Life with 3

It's been awhile since I've blogged so I'm guessing a lot of people are wondering how I'm doing.  I thought I'd write about that because, to be honest, that's a complicated question.  The transition to three has been fairly easy, and considering all we've been through in the past 2 months-- a baby, a thesis defense, a new job, our first home purchase, and a move-- I've handled it fairly well.  But man, things are CRAZY.  It's 9:30 PM, Brandon is in the Florida Keys doing "work" on the beach, and I'm writing this with Siena on my lap while Violet and Charlie play naked in the living room.  And this is pretty normal for us.

For the first couple weeks of Siena's life, Brandon was so busy with his thesis that he was basically non-existent.  I somehow managed to get everything done during the day, and even have a pretty good time while I was at it, but each night my body would remind me that it had just been through a major trauma and I would end up watching a movie in bed with an ice pack to the crotch.  For awhile I felt like I had to prove that I could stay on top of things.  Yes, I'll totally accept a job to design your wedding invitations when my baby is a week old.  We need the cash, right?  Cook dinner for my parents while Brandon is gone so I look like supermom even though I found Charlie fingerpainting the floor 30 minutes ago?  Yes. And definitely tackle home improvement projects on my own.  Every time I did something extra, it made me feel good about myself.  I've totally got this parenting thing down.

Except tonight Violet had a little mishap. There was some vegetable oil sitting out on the counter, which she knocked over and spilled on the floor.  Before I could wipe it up, she came running, slipped on the oil, hit her head on the tile floor, and got her hair and brand new dress soaked with vegetable oil.  She tried to get up but kept slipping, so just imagine a screaming, injured Violet slipping repeatedly on the kitchen floor.  It wasn't as funny as it sounds.  And I realized that that had nothing to do with my negligence as a parent or Violet's bad behavior.  It was just a perfectly normal thing that could happen to any kid that just so happened to my kid and resulted in a complete disaster.  And at that moment I decided that there must not be a single parent in the world that really has everything under control.  If you see a parent that always seems happy and on top of everything, they must be heavily medicated or completely faking it.

So, how am I doing with three? Well, naptimes are routinely missed and we don't get out of our pajamas until 5 PM some days.  Violet has an embarrassing number of My Little Pony episodes memorized and half of our house is still packed up in boxes even though we've been living here for 2 weeks.  I definitely don't have things under control.  But it's actually been pretty fun, because I've realized that sometimes sleeping in and going to the splash pad and helping Violet paint her dresser are more important than keeping a perfectly balanced schedule.  Or maybe it's not about what's important, it's just that I don't feel like being a responsible adult and no one is around to tell me otherwise.

Our new baby

I've had a hard time posting since our life has been changing so much lately.  All within one week, I turned 26, bought a house (or at least have had our offer accepted and are under contract to close), and had a baby.  I think I win the award for most major life changes made in one week.

I've never been happier to have a healthy baby at home.  I had been nervous about this delivery for awhile since everything has been going suspiciously well the past couple of weeks; I felt like I was getting set up for a big trauma.  When I went to be induced, everything started off pretty well.  My water broke after a few hours and as usual the nurse was highly entertained with how much fluid I had.  (Happens every time. For some reason I produce enormous amounts of amniotic fluid.)  After awhile, though, the nurse started looking a little nervous but explaining things in vague terms.  She was monitoring the baby's heart rate and said "It looks like there is a cord in there" and I thought, "Well I'm no obstetrician, but I'm pretty sure there is supposed to be a cord in there."  But quickly the baby's heart rate dropped and the nurse checked me and said she felt the umbilical cord coming out.  I still had no idea what that meant, but suddenly there were lots of people in my room all looking very serious and someone was shaving my belly and telling me that I was going to have an emergency C-section.  Needless to say, I was scared to death.  I just turned my head and started crying.  I was wheeled into the operating room, the whole time with the nurse pushing my baby back up inside me and trying to get the cord out of the way.  I remember the first thing I thought was, "Brandon is never going to get his thesis done in time if I have to recover from a C-section."  The second thing was, "Holy crap, I think I can still feel my belly.  I am SO not ready to be cut open."  I actually started pinching my belly to test how much I could still feel.  At this point, my sister ran in, ready to operate, and told me that she would get the baby out really quickly.  For some reason I was never worried about that; I was sure that she would get the baby out and she would be fine.  But I just wanted someone to knock me out.  Imagine the scene in What about Bob where he gets on the bus and walks up to a complete stranger and says, "Excuse me, could you please knock me out?  Just punch me in the face."  I couldn't handle the thought of watching myself be cut open, but then felt guilty about not wanting to see my own daughter's birth.  But thankfully and miraculously, they checked me one last time and the cord had moved and wasn't in the way anymore.  Her heart rate was back up and the cord didn't come down again after that.  I have never, ever felt so relieved.
They put me back in my room and waited for me to deliver normally.  Since they had given me such a high dose of medication for the C-section, they turned off my epidural so that I could get some control over my lower body.  I could literally feel NOTHING below my waist and I felt like my torso was balanced on a giant yoga ball.  I started getting my feeling back eventually and at the very end I started feeling the pains of the contractions.  I never knew this before, but I am not a very nice person when I'm in pain.  It escalated pretty quickly and I was trying to crush Brandon's hand and yelling through each contraction.  I may or may not have yelled something about never wanting to do this again, and where is the anesthesiologist with my drugs, and oh my gosh this contraction is never going away, and seriously why am I not getting more drugs right now. Brandon was a very good sport. He tried to fix my oxygen mask and said, "Oh, that's probably cutting into your face a little bit" and I just moaned/yelled, "I really don't care about that right now, Brandon!"  Luckily for everyone, it was soon time to push and I got her out in 4 or 5 pushes.  Finally our little Siena was here and healthy and I was SOOOOO happy.  She is a great baby and I have seriously loved every minute I've had to spend with her.

Mommy to the rescue

I often wish that I had more of my mom's personality in me. She is the kind of person who, once she starts a task, couldn't dream of not finishing it and if the devil himself came up and tried to stop her, she would just keep going like she didn't even notice.  In high school, when we went on long walks together, she used to have to touch the light post in front of our house every time we got back so that the distance would be exact and her walk would be complete. One time my sister and I blocked the post so that she couldn't touch it and it bugged her so much that she stood there fighting us for 5 minutes so that she could touch it.  When she broke her elbow, instead of taking a day off to let it heal, she had me ride in the car with her and change the gears for her because she couldn't bend her left arm.

But no, I didn't get any of that resolve.  I have an okay time starting creative projects like paintings and sewing projects, but not much luck finishing them.  And when it comes to big things like cleaning and organizing, I just get really overwhelmed and take a break and start eating ice cream and cry.  I can accomplish some things, but I'm easily distracted and pregnant and tired and have two kids in my face all the time who make it really hard to do anything.

Luckily I have the next best thing to my mom's personality-- my mom, in the flesh, only 45 minutes away.  She has been checking on me every Saturday because Saturdays are my least favorite day lately-- they're the day when Brandon is still working on his paper and only leaves the bedroom to eat and I'm stuck in the apartment with nothing to do, because all of my friends are spending time with their own families.  And yesterday was especially bad because all of the junk and clutter were beginning to really irritate me but I had no idea where to start.

So my mom arrives, unasked, and gets started helping me clean.  She starts putting together boxes before I have even said hello, my dad takes the kids on a bike ride, and she goes through and starts ruthlessly throwing things away.  In the couple of hours she was here, we managed to pack 3 boxes, throw away 2 ugly bookshelves that were taking up space, deep clean my kitchen, put away everything else in the living room, and come up with a plan for me to pack the rest of my house.  Brandon was even fascinated enough that he ventured out of the room once or twice, if only to make sure we weren't mistreating any of his precious rock collection.  My dad came back with 2 days worth of dinners for us so that I don't have to cook and mess up the kitchen again.  In fact, I was so energized and motivated by the time she left that I managed to get the kids to sleep by 8:30, finish baby's dress, fold the 3 weeks of laundry piled up, wash our sheets, and proof read Brandon's 28-page paper.  And I actually think I can finish the rest of my apartment this week.

My mom is super mom.

Help!

My baby comes in two weeks!  Here's a list of things I need to do before then:
Deep clean my apartment
Find a place for her to sleep (Nope, I'm not kidding.  Charlie is still in the crib.)
Buy a house (What the heck? How is this going to happen?)
Fold the 3 weeks worth of laundry that is sitting in the laundry basket
Find people to take Violet and Charlie after I have the baby

Here is a list of things I am currently struggling to do:
Feed my family
Stay awake every afternoon
Get to bed at a reasonable hour every night while Brandon works on his thesis till 2 AM in our room
Sweep and load the dishwasher daily
Finish the dress for baby I started making 4 months ago

I have never felt so unprepared and at the same time so eager and excited to see this little girl!

I'm (sort of) back!

Have you missed me?

Yes, my last post was about me having a really, terribly, horrible week.  But my lack of posting hasn't been because I've been antisocial and depressed-- it's because my computer broke.  So, even to write my last blog post, I had to stay up till 1:30 AM after Brandon went to sleep to write it on his computer, because he uses his all day long to write his thesis.

But I finally complained enough that he bought me a new one! Yes, a nice, fast computer of my very own.  So I'm happy to announce that I'm writing this blog post from.... Brandon's computer. No, I haven't actually used my new computer yet.  Brandon has been on it all night.  You know, that new computer that he bought just for me so that I could have one all to myself.  That one.

Life has still been a little rough for me, or at least full of ups and downs.  Months ago, when I was just starting to think about getting pregnant again, I thought, "Oh I'll be fine. I have easy pregnancies."  I tell that to myself every time.  It is a lie.  There is no such thing as an easy pregnancy.  I keep telling myself that since I don't throw up during my first trimester, my pregnancies are easy but then I forget about the times in my third trimester when I start crying because the fabric I wanted wasn't on sale, or because Violet wouldn't eat what I made her for dinner, or because I gave Brandon a bad haircut.  All of these are true stories.  Mentally, I just don't have it together.  Brandon read something the other day about how comedians are more likely to have mental illnesses like depression.  They apparently use humor as a coping device and I said, "That explains why my family loves it when I have a bad week. I do the same thing."  (I'm not saying that that is a bad thing.  It really does make me feel much better when someone can at least have a little entertainment from my drama.) But, really, I've been all over the place.  Sometimes I have good days and sometimes I don't want to have anything to do with my life. Although I've learned that if your mom texts you to ask how you're doing, there's no faster way to get her to show up at your house and offer to take you to dinner than to respond by saying that being awake makes you sad.  So I guess there are perks to being down in the dumps.

Fortunately for me, my kids (who are normally the biggest source of stress in my life) have been AWESOME.  I don't think any 4-year-old has ever been better at being the oldest child than Violet.  I have trouble sleeping at night, and usually fall asleep for a couple of hours during the day because I've been feeling a little sick again.  When Violet wakes up in the morning, she goes to the bathroom, puts a DVD on for herself, and gets something to eat without waking me up. Then she just sits and plays in the living room.  When Charlie wakes up, he doesn't even ask for me.  He yells from his crib,"Violet, I'm awake!  Get me out!"  Then Violet will climb in his crib, boost him up so that he can climb over, and help him get out.  She then shares her food with him and plays with him in the living room until I wake up.  Violet often has her outfit for the day picked out by the time I wake up.  When I finally stumble out of my room, I'm greeted by their smiling faces yelling, "Mommy, you're awake!  We're playing Frozen!" (or whatever game Violet has made up for them to play that morning.)  Yesterday Brandon was talking about how good they have been and he said, "I used to wonder how little kids could take care of themselves and their siblings when their parents would get drunk and pass out, but I guess now I know, because Violet is pretty good at taking care of herself and Charlie when you can't help them."  Yep, apparently when I'm pregnant I'm about as useful as a parent as a raging alcoholic.  Good to know.

Okay, just so that I don't look that bad, I'll have you know that I'm still a pretty involved parent. Just one that gets tired so easily that I pass out on my bed for a couple of hours every afternoon. I've been taking the kids to parks almost every afternoon, making dinner every night, and even taking trips to the zoo and the museum.  The kids have been having a fun time even if I have had a rough time lately.  Their little smiles and laughs, seeing them play with each other, listening to Charlie tell me what new kind of animal he is every day, watching how Violet makes sure that Charlie feels included in everything we do; these are the things that make all the work and emotional struggle worth it.  It lets me know that not only will I be okay, but they are going to be the best siblings this new little girl could ask for.

Wow, another rough week.

As many of you know, I had a really rough stretch this past couple of weeks.  I really wasn't going to write about it until my sister said "I can't wait to hear what you post on your blog about this week," and then I sort of had to.  The ironic thing is that I had gotten through half a post about the previous week (which is now outdated) thinking that my life was rough and couldn't get any harder.  And now this past week happened and made the week before that seem like cake.  Anyways, I thought I'd include part of my original post in here just for kicks.  (And just so you know, if you don't like hearing about personal/gross stuff, just stop reading. Really, do yourself a favor.)

.................

Brandon is home from his trip.  Yay, right? Just kidding.

Expectation:

Reality:

Brandon came home VERY sick. So, as he put it, instead of having one more adult around to help out, I have one more baby to take care of.  Taking care of Brandon really hasn't been that bad, and to be honest I'm just glad I don't have what he has, but it still hasn't been the fun-filled week I had imagined. He was so sick that he actually asked for medical attention so we drove out to my mom's house to get him checked out.  She gave him inhaler for his wheezing cough and I thought he was better after that until in the middle of the night he called to me and asked for ice.  I stumbled to the freezer and got him some, then went into the bathroom to find him COVERED IN BLOOD.  It was dripping all down his chest and the toilet looked like a scene from Kill Bill.  It was just a bloody nose, but still a little disconcerting to see in the middle of the night.  And being the sensitive, caring wife that I am, I stood there and took a picture of the toilet with my phone.  I had never seen so much blood before, and this is coming from a person who has had 2 kids.

Speaking of kids, I feel like they should all come with this warning label:

Despite my overwhelming love for sleep, because of our weird schedule this week, I haven't been able to get my kids to sleep before 10:30 PM this week. One night Violet stayed up until 1 AM.  That is sheer torture for a pregnant woman. When I do get to go to sleep, I can't, because when I lay on my side my belly sags and makes my skin feel like it's being pulled off, and when I lay on my back, I feel like someone is sitting on my abdomen.  I still get up to pee 3-4 times every night, and my kids start crying for random reasons at least once during the night.

Of course, all that difficulty sleeping goes away the closer it gets to morning, and I am blissfully sleeping when someone decides to text me and I'm like, "SERIOUSLY? It is 10:30 AM, people! Don't you realize I'm trying to sleep here?!"

...................
Aaaaaaand this week. 

It started with my computer deciding it had had enough of my crap and dying on me-- with all my recent pictures on it. 

Then I got the cough from Hades that Brandon had.  If coughing isn't bad enough, try doing it when your abs are already stretched to their limits and someone's big fat head is sitting on your bladder.  I went to Target to get some pads for the bladder issues, and the cashier (Mr. Nosyandinappropriate) asked me when I was due and then waved the pads in the air and said, "Well, I see you're getting ready to have the baby already!"  Part of me wanted to start crying and say "I WISH that's what they were for" and part of me wanted to look him in the eye and say, "No, they're actually for when I pee all over myself when I cough, but thanks for asking!" and teach him a lesson about asking questions that he doesn't want to know the answer to.  Night time was the worst part with the cough, since I would wake up 5+ times every night coughing and not being able to breathe through my nose. 

It didn't stop me from spending every possible second with my family this weekend.  My dad somehow pulled off the biggest birthday surprise ever for my mom by flying everyone in for the weekend. I haven't had that much fun in SO long!  I'm kind of mad that everyone is gone now, but it was an awesome weekend.

Except for the part where I wrecked my car.

Really I should not have been driving by myself.  I was sick, sleep deprived, and definitely not operating on full mental capacity and totaled my car on my way to dinner with my family.  At least being 7 months pregnant got me lots of sympathy from everyone involved and I didn't even get a ticket-- but we do still have to get a new car. My parents took me home after the accident and I was still a little bit in shock. They gave me the option to come to dinner with them, but at that point my night had already been ruined and I didn't want to keep everyone else from enjoying themselves.  So I went home and kept it together like a grown-up:

 

And if you want a visual on how my body felt the day after the crash, see the following:

 

Luckily, I'm doing a little better now.  I'm not stressing about every contraction I have and how often the baby kicks and wondering if the baby is doing okay after the accident. My cough has mostly gone away, and my ribs are no longer incredibly sore.  What I'm still dealing with is the shock and depression of making a several-thousand-dollar mistake during what is already one of the busiest and most stressful times of my life.  I've been feeling like I do nothing but mess things up, and the pregnancy hormones are not helping me get over the guilt. Poor Brandon has to deal with all of it, including finding me sobbing in the kitchen this morning because we didn't have any food and I don't want to be an adult anymore.  He's pretty used to dealing with a pregnant, out-of-control Shady and he just gave me a hug and made me an enchilada and I got over it fairly quickly.  Who knows how many relapses I'll have, but if you need to find me this week, I'll probably be crying in my closet with a pint of Bluebell.





Wiped out

I had a really wonderful second trimester.  But that is long over now. 

It seems that things like to hit me all at once.  In my second trimester, I had lots of energy, exercised regularly, and my kids were being really good and going to bed at reasonable hours.  Then along with the start of my third trimester, Daylight savings time started and now my kids like going to bed an hour later, Brandon started going on tons of field trips and the kids started getting sick every time he is gone, and my exercise class has been cancelled for a couple of weeks, leaving me feeling like a beached whale.  Brandon is hoping to defend his thesis in less than 2 months so he gets home no earlier than 7:00 every day.  The worst part of this might be my seasonal oak allergies, which make me want to tear my face off every time I'm outside.  Benadryl seems to work, but I'm pretty convinced that it only works by making me so tired that I will just sleep through my symptoms, which is not really good for productivity. 

On top of this all, it seems that Violet wants to die.  Seriously.  She's normally pretty good at not doing really dumb things but yesterday I was convinced that she doesn't want to live to see her fifth birthday. First, she convinced Charlie that it would be fun to run around with plastic bags over their heads.  I quickly caught her and took them away and tried to explain that it's really dangerous, but she doesn't seem to get why it's dangerous (which I understand, it's just a bag.)  Brandon told me "You could always supervise her and have her try to breathe through one so she sees how dangerous it is," which actually seemed like a good idea until I imagined Violet telling some random person "Mommy put a plastic bag over my face to teach me a lesson," and I really don't want CPS showing up at my door.  Her other shenanigans yesterday involved trying to "unlock the wall" (sticking my keys in an electrical outlet). Luckily I just took them away from her and reminded her that there is electricity in the outlet and she seemed to remember that she shouldn't touch those.  Also, during her bath, she kept spitting bath water at Charlie and when I told her that it's disgusting and she shouldn't put bath water in her mouth, she of course wouldn't listen to me.  She eventually got so much nasty water down her throat that she threw up all over herself, which I'm actually thankful for, because now she knows why she shouldn't do that.

Charlie is starting to get a little more devious but he is so cute about it that I can't get mad at him.  He no longer likes to go to bed.  He's still much easier than Violet, but he knows that I'm a softie and he tries to work his cuteness. After Violet falls asleep and I'm on my way out of their room, he says, "Mommy, wait."  Then I go to his crib and he looks at me with his enormous eyes and says, "I want to cuddle wif you on da couch.  We can wead a book."  And after we go out and read a book, which I can never say no to because it's so cute, I try to put him back in his crib and he says, "Now I want to cuddle on da bed wif Daddy." How could you get mad at that?

Anyways, I'm hoping that the next two months go by quickly.  I'm ready to have a baby and be in a house of my own and have a good income.  For now I'm in between trying to keep myself busy and stressing about being too tired to do anything. 

Justice has been served, Mom.

My mom loves to tell me the story of when I was 2 years old and I was so picky about what I wore that I took scissors to my Easter dress and cut the bunny out of it.

She will never let me live that down.

Well, when Violet was 2, she started getting picky about her clothes.  She loved pink and sparkly clothes but above all, she would not wear pants.  And I assure you that I am not resorting to hyperbole when I say that she has not worn pants in 2 years.  If it's cold enough, she will wear leggings under a skirt or dress. If the fabric is too thick and resembles pants, forget it.  If they have pockets, you may as well burn them.  She does not wear pants.  Other moms try to relate to me and say, "Oh yeah, my daughter does the same thing.  She never wears pants. It's just a phase that all little girls go through."  And then the next week I will see that mom's daughter in jeans and I think, "No. No no no no no, no no no.  This is so not the same thing. Violet isn't just difficult to get into pants.  She doesn't just not like wearing them.  She doesn't just rarely wear pants.  She DOES NOT wear pants.  Period. Talk to me when your daughter goes TWO YEARS without wearing pants."

It is so ingrained now that she saw this family picture from a couple of years ago and asked who the little girl in the picture is.  I told her, "that's you, Violet," and she replied by saying, "That's not me. That little girl is wearing shorts."  Simple as that.

Twice I have gotten her to wear leggings without a skirt or dress, but it was only because she was wearing a peplum shirt, and I was able to convince her that peplum shirts are just really really short dresses.

Some people say, "I don't have problems dressing my kids; I just have boys. Boys aren't picky about what they wear."  But guess who just turned 2 and is becoming extremely difficult? Yep, Charlieboy.  Just today I tried to put a shirt on him and he ran away screaming, "No! I don't wike dat shirt!"  He either wears shirts with animals on them or shirts that resemble animal markings (like his black and gray striped shirt that I call his "zebra shirt" and his orange and white striped shirt that I call his "Nemo shirt.")  So his outfits every day are not a choice of what shirt he wants to wear, but rather what animal he wants to be.

So Mom, I think I've learned my lesson.  Can this stop now?

Car seat safety: you're missing the point

Ever notice that when I'm pregnant I have lots of long posts about people who annoy me?  Well, brace yourselves, because LOTS of people have been annoying me this week.

This one is about other parents.  I've overheard so many times conversations between moms about brands of car seats, why it's so important to buy so-and-so brand, and why you should leave your kid rear-facing until they're like, 8.  And I always hear interjected into the conversation at some point the phrase, "Well, I just want my child to be SAFE. "  And part of me wants to go over there and say, "Yeah, I just bought a Graco because I want my kids to die."

And I think that sometimes people don't understand everything that goes into keeping your kid safe.  Take the whole brand issue, for example.  First of all I would like to point out that they cannot sell unsafe baby gear in America.  It is against the law.  And expensive models get recalled just as often as the cheaper ones do. I've had some experiences with different brands.  A few times I had to fit a giant Britax car seat next to Violet's and it was so big that I had to slam my car door shut just to get it to fit (I have a pretty tiny car for two car seats). Yes, that is a highly regarded brand and a very safe seat, but is there anything safe about almost cracking the plastic every time you shut the door because it won't fit in your car?  My parents also have a different brand of car seat that I use for my kids when we go places together.  I have always really liked the one they have-- it's comfortable and easy to use-- and probably more expensive than the one I have in my car.  But before Violet was even 2, she figured out how to undo the top buckle in that car seat and would unstrap herself in the middle of the highway.  Unsafe.

So instead of researching the crash test ratings, I buy my car seats based on size, and whether my kids can undo the buckles, and whether the crotch strap is long enough that I don't feel like a child molester every time I buckle them up (priorities, you know).  I guess that means I just want them to die.

And then there's the argument about keeping toddlers rear-facing for as long as possible.  I don't mind that people do this, but I do mind that they get really high and mighty about it.  Yes, rear-facing car seats are safer in front-end collisions.  But, if Newton's laws of motion have anything to do with this, it shouldn't make a difference in a side impact, and they should be even worse if you get rear-ended. State law says that they need to be in a rear-facing seat until at least their first birthday, and I definitely follow that.    But I want to explain how it was having Violet in a rear-facing car seat.  She screamed a lot.  It was incredibly distracting. I would get road rage and blindly swat at the back seat to try and console her or find her pacifier/sippy cup/whatever.  When I switched her to front-facing, it was magical.  She could see where we were going and almost never cried.  So, what I say to people who lecture me on how unsafe it is to have a front-facing toddler is this: it's a heck of a lot safer than having a rear-facing driver. 

Relax, parents.  The safest car seat is the one that is installed correctly and used every single time.  And that doesn't make you drive off a bridge in a fit of rage. 

Yay for weekends!

You know what makes my weekends really great? When Brandon is out of town.  Especially when he is gone two weekends in a row and the first one is for a class that he isn't even taking.  It makes me even more excited when it's the day after he has to stay at school until 10:45 PM welcoming the prospective grad students. Because between lab work, finishing three more papers for his thesis, and having everything done for graduation in three months, he has tons of time for this.

I just love sitting at home when I'm 25 weeks pregnant and putting the kids to bed by myself.  And I do really well having no one to talk to during the evening.  I'm totally not going to go to Sonic and eat my feelings in the form of a peanut butter hot fudge shake every night.  My favorite is going to be when I get to get the kids ready for 9:00 church and teach primary all by myself. 

Yeah, I thought you'd be jealous.

A girl can dream.

Someday, I will have enough water pressure to wash all the shampoo out of my hair when I shower.
I will have an AC that doesn't leak water all over the bathroom floor every time I turn it on.
I will have a pantry in my kitchen instead of on the other side of my house.
I will have a big enough car to put the groceries in the trunk instead of piling them all in the passenger seat.
The kids will have a playroom so their toys aren't laying all over the living room because it's the only space big enough for them to play in.
I won't have to paint on the kitchen table.
I will have a backyard so that I can send the kids outside without having to worry about creeps running off with them or cars running them over in the parking lot.
And when I feel like ordering pizza instead of making dinner, instead of getting a Papa Johns carryout special I will get a Candelaris deep dish monstrosity because I will have the guts to spend $24 on a pizza.

The only problem is, someday is still six months away, and if I think about it too much, I might miss out on the now.
Right now, Brandon has a flexible schedule and lets me sleep in every day.
My kids play well together.
When Charlie wakes up in the morning he stands up and yells, "Charlie's awake!" until someone comes to get him out of his crib.
The weather is perfect.
The Rodeo is coming.
Bluebonnet season is almost here.
I don't have a newborn to take care of and 20 lbs of baby weight to lose.

So yes, as excited as I am about how my life will be once we move and Brandon starts his job, I need to step back and realize that now is pretty good.

That was not smart.

I feel like Bill Murray in What about Bob when he hangs up the phone and walks away whining, "That was not smart."

I had a pretty elaborate Valentine's day breakfast planned out for the kids. I was going to have the table all set in the morning with their presents on their plates and the cards that Reed sent to them sitting there for them to open.  Then we were going to eat cinnamon rolls, and since I don't like getting up at 6 AM (or even 8 AM for that matter), I had looked up a recipe for overnight cinnamon rolls that you just throw in the oven when you get up in the morning.

Only I didn't look at it closely enough.

I had briefly skimmed the recipe to make sure I had all the ingredients.  I missed the part where you let the dough rise for 2 hours before rolling it out.  I missed the part where you put it in a stand mixer with a dough hook for 10-12 minutes.  I also missed the part where you let it rise for another 30 minutes in the morning before putting it in the oven.  So at 11:30 PM when I go to throw it all together, I'm in for quite a surprise, because I will apparently only start rolling out the dough at 1:30 AM.  I don't own a stand mixer so I had to do the 10-12 minutes of kneading by hand, which I was NOT happy about (I gave up after 5, so we'll just see how they turn out).  And seriously? Letting them rise for 30 minutes in the morning? What is the point of overnight cinnamon rolls if all the rising doesn't happen OVERNIGHT? 

When I did a little more research I realized that the root of my problem stemmed from the creators of the recipe: Williams-Sonoma.  I should never trust a recipe that comes from a stupid overpriced store with stupid professional chefs with every kitchen gadget known to man at their disposal in their stupid test kitchens.  They don't care if a stupid cinnamon roll recipe takes up 12 hours of their time and their kids are screaming at them in hunger the next morning while the dough rises for an extra half hour and then cooks for that long.

It is so much work being a good mom.

Fears

It's funny to find out what your kids are afraid of.  At around age 2, Violet started being scared of "big monkeys."  She had no problems with lions and bears and the like while we were at the zoo, but she would not go near a chimpanzee to save her life.  There is also a stuffed gorilla at the Museum of Natural Science (taxonomy stuffed, not teddy bear stuffed) and she wouldn't even go in the hallway where it stood.  I'm not sure what prompted this fear, but it was pretty clear.  She's a little better about it now, but she still keeps her distance at the orangutan exhibit.

And since Charlie has turned 2, his fears have been made known as well.  A few weeks ago we went to get the mail and there was a dead cockroach on the porch and Charlie would not go outside.  I can relate to fear of cockroaches, but even I was okay just walking around this one.  Charlie, however, made me hold him and looked at me very seriously and said, "I am scared of it." Violet has always been a talker, but she turns silent when she gets scared, so I was surprised when Charlie was vocal and completely articulate about what scared him.  The second incident happened at the zoo, and just like Violet, Charlie was fine with the large predatory animals.  When we stopped to look at the octopus, he just slowly backed up and again started saying, "I am scared of it."

I wonder what causes these fears.  Gorillas and octopi scare them, but they love the Komodo dragons and anacondas and bats.  I guess I'll have something interesting to tell them about themselves when they're older.

Violet: future OB?

Violet has definitely bonded with this pregnancy.  She asks daily how sister is doing, if she's kicking, and she fell asleep one night with her hand on my belly, trying to feel her move.  She boldly told me, "I think she likes me more than you."  I'm not sure about that, but it would be nice to have girls who are as close as she and Charlie are. 

Today I told her that my friend had a baby and she started asking about how the baby comes out.  She had more questions than my explanations would satisfy so I pulled up an animated video of what happens during labor and delivery.  She didn't just think it was cool; she thought it was AWESOME.  She made me play every video on the website and when one started playing footage of a live birth, I turned it off and she yelled, "Hey, I wasn't done watching that!"  She had even more questions after that.  How does the cord get off? Do they throw the placenta away? Does aunt Bethany catch her when she comes out? Do they wipe the stuff off the baby after she's born? Can she see in there? SHE CAN HEAR ME?!?! I showed her pictures of a placenta (by the way, don't ever google "placenta" unless you're prepared for it to give you the option for "placenta eating" with pictures of some really disturbing food) and we both agreed that the "red jellyfish" was gross and cool. 

Finally, I gave her the news that she would have to stay home with someone else when I go to the hospital and have the baby.  She simply replied, "Yeah, because there will be a lot of yucky stuff that I probably won't want to see."  This girl is wise beyond her years.

Keep me busy

Normally by this point in any given month I will have written a blog post about my kids doing some crazy thing that drives me nuts and makes me question my sanity and/or parenting skills.  But there has been a lull in the postings lately because my life has been, dare I say, normal.  Perfect.  Seriously, 2014-- although I'm only half a month into it-- has been great.  My kids have been suspiciously well-behaved.  They are asleep by 8:30 every night and play together pretty well during the day.  I have gotten that second trimester burst of feelgoodness and I've been doing things like making dinner every night, cleaning out my car, and exercising regularly.  What is up with this? This never happens!

We have even gotten our plans for the year more or less figured out. Brandon is on track to graduate in May (fingers crossed), start his job in June, and we have talked to a lender who feels confident that we can move into our very own house in July. Our landlord gave us the OK to extend our contract for a couple of months so we only have to move once this year.

In fact, things are going so well that there is only one problem: I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT TO DO WITH MYSELF. Everything exciting that is happening in my life is at least 4 months away.  So what do I do to keep myself busy?  Make goals that I probably won't achieve.
--paint 10 pictures (a lofty goal for a girl who takes naps daily)
--sell at least one of them (also a lofty goal, considering that it's completely out of my control)
--take tons of pictures (duh, that's not really a goal, that's just something I like to do)
--go to San Antonio while Brandon writes his papers
--go to the beach while I'm still not too pregnant to fit in my swimsuit
--go to the rodeo
--make baby girl's blessing dress
--find a name for her
--pick out all the furniture I want so I can order it right after we buy a house (I'm actually really good at this)

Okay, anything to add? Because this might sound like a lot, but it really doesn't keep me all that busy.  Well, not busy enough to stop checking real estate listings even though we're not looking at houses yet!

The photo blog is still up... grab my new button!

 



As many of you know, I made an actual webpage (not just a blog) for art and photography now-- 50mmlinds.com.  I didn't really intend to do this in the beginning, but enough people have been asking for services that it became necessary to have a portfolio and pricing guide, and I'm really excited about the new site.  My sister asked if I was going to discontinue the photo blog, and the answer is most definitely not!  I'm continuing it on the "blog" tab of my new site, so just check that instead for new posts from now on.  The button on the side of my personal blog links to the new site, and if you want to grab the button, too, here is the html code you'll need to copy and paste to the "add html" gadget in your blog (if you already have my 50mmlinds blog button, you can just paste this code over it and save and it will replace it.)  Happy blogging!

<a href="http://50mmlinds.com"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEsdyLhy4ApVWHfyxPRueI5WimMH-AvCS2YiIcja_SaNu319sevYXRpZ35A1H6kKkXdGCfxPw-3PQ4mslNTjZtJxKsj_tlp814ok5TQrNWpg6I7TYQotgzrtsSwYFhCt2HWpIy/s1600/LBH_3809button.png" /></a>

Gratitude

Wonderful things have been happening this week.

I felt the baby kicking for the first time recently.  The next day we went in for my ultrasound.  We let Violet decide if she wanted to find out if it was a boy or girl and she definitely did.  She braced herself as a tiny little baby came up on the monitor.  Arms, legs, beautiful beating heart, and head, and then we saw the three little lines that were undeniable evidence that Violet is going to have a little sister.  She gasped, and I cried.  After seeing this tiny baby squirming around and looking at my two standing at my side, I was overwhelmed with the feeling that it didn't matter if it's a boy or girl; I was just so happy to have three sweet children.  I resolved to enjoy my time with them more, and the week since then has been great.  They can't wait to meet their new little sister.  

It's my lucky day!

Do you ever have one of those days where everything just makes you happy? That's today for me.  Here is a list of the little things I have been thrilled about today.

--I wasn't too excited about getting home last night because I was sick when we left for vacation and I had to leave the house messy.  But the first thing I saw when I got to the door was a package from Jennifer, and when I opened it there was a brand new New York Princess snow globe for Violet and an adorable maternity dress for me.

--I am finally starting to consider the fact that it might be a better idea to wait a month or so after Brandon starts his job to buy a house.  While the idea of living in this apartment for longer than 5 more months would normally make me want to cry, it's not so bad right now-- we just got done living with 13 other people for two weeks, so after coming home, our apartment seems huge!

--I was looking for a set of giant foam blocks to get the kids for Christmas, but the cheapest ones I could find were $82 online, so I never ended up getting them.  But today I randomly found some for sale at HEB for half the price!  I bought them right away and my kids have been playing with them all afternoon.

--As I was pushing the kids and our new foam blocks out to the car at HEB, some guys in a truck stopped to tell me that I look hot for having 2 kids.  I realize that's pretty creepy but I was still happy about it, especially since I'm also 4 months pregnant.

--When I got into the car, Violet asked if it was stinky in the car.  I told her no, but she replied, "Yes it is, because I farted in here!"  I know I shouldn't encourage that, but I couldn't stop laughing.

--I went to Ulta and tracked down all the makeup that Ashley had let me borrow when I was in NYC and bought it, so I can now look like I did there.  (Trust me, it makes a difference.)

If today is any sign of what this new year is going to be like, I believe I'm in for a good one!

2013

2013 was like a bad boyfriend.

It started off all fun and exciting, and then came the red flags (AC breaking, losing my drivers license, etc.) Still, I stayed pretty optimistic.  Since a few things were working out for me, I kind of dove into everything headfirst, thinking it would all work out in the end.  Unfortunately all I learned was that you should never take on too many projects in your first trimester and you should never work for free.  So, 2013, this is where I say I'm getting sick and tired of you and it's time to break up.  We had some good times but in the end, I ended up wasting my time.  I'm ready for a new year.

Luckily though, a few things happened in 2013 that will make 2014 awesome. This will probably be a crazy, stressful year, but Brandon has a big boy job nailed down and I am pregnant so no matter how hectic things get, I will at least have a baby and a house by the end of the year.  And that is going to be fabulous. 

I of course could never write an end-of-year post without setting some goals for the next year.

1. Be nicer to Brandon. 
Brandon has been really nice to me this year.  And it's not like an annoying newlywed "I am so lucky I have the best husband ever <3<3<3 he is the greatest because he bought me flowers once XOXOXO" type of nice.  He has done some real, substantial, grown-up things.  Like never once complaining when I only made dinner 5 times in my entire first trimester.  Like staying calm and not judging me when one night I was so stressed out with the kids that I threatened to get my tubes tied after this baby.  Like taking care of the kids while I was in NYC pursuing my photography dreams.  Like spending 10+ hours setting up a webpage for me, without even being asked to, just so I can look more professional. Like showing me the techniques I needed to know to do a drawing for which I got paid and he received no credit.  So I'm going to try to pay him back a little. It's going to be a busy semester for him, so maybe I could do things like actually feed him dinner, or stop asking how much time it's going to take for him to graduate so I can live my ideal trophy wife lifestyle and spend all the money he makes.  Yeah, I can definitely do better.

2.  Learn how to say no.
I'm really bad at this, and the terrible thing is that some people really need to learn how to accept NO for an answer, and I've just been depriving them of this learning opportunity all along. I also need to learn that NO doesn't require an explanation, excuse, or apology.  That's the whole beauty of the word-- it's a one-word answer that gives people all the information they need.  Time to use it.

3. Stop thinking there is nothing to do.
There is always something to do.  I have no real schedule or commitments, but I still sit home some days thinking there is nothing to do.  Really? I could go to the beach on any given day if I just did it.  I could get up and take a road trip if I wanted.  No one but Brandon would even notice I'm gone. I don't have to take vacation days off work to do that.  I just need to be more fun.

Yes, 2014 is going to be eventful.  Between Brandon finishing school and starting his new job, and us buying a house and having a baby, it's probably going to go by faster than I can ever imagine.  But maybe if I do all these things I can handle the stress that comes along with all these life changes.  It's going to be a great year!

Sickies on vacation

My expectations of vacations are always wildly different from reality.

Me before going to Utah:
"Yay! I can't wait to play in the snow, have a white Christmas, drink hot chocolate, and have so much fun!"

Me, 10 minutes after arriving in Utah:
"IT IS SO COLD!!!! WHY DO PEOPLE LIVE HERE?!?!?!?"

Yep.  Brandon's decision to take a job in Houston was validated the second I stepped out of the airport.  (Not that we had other options, but still.  I'm not complaining.)

The cold hasn't even actually been that bad. The worst part has been the flu.  We were scheduled to fly out on Monday night at 6:30.  Brandon had a paper to finish that day and the weekend had been super busy for me, so there was a lot to do before we left.  And unfortunately on Monday I woke up sick and our computer wasn't working. The flights went pretty well, but they had issues getting our luggage out in Salt Lake so we didn't leave the airport until 12:30 AM, and got to Lena's house at about 1:30 AM. By the time we got in bed, we were both feeling really sick, and I just lay there shaking until I fell asleep.  Tuesday turned out to be even worse-- I coughed until I threw up, and later Brandon threw up and couldn't move, then fell asleep while eating dinner. Charlie was so tired that he slept in till noon and then fell asleep that evening while sitting down on the floor. Violet did not object to being put to bed, either.  Luckily I went and bought some BYU ice cream, which has healing properties for sore throats, and I'm feeling much better today.  But Brandon is still sick and Charlie threw up this morning, so we will still have to see it out.  So much for a relaxing vacation!