The Fuuuuun Has Arrived!!!

Do you know how fun it is to tell people "Thursday" when they ask when you're due? It's fun. They kindof get surprised and say it back "this Thursday?" and smile with a bit of pity and a bit of excitement. Plus it's so soon that people get all impressed that you are up and moving around. I like impressing people.

Do you know how much MORE fun it is to tell people "Thursday" and then have the baby on Monday morning instead? Way.

That's right, Little John arrived this morning. Healthy and strong and significantly chunkier than his older brother was.

At 2 this morning I started having contractions pretty close together which kinda had Josh wondering if it was time. I was trying to be tough and not panic. At 2:45 I called the hospital to see how long I had to have "regular" contractions before they counted as "regular". As I was about to hang up with the nurse my water broke and the decision was made. We were going to the hospital now.

We checked in at 4am and at 9:16 this morning Little John was here. 7 lb 10 ounces, 20 inches long and is perfect in every possible way. He's beautiful.

He is perfect in every way and looks so much like Tommy (the glow-worm version) that I'm confident we won't be able to tell whose baby pictures are whose.

The labor was completely different from Tommy's, but that's a (long) story for another day.

I'm busy loving on my little one.

The Last Days (and help wanted)

These are my final days as a mother of just one child. 

I'm anticipating a lot of boring days ahead for Tommy, so I've been trying to do all of "our" favorite things one more time before Little John comes.

We went on one last diaper date at Target.

Although the more I think about it, the more convinced I am that these diaper dates will soon be a weekly thing. Remember how often you change a newborn's diaper?

We also went to Utah County to hang out with my sister. This idea was more about me than him, but after one morning with my totally awesome sister he didn't want to leave and kept asking for "Yucy?" all afternoon.

Katy reads to Lucy & Tommy

Tommy & Lucy have a tea party

Amy sits on the couch growing Little John

Today we holiday-crafted after a movie marathon which included more than 2 showings of "George-Elpant!"

A bottle of glue, some yarn, q-tips and construction paper entertained both of us for at least 17 minutes. We made a skeleton out of q-tips, a pumpkin a spider with a web.

The Itsy Bitsy Spider

Q-tips dipped in glue is a big hit with my little "dipper".

This artwork are the reason I've broken my "no crap on the front of the fridge" rule for the first time ever. And it makes me ridiculously happy.

When I reached across the table to take a picture of Tommy's face (without standing up) he ran across the couch to grab me and say "cheese". Clearly I take too many pictures of us.

But here's the thing: by this time next week we 2 will be 3. And while I simply cannot wait to meet Little John and help Tommy count his tiny little toes, my heart breaks for the last of these days where Tommy and I take over the world. 

So tell me this mothers of (at least) 2. What did you do that you loved or not do that you wish you did just one more time before your 2nd was born?

Things I Do Not Need

When The Universe finds out you're pregnant it tells everybody it knows. And The Universe if fairly well connected.

Which is why every week my mailboxes (both e- and snail) are crammed with lists of items I must have in my home before the baby arrives.

The truth is that we have bought precious little for Little John because I fully expect him to be a duplicate of Tommy. Still, it's overwhelming how much stuff a baby needs. Combine that with the unreasonable amount of time I spend on Pinterest and my shopping list is growing growing at an alarming rate.

That's why I'm excited about this short list of things I do not need.

1. A blanket with my face on it. Or anybody else's face on it.  Sorry Costco. It's cool that you can do that - but it's simply unnecessary.
   
2. Shrunken Heads in my drink this has been loved and pinned by an alarming number of people I follow on Pinterest and it still makes me shudder every time I see it.
   
   Same with these disgusting jell-o worms.
   
3. Any. More. Candy.
   

The Wedding Day

Saturday was a completely beautiful day for a wedding.

Sun shining. Blue skies. Perfect temperature (for a pregnant lady). Chelsea couldn't have ordered anything more stunning. Not that she would have cared anyway - because she was getting married and had better things to care about. But for those of us attending it was nice to have such beautiful weather. 

It was a long and crazy and exhausting day, and all we did was attend the festivities. I think that the reason people should get married before they have babies is that getting ready for your own wedding (a 4 hour process) would be simply impossible with kids.

My mom came up to watch the kids while we went to the ceremony, and when I called to check on her I got the stats.
"We've eaten 10,000 pounds of pretzels and 27 marshmallows. Built 18 million towers. And knocked overall but one - oh wait - all 18 million. We've been stuck on the same frozen frame of Alice in Wonderland for at least 37 minutes but nobody seems to care because we've emptied the entire toybox and I'm confident we've found things you didn't even know you had." She reported.

I laughed. Because it was 100% true and had happened on an hourly basis for the past 2 days so I was confident she wasn't exaggerating even a little.

Meanwhile Jamie and I were congratulating Chelsea on her beautiful day and enjoying the relative peace & quiet.

The Waddle

You know when you see a very pregnant lady waddling around and you feel like you should tell her that she's walking funny because surely if she knew she'd move her legs like a normal person and look significantly cuter as she walks?

Well you're wrong.

She knows she waddles.

She can feel herself swaying side-to-side, and as she does so, she realizes that she looks like a cross between a penguin and an elephant (because her 2-year-old told her so) and although she is probably physically capable of moving her legs like a normal person so she looks cuter, it simply isn't worth the pain and the effort.

Because here's the thing about carrying a child. It makes you sore.
Everywhere.
Everything hurts.
And moving everything hurts even more. And leaning back and swaying side-to-side is simply easier because .... I don't really know why, something about Physics, but Sid the Science Kid hasn't covered it yet so I don't really know how to explain it.

So listen.

Don't feel obligated to tell the pregnant lady that the way she walks is unnatural, OK? She already knows.

Sister Wives

When Jamie was here I suddenly understood the whole sister wives thing. Normally the idea of living with other women who think they're the boss of the house makes me cringe, but having Jamie here with an extra set of hands, good ideas, magic kisses, and fun things to do made it seem like a good idea.

She chased my kid at the park while I sat around being pregnant.
I read her girls stories while she showered.
She made lunch.
I cleaned it up. Except when she cleaned it up.
We took turns switching the movies from Batman (Evie's choice) to WoodyBuzz (Tommy's choice) every 20 minutes or so.
When I had a bunch of work to catch up on, she distracted Tommy from wanting to sit on my lap and take over the computer so I could get it done in record time. A task Josh simply isn't capable of.
It was a thing of beauty.

So while the idea of sharing my husband makes me want to cry, the idea of living with another family and having another mom around all the time is something I could definitely get used to.

Temple Square

After Thanksgiving Point we got lunch and the kids were wired, so we took them to Temple Square to run around and explore.

Tommy would follow Evie anywhere

If only he could keep up with her. Which makes for some awesome photo-bombing on his part.

It was amazing how happy all 3 kids were given the lack of sleep and utter exhaustion they must have felt. But it would have been equally amazing if they hadn't had a good time considering all the fun things we did in one day.

Evie was so excited to be at the temple and to touch the temple and to see anybody get married. She was thrilled to run around and touch the water and her excitement rubbed off on all of us. Temple Square is a magical place that Tommy & I simply don't visit often enough. We'll definitely take advantage of living so close more often.

Da Belly: 39 weeks

Yesterday I had a play date with my sister, she spoiled me rotten making me lunch and entertaining my child so by the time Josh got home for the evening I was miraculously NOT exhausted. In fact, I actually thought I was still pretty cute....all things considered.

Which is why I made Josh take a picture of da belly.

This photo shoot was full of "whoa"s and "sheesh!"s because....well....wow.

Remember back when I could hold up my own belly and Josh didn't have to do it for me?

Yeah...me too.

Huge doesn't quite seem like a big enough word to describe how I'm feeling. But every now and then I run into some kind stranger who feels the need to tell me I'm looking great despite my impending due date. Those people have me thinking I'm doing really well and that I'm one of those adorably cute pregnant ladies who wear belts above their bellies and contrary to what Dr. Man says, my face is not actually retaining water.

Dr. Man says things like "you've had a bigger than normal spike in your weight for the past couple of weeks - I think you're just retaining water and it'll all come right off as soon as you deliver so I'm not worried about it."  Then he looks down at my feet and says "But I don't see it in your feet, I'm starting to see it in your face though..."

Sometimes I'd like to tell him what's gonna be in his face if he doesn't learn how to talk nice to pregnant ladies. Other times (when he says "I'm not worried, it'll all come off as soon as you deliver") I want to kiss his face. Dr. Man and I have a complicated relationship.

So there you have it. 39 weeks and I'm officially more pregnant than I've ever been in my life.

My nightly ritual has to do with bubble baths and going to bed before good tv even starts. It's a nice little routine and although Dr. Man said he'd induce me anytime I want now, I actually think this baby is better in than out for another minute or two. We'll see how long that lasts.

Thanksgiving Point FarmLand

Did you know that it was UEA was this weekend? Meaning that nobody was in school on Friday? I know because they were all at Thanksgiving Point Farmland waiting in line to get their faces painted and to ride the ponies.

Of course the 3 kids with us were the cutest ones in the whole line.

Fortunately Tommy as not scared of horses when Grandma is there to protect him.

Tommy loves October because of all the pumpkins. All of them. The neighbors have pumpkins, the front porch has a pumpkin, the Farmland has pumpkins.

I only got Tommy away from the pumpkins by bribing him with chickens. But he didn't realize that when I said "let's go see the chickens" I didn't mean "pick up rocks and feed them to the chickens". He thought they'd really love that - but it turns out they really don't love that and you can tell by the way they peck the fingers that feed them (rocks).

Even though it was well past naptime when we left, all of the kids were incredibly happy.

They even stood by us and the cows for a picture.

I love it when an outing goes smoothly and everybody has fun. It was a perfectly beautiful fall day and I'm so glad we took advantage of it!

The Park

My former roommate, Jamie, and her two girls abandoned their daddy/husband to come to visit this week so we have been partying like it's 1999. (Which is actually before we were roommates.....)

Since her children are perfect angels and were sweet and kind and so so good on the plane, they were ready to go to the park almost as soon as they got here.

We (being mean and hungry moms) took them out to dinner first and then headed for the park at sunset.

Cassidy is only 17 months old and significantly braver about slides than Tommy. She went down the steep slide at least 10,000 times giggling and smiling every time. Meanwhile Tommy started to follow her up the 2nd set of stairs just once before he chickened out and went down "Tommy's slide?" because it's his favorite part of the park.

Meanwhile Evie hung around upside down because she's SOO big!

Tommy was thrilled to have friends over because the number of people who wanted to go to the park just before bedtime WAY outnumbered the number of people who wanted to sit on the couch balancing a bowl of cereal on their enormous bellies for once.

How To Double the Square Footage in Your House

Josh, Tommy, and I live in a 2 bedroom 1200 sq foot home. We sometimes think it is smaller than we need and usually we'd like to move into a mansion with extra bedrooms for toys, games, crafts, exercise equipment, office equipment, school studies and more.

But after moving Tommy into our room and having Jamie and her (adorable and well-behaved) girls stay in his room for a few nights, our home suddenly feels large enough for us to grow into.

Poor Jamie shared the small room with both of her girls and all of the toys and usually Tommy too. She definitely had the worst of it, but we whined the most.

My mom used to read us a children's book called "It Could Always Be Worse" about a man with a bunch of kids living in a teeny tiny house. He went looking for advice and somebody wise told him to bring his chickens in to live with him. He did it, then went back and whined to the wise man because living with chickens bites. The wise man told him to bring in his goats. Then his cows, then his sheep, etc. Finally after all of the animals and the children had lived together for far too long the wise man told him to get the animals back out of the house and into the yard where they belong. The family suddenly had all kinds of room in their teeny tiny house and lived happily ever after.

So if you want to double the size of your house and don't have chickens, goats, sheep and cows available to you, I recommend having house guests* instead.

*Not just any house guests. They have to be nice people who you love and want to spend all of your time with. They should also be helpful and clean and kind and courteous and totally awesome human beings. Otherwise you'll probably kill them all before they leave and jail probably isn't twice as big as your house.

Measurements

Pregnancy is full of all kinds of new measurements.

They measure my life in weeks and days instead of months and years.
They measure my weight all the live long day.
They measure my stomach from bottom to top.
They measure my blood pressure & Little John's heart rate.
And now they've started measuring my cervix.

Lately Tommy is also into measuring things.

He likes to count how many grapes he's eating or how many cars he's racing or how many stairs he's descending.

He loves to stand on the bathroom scale and make the same surprised and shocked face I do. "27 pounds?! Holy smokes you're gettin' HEAVY!!!!!" I say to him with my eyes wide open. (He's been 27 pounds for a few months now.....maybe my bathroom scale isn't so smart.)
"Pounds?!" he says while dropping his jaw and opening his eyes wide. "smoke heeaaav-vy!"

But today he found a measuring tape. He pulls it out and pushes the yellow button to suck it back in giggling all the while. Pulls it out and pushes the button. Pulls and pushes. Pulls and pushes.

I tried to put it away for naptime in exchange for a story (or 10) and a lovey bear. He wanted nothing but the measuring tape. So we skipped stories and he crawled between the covers to cuddle up with his measuring tape quietly whispering "ni-night" to it and patting it gently next to his face as I left the room.

Why I Deserve A Gold Medal

Yesterday (and all night long) when Josh whined and moaned and belly-ached because he's soooooooo sick. (He has a cold, and can't breathe.) I refrained from reminding him that "I've had the pregnancy cold for the past few weeks, in addition to the rest of pregnancy, plus I've had YOU to take care of! And I don't even remember the last time I slept through the night!!!" and instead handed him a bowl of chicken noodle soup and told him I was sorry he wasn't sleeping well.

Then I promptly came to blog about it because I can't really keep a snarky comment to myself.

Personality Tested

My friend Mal (who I love dearly - and you would too) put this personality test on her blog. I sortof love things like this because every time I read stuff about me I'm surprised. (And apparently self-centered since this happens on a regular basis. See? Surprising.)

So I took the personality test, and read my results. It tells you the top 10 traits you have out of 90, so these are all traits I scored highly in.

I read her results and thought "She's so awesome. I love it when personality tests tell you nice things about yourself. I'm gonna go take it." But it turns out that it only tells you you're nice if you really are. And if you're tightly wound and anal it will tell you that instead.

Bummer.

Scrupulous aka tightly wound

You are an honest, fair person. You don't lie or cheat to get ahead. You treat others with respect and hope for the same in return.

You do not feel that you are above the rules that everyone else follows; you are definitely not willing to do whatever it takes to get ahead.

Conscientious aka tightly wound

You feel it's important to work according to a plan and finish every task, to do things correctly and thoroughly.

You are not the kind of person who abandons a project before finishing it, or slacks off when you've lost interest.

Organized aka tightly wound

You like to think a task through before you embark on it. If it's the slightest bit complicated, you make a list (even if it's only in your mind) and methodically work your way through it. When you have a goal in mind, you're not satisfied until you reach it.

You are not one of those people who ignore the details, and you don't understand how anyone can get anything accomplished without thoughtful planning ahead of time.

Meticulous aka tightly wound

You tend to want everything you touch to be just right. You can spot errors, omissions, shoddy work, or bad taste from a mile away. You demand a lot of yourself, and you often hold others to the same standards.

You don't want to be one of those people who couldn't care less about doing a job well, and you don't think it helps to apologize for the sloppiness of others or cut them a lot of slack.

Buttoned-Down aka tightly wound (and boring)

You like to know that everything is in its place; it's somehow empowering to know that the world around you is neat and organized. For you, schedules and timelines are great ways to stay on track, and mowing down the items on your "to do" list is a source of happiness.

You do not believe that a clean, orderly desk is the sign of a person who doesn't have enough to do; you don't thrive on a sense of personal anarchy.

Efficient aka tightly wound

You are very well organized, even a bit anal. You like to stick to your plans and finish on deadline, wasting as little time as possible in the process.

You are not comfortable when things do not go according to plan, nor are you a procrastinator. You don't waste time when you can be getting down to business.

Responsible aka tightly wound

You fulfill your obligations and responsibilities, are true to your word, and generally obey the rules. While the majority of those who have a high score on the "responsible" trait enjoy traveling, they are usually very happy to return home — and don’t mind staying put for a while.

You're opposed to making hasty decisions, you don't insist that you're above the rules, nor do you feel compelled to color outside the lines.

Focused aka tightly wound

You know how to lock in on what's important. You quickly prepare yourself for a task, you don't procrastinate, and you don't let up until the job is done to your satisfaction.

You are the opposite of scattered. You don't procrastinate before starting a task, and you almost never lose track of what you're doing.

Competent aka tightly wound

You strive to master everything you undertake. You tend to learn quickly and do not shy away from challenges.

You are not a "que sera sera" type of person, nor do you go easy on yourself when attempting to master a new skill or get a job done.

Sympathetic aka nice!

You have a knack for knowing what's going on in the hearts and minds of those around you, without their having to tell you explicitly. People tend to turn to you with their problems because they know you care, and that you will likely offer good advice and a helping hand.

You do not feel that people with sad stories are just looking for attention, or have brought their problems upon themselves.

On This Day in 2011

Sometimes a day is just so perfect that you have to write it down so that later you can prove to yourself that sometimes your life really is everything you ever wanted. Today was that day for me.

This morning was crazy and busy and full just like every other Sunday. But having a good friend come and play with Tommy for an hour while Josh and I were both unavailable somehow set the perfect mood for the rest of the day. Tommy was happy and entertained and properly cared for - which is, unfortunately, unusual for a Sunday morning.

Josh made muffins for breakfast which means my house smelled like a Sunday morning clear until noon.

When Josh finished his work and meetings surprisingly early, Tommy was ready for church surprisingly early, and so was I, and the putrid heat of summer has finally given way to fall, which is why we all walked to church. Quietly, calmly, happily. Throwing rocks and picking up sticks all along the way.

Since Tommy had been "playing outside" for the 25 minutes immediately prior to church he sat mostly reverently during the meeting. It's all fun and games until someone smacks their mouth on the back of the pew and starts screaming bloody murder and bleeding all over his mom.

After excellent meetings we meandered toward home talking laughing and "I see you"ing Tommy. We figured out what to make for dinner and immediately started cooking (and eating) when we got home.

Somehow dinner was made, eaten & cleaned up faster than expected and we had extra time to play games (all 3 of us) before bedtime. Every played games with a 2-year-old? Do it. I doubledogdare you.

There are days on which I'm positive that there is no such thing as the perfect day. Or even the perfect hour. Because life just doesn't seem to go that way as a general rule. But today has proven me wrong. Again.

Sunday Night

You might read this and think I'm a horrible person - or at the very least a recluse - but it's not true. Well, it might be true. But it's not the point.

Sunday evenings are mine and mine alone.

Josh has a regular meeting to attend, and since Tommy doesn't nap he is always in bed by 7:30. This leaves me over an hour with an empty, quiet house and nothing to do. It's far too early for bed (even for my ultra-pregnant self) and I have a strict "no working, no hard cleaning, no heavy lifting" policy on Sundays.

So Sunday evenings have become mine to do with whatever I'd like.

Sometimes I'm catching up on church stuff. Sometimes I'm doing dishes. Sometimes I'm blogging or responding to e-mails, but most often I spend my Sunday evenings sitting on the couch watching Extreme Makeover and surfing Pinterest or working on quiet projects for Tommy.

I don't talk to anybody, I don't interact with real humans, I don't do anything productive or helpful to anybody but myself. But the best part is that I am not responsible to anybody the whole time. Nobody's watching me waste time, nobody knows I'm completely useless, nobody asks what I did. For 1.5 hours every week I sit around being 100% selfish and zoned out.

I'm positive there are people reading this who haven't had 1.5 hours to themselves combined in the past 20 years and can't imagine what they'd do with so much free time. Right? You're out there right?
I'm equally confident that there are people reading this who can't believe I only do this once a week because they do it every night - or multiple times every day. Oprah? Are you out there? OK maybe I don't know anybody who does it in real life.... 

I interrupt this blogging for a commercial update: I just saw a commercial for insurance saying that if it were like shopping for diapers all insurances would cost about the same amount. Am I the only one who thinks there is a HUGE range of diaper prices? Maybe I just like to think that because I buy the cheapest ones I've ever found and I refuse to think that it's only a difference of pennies......do all diapers cost about the same? Now back to the blog.


I think this might be the thing I'll miss the most when Little John arrives. I have a feeling I'll lose my quiet Sunday evenings alone and that is something tragic.

Because I really really love not answering to anybody for a little while.

Real

This is not the kind of thing that you're ever supposed to think as a mother. And certainly not the kind of thing you're ever supposed to write down - even in your deep dark secret diary with a lock.

But here's the truth.

Sometimes Tommy has felt artificial to me.

When he was in the belly, we'd have to shake him to get him to move.
When he was nonexistent we had to take drugs to get him to exist.
When he was born he'd just lay there, staring off into space. Like an infant.

BUT when he was around his daddy his eyes would light up and he'd kick and giggle and smile.

Now that Tommy loves me more than anybody in the whole wide world that feeling has past. His eyes light up for me. He cried and laughs. He has preferences and thinks some things are funnier than others. He runs to me with open arms and slams the door in my face when he wishes Daddy was getting him up from his nap. He is VERY real these days. And I fall more and more in love with him every day. Because he's AWESOME.

But Little John has felt real from the beginning. He kicks when I eat. He showed up with very little prompting on our part. He responds when I put my hand on my belly to feel him. He moves during ultrasounds and his heartbeat is never where Dr. Man (or his student-helper dude) think it should be. He kicks Tommy when they fight over my lap. He contracts and bends and moves.

I feel like Tommy already has loads of personality and real-ness when it took Tommy a bit to grow into himself.

Maybe it's just because NBE doesn't favor his daddy already, or maybe it's because I know what to look for this time around, or maybe now that I know a kid with personality (hey Tommy!) I know that John can have some too, or perhaps it's just a difference in me.

But I feel like Little John is somehow more real at this stage than Tommy was.

And I love him for it.

Park

Last night was just perfect for hanging out at the park. 

As an added bonus, Tommy's favorite guy was there too. This is his "hi dad!" face.

We were on our way home for bedtime and bathtime so playing with sand was definitely not off limits.

Plus we met an incredibly nice neighbor (Hi Seth!) and his dog (Hi Tenner!) who were excited to come and say hi. Which Tommy thought was awesome. 

That's the reason we are so so glad that Dad won't always be in school. Perfect evenings were meant to be spent as a tiny young family at the park.

Tom. Tom! That's a match!

Tommy was named after Josh's step dad. Frank Thomas Reilley. There aren't words for how much Josh loves and respects that man.

Someday we hope Tommy understands what it means that he shares his name with his Grandpa.

But until then, he's learning of lots of other people who are a name match.

Primarily our prophet. We flip through the Ensign and he points to President Monson and we tell him
"That's Thomas S. Monson"
and he says "Thomas?"
and we say "Thomas."
and he points to the picture and says "Thomas?" and then points to himself and says "Thomas." and we all say "a match!"

It's sortof adorable.

This week at storytime we had special guests from the fire station. They brought their uniforms and their truck and they told us all about (all together class...) "fire safety!!!!!"

Tommy was appropriately terrified of them. Especially the guy in the full fire suit. He was scary. But then we all went outside to look at the truck. Tommy was fascinated.

Until they started explaining things, and then he was bored and just wanted to rip up the fallen leaves while the other kids stood around paying attention.

After the lecture, they let him sit on the fire truck. He even let Fireman Tom sit by him and said "Tom? Tom. A match!" and they shared a high-five.

We really love firefighters. 

And storytime. 

And "Tom? Tom! A match!"s. 

Nothing to Write Home About: or how I know I'm not in labor

As much as this blog feels like home, it's not the same to write something here as it is to write home, right?

Dr. Man checked me again this afternoon. He called it a "tight 2" with Little John still riding high.

He asked about contractions. I started to say "yes, but nothing....." and he finished my sentence with "to write home about?" Yes. Exactly. Nothing to write home about.

Then I met Tommy and Josh for lunch and spent the afternoon working.

As we wandered around the Ream's in Salt Lake, I found myself leaning on a shelf because holding myself upright was way too much work for the moment. I told Josh to "here...feel this." and asked him if it counted as a contraction.

Since my water broke with Tommy I don't feel at all familiar with normal labor. Josh felt  my rock hard abs and said yes, that was definitely a contraction. But I'm not sure how he can tell the difference between a contraction and Little John trying to push his way out of the top of my stomach with his booty.

Well that thing that he said was a contraction happens all the time. Especially today. But because I'm not in pain, or out of breath or stopping everything I'm doing to clutch my baby bump I am pretty sure it doesn't count as real.

Between that shelf and the front doors of the store it happened 3 more times.

I came home to finish my work day and while sitting at my computer felt Little John roll around twisting and turning and moving. My rock hard abs being rock-hard all the while.

But Little John was moving. So that means the rock hard abs were just because of how awesome I am and have nothing to do with contractions - right?

I googled it.

Listen. Don't google things when you're pregnant. It will freak you out.

I read a few posts and articles, and apparently every baby moves during contractions. Really. Every. Single. One. There are no exceptions. Ever. If your baby is moving and you have rock hard abs you are in labor. Money back guarantee.

And by the way, some lady in Salt Lake had one contraction and her baby popped out. That baby was moving during that one contraction. So, probably if I have one more contraction during which my baby moves, my baby will pop out too.

Plus Hilarye had her baby 2 days ago - and since Tommy was born just one day after her first baby, Little John should have been born yesterday. Technically he's late.

Plus Dr. Man said I was dilated.

Plus my feet are swollen, and my nose is fat.

Plus my house is a disaster, my bags aren't packed, the camera battery is nearly dead and I'm not sure where the charger is, I have house guests coming next week and we have now officially missed Josh's break from school. I am as un-ready to have a baby as I could possibly be.

These are all the reasons I think I'm in labor.

Which is how I know I'm not. Because a woman who thinks she is in labor is never in labor. Especially if it's her first time. Besides, Little John isn't allowed to come until I get one more real live pedicure.

The Great Pumpkin

Tommy's cousin Cayson gave him a pumpkin on Sunday and Tommy was properly thrilled.

He wanted to hold it on the way home.
He wanted to carry it up the stairs.
He wanted to sleep with it.

So on Monday night after having the pumpkin in our possession for nearly 24 hours I cranked up the Halloween music, stripped Tommy down, strapped him in his high chair and let him paint.

He was a little slow to start, but once he realized he could mix the colors and dip and dip and dip to his heart's content he went nuts. 

Now that the pumpkin adorns our doorstep, the skeleton is hung from our porch light and Tommy's closet is full of long-sleeves

It.
Is.
Fall.

Thankyouverymuch.

Not to learn

Dear Thomas,

You have now officially begun your 3rd year. And last year there were a few things you learned that broke my heart. (Dropping the extra syllable in "Stuh-le-la"? That's just mean.) Just to set the record straight, I want to be sure you know there 5 things I would prefer you do not learn this year.

1. Please do not learn jump without galloping every other step. You're well on your way to breaking this one, but if you totally lose the gallop I'm not sure what we'll do.
2. Please do not learn to say the word giraffe, because the day you stop sticking your tongue in and out like a lizard to tell me you saw one somewhere, my life will be over.
3. Please do not learn to open the fridge by yourself. Actually please do not learn to open any doors by yourself. It just seems like something that would make my life hard.
4. Please do not learn that my kisses do not actually have magic in them. Because they do.
5. Please do not learn to say "seven" because "sne-nen" is way way cuter and I'm secretly hoping you still say it that way when you turn 7 years old.

Technically speaking I want you to learn all that you can and be the best person possible and grow into a responsible adult.

But the truth of the matter is that I want you to stay my baby forever and ever. And if you ever stop crawling up on my lap so I can dry your tears I'll be crawling into your lap so you can dry mine.

Love,
Mom

Now That He's 2

Yesterday Tommy turned 2.

And suddenly he was bestowed with knowledge and grown-up-ness from somewhere else.

We were lining up grapes on the counter for him to eat, and he counted them with me - all the way to 10.
"fie?"
"five."
"sitttts?"
"six."
"sne-nen?"
"seven"
"aitch!"
"eight"
"noooooooon?"
"nine."
"ten!"
hugs & kisses all around.

And suddenly there he was, counting to ten and being a grown up. Standing at the sink brushing his teeth and doing all the actions to popcorn popping without any help at all.

Did anybody else's heart just break (or maybe melt?) a tiny little bit?

BALLS!!!!!

Since we were having Tommy's birthday party on Saturday, I thought I'd just pretend the whole day was his birthday and let him do whatever he wanted.

First thing in the morning he found some party-supplies and was properly thrilled.

After picking them up and dumping them out roughly 25 times he decided it was time to watchee-show. Fine by me since I had plenty of birthday business to attend to.

Josh had racquetball class and then had to work, so I wasn't really counting on him to be much help. I was just hoping he'd show up before 3 (when the party started). Since I knew he'd be unavailable I begged my mom to come early and help me set up and she brought an entire setup crew with her, so everything was perfect!

We had loads of ball-shaped treats. (Have you ever wandered through a grocery store looking for a shape instead of a type of food? It's eye-opening.)

And I set up games with balls all over the gym of our church. 

We had a ball pit (balls in a kiddie pool)

We had bowling (2 liter bottles & a basketball with a lane marked with painters tape)

We had 4-square (painters tape on the floor)

We had paddle-ball & clic-ball-catch (thank you dollar store)

We had "Throw the football through the PVC pipe frame" (a games I just made up - can you tell?)

We had ping pong blow (blow the ping pong ball from one corner to the other without sliding off the table)

Plus we had punch-ball baloons floating around for the sheer pleasure of it (and maybe a little for some slow-man's volleyball)

When it was time for cake & ice cream I wasn't sure what to expect from Tommy - he's never really blown out a candle before and I wasn't sure he'd get it. But since he had a meltdown the night before in Walmart, Daddy taught him how to take a DEEEEP breath and blow it out. So he did. Just needed a little help aiming it in the right direction.

Why is it that the pictures with priceless faces on my boys are always really crappy quality? Oh yeah, because we were in a gym and I have no idea how to do anything cool with a camera.

Although Tommy wasn't hungry for lunch an hour earlier, he was miraculously starved when it came to cake & ice cream (smarty) and apparently he inherited the gene from Josh's family that says frosting is delicious.

When it was time for presents I was pretty sure we wouldn't get him out of the ball pit, so we just dragged the ball pit over to the crowd and let him open presents in there.

If I thought my boy was rotten - it would be because he's spoiled that way.

I'm glad Josh caught this face on camera, because it's one of my favorites that Tommy's been making lately. It's his "excited and surprised!!!!" face.

This pillow and blanket is from Grandma Reilley and Tommy & Lucy had a great time playing "nigh-night!" and taking fake naps for the next 10 minutes. 

It was a blast and we were so glad that people came and played the games and were good sports.

By the time we got home and unloaded I was pretty sure I was going to die. And maybe have a baby too. Which would have been awesome since I'd only have to do 1 birthday party/year if both my boys shared a birthday.

Eh well, you win some you lose some. (win some = awesome b-day party for the 2 year old; lose some = still pregnant. and huge.)