Monday, July 30, 2012

not idiots, idiots

I'm choosing to focus on these totally non idiotic people and how much I love them and how much fun we're having living at the lake.  Which is, really, a lot of fun.  Or as much fun as one can have at 1,352 weeks pregnant with murderous acid reflux and without central air.  Still .... fun.
And I'm choosing not to focus on IDIOTS.  (After I'm done blogging about idiots, I mean.)  Like the idiot mover who packed our oven knobs.  OVEN KNOBS.  Packed.  So my husband?  Tomorrow?  Gets to go over and make the movers unload kitchen boxes and dig through kitchen boxes to find those four oven knobs because I MEAN REALLY, would you want to buy a house on Wednesday and then have the sellers be like "oh, surprise, your fancy new oven is unusable!  We'll mail the knobs next week!  Byeeeee!"  Um, no.  And the mover is ALSO an idiot for telling us the trucks were being loaded today, making us think that meant ALL the stuff would be gone, so we trekked over after dinner with tired kids and tired us so we could vacuum the place and OH SURPRISE AGAIN, there's furniture everywhere so pretty much, wasted trip.  Andplusalso, now we have to stalk the movers tomorrow and run in there the precise moment they DO load the furniture before they load the vacuum so we can clean the floors and not leave our buyers a house with cat hair clinging to the (formerly under-bed) corners and  8,375 ponytail holders where the furniture used to be (turns out one of the cats is a ponytail holder hoarder, I'd been wondering how I managed to lose a pack a month or so).

And also an idiot is the painter at the lake house who somehow managed to cake my Suburban with house stain overspray yesterday, so this morning I got in it and thought there was sap on my windshield and drove through a car wash only to find the "sap" didn't budge and OH FUN SURPRISE, it's paint.  So now I'm without a car for half the day tomorrow while the professionals remove that fun little mess before this weekend's road trip because if I have to look at my paint sprayed windshield on a 12ish hour round trip?  I will FUH-REAK.

AND, who's the idiot who forgot to record Bachelor Pad when we left the house tonight?!


Monday is an idiot!

Saturday, July 28, 2012

thirty four / thirty four

Thirty four weeks, and thirty four days until baby day.  Thank.  Goodness.  Another sleepless night (heartburn, backache, reflux, snoring hubby, calf ache, crying unsettled kids, snoring hubby, side ache, reflux, side ache, heartburn) has me feeling very, very done with this whole gestating thing.

But here we are.  Baby3 and me, surrounded by boxes and moving mess, bigger by the minute.

Tuesday, July 24, 2012

bible school

That's how Vivi felt about leaving her "brover" at Vacation Bible School yesterday morning.  The waterworks started before we'd left the building, built up to a wail as we walked to the car, and had become an inconsolable kicking, screaming meltdown by the time I pulled out of the parking lot.  Honestly?  I felt about the same, I just handled myself slightly better.  Slightly.  Until I got on the phone with my mom, anyway, then I had a little breakdown of my own.  School, you guys.  My Bug.  My baby!  All by himself for a whole morning, all week long, with strangers who may not understand what he's asking for, with kids who may not share with him or want to be his friend or somehow otherwise bruise his vulnerable little heart that we've spent these four years protecting.  I'm not sure if it made it harder or easier that he seemed truly excited to go.  Apprehensive at first, as any not-quite 4 year old would be walking into a gymnasium full of new faces and new sounds and about 100 overexcited kids.  But by the time we sat together for the opening announcements and prayers and met his teacher and made our way to his classroom door (which the teacher made very clear was the stopping point for the worried tagalong moms) ..... he slipped his little hand out of my hand and just ..... went.  Blended into the little crowd and disappeared into the room.  No fuss, no tears, no clinging to my leg.  No looking back, even.  Which, obviously, is good.  But is it so wrong to admit it's also sad?  Like, REALLY sad?  That it felt like a big leap toward the goodbyes we'd have at real school, then summer camps, then college, then LEAVING ME FOREVER?  That I really, truly, SERIOUSLY had to hold myself back after leaving the building from walking across the grass and peeking through the window to make sure he wasn't crying for me?  I didn't, but oh, how I wanted to take one last look, reassure myself that he was okay in there.  We won't even talk about how many times I checked my phone during the three hours he was gone, making sure it was still on and charged and nobody had left a frantic voice mail saying that he was crying and needed his mama.

Day two?  Even smoother.  The kicker was that when we arrived thirty minutes early to take him home (thanks to a sleep deprived little sister who terrorized the post office AND the grocery store and who clearly needed to get home for a nap NOW), he didn't even look that excited to see me.  His buddy was sitting beside him at the crafts table and said "hey, dude, your mommy is here!" and he looked over his shoulder at me with this very-too-cool junior high schooler look like "oh, hey."  Le sigh.  But he did eventually get up, and hug me, and proudly show off the little rubber cross that he'd painstakingly glued shiny rocks onto and the look of pride on his little face, you guys, that he'd done this little project on his own at this big school place?  The sweetest thing, ever.

It's a big step, this school stuff.  The letting go.  It's all very good, I know.  He'll start real preschool as soon as we get to Colorado, and this is good practice.  For him, a little, and for the very attached Vivi, clearly, but mostly for me.  Because doing the very first school drop off thing THEN, when I'm postpartum hormonal and in a new and unfamiliar place and probably haven't slept more than three hours in three or four weeks?  Would probably have been much worse.  You know I would've done the window peep then, for sure.

Monday, July 23, 2012

thirty three

This is the closest you'll ever get to seeing me in my bikini on my blog.  Or the internet anywhere, really.  You're welcome for that.  For me NOT posting pictures of myself in a bikini, not "you're welcome" for this picture.  Anyway.  Thirty three weeks, from the dock:
And as of today, 39 days to c-section day.  THIRTY NINE!  I'm so ready.  Not necessarily ready for life with a newborn, for bags under my eyes and my baby belly turning into just a belly (ugh).  But ready to meet my second daughter, for sure.  And to say goodbye to pregnancy FOREVER.  For sure.  Forever.  DONE-ZO. 

Friday, July 20, 2012


Just when I've totally had it up to there with the bickering over who gets to sing the Super Why ABC song ("ME, NO ME, NO ME, NO ME!") (no, I don't know why they can't both sing it, I ASKED), the shoving over one kid getting to the Cozy Coupe just before the other, or the kicking of the bedroom wall to wake the still-asleep sibling just for funsies .... something like this happens:
They're besties, these two, at heart.  These little scenes have erased any inclination to stir up the third trimester guilt I struggled so much with before our baby Bumblebee joined the family, because I know, with clear proof right before my eyes, that there's nothing better than a sibling.  One more to love and hug (yeah, and bicker with and shove and wake before she's ready)?  Pretty great.  No guilt here, this time, just readiness.  Hurry up and cook and GET OUT OF ME, baby!  Your besties are waiting for you.

Wednesday, July 18, 2012


We're all very eager to get to Colorado.  We're excited for the mountains and the new adventures and to reunite with Mommo and Grandpa on their new ranch (a ranch!  with ponies!)  But who's the lucky one in the family who gets the honor of being the first official Coloradan?

The damn dog.

Not fair!  However, seeing as how we're going from our spacious house to one 1/3 this size for the six weeks we'll be staying up here after our closing date, and how we'll also be dealing with the (long, cranky, oh-so-tired) final days of pregnancy in the heat of August, and how we'll also be dealing with two kids adjusting to a new living situation and a new sibling, and how we'll ALSO be dealing with three cats in this limited space/energy/patience scenario .... it was best that the dog pack his bags and head west while he had the chance.  Lighten our load by 62 (!!!) pounds.  My sister and brother were Colorado-bound, and they kindly offered to move our moose-baby and keep him until we arrive.

I miss the moose, for sure.  Never more than yesterday at lunch time when I dropped a piece of honey ham on the floor and had to actually bend over and pick it up and wipe up the honey ham residue off the floor.  SO MUCH WORK OMG.

The rest of us are making do, enjoying our last weeks in the land of woods and lakes.  We're making trips to the temporary house, hauling over baby clothes and extra bedding and the like.  We're going to the park, and leaving fifteen minutes later because SOMEONE has to poop even though SOMEONE ELSE asked that someone 24 times whether he had to poop BEFORE we left for the park.  (And no, that special little someone will NOT poop in places that are not his home, so even the super skeevy park rest room wouldn't do, oh no no no!  Special.)  We're watching Sprout and we're not even caring if we exceed an hour total a day.  And we're helping J clean up the yard just before bedtime and ending up naked in the pool.  ("We", obviously, being the two people who can be naked in the yard and look cute/not be arrested.  The fully clothed grown ups just sat back and watched.  And laughed, a lot.)  I'll obviously keep the nakey shots off the web, but these two are safe.
no swimsuit, but the floaties are a MUST, says miss v.

Monday, July 16, 2012

mole chunks

Any day that starts with a time-out-athon, includes a lunchtime meltdown (x2) so severe that I started naps early and sat on the stairs and cried about my total failure at LIFE, and ends with a cat spewing mole chunks all over your kitchen floor is no day I need to remember, that's for sure.  So that's all I'm going to say about that except to say THAT SUCKED.  So bad.

And also?  It was J's birthday.  Happy birthday to YOU, husband!  For his birthday I gave him two screaming kids when he got home from work, and the honor of cleaning mole chunks off the kitchen floor.  While I dry heaved into the kitchen sink.  And cried a lot.  BUT I also got him a cheesecake and overlooked that third beer he just snuck out of the fridge, so it wasn't a total suckfest for the poor guy.

Tuesday (and the whole rest of the week) (by week I mean month), please be good to us.  At very least, no mole chunks, is all I ask.  MOLE CHUNKS, YOU GUYS!
ohhiiiii!  see how cute i am?
in a few hours i'm going to eat a mole (or 10?!?),
then come into your house and gag it up all over the kitchen.
and by "meow" i mean "I OWN YOU."

Friday, July 13, 2012

in weeks

In two weeks, movers will descend upon our house, box up our belongings, and load them into a westbound truck.  In three weeks, we'll leave for a last hurrah family of four midwestern road trip.  In seven weeks, we'll be in the hospital meeting our third child (AAAAH!) (and also OMGGGGG!)  And in nine weeks, we'll make one final move to take all three to settle into our new home in the mountains (FOREVER AND EVER NEVER MOVING AGAIN).  I've got lists started all over the house, notes here and there.  Lists of things to keep, things to go, things to do, people to call, details to confirm, checks to write, a grocery list that's just said 'eggs' for five days now (grocery shopping and meal cooking: notsomuch priorities).  In two and a half weeks we'll bid a likely-tearful goodbye to this house  in the woods we've loved oh-so-much, where babies have turned to toddlers who suddenly turned into full-on kids, where one learned to walk and they both learned to talk and we learned to live a slightly simpler life, that people can really get by without a Target, that gunshots in the woods aren't 911-worthy.  With suitcases of essentials in tow, we'll hand over the keys, load up the kids, and move alllllll the way to the family lake house (four miles away) to await the arrival of #3.  (Oh yeah, nevermind about moving before baby, juuuuust kidding, WI baby she'll be!)  There's a lot going on around here, so forgive me for letting the blog rest a bit.  It's about the only thing resting much right now.  Well, the blog and "don't talk to me before 9am" Vivi and the cats I poke now and then to make sure they're still breathing.

However.  This week?  We've focused less on the details and the to-dos and the emails and the phone calls and more on something infinitely more important: family.  All of mine, all of J's, all together for a northwoods vacation.  New babies to love, new memories to make.  So instead of moving stress, there's been lots of this.....

cousin meeting.

 niece snuggling.

lake playing.

more lake playing.

and more cousin meeting.
(anderson & leo ... two great boys named for one great great grandpa.)

The rest will happen soon enough, ready or not.  For today, more fun.

Thursday, July 5, 2012

the big (bigger, biggest) three-oh

30 weeks, Anderson.
In the midst of hottest Texas heat wave since MIL's pregnancy with J in 1980.
On the way to the dog park.
And probably Chick-fil-a.

30(ish?) weeks, Vivian.
Lambeau Field.
Caught the swine flu on the plane ride back to Texas, ended up in bed for a week.
Lambeau Field was worth it.

30 weeks, Baby Three.
Yet another miserable, cankle-making heat wave.
Actual pregnancy week = 90.
30 weeks x 3rd time = 90 weeks pregnant.  TRUEFACT.

Tuesday, July 3, 2012

bunnies. and deer.

If taking your kids to the zoo can't bring you out of your stress and sweat induced funk, you're sunk, I think.  Lucky for me, even on a sticky hot day in a zoo crawling with 4th of July lakeland tourists .... the zoo did the trick.  And particularly heartwarming was the fact that with wild zoo options like bears and leopards and snapping turtles .... my Bug's favorite thing?  Tiny, gentle bunnies.  Want to feed the bear again, A?  Want to see a gray wolf, A?  Nope, bunnies.  Sweet baby bunnies that he cuddled with care and pride.  And continued talking about all through the afternoon.  And into the evening.  Sweet boy, A, sweet boy.  His second favorite?  He had to think for awhile, but then decided it was the deer.  Isn't that little people parenthood for you?  You plan an excursion, you pay dearly for an excursion, you sweat through your dress for the excursion .... and they're most amused by things you could've seen by sitting on a lawn chair at the edge of your yard for a half hour.

This one liked bunnies, too.  Just not as exclusively.  She had love to go around.  And that bunny had to be resuscitated.  JUST KIDDING DON'T CALL PETA.

Not nearly as cute, but certainly neat.  A big, huge turtle who couldn't get away from my kids fast enough.  RUN, poor slow turtle, RUNNNNNN!

Choo choo ride with Mommo.  Around, and around, and around.  The choo choo ride was the only way we were getting A to put down the bunny and exit the zoo.  Which we had to do when the thermometer hit 115ish (I probably exaggerate) and half of Illinois was packed inside the gates.

Happy 4th of July tomorrow, yall!  Yay America and such!

Monday, July 2, 2012

in which i vent it out and feel much better.

I'm pretty certain I just took my last solo trip to the grocery store with both kids until .... forever?  Until they're in junior high and can push the cart?  Or at least, no trips with a list containing greater than five items until I'm no longer a lumbering sweaty cranky mess with a lowered threshold for stress.

First, there's the dum-dum suckers.  They're at the entrance to the store, and the kids get one when we go.  It usually keeps them quiet and on acceptable behavior.  They get three warnings to behave before the dum-dum goes bye-bye.  Today, we got as far as the baking supply aisle before Anderson got to warning #3.  Because you don't grab stuff off the shelves and throw it into the cart when you're 3, that's why.  Last warning, away went the sucker.  Temper tantrum ensues.  Consequences suck, right?!  Then some old hag took it upon herself to tsk tsk her way up beside our cart and heap pity upon my screaming kid.  "Oh!  You poor little boy!  I can't believe your mommy did that, it wasn't very nice, she should give it back!  Right?!"  Yall.  If looks legit killed?  She didn't make it to the check out line.

The whole trip was a bunch of equally nonsensy nonsense, likesuchas Vivi having a fit because I wouldn't let her take her clothes off and Vivi having a fit because I wouldn't let her eat the bag of chocolate chips and Vivi kicking her feet at my belly and Vivi having a fit because .... she's 2 1/2? .... and culminating the the ultimate nonsense.  Apparently while I was distracted with the self check-out machine (because every other check-out had 45 people in line, THAT'S WHY), one of the kids unscrewed the cap off of one of our milk jugs.  And I didn't notice.  And I pushed the cart out across the bumpy parking lot and loaded both kids into the car before noticing that 1/4 of the milk from that jug was splattered all over our cloth grocery bags, down the insides, and onto our groceries.  FABULOUS.  So guess who stood out in the 150% humidity with a pack of baby wipes wiping down her affected bags and grocery items one by one and sweating profusely while her kids yelled from their car seats about how HOT they were (in the air conditioned vehicle with vents right on top of their pretty little heads), because it was THAT or having a car smell like sour milk FOREVER AND EVER, that's why.


So there was all that and there was a big stressy meltdown about the whole, you know, moving far far away with all these kids and pets and THINGS and not even being 100% entirely sure where we'll BE one month from today or what state my baby will be born in.  In under 10 weeks.  UNDER 10 WEEKS.

After all that .... there was this.  And this was good.
And everything else is good, too.
(Just, you know, hormones and poor sleep and motherhood andsuch.)