Naps

Remember when Tommy used to do this all the time?

Turns out that when he does it as an enormous nearly-2-year-old it's just as adorable.

As His Volume Increases

My 30 week baby update this week says "a pint and a half of amniotic fluid surrounds him, but that volume will decrease as his volume increases." 

Do you think I could post a notice on our bedroom door explaining that concept to Josh so he'll understand why there is no longer room for him in our bed?

Also, could we make a deal about using the phrase "increasing volume" instead of "Wow! You're huge!"? Because I feel another belly-meets-head experience coming soon.

Door-opening and fly-swatters

Yesterday I went to a movie with my sister and my mom while my other sister watched all of our kids and prepared our post-movie snacks. How glad are you that you aren't The Other Sister in our family? She volunteered since she just saw the movie two days ago....still....


While we, 4 adults & 7 kids, were at The Other Sister's house, a period of about an hour, I'm fairly certain her front and back doors were opened more times than all of the doors in my house have been opened since they day we moved in (nearly 4 years ago).

This is surprising because based on the number of Super-Duper-ultra-long-lifed flies currently in my living room I would've bet that Tommy had learned how to open the door and spent all day every day simply watching the doors swing on their (totally awesome - and totally removable) hinges. However, he has yet to master the knob-turning task. So I'm left to wonder, how did the flies get in here?!?!

When I'm done wondering, I'm ready to kill them all - a job I find disgusting, frustrating and even unsatisfying.

That's why we don't own a fly-swatter.

So I thought I'd buy one. But guess what? Places don't sell fly-swatters. Fly-swatters are the kind of thing people don't really buy. They just have them. Maybe they are built-in to their house. Maybe they inherited them from their great great grandmother. Maybe they have always had it. Maybe they were given as wedding gifts from people they love. I don't know where they come from, I just know that they are not for sale and I'm the only person on the planet who doesn't have one.

I can tell you don't believe me. You're rolling your eyes thinking "clearly someone sells fly-swatters. Take a chill-pill." So I ask you, where did you get yours? Go ahead, admit it. You don't have a clue.

Little John

Today I fell in love with the name John all over again.

It has been kicked around through the entire pregnancy (family name on my side) and I've always liked it since way before this baby was even a twinkle in his daddy's eye (what a creepy phrase....) I've thought our next baby would have Johnathan in his name. But we simply haven't found a way we love it yet.

But today, Tommy said it while patting my belly Bee bee Yawn? and now I simply can't imagine this child being named anything other than John.

Of course after we watched Toy Story 3 a few weeks ago and I asked Tommy what we should call the new baby he said "Andy!" and then I was in love with the name Andrew. Until Josh made a face when I told him, that face made me like the name a lot less. It also made me like Josh's face a lot less....but that's another story for another day.


So I'm not saying that this baby will be "John" forever, but right this second when his brother and his mommy are particularly swoony over him, he is John. Little John. Little John Junior. (OK, not the Junior part....OK maybe the Junior part.....)

I wonder if this baby knows how much I love him.

NBE Countdown

This morning Josh and Tommy wanted to come with me to see Dr. Man.

In truth I think they wanted to come with me to my traditional Keva & Great Harvest stop on the way home from Dr. Man's office. But I like to tell myself it was about me. They LOVE me.

Either way the two of them accompanied me to Dr. Man's office this morning.

Dr. Man came in to find NBE's heartbeat which sounds strong even when it's smothered with the small talk of our summer plans and Josh starting school again. How can Dr. Man find a heartbeat while we're all talking over the fuzz of the radio-machine? He has a gift.

Tommy was OK with the whole situation until Mean Nurse Lady walked in with a needle in her hand. Somehow he has a negative association with women in scrubs holding needles. I can't imagine why. He squirmed and cried and tried to escape from Josh's lap while Mean Nurse Lady sucked the life out of me through the needle. Sometimes it is simply amazing to me how much my child loves me. He would've taken Mean Nurse Lady out if Josh had let go of him. As soon as my blood was adequately drawn for the glucose test, Tommy scrambled up onto the exam table with me.

I showed him my cool blue arm band and he wept and asked me to "hoade-ewe-up-aye!" (hold you up high) so I snuggled him and we got ready to go look at the Nemo fish. Dr. Man actually has Nemo in his office. Have I mentioned how great Dr. Man is? He's great.

Tomorrow Dr. Man's receptionist will call and tell me that I don't have diabetes. That's the deal NBE and I have made. Then in a few more weeks we'll go back and hear that beautiful heartbeat again. Until then I have strict orders feed & grow that baby.

Because at 30 weeks that's all NBE has to do. Grow. And move every day.

Wait a second, did you catch that?
30 weeks.
That's right we can officially start the countdown because I have enough fingers to count how many weeks are left in this pregnancy.

I'm not exactly sure how that happened, but apparently 30 weeks have passed, summer is almost over, and this baby will be here before we know it. Here's hoping I manage to get ready for him before he shows up. On the other hand, being unprepared seems to be the key to guaranteeing he's here before his due date.....

PMS

If Tommy had never peed in my face, setting in stone the fact that he is a boy, I might wonder if we could blame PMS for his current fit-throwing habits.

When he's happy, he's very happy. But no matter where we are when the unhappiness strikes, he simply MUST throw himself on the floor and weep.

Even if we're in the middle of the road.

But when he is good is he VERY VERY good.....

Spruces: Day 3

Our last day started off right with a delicious gourmet breakfast provided by Megan and Tayler.

Seriously it was way better than any breakfast I ever eat at home.

And while they worked and slaved over a hot stove, the rest of us sat around and enjoyed the view.

The best part of camping might be the morning. I love the cold camping air, the sun coming through the trees, the smell of warm campfire, the fact that all of the morning jobs are man-jobs.

After breakfast Tayler got out his totally awesome car. Tommy kept his distance at first....

....but before too long he got brave and sat right next to Tayler...

.....and the two of them drove the car all over the place.

After cleanup we said bye to all the trees, and the rocks, and the sticks, and the water, and the leaves, and the pinecones, and the balls, and the friends, and the people, and the chipmunks, and.....and......and......

Miraculously Tommy didn't fall asleep on the way home (thanks to my incredibly entertaining stay-awake tactics) and even more miraculously neither did Josh.

It's now been 3 days and none of us smell like smoke. We packed up all of our camping gear for the rest of the summer and settled into the fact that school is starting and all our fun is over.

*sigh*

Camping: Day 2

On Friday morning we made all the early risers (aka anybody who was up and bored by 9:30) hike to Doughnut Falls. We all remember how much we love Doughnut (Donut?) Falls right?

As usual Tommy was the center of attention.

But how can he not be when he does things like this the whole way up?

It turns out this hike is perfect for Tommy because at the top there are enough rocks to throw in water to last as long as the adults can stand to sit around watching. Which is a surprisingly long time.

Because it's beautiful and cool down at the base of the waterfall.

While we were there we learned that Tommy has superhuman strength.

Which came in handy when it was time to stop Grandpa from leading us home.

Somehow Tommy wound up barefoot on this trail.....again.

When we got back to camp everybody was thirsty and tired, so we drank and napped. Oh what a beautiful thing. 

After some games, and fire, and stretching, and more rock throwing down at the "otter. otter? otter?!" (water) we ate a new (to me) dutch oven meal which will definitely go on my list of "things we must eat while camping". Have you ever tried stacked dutch oven enchiladas? Yummy. Unfortunately this means we'll have to extend our camping trips by a day. Because there simply isn't enough time to eat all of our standard meals plus the new ones Josh's mom is always introducing. Note to Self: Request Mom-Reilley's dutch oven cook book as our inheritance.

Fortunately we also learned that peach cobbler is good with what can only be called ice-cream soup. Maybe because it was dark and camping, maybe because HELLO?!?! IT'S COBBLER AND ICE CREAM! What's not to love?

Day 2 = smashing success.

The Hat

Sometimes Tommy's allowed to play with Daddy's hat.

Which is awesome because it makes him so SO happy. 

Nothing beats this smile.

Spruces: Day 1

Remember how camping with your parents means built-in babysitters?

Is anyone else freaked out by the fact that Tommy is as high as  Grandpa's waist?

That's only one reason we had so much fun this weekend.

Tommy was in heaven approximately .2 seconds after we got out of the car and Tado showed him how to jump across the river.

"See Tommy? You just bend your knees and jump! Like this."

"Yay Tado!"

It only got better when Dad showed up and showed him how to walk across the log balance-beam style to get to the other side.

This campsite was awesome, with the water far enough away to keep Tommy safe, but close enough that people* were still willing to take him down there to throw rocks.
And sticks.
And dirt.
And mud.
And sand.
And pinecones.
And dead bugs.
And, and, and.....

*People is code for not his parents. We spent loads of time down at the water with him, but we made significantly fewer trips to the river than anybody else there. Go us!

One Thing I Love About Camping

One thing I love about camping is seeing Tommy sleep.

He a relatively light sleeper, so when we're home, once he's in his room and that door is closed we don't go back in for anything. (Except a fire of course...which has happened exactly zero times.) So we never really see him sleep.

But when we're camping, we put Tommy to bed in the tent, then we stay up and play games or stare at the fire until our eyes are going to burn out of our heads and then we go in to bed. That's when we get to see him sleep. My child may be a fit-throwing "no!"-yelling two-year-old most days, but when he sleeps he's immediately my teeny tiny adorably perfect angel baby again.

So, when he cries in the middle of the night we gladly put him in our sleeping bag and enjoy his snuggly goodness.

Waking up to these handsome boys starts my day off right.

Animals

Tommy loves to make all the animal sounds. But for some reason he can't quite tell the difference between a horse and a cow. Plus he thinks that "moo" is more fun (or easier?) to say than "neigh".

That's why he thinks all horses say "mooo".

Also why I think it's so fun to take him places like Thanksgiving Point's Farm Land.

Fortunately my 2nd cousin, Gina, was nice enough to let us tag a long with her and her adorable son Aiden last week.

Poor Aiden couldn't figure out why Tommy wanted to stare at those boring cows for so long.

But he was all to happy to show him how to go in and out the doorway and windows of the tiny house.

We loved the wagon ride and especially loved that going back to ride it meant we got to wash our hands again. osh. osh. osh. 

But the real fun came when we got ice cream cones and Tommy & Aiden started to play together. Tommy would have chased him around this tree for hours. Plus Aiden taught Tommy how to play "I See You!" which is Tommy's new favorite game and makes him crack up laughing every time.

These 3rd cousins loved each other so much, we'll definitely have to get them together again soon!

Friends and Other Side Effects of BlogStalking

One thing I love about blogging is the people that you meet. When you're walking down the street, it's the people that you meet each day....

You just never know when you're going to accidentally try to blogstalk someone from Jr. High and form a 5 year co-stalking relationship that ultimately results in a real live friend!

Last week in our end-of-summer cram session we finally met Nancy-from-Egypt (and her girls) in REAL LIFE! Nancy isn't actually from Egypt, but she lived in Cairo while she was pregnant with Miriam and I was pregnant with Tommy and we bonded. So, everyone in my family knows her as Nancy-from-Egypt anyway. 

She was gracious enough to welcome us into her home and entertain us clear through lunchtime. Tommy was overjoyed at the idea of playing on the back lawn and even more thrilled when Rachel (Nancy's 4(??)-year-old) immediately handed him an oversized hammer croquet mallet to play with.

Rachel is as darling in person as Nancy makes her sound (which I very nearly doubted since it seems unreasonable that so much personality could be in such a tiny body) and Nancy and I chatted like 2 old ladies who have been friends forever sitting on the front porch.

Meeting new people sometimes always makes me nervous, but chillin' with Nancy while our children played was, quite simply, comfortable. And we all know how much I love to be comfortable.

I giggled when I saw the pictures on Nancy's blog because Tommy looks so much smaller than her girls in this picture. He's not THAT much smaller than Miriam - it's just the angle of the photo.

And I look SO much larger than Nancy in this one. I am. I'm pregnant. She runs marathons. You do the math. 

And when it was time to go (and take pictures) the girls melted my heart by loving on Tommy. This kid has no idea how good he has it.

We had such a great time, it's too bad I have no reason to believe Nancy and her family will stay in the country for much longer than a year. It would be cool if we hung out more often than every 5 years.

Skydiving!

There was a groupon about a month before Father's Day for that indoor skydiving thing for two. And when I saw it I randomly decided that Josh needed that. And since I am entirely too chicken pregnant for things like that, I begged Ashley to give it to Junior too so he'd have someone to go with.

The gift went over well on Father's Day weekend, but now that he actually got to use it I was the hero of the day. I love being the hero.

It could have been the wind flying past him a 10 million (ish) mph or it might be just how happy he was, but I think the smile plastered all over his face says it all.

He said it was AWESOME and now he is convinced that we are going to go real skydiving next.

Fortunately I bought myself some time by making Junior go first.  

When Grandma Runs the Library......

When your grandma is the boss of the library, you're allowed to go in the back behind the big desk and get sticky treats which normally wouldn't even be allowed through the front doors.

And you're allowed to giggle at the funny parts of the books. Right outloud. Right in the middle of the library. Without getting shushed. At least not much. 

And if you're REALLY good, you're allowed to read books with paper pages.

I think everybody's grandma should be a librarian.

How is it possible?

How is it possible that this child nearly made it to 2 before I ever gave him an ice cream cone?

Shame on me.

Who Wore it Best?

Confession: Sometimes in the Dr.'s office I indulge in reading senseless magazines. It's a guilty pleasure. So sue me. On my latest visit with Dr. Man I saw something like 10,000 versions of "Who Wore It Best" where they show two famous people wearing the same outfit and make you vote about who it looks better on. 

While Josh & Junior were skydiving they weren't allowed to wear baseball caps. But their adoring fans were.

So I ask you*. Who Wore It Best?

*I'm not actually asking. I'm pregnant and emotional and my heart will break no matter what your answer is. So please don't tell me either one of these babies who have completely stolen my heart is cuter than the other. OK?

First Kisses

This weekend was a big one.

We went skydiving (sortof), swimming and to a mountain concert all in one day. Plus we ate deliciously unhealthy food and stayed up all night playing games just to make sure we didn't waste even a second of our weekend.

But probably the biggest moment of the weekend was Tommy's first kiss.

When a pretty girl's dad tells her to kiss you, you just have to "pooooker up your leeps" and take it like a man.

And then smile....because SCORE!

Dear Stella's Dad, Please send better pictures of the first kiss? Thanks.

What Would I Like?

Tommy's vocabulary is still pretty limited, but for the most part he can tell me what he wants.

Unless he's whining.

Then his vocabulary is exceptionally limited. Limited to "ma ma meh muh ma muh muh......." accompanied with sniffling and air-sucking.

For some reason I think the solution to whining is to put my face right in front of his and ask him "What would you like?"

Lately I do this roughly 10,000 times a day. "What would you like?" I ask, and he "ma ma meh muh ma muh muh's" me and burries his face in my chest so I can rub his back and start guessing.

"Would you like a carrot?"
sniffle sniffle "no...."
"Would you like a sandwich?"
sniffle sniffle "no..."
"Would you like a spankin?" Before I get hate mail, let me just say: I have never spanked my child.
sniffle sniffle "no?" He's never quite sure if he would like that or not...
"Would you like a toy? Would you like a game? Would you like a story? Would you like a bubbles? Would you like a candy? Would you like a show? Would you like it here or there? Would you like it in a box? With a fox?"
"no."
"Would you like to wash your hands?"
"osh?"
"Yes. Would you like to wash your hands?"
"no."

After exhausting all of my mom resources I've starting thinking of things I would like.

I would like a nap. One that ends simply because I'm bored of sleeping.
I would like a personal chef.
I would like to stop opening the refrigerator and expecting something delicious to have grown in there. Nothing growing in my fridge is delicious.
I would like a backyard.
I would like to be 100% certain that Ty Pennington & Mary Murphy never wind up in the same room. The world isn't ready.
I would like for Tommy to not think it's funny to throw dirt off our balcony.
I would like my cleaning to magically happen by itself. Technically it's all gratifying to do it yourself....but untechnically it sucks.
I would like a carrot, a sandwich, no spankins and clean hands. And maybe some shiny raspberry lip balm.

Places I No Longer Fit....

It all started with my skinny clothes, and now the list of Places I No Longer Fit has become extensive and really quite alarming. Here's a sampling.

• The garage. Not when it's empty of course, but the days of squeezing between the side mirror of the car and the wall are long gone. I now fold the mirror down, beg Josh to pull out for me and put Tommy in the carseat from the driveway. 
• The sleeping bag. Technically I can get in and out of the sleeping bag, but rolling over in the middle of the night does not happen inside the bag as it should. Instead the bag comes with me as I flop from one side to the other as if I'm wearing some sort of atrocious mummy-gown. 
• The sofa. I have officially renewed my love affair with the ugliest least-shapely piece of furniture on the planet (the love sac). And I don't care who knows it.
• Toilet stalls. I remember being terrified of being stuck in a toilet stall and having to call the maintenance men on the radio to come and disassemble the walls to get me out the last time I was pregnant. After I was done being pregnant that fear seemed totally irrational most toilet stalls have plenty of room. I now remember just how reasonable it was. 
• Through my front door. Technically this hasn't been proven, but since I haven't left my house in over 48 hours I'm going to go ahead and assume it's true. And sad.

Cramming

My 7th grade English teacher once described our class as "full of extreme Type-A personalities". She then explained that it meant that even though we were still good people we would probably stay up all night the night before every paper was due for the rest of our lives.

At the time I thought that meant all Type-A people  were procrastinators. I also thought that Type-A was more like a blood type than a personality trait that can technically be overridden by common sense.

Now that I'm not in school and have no finals or projects or papers to leave until the last minute, I leave all the summer-fun until August to fulfill the procrastinator inside me.

We only have 2 non-working weekends left before school starts.
Only 3 weeks.
Only a few opportunities to swim, bike & hike around.
Just a few days to cram in all the things we've been "planning" to do all summer.

That's why next week we'll be heading out for at least 3 playdates with friends we've been meaning to get together with since school got out in May.
And why Josh & I are no longer allowed to "just hang out here doing nothing" every evening.
Any why we are cramming in as much Jack Bauer as possible.
And why we probably won't bother putting the swim stuff away again - because if it isn't drying, we're wearing it.

I could pretend that the summer was too short and we simply didn't have enough time for all we wanted to do, but the truth is that if we had spread out all our fun things over the whole summer instead of leaving it all for the end, we probably could have done it all.

Mrs. Jensen is probably out there looking at the ground, shaking her head, muttering something about "I tried to tell her...."

The silver lining of course, is that the next 3 weeks will probably be the most fun 3 weeks anybody has ever had. Ever. In their whole lives. Certainly kicks the pants off an English project all-nighter.

On Your Left

Last summer I had the phrase "on your left" shouted at me at least 9 million times. That's because that's what speedy hardcore spandex-wearin' bikers say so they don't have to run over you when they pass you on the trail. I've been thinking.... The world would be a better place if people could shout "on your left" on the freeway and the drivers being passed waved and said "thanks" as the speedy hardcore spandex-wearers passed them. 


This summer it is the phrase that I can picture Dr. Man & every "be a good pregnant lady" Lady shouting at me as I lay on Tommy's bed (on my right side) watching him play. I worry that NBE has something horrible happening to him because I'm not on my left, as I so clearly should be.

Eh well, maybe next summer.

26 weeks

Sometimes I forget I'm pregnant and instead I think I'm just tired and lazy and hungry and....well.....large.

But then I get an e-mail in my inbox that says "only 98 days to go!" and I think to myself, "98 days till what?" and then I remember that in 98 days (ish....give or take 2 weeks) this adorable family of 3 will become a questionable-looking (and probably unshowered) family of 4.

Then a few minutes later I sit on the couch doing exactly NOTHING and I remember that in addition to being tired and lazy and large I've grown a built-in circus. While I sit around doing exactly nothing, NBE grows new parts and pieces.
He defuses his eyelids and learns how to breath.
He grows nails (fingers AND toes!) and kicks like a madman.
He works on his hairdo and picks his favorite foods to eat (sending the rejects right back where they came from thankyouverymuch).
He swims and swims and swims. And flips.


Suddenly 98 days doesn't seem like long. Especially considering how quickly the last 182 days have gone.

I held Elise's newborn baby today, and I simply couldn't believe his floppiness.
He flopped into my shoulder and slept.
He flopped his legs up under his tummy.
He flopped his teeny tiny fingers down to his palms.
And don't get me started on the mushiness... Those cheeks! That tummy! Even his bony little toes are mushy!


Suddenly Tommy seems large. And very. VERY. Dangerous.

Every time he smacks my belly (daily) we practice being "so soft with the baby...so so so soft." So I know he's capable of soft, but he also throws blocks and smacks me in the baby. He thinks my belly is a stepstool to reach the light switch. He seems to believe that because it's round, it's a toy (as most round things are) and I'm more than a little worried about how round this new baby comes out.

Tommy was curled all up for months, and if NBE doesn't uncurl and become long instead of round early in his life, I'm afraid of what Tommy will think he is.

This pregnancy has flown by and been infinitely easier (and way more difficult) than Tommy's. What if I blink and he's here? What if I nap and he's 18? Heaven forbid I go to bed and he has his own baby.