Love: The Kiddos.

Handprint Tree!

My friend recently made some handprint trees with her kiddos, so last week I decided to do the same with Cub. Once sister went down for a nap, Cub helped me gather paint from our craft closet and organize our assembly line of tools: Paint, paintbrush, damp paper towels, and a large piece of paper.

We started with the tree trunk. Using a paintbrush, I painted Cub's hand, wrist, and arm (to his elbow) with brown finger paint and pressed it on the paper. Then I wiped it off with a damp paper towel, rinsed the brush, and he picked the colors he wanted for the leaves. I repeated the process with each color (only painting his hand), and Voila! We soon had a fun fall-ish tree. He even added a smear of green for "grass". Such artistic flair! I hung it on our fridge and Cub is very proud. :)

Have a lovely day, friends!

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Vomiting Makes The Heart Grow Fonder.

I think it's safe to say that any sort of stomach bug is my least favorite sort of bug. I had heard of such a bug floating around our area and while I crossed my fingers and took my vitamins and hoped that perhaps it would skip over us, my efforts were futile. Saturday night, Mouse threw up six times in an hour and a half, once Sunday night, and then we all got it Monday night. "It" turned out to be a horribly painful bug, full of stomach cramping and subsequent loss of stomach content. Both my husband and I agreed that this was the worst sickness we'd had in a while, as we laid on the floor curled up in the fetal position, moaning and pounding the floor with our fists.

Yeah, it was that bad.

Thankfully, it only lasted for a few hours with the kids. It lasted for eight hours for my husband and I, and finally after midnight we were able to hold down Gatorade (it never tasted so good). By the next morning, we were at least functioning, and I took advantage of this energy burst to go into psycho-cleaning mode. It seems to me that the stomach bug spreads germs in the worst way and I was determined to nix every last trace of illness in our house. I strapped on a mask and yellow gloves, and after removing the shower curtain, rug, and towels (all of which went in the wash for a spin in the "sanitize" cycle) in our guest bath (where we camped out most of the night), I bleached the entire bathroom. On my hands and knees, scrubbing. GAH. It was awful and felt wonderful. Now, at the end of the day, all of the sheets and comforters have been washed, too. Phew.

While my husband and I tag-teamed caring for the kids and took turns throwing up between hand-offs, it made me appreciate him all the more. He is so sensitive and sweet to the kids and this was especially true last night as he consoled them and held them and loved on them while they were sick. At one point he reached over to me and said, "I feel like death. I can't even imagine how hard this is for you being pregnant. You're amazing." I managed a smile in the midst of a really horrible night.

Now, we are back in the land of the living. Kind of. We're all still feeling tired and weak, but our stomachs are better and the house is sparkling. I'm glad that episode is over.

Have a lovely day.

Hello there.

How are you?

Good, good.

We've all been projectile vomiting around here, hence the lack of blog posts.

Puke-tober 2011 has taken its toll.

I'm so thankful for cold, refreshing Gatorade.

And for sleep in small doses.

That's all.

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.