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Category Archives: Baby

Tonight I’m getting ready for my C-section scheduled early tomorrow morning.

Wait!

No need!

He’s already here!

Our Little Mister is already the most kissed member of the family. His sisters just positively adore him! Bean will come over & whisper in his ear, “Little Mister, you are wonderful! you are the best! I love you so much!” (This is because he currently is the only sibling she has that does not steal her toys. Just wait, sweet Beanie, just wait….) Peanut had a cold last week & it drove her nutcakes that she couldn’t hug or kiss him. She’s since made up for those few days.

We’ve already figured out some of his fun little habits & quirks. He has to have his hands in his face at all time. He gets the hiccups all the time & sounds like a squeaky toy. That’s just like Bean was as a baby. But, he looks more like Peanut & likes to arch his back just like she did. He has very little hair on top, but more on the sides, so he looks like a little old man. He has Raylo’s ears. Shoot, he looks just like Raylo, which means that 3 out of 3 of our kids favors him. He will lock eyes with whoever is holding him and just stare. And we are all helplessly in love!

We are blessed immeasurably by our sweet boy!


While Britty was here, we had a mini belly photo shoot. The photo shoot was mini, the belly was not. Yes, my lovelies, Gigantor has returned.

When I got pregnant, I told my friends here that I would get huge — I did with both of my girls. But, this time it’s been such an odd pregnancy. I haven’t gained nearly the weight I did with the others, I can’t eat (but before I could eat and eat and eat), and for the longest time my belly was pretty small.

Not anymore.

I am really excited that I’ve made it to 35 weeks. I’ve breathed several sighs of relief. I’m now just trying to make it until Bean finishes her first week of school. That starts Monday. So, any time after next weekend, I’ll be ready.

But, we still need to find a name for this kid. Otherwise, he’ll end up being named Tater Tot, Brother, or simply Boy.

Here’s a question for y’all: One name we’re considering sounds better if we put the name we’ll call him in the middle. For example, instead of naming him Jimmy Earl and calling him Jimmy, we’d name him Jimmy Earl and call him Earl. (But we’re not actually thinking of Jimmy or Earl…. sorry to the lovely Jimmys and Earls we know out there.) Do you go by your middle name? Does someone in your family go by his/her middle name? What kind of experience have you/him/her had? Just wondering…..


Drama seems to follow me everywhere.

Peanut was born early at 35 weeks and it was quite a sudden surprise. So, for Tater Tot, my doctors and I have paid attention to any pain, twinge, or whatever. I’ve been having contractions off & on for several weeks and have spent a lot of time on the couch or in Raylo’s armchair. Well, Sunday night the contractions were regular and kept going for an hour. So, my wonderful friend MoMo dropped everything to come over and sit with my kiddies until Debs could come. (Debs was going to stay overnight with us anyway.) I spent the entire night getting IVs and getting medications that knocked me out and then sleeping. At 6 a.m. they let me go home. My kids never even knew we were gone.

I spent the rest of Monday sleeping off the medications while Poppy & Mimi took care of the girls & MoMo & Debs cleaned out my office and turned it into the baby room. This is the definite high point of the experience.

But, since I’m only 30 weeks along, we’d like to keep Tater Tot cooking a little longer. I’d appreciate prayers in this matter! So, that’s what’s been going on in our neck of the woods.


Lately the dinner prayers have gotten quite passive-aggressive. They go something like this:

Bean: Thank you, God, for Mama & Daddy. Amen.

Peanut: Did you pray for me? Did you pray for me? Pray for me!

Bean: No.

Peanut: Then I won’t ever play with you again.

***

Fast forward to the next night….

***

Peanut: Dear God, thank you for Mimi, Poppy, Grannie, PawPaw, Mama, Daddy, Bean & Peanut. Amen.

Bean: You prayed for me?

Peanut: Yes.

Bean: Good.

***

And the next night….

***

Bean: Thank you, God, for Mama & Daddy. Amen.

Peanut: Did you pray for me? Did you pray for me? Pray for me! PRAY FOR ME!!!!

Bean: No.

Peanut: Then I won’t ever play with you again!!!!

At least they don’t fight about who gets to pray first. Somewhere I read this idea, so if it was from you, THANK YOU. If you happen to have 2 kids & one of them has a birthday on an even-numbered day & the other has a birthday on an odd-numbered day, then you’ve got it made. So, on even-numbered days of the month, Bean gets to go first. On odd-numbered days of the month, Peanut gets to go first. Once Tater Tot (that’s #3) gets here and is old enough to want to go first sometimes, this will wreck my system.


I’ll let you guess from the reaction the girls gave….

So, Bean is content with her headband/white beard, but Peanut is inconsolable. (I told you there would be weeping & gnashing of teeth…)

We, of course, are thrilled to be expecting a son! :)


When we started telling people that we were expecting again, one person made the following comment: “Maybe you’ll get lucky this time and have a boy!”

I know that she wasn’t meaning anything by it. I know she was just making conversation. I know that this was her way of saying congratulations. But, people, I still felt like she punched me in the gut. And when I saw my two “unlucky” precious blessings, I gave them extra hugs. Because whether she meant it that way or not, by saying that a boy = lucky, she is implying that a girl = unlucky. And although she may not have even thought that, I’m grateful my girls weren’t there to hear it. I don’t want them to think of themselves as anything but a gift straight from Heaven.

When I went in for my initial ultrasound, the tech asked if this was my first. I told her that I have 2 little girls. She began clapping her hands like a 3 year old at a birthday party during cake time and hollering “Oh, let’s hope this is a boy!” Then, during the exam, she spent an extra few minutes poking around the 9 1/2 week fetus to see if she could figure out if it was, indeed, a boy. Now, I’ve never been trained in ultrasound technology, but I am pretty sure that there’s nothing to see on a 9 1/2 week fetus to indicate gender.

I know she was just trying to be nice & make conversation. I know she held no unpleasant feelings towards my daughters. I know her words were just empty conversation. Still, I was really frustrated and peeved. Mostly because it was one of those infernal internal ultrasounds and no woman wants to spend any extra time undergoing that procedure while the ultrasound tech tries vainly to determine if I’m going to be “lucky” and have a boy. (There’s that word again….!) So, when I go in to have the big gender-reveal ultrasound & we see it’s a boy, will she throw a party? But if it’s a girl, will she be bummed out and make ridiculous comments about our need to try again? I’m heading both of those scenarios off at the pass — I’ve requested a different ultrasound tech from here on out.

I’ve had numerous other people say, “Oh, you must want a boy,” or “Trying for a boy, huh?” or “Watch out, you might have another girl!” *sigh* I’ll tell you that I was polite, but quick to say that any child is a blessing and we’ll be grateful for either gender that God gives us.

I wrote before about the reaction I had when we found out Peanut was a girl and since then I’ve had many conversations with all-girl moms and all-boy moms about the same thing. If you’ve got all girls and get pregnant, people make comments about the fact that you *must* want a boy. If you’ve got all boys and get pregnant, people assume you must have only been trying for a girl. And if you get the same gender as you have, you’ll have to try again. I’ve also heard from many mamas who have a girl and a boy, so when they get pregnant a 3rd time, people ask why.

I also want to know why… Why do we as a culture have this preconceived idea that a family is only complete when there are both male & female children? Do I want a boy? Sure. That would be fun. We’d play trucks and Legos and cowboys and it would be a blast. But, is my life diminished if I have a third girl? No way! I’d also love to have another girl! If we have another girl, that will also be a blast! We’ll play even more dress-up and paint even more toenails and get even more dollies. How can I, as a human, make the choice about who’s best for our family? God’s already chosen what this baby’s gender is. He knows what He wants our little household to look like. We’ve just decided to accept with joy whoever He sends.

Now, I know that some people really, really want children of both genders. I am not judging a mom or dad who crosses their fingers and hopes that the ultrasound shows a ____ in there. I’m addressing the people who make statements assessing value or desirability to a certain gender, especially when they have no relationship with the parents at all. (Ultrasound lady, I’m talking to you….)  I’m addressing any person who reacts with disappointment or a comment about trying again or anything but joy when a mother reveals their child’s gender. Even if you meet a woman who has 4 boys and is pregnant with boy #5 or a woman with a van full of girls and who is pregnant with another girl, the only response should be “How wonderful! What a blessing!” Never: “Well, you can try again,” “Better luck next time,” or (the WORST in my opinion) “Well, maybe you can adopt and that way you’ll get the ____ you want.” (Because that’s what adoption is for…. picking & choosing what type of kid you want.)

All of this to say: We find out Friday afternoon if we will have a floor full of little cars or another drawer full of hair bows in our future. And either way I am thrilled & excited. I just want to say he or she and start thinking of names. And Raylo feels the same way I do. In fact, the only people in the house who have an opinion on the matter are the little ones. Both girls have stated that they will help feed the baby, hold the baby, and play with the baby – but only if it’s a girl. Since they are not old enough to read this post or understand what I’m talking about, I’ll let them off the hook for their opinion. They are only 3 & 4 anyway. (Which leads me to another pet peeve…. why do people have to make comments about the spacing of my children?!?! But I’ll save that for another day…. You’re welcome….)


Today Bean went to Sunday School. Now, they learn all kinds of great things in Sunday School. They learn about Jesus, about Noah’s Ark, about Palm Sunday, about David & Goliath, and about how to cut out hearts from construction paper. She mostly remembers that last lesson. But, today’s lesson trumped them all in memorability. Their teacher explained about April Fool’s Day. She questioned me some more as we walked to the car after church.

Bean: “Mama, my teacher says today is a joke day. What’s that mean?”

mab: “Well, Beanie, it’s a day called April Fool’s Day where you try to trick people, but you want to play nice tricks, not mean ones. It’s supposed to be funny.” (This was to preempt her beating down her sister and then yelling “I tricked you! April Fool’s!)

Bean: “Yeah, our teacher said that it was a funny joke day like telling you ‘AAAH! THERE’S A SPIDER ON THE WALL!’”

mab: “Well, that’s right.” (On a 4 year-old level, I’m thinking this is as complicated as April Fool’s jokes go.)

After this exchange, I didn’t realize that further education was necessary. Until I heard her try out an April Fool’s joke…. Bean said “AAAAH!  THERE’S A SPIDER ON THE WALL! Nah, APRIL’S HAM!”

April’s Ham?

So, the rest of the day, Bean would holler “AAAH! THERE’S A SPIDER ON THE WALL! April’s Ham!” or “AAAH! THERE’S A SPIDER IN YOUR HAIR! April’s Ham!”

Later, the kids were outside playing with Raylo and Peanut told Bean she had to do something or she wouldn’t play with her anymore. “DAAAAD!” yelled Bean, “she’s giving me an ultomato!”

I love these kids.

I was actually very sad that April Fool’s Day came on a Sunday this year. If it had been during the week, I was going to call my mom & make up some story about having to go into the doc for some strange symptom & they did an ultrasound. Then, I’d send her e-mail a picture I ganked off the web of a triplet ultrasound. But who would believe that on a Sunday? Dangit. I’ll have to save that for another year. Except that I just told all of y’all (including my Mama) about my plan. Double Dangit.


I will distract you all from my recent lack of blogging with a picture that is full of meaning which will also assuage the grandparents who weep and gnash their teeth daily when they open my blog and do not see pictures of their grandchildren and I know this is a run-0n sentence — Look! Cute kids wearing cute shirts!

#3 is due September 22nd. We are all super excited!


Let me start this post with the punch line: I am NOT pregnant.

So, where have I been lately? Hiding out and watching stupid tv while eating chocolate? Nope. Partying all night at a wild variety of European Discotheques? Nope. Taking my children to a different educational location each day before nap and providing a themed and planned craft activity after nap? No way.

I’ve been sick. I shall spare you the specifics. I’ll just say that it was easier to throw some things away than clean up.

My symptoms: nausea, fatigue, general shakiness, food aversions, loss of appetite, strange cravings for mozzarella cheese sticks and cherry cokes

(In case you didn’t know: When I was pregnant with Peanut, I craved cherry cokes and cheese sticks.)

I’ll be honest: I felt a bit disappointed when I saw the minus sign on the pee stick. Sure, this would be horrible timing for another kid. (No, I’m not going to start trying for one. Grandparents, no need to panic!) But, babies are cute. And, I’m not getting any younger. If I want another kiddo, I can’t wait until all of the stars are aligned and the hub has finished his schooling + internship and we have more money and we have a house and my business is thriving and I’ve lost all of my weight and am back to a single-digit size that I haven’t been since 2003. Sigh. I digress.

To be honest, the biggest reason I was disappointed that I wasn’t pregnant:If we had another kid, the school would let us move into a bigger apartment. Oh, the square footage! The higher ceilings! The extra two bedrooms! All worth a little financial instability and a screaming newborn, right? Sigh…

I’m considering faking the test and shoving Bean’s playground ball up my shirt to apply for new housing. I wonder if it’ll work…..


Lots of my friends are having babies. New, sweet, tiny, little babies.

I miss my babies.

Weren’t they both beautiful?

Yesterday, I got to hold a friend’s little baby. I gave her a bottle, I burped her, I rocked her, and she fell asleep on my shoulder. I kept up the Mama Dance — that sway we instinctively do to keep the little ones soothed and asleep.

My back began to hurt.

I remembered pregnancy.

And interrupted sleep.

And I decided that it’s not the time for a new baby. It’s just the time to hold my friends’ babies.

Peanut is relieved. She doesn’t want to hear any talk of new babies.

**UPDATED** Yes, these pictures are all of Peanut and Bean. There’s a pretty equal mix of the two (counting the one en utero). Can you tell who is who? Dude, they look alike! Dude, neither looks like me! **



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