Your likeness let me wake.

Jesus guide me through the tempest,

Keep my spirit staid and sure.

When the midnight meets the morning,

Let me love You even more.

Let the treasures of the trial

Form within me as I go-

And at the end of this long passage,

Let me leave them at your throne.

May this journey bring a blessing,

May I rise on wings of faith;

And at the end of my heart's testing,

With Your likeness let me wake.

I can't tell you how much peace these words bring to an exhausted Mom who is slightly terrified at how in the world she is going to effectively parent and love the three precious kids God has blessed her with. The road ahead feels positively daunting and these words bring enormous peace, a constant reminder that life is for His glory, not for the glory of my own, and that I want only to be more like Him when the journey is through.

Have a lovely day, friends.

The Little Big.

The other night as I was crawling into bed after my billionth potty break, I heard Naomi sneeze over the monitor. The sneezing slowly turned into a cough, which slowly turned into a whimper. I rolled out of bed and padded down the dark hallway to her room. She was standing in her crib with her arms reaching out to me and I scooped her up with her blankie and brought her back to my bed. My husband had jumped ship earlier in the night (his snoring pregnant wife was keeping him awake? what?) and was in the guest room, so it was just baby girl and I. I snuggled her next to me and she curled into a ball until our foreheads were touching.

I touched her chin with my finger and she wrapped her hand around my hand. I couldn't believe how small and chubby her fingers are. I forget. I kissed her forehead and we snuggled together, forehead-to-forehead, hand-in-hand, until she fell asleep.

I was about to carry her back to bed until I realized that this might be one of our last long snuggles for a while, after the baby comes. So I froze time and wrapped my arms around her and soaked in her baby-ness. Her little hands, her little feet, her little head, the smell of her hair. She's so little, about to be the "big" sister. My pillow was wet from a few tears, thinking about our sweet moment and the future. It's so much to take in, but I'm thankful. I never could have asked for more than that moment that night.

Love you, baby girl.

Have a lovely day.

Motherhood: Staying Home.

I remember hearing someone say once that the more you stay home, the more you want to be there, and the less you are home, the less you want to be there. The statement was in reference to stay-at-home Moms and our sometimes uncanny ability to be everywhere but at home. There are always errands to run, activities to join, and really, let's be honest ... sometimes we go because we just have to get out! Sonic, Starbucks, or a drive through the park. Sometimes being gone is the little breather we need to finish out the rest of our day, while the kids are strapped in the back!

But besides the necessary driving-to-refocus breaks, I've noticed that the statement is true. The busier I am, the less I want to be home. What I mean by that is, when I've had a few days of go-go-go, I come home and feel like I don't quite know what to do. My home isn't any different than it was the day before, or the day before that, and yet I feel a little helpless and discombobulated. That's when the urge to jump in the car and go somewhere--anywhere--hits again, and while I find comfort behind the wheel, I come home to that same awkward feeling.

However, if I really focus on staying home and don't let my mind wander to the great beyond that lies outside our front door (that usually requires spending money, eek), I find that I really enjoy being home. I love doing fun things with the kids while we're out and about, but I've grown to realize that the best way to fill their love tanks is to just be home with them, spending one-on-one time in the environment they know the best. Oftentimes while we're gallavanting around, their behavior can be notably different. That's when I know we've just been away too long. When we're home and I actually make the effort to sit on the floor and dedicate good chunks of time to playing with them, their response is undeniable. They're more relaxed, they're more imaginative, and I can just tell that they're all-around happier. I have great memories of Disneyland and Sea World as a kid, but the memories of playing Breyer horses on the living room floor with my Mom rank just as highly in my book.

This is a challenge for me sometimes because I don't sit still very well. Ask my husband--I'm that obnoxious person who asks questions during movies and who loves to be on the go. If the kids are playing well by themselves, I use that time to do laundry, wipe the countertops, vacuum, etc. Don't get me wrong--the ability to play alone is hugely important, but sometimes I think I take advantage of it. I love being attentive to my kids, but I've noticed a difference between being conveniently attentive and intentionally attentive. When that urge to "get out" comes, I find that I'm dissatisfied and snappy if I can't, and a lot of the time if I do answer the urge and leave, I'm not really any more satisfied than when I left. But if I push those thoughts out of my head and join the kids in their play, I am quickly reminded of how much I really love spending time with them. I'm reminded that their obedience and behavior are not my primary responsibilities as a parent, but that they are to feel loved and secure and valued--that they were created lovingly down to every last detail. That inner sense of worth is priceless. Obedience, without it, just makes a robot.

So, here's to staying home, and the challenge it can be to sometimes actually do it. :)

Have a lovely day.

Crazy Number Two.

When I was pregnant with Naomi, I remember hearing several comments from Moms noting the personality difference between their firstborn and their second-born. The firstborn, they would say, was compliant and obedient and easy. Their second-born ... not so much. Wild thing.

I, of course, as a new Mom, nodded in agreement but secretly scoffed at that idea, figuring that my firstborn's personality (which was compliant and obedient and easy) had more to do with, well, upbringing, then anything else. I mean, I worked hard to be a good Mom, so some of that was paying off, right? So then, surely my second-born would be similar, with *obviously* a different personality.

Sure enough, Miss Mouse came into our lives with a grand cry. She was a noisy newborn, but also an excellent eater and fairly easygoing. She was easy. I was proud.

After a few months, the easiness disappeared. She woke up.

She was fussy. She was high-maintenance. She had what we think was colic. She woke up several times a night for a few months for no apparent reason. I saw myself as a champion of breastfeeding and happily doled out advice to Moms regarding it after Cub was born, and now I found myself faced with the choice to wean my daughter before I felt either of us were ready, because of a milk allergy (I held out for four months, weaned her, and cried for three days). Everything I "knew" about being a Mom to an infant flew straight out the window and I found myself in an absolute tizzy.

I soon realized that the biggest challenge was simply learning a new personality--the methods that had worked with Cub did not necessarily work for Mouse, but some of them did. Trying to figure out this new little person was half the battle. Boundaries had to be set and they lay in different places than they did with big brother.

In my mind, I heard the words of those Moms who had said their firstborn had made them confident ... and their second-born had made them humble. And oh my word, I laughed because, in my case, they were totally right. Obviously, there are exceptions to the rule, but they were dead-on in my situation! I found myself humbled more and more, looking through grace-colored lenses at my fellow Moms. Simply becoming a Mom had made me understanding to other Moms, but becoming a Mom again opened my heart even more. It was so good for me.

Despite the trickiness, there was spunk. Naomi was a difficult infant, but she was also gloriously delightful. Watching her grow has been nothing short of one amusing ride. When she's happy, she absolutely lights up the room. She cracks us up with her antics, putting on our shoes, eating wood chips, chasing the chickens, and dancing every time she hears music. Her laugh is infectious and her cuteness just kills us. She's rough and tumble but is always gesturing for me to put bows in her hair. She loves dirt and (pretend) lip gloss. Even though she's stubborn, she's sensitively sweet, and when she gets in trouble it melts her world and she hates disappointing us. Once we began to learn her personality and her quirks, we fell into a groove the same way we did with Cub. I realized I had basically given birth to myself, which honestly helped us figure her out! Naomi is by far our spunky pumpkin, but she's a great kid. Our kids, who have totally different personalities, delight us just the same. We can't imagine loving them more.

I sat down to write this as Naomi shuffled by me wearing my TOMS, pushing her brother's new bike. She stopped, looked up at me and smiled, and went on her merry way, her head bobbing back and forth, the bow perched atop it starting to fall. There will no doubt be a mess wherever she stopped and chances are my TOMS will be missing for at least two days. But the joy, the absolute joy of her, is overwhelming.

These are the things I want to remember as we introduce yet a third personality to the bunch. May grace abound.

Just some thoughts today. :)

Have a lovely day.

Even Bathroom Breaks Are Accompanied By Little Hands Knocking.

I sneak in a quick shower before the kiddos are up.

The breakfast show gets up and running and both are fed. I call the doctor because Naomi is congested and hoarse.

Help with shoes and boots and dressing and diapers and pottying and etc.

Loading in the van. Buckling, adjusting, toy-distributing. Sippy cups, check.

Trip to the grocery store.

Trip to the doctor. Just a cold.

Drive-thru lunch.

Naomi falls asleep in the car and gets put down at home.

Cub and I eat lunch and play a game.

Cub goes down for a nap.

I organize our pantries and chop the peppers and chicken for fajitas for dinner.

I sit down on the couch and Naomi promptly wakes up.

I feed Naomi lunch.

I attempt to make pumpkin spice muffins while Mouse plays at my feet.

The muffins are an epic fail and all I have to show for them is a pile of dishes.

Cub wakes up.

I put both kids in shoes, grab some paperwork, head out the door.

More loading, buckling, adjusting, toy-distributing. Sippy cups, check.

I drop paperwork off, run to Target.

Zoom through Target with a brief pause to check out the Christmas trees with a wide-eyed Cub.

Come home, unload Target purchases, walk to the end of our loooong driveway to retrieve our huge trash can and roll it back. In the rain.

I let the chickens out, collect eggs, and head inside to clean dishes from the muffins.

Dishes get done, time to start dinner.

I start dinner while two hungry kiddos observe and occasionally beg.

We sit down to dinner and my legs ache from not sitting for a long time.

Prayer, chatting, nudging to take more bites. Crumbs on the floor, on the table, on the Mouse.

Dadda comes home as we finish up.

I run and give him the biggest hug and tell him I'm so glad he's home.

While he eats dinner, Naomi bonks her head and comes running to me for comfort.

She cries so hard she throws up on me.

I change her and myself.

I load the dishwasher and wash the remaining dinner dishes by hand.

My husband puts her to bed as I pick up a few wayward toys.

All with a 30-Week pregnant-for-the-third-time-in-three-years belly. My body is beside itself.

My husband is now playing with Cub while I sit down for ten minutes by myself to type this post.

One word to describe motherhood?

Constant.

The good, the bad, the busy.

Have a lovely day.

Drawing A Blank.

I'm staring at the computer, trying to come up with a clever topic about which to write, and my brain is coming up empty. I mean, I try to have at least ONE substantial post a week, one that involves thought and personality and such, but this week, I'm drawing a blank.

...

Which, I suppose, could be a post in and of itself. The Pregnancy Blank, where all rational thought processes are concealed beneath an imaginary sheet of white, and when the brain attempts to pull such thought processes, all it sees is the white. If I'm not careful, my eyes will cross and I will begin to drool.

This pregnancy bit, it's really all-consuming. I look back on my posts as of late and most of them have to do with the baby. So then I think, I should write a post about my favorite current styles and such, something refreshingly shallow. But what would those styles be? MATERNITY. Cool. Not really. Then I thought, what's my favorite make-up? I don't know, because my face is always red and blotchy whilst pregnant (sexy, right?). What about my current favorite music? Ehh ... Fisher Price Christmas lullabies?

It just seems like I'm quite immersed in this baby-and-toddler stage of life.

I mean, I'm not totally irrelevant. I wear (maternity) skinny jeans and chunky jewelry and carry a fancy-schmancy (diaper) bag and I shower, sometimes, and, you know, I'm sure I look awesome in that white MINIVAN in which I cruise around town. I haven't completely let myself "go" (well, except for the minivan, with dreams of owning that coveted Toyota Sequoia), but every time I sit down at the computer to write, it is the things of baby that come to mind.

...

So, that being said, can anyone recommend a good facial moisturizer? I mean, next year is my last year in my twenties, so it seems like maybe I need to use some sort of you're-getting-older facial moisturizer. Do I? Uh, but it has to be cheap. Like, Target cheap.

Do you like how this post has absolutely nothing to do with anything related to facial moisturizer? Until the very end?

That's about right, folks. That's about the level at which I am functioning.

Have a lovely day, friends.

Intuition!

When I was pregnant with Cub, I knew he was a boy. Instantly. I had no idea what his name would be (my husband named him later on in the pregnancy), but I sure knew there was a little guy in there. I don't know how or why, but my instinct? intuition? something? told me I had a son on the way. I was confidently confident and, well, I just knew.

With Mouse, I had no idea. None at all, but I hoped she was a girl. Yes, I hoped for a specific gender. Is that bad? I'm the little sister to a big brother, so I think I just naturally hoped my second would be a little lady, since I understand that kind of sibling dynamic. I think it goes without saying that if Baby Number Two had been a boy, we would have been madly in love with him the way we're madly in love with all of our kids, and the brother dynamic would be just as awesome. But, we were thrilled when we found out that there was a little sister in there.

With this pregnancy, as soon as I took the test, I patted my stomach and said, "It's Lydia." The next few days were spent in a bit of a blur, with some crying and almost-passing-out-from-pregnancy-shock and such, but amidst it all my gut just told me that this baby was a girl and that girl was Lydia. We had an early ultrasound and the doctor thought it could be a boy, but I was doubtful, even though, truthfully, the thought of two boys was easier for me to handle than the thought of two girls (crazy, I know!). I wanted a later ultrasound to know for sure (which ended up being quite a feat--Lydia is quite a bashful little pea!) and sure enough, the doctor gave us 90% certainty that our baby was a little lady. And, of course, we're thrilled. I realize that the ultrasound could be wrong and my gut could be wrong, too, but I'll be surprised if it is!

What about you? Did you have a gender inkling during your pregnancy?

Have a lovely day, friends!

27 Weeks!

Here I am, folks, 27 weeks and getting big! Here are a few preggo updates!

*I had a slump of no energy around 22 weeks and it stuck with me for about a month, but now I'm feeling great. Hopefully the third trimester will treat me well for a little while!

*The baby is kicking ALL THE TIME, especially when I'm ready to go to sleep. :)

*Speaking of "the baby", we had another ultrasound last week and ...

*She's a GIRL!

*We are WAY. EXCITED. Tiny sisters for Cub. I can't wait.

*We have a name picked out, but we haven't decided on it for sure. I'll let you know when we do.

*Baby Girl is breech and has been since our 20-week ultrasound ... not a big deal yet, obviously, but I'm hoping she decides to flip before she gets much bigger!

*Or before I get much bigger. Oy.

*My weight gain is ... uh, on track, I think? I never actually look at the scale when they weigh me. Terrible, I know. I like to check right at the very end, just because it's fun, but I don't really care throughout the pregnancy. If I'm blimping up too much, my doctor will tell me.

*Speaking of blimping up, when I saw this picture, my first thought was, "Well, there goes my face!" Check out those round cheeks! And they will only get rounder as the weeks go by and the holidays encroach upon us. Between Thanksgiving and Christmas and a trip to Branson in there somewhere, I'm hosed. Bring on the stuffing and apple dumplings!

*Besides my face getting cheeky, I'm not swollen, which is nice. My ankles and wrists are still intact. I did have to take off my wedding ring, though. :( It never fit right after I had Cub (even after my drastic/crazy weight loss), so my fingers must have permanently gotten a size bigger with him, if that's even possible. Thusly, I had to move my right-hand pink sapphire to my left-hand, along with a cheap "wedding" band from Target to complete the set.

*I've already lost two "diamonds" out of my cheap wedding band. Ha ha. Classy!

*I'm anxious about having two girls, simply because I never had a sister, so I'm not sure I'll know what in the world I'm doing. I have friends I can ask, which is great. :) I'm so excited for the girls, though. Tiny sisters.

*No cravings anymore, but I do get fuller faster. Not what I would consider to be a problem. :)

Have a lovely day!

Motherhood: Pregnancy The Third.

I'm sitting here looking like I've been hit by a dump truck.

I'm looking snazzy in my sweatpants and maternity tank top (ow ow!) and I gracefully tripped over a sippy cup on the floor on my way to the computer. My laundry room is impassible, the dishwasher is full, and I've been having achy-breaky Braxton Hicks all afternoon. I started the day with gusto, however, with a breakfast with the kids' great Grandpa, a three mile brisk walk through the neighborhood pushing the kids in the jogger, hide-n-seek with Cub for an hour, and I even threw in a craft for good measure. Energy! Blessed energy!

Then I crashed at nap time. CRASHED.

The exhaustion that has decidedly accompanied this pregnancy is naturally blamed on the fact that I have two little ones to chase around. As you can see by the aforementioned game of hide-n-seek, the word "chase" is a literal one. As I crash into bed at the end of the day, I tell myself, "You had two kiddos to care for, no wonder you're tired!" I mean, right? Not just kids, but toddlers. Little kids. Baby kids.

It wasn't until today on the couch that it dawned on me that I've been wrong this whole time.

I don't have two kiddos to care for.

I have three.

The baby in my tummy requires his/her own amount of care, which, in this case, means stopping. Resting. Putting my feet up during nap time and taking a snooze myself. It's really the only time I can rest, seeing as any time I sit down while the kids are awake, even if they are on the other side of the house, they sense my pause in action and coming running to crawl on my lap and wallow and hang and pull and whatnot. Nap time = Rest time.

I kind of have to force myself to do it, since I see nap time as a time to get a few extra things done. But, sorry laundry room, you're just going to have to stay cluttered for a bit. I spend the morning paying attention to my two oldest. Nap time is now for the youngest.

Wow that's crazy to say.

And this "Dump Truck Chic" look will just have to be something to get used to. :)

Have a lovely day, friends.

Shopping Savvy.

Caleb has a shopping cart that his G-Ma gave him and it recently made its way from her house to ours. He loves it. He uses it to transport all kinds of things around the house, namely trains and books and cars and such.

A few months ago, he got it in his mind that he would like to take his cart to Target, please. Naturally, the execution of such a suggestion would be tricky with a one year old and a two year old, so we put it on the back burner, but kept the burner lit in case the opportunity ever presented itself to go.

And it DID!

While Naomi spent some time with the grandparents, I decided it would be the perfect chance for Cub to take his cart to Target. As soon as he woke up, I got him dressed and we loaded his cart in the van. We parked in the closest spot we could find and unloaded his cart. The store had just opened and was pretty empty (part of my plan!) and when we walked through the doors, the manager greeted us and was delighted in how cute it was to see a little guy pushing a cart, so I knew we were good to go.

He got to go to the cereal bar aisle and pick out his favorite flavor (always strawberry) and put it in his cart. Y'all, it was a BIG DEAL. So cute!

We only stayed for about fifteen minutes, and it was worth every second. Cub was elated. I remember always wanting to take my little cart I had as a kid to the store, so I could only imagine how happy Cub was to do it. Such a big boy.

Way fun.

Have a lovely day!

The Best Kind Of Mess.

: Having a two year-old is like having a blender that you don't have the top for. :

-Jerry Seinfeld