Waiting for Special Moments

I like to say that I enjoy photography as a hobby.  Really, this means I like to take pictures of my kiddos.  Unfortunately, with the exhaustion of a third pregnancy in 100+ degree heat in the 8th and 9th month, I realized I went a whole month without taking a picture of my lovelies with a real camera.  Shameful, hmm?  Yep.  I had fallen into the trap of only taking pictures of "special occasions,"  definitely contradictory to the thought that life happens in the in-between moments.  So yesterday morning, I brought out the real camera to capture some lazy Saturday morning moments.

Elliott told me they were having a camp-out, hence the pillow & blue blank. 

I think he learned this pose from Glammy.  It's her go-to photograph pose.  

I love this picture.  Not modest of me at all, but I still am entranced.  

She's very serious about her playtime.

Check-out those crazy curls.  We're on experiment #4 of what I fear will be hundreds of taming solutions.

 

It was a good morning.  Simple fun.  No special occasion.  Just one of those magical hours that remind you of the importance of joy and how 'nothing special' can be the most special of all.  

Here Fishy-Fishy

We invested (and I do mean invested) in swim lessons this year.  One time per week for 30 minutes.  Because I am cheap thrifty, I was worried that it would all be for naught, especially as I saw Elliott do so well in the lessons and then cling to us in the pool in wide-eyed panic.  Well, I stand corrected.  Color me impressed. 

Any Day. For Reals.

Full-term.  Officially that was last week, but since I'm chronically behind these days, I'm just now blogging it to make it official.  So that means roughly hours-two weeks before Baby Kellen arrives.  Yep.  The answer any day freaks my sh*t out.  But I will say sometimes that fear is a good thing because it can spur action.  Specifically, I now have a suitcase in my room to pack & the base to an infant carseat in my car.  Oh, and I managed to register for the hospital.  Progress, people.  Get this:  I've even washed the coming home outfit.  I'm that awesome.

Yeah.  As for the answer to the question, "Are you ready?," my response continues to be, "It depends on how you define 'ready.'"  And the truth is, does it really matter if I'm ready?  Not at all.  But for the record, I'm very excited to meet this wee little boy and to not be pregnant, the realities of little sleep?  Not so much ready for that.

When You're Married to a Bald Guy. . .

There are things that seem like common sense, but then you realize maybe not so much.  The latest was this week when, for the first time we were forced to use conditioner on Brook-Brook's hair.  She has some serious ratty-frizzy-turned-curly hair on the back of her head.  The matted-hair-look is not in, so conditioner it is.  Well, since I'm roughly the size of a blimp (as noted by the repeated "How many babies are you having?" comments), Chris was in charge of conditioner administration because blimp-people don't reach into a tub so well.  Imagine my surprise when he vigorously scrubbed the conditioner into her hair, only furthering the matted-hair situation.  I put the brakes on that and he turned to me saying, "Oh.  I've never used conditioner before."

Being that the girl inherited her ratty-frizzy-turned-curly hair from me, I could only stare in confusion.


P.S.  If you're married to a bald guy and the shower drain is stopped up, it's always your fault.  Always.  Even when you hate drain hair more that just about anything.

I Guess This is Really Happening

It seems I might really be having a baby sometime soon. I vacillate between eagerness and anticipation to downright terror.  Not terror of giving birth.  It's the terror of being alone with THREE KIDS UNDER THE AGE OF FOUR.  Damned reality rearing it's ugly head.

I know it will work out, just like I know the first 6 months are going to be filled with exhaustion.

I know we will make it work, just like I know it will be immense work.

I know there will be moments filled with laughter of three children, just as I know there will be moments where our home will be filled with the wails of three crying children.

I know our home will be filled with love, just as I know that there will be moments full of stress.  So long as the love wins, I figure we're on the right track.

I know there will be unmet needs:  Brooklyn's, Elliott's, Kellen's, Chris' and mine.  I also know that my amazing friends will force me out of the house for girl-time, helping me to be a better spouse & parent.

I know there will be moments of "heated discussions" between Chris and me, but I also know that we will work to make our marriage a priority because a strong marriage makes for a stronger family.

I see a lot of prayer in my future.  Not so much sleep.  I see my heart expanding as my budget shrinks.  I see that we will find a way because there are so many people who do more with much less.

Okay.  I get it.  This is happening.  I should probably pack a bag or something.  I did manage to pre-register for the hospital, so there's that.

Once Kellen arrives, please feel free to visit.  With a casserole.  Or two.

I'm tired and not because of what you're thinking. . .

I can't blame this one on pregnancy.  It's the Olympics.  I get sucked in and totally fall for the random splits in programming NBC uses even though I can easily find out the results on any news media site of my choosing.  I'm an Olympics-addict.  I blame my parents.  Because you know, having someone to blame totally makes it better. 

The Spoils

Two visits to the consignment sale were totally worth it.  Even with the second visit including a 3-year old whining for toys--which I totally bribed him with so that I could shop.  You know I love a bargain, and that totally requires me to show-off the spoils of my bargain-hunting.  So here are my favorites:

Polo romper for $3.  Yep, I know its says $6 on the tag, but it was half-off day!

Short-sleeved button-up.  Tommy Hilfigir for $4 for my big boy.

This one was a splurge.  TCU Purple Polo.  $9. Not faded.  Score.

Adorable Baby Gap herringbone coat lined with red satin.  $7.50!

And my favorite of the day--turtleneck, sweatdress and leggings from Gymboree for. . . are you ready?

$2.50! That is TWO DOLLARS AND FIFTY CENTS.

Yee-haw!  Such a rush!  All together I spent roughly $150 for 6 pair of pants, 6 shirts, 5 pair of pajamas, 2 coats, an adorable car seat cover (the big splurge at $30), three or four books, a game (for therapy purposes) and a recycling truck toy that saved the day.  I call that success. 

I Love a Good Sale

It's basically in my genes.  My mom hasn't paid full price for something since at least 1979, likely before, and is a genius at hunting down a good deal.  It's an obsession, an addiction, and something at which she excels.   I believe she learned this from her mother, my Nanny.  So it's a family legacy is what I'm trying to say. 

Most of the time I am letting the family legacy down, I am more of an on-line shopper, forsaking fashion for comfort unless my mom decides to tell me what to wear or give me her hand-me-downs.  BUT I am a huge fan of the consignment sale.  HUGE.FAN.  I knocked out most of Ell's winter wardrobe today.  I say most because my mom and I are headed back tomorrow because its 50% off day.  The words "fifty-percent off" make me all jittery and hand-flapping excited because I can smell a bargain.  Today it was Calvin Klein jeans for $5 and a Ralph Lauren TCU purple long-sleeved polo for $8.  Tomorrow--I venture into the baby section.  And maybe, just maybe, the GIRLS' section. 

The joy of a bargain totally overcomes my desire to hibernate.  It's intense. 

10 Things I Know

I never know how much to share about the trials joys of pregnancy.  Especially at the end.  I mean, it's a lot of up-close and personal bidness.  I have posted before how everyone, and I mean everyone, has an opinion on how a pregnant woman looks.  In the span of a couple of days, I had people tell me that I looked great and then someone ask, "how many babies do you have in there?"  Here's what I know:

1.  It's really effing hot (today it was roughly 109 degrees--that's one step from hell, if you were wondering).  Chronic sweating makes me cranky and icky smelling.
2.  Being hugely pregnant is much harder when it's one-step-from-hell hot than it was when I was hugely pregnant in February and May.
3.  I am anti-social as the end of pregnancy nears.  Even with my dearest friends.  The question, "What do you want to do?" is answered in my mind with, "Hibernate."
4.  I have approximately 5 shirts that are sufficiently long enough so that my stomach doesn't hang out.  I've never been the mid-drift exposing kind of girl in the best of times--I mean, I've had maybe three 2-piece swimsuits in my life and they were all worn 5 times or less. 
5.  There are a lot of really stupid people in the world.  Temptations to comment on this stupidity make my hibernating desire the safest option. 
6.  Pelvic Symphisis Dysfunction is some kind of painful.   The end of pregnancy is made bearable for me with a combination of massage, chiropractic care and acupuncture.  I'm not sure I could walk without their help.
7.  I look like a 90-year old woman when I hobble to the bathroom in the middle of the night. 
8.  I get the best sleep from 4:30am to 6:30ish.  That this coincides with my husband leaving for work, might or might not be coincidence.
9.  I want my house to be clean and organized, but have zero energy to make it happen, unless that includes making honey-do lists for my husband.
10.  I still haven't pre-registered for the hospital.  That's how sure I am that this baby won't be here until my due date.  Or after.  Which will make me a really hateful person.  Fair warning.