Saturday, April 30, 2011

Three Weeks

I am officially terrified to have a second child. I don’t know exactly the reason why I JUST now thought of it, but I just got smacked in the face by a BRICK that this kid is NOT going to be just like Brooklyn. And I’ve never thought anything of Brooklyn’s behavior as being superb or anything, not abnormally good… but today I realized she is SOOOO mature. (I know… a mature one year old? Well she IS almost two).

What one year old tells their parents, “Uh-oh. I made-da mess. I need a naptin.” And what one year old actually USES it to clean up? Today, after being up until after 3 last night, I woke up at six thirty and Starling and I taught a class at the Young Single Adult Conference. Then I RUSHED like a mouse with a cat on my tail to the baby shower I was supposed to be at TWENTY minutes before I finally got there with food and drink. When I got home I felt like a soiled dish rag. I was EXHAUSTED and I sat on my couch deciding to never move again. My little observant Brooklyn pulled herself onto the couch next to me and furled her little brows. “You are tie-erd, Mommy?” I nodded my head. “Oh. You need go night, night, Mommy?” I nodded my head again.

“If I turn on Dora for you, can Mommy go lay down and take a nap?” I asked
Brooklyn. She nodded resolutely. “Yesh. Sure.”

So I lay down in my bed. Brooklyn followed behind me. “You need a blank-let, Mommy?” I half yawned not really paying her too much attention. “He-ere… Mommy, he-ere you doe.” And she yanked on the covers trying to give them to me even though her little head can barely see over the bed.

“Thank you, Brooklyn.” She smiled, “You’re weltum, Mommy.” Then she rested her chin on the bed watching me until I fell asleep, I guess. I woke up when Starling called two hours later. And I kind of had a panicky feeling because I had REALLY fallen asleep. (Usually I HALF doze, HALF listen). My bedroom door was shut, which I NEVER shut because I want to be able to hear Brooklyn in the living room. I scurried into the living room afraid of what I’d find. Brooklyn was playing with the Trouble pieces, wearing one on each finger with the Wii remote beside her where she had started another Dora episode on Netflix.

“Dood, MOR-NING, Mommy!” She smiled at me. I scanned the room. No messes. No disasters. She’d even picked up the toys she had previously been playing with. I looked up the stuff Starling was asking me about on the phone. Then I went back into the living room where Brooklyn had put all of the Trouble pieces back into the little zip lock baggie and was attempting to close it. “Need he-yelp, Mommy.” So I helped her zip it, all the while having an out of body experience. It’s like I just noticed for the first time that she is ABNORMALLY easy to take care of. (Not saying she ALWAYS is or that she doesn’t throw fits and doesn’t act like a one year old EVER, because she DOES).

I guess that got me to thinking about ALL her little unique verbage. For example, she ALWAYS tells me when she is dirty. “Mommy! Need to wa-ash yur hands.” (Though it’s incorrect grammar- how many kids ask to WASH their HANDS?) And when she’s had a long day or played outside, she’ll tell me, “Mommy, want to take yur dress off. Mommy… want a ba-ath.” And so when she asks for a bath, I run her water. She tells me, “Want mo-ore hot.” Or “Es too hot.” She’ll tell me in the middle of the day, “Mommy. Need to brush yur teef, “ because her teeth feel yucky. She tells me when she wants to get dressed and what she wants to wear. She tells me what she wants to eat without me asking or prompting her. Today at 9 p.m. when we came in from walking (she wanted me to push her in the stroller and since she’d been so sweet and cooped up while I napped I figured it was the LEAST I could do for her), she said, “Mommy, I want bek-fest. Want spicey yumba-lye-ya.” I didn’t have any of that. “Oh. Want cer-eal.”

I’ve never thought of her constant reminders as anything other than cute before I imagined having a second baby. Suddenly, I realized with QUITE a start, that my boy won’t be able to talk as soon as Brooklyn did. And what will I do when I can’t communicate with him? And how will I remember to feed, bathe, and clothe him without him telling me? And what if he puts things in his mouth? Brooklyn sat on an old saw-dusty blanket and played with nails while Starling and I remodeled our house from the time she was a wee little tot. She never ONCE put one in her mouth. She never had a drooling or spit up problem, either. And this new kid will! And I realized today that I have NO idea how to be a parent to a different kind of kid than Brooklyn! And I know that she used to be an infant and I fed her every two hours… she obviously didn’t starve to death and that my motherly instincts should kick in, but what if I can’t handle the other stuff? What if he cries all the time? What if he’s a plunderer? What if he’s defiant? What if Time Out doesn’t break his HEART like it does Brooklyn’s? What if he doesn’t cup my face in his little hands and say, “I lub you, Mommy, soo… MU-uch?” And what if he doesn’t demand me to , “Tiss it better, Mommy! ALL Better!” What if he doesn’t sing me a night, night song every night and remind me to, “Read script-chures and say pray-yers”? I guess… the thing that has me TERRIFIED is what if I constantly compare him to Brooklyn? How can he ever measure up in my eyes? I just cannot IMAGINE loving any creature as much as I do Brooklyn… and that really scares me. If I get stressed out and annoyed with Brooklyn sometimes, how can I parent a normal kid? How can my nerves hold up? And is Brooklyn going to feel totally neglected when I have a second kid? And is Brighton going to feel totally overshadowed by “goody goody” big sister? And why haven’t I been thinking about any of this until NOW… when I’m about to give birth? And does this mean I’m going to go into some huge depression when I have Brighton? And why haven’t I valued my last months with Brooklyn more? Why have I been so worried about STUFF instead of just loving my baby before she’s not the baby anymore?

WHEW…. My hormones are making me nuts! But now that is off my chest and feel MUCH better.

Thursday, April 28, 2011

Justified Insanity

So I'm trying to chalk it up to pregnancy hormones and the fact that I'm having cold feet about being a NEW BORN's mom again that comes with the crying and the two hour feedings, and the exhaustion, and the “THIS TIME I HAVE another KID to watch”, but I've been an emotional wreck. I will be merrily decorating Brighton's room and giggling with Starling over something Brooklyn has said, and then suddenly I'm having an ABSOLUTE nervous BREAKDOWN because the bassinet isn't set up. Then I'll take deep breaths and think I'm calming back down when I'll spot a wet towel dropped in the floor and I'm going BALLISTIC again because NOONE listens to ME!! How many times have I said WET towels do NOT go on the CARPET!? And Starling will pick it up wondering what on EARTH has possessed his wife, but not daring to ask, and then I'll start BOO-HOOING that he's such a fabulous husband and I'm going crazy and I just don't deserve him.

Through it all Starling has been Mr. Super Trooper. Last night, after I ferociously fumed at him for going to Wal-Mart at eight thirty to buy Day after Easter Candy and then for buying some magazine about crazy people that he wanted me to read, he ran me a hot bath, massaged my back, and apologized for insinuating that I was mentally insane. Then my mood of course CHANGED and I was back to, “I AM CRAZY! I’ve probably been crazy my whole life and just never knew it… crazy people never know they are nuts!” He reassured me that, though being thrown completely out of PROPORTION, my stress comes from legitimate concerns.

I sat pondering my emotions and why I can't seem to get a grip. Imagine a line of homeostasis. Everyone has one of these lines. A person needs enough “good stress” to feel productive, but too much of any stress can cause the stress level to go above the “normal” well- functioning line. So I have no really BIG stressors in my life. I just have a bunch of dinky ones that are relatively constant and make me insane. FOR EXAMPLE: neighbors. I grew up in the country where my nearest neighbor was in walking distance but not in screaming distance. We lived at the dead end and the only kids I ever had over were the ones I invited. I was VERY social all through high school and would go have fun and work, etc. BUT when I needed a break- I could always go home to my NICE country home where no one would be POPPING in unannounced. People could call my cell, but if I didn’t feel like talking, I didn’t have to answer.
WELL- now I live in a neighborhood, which I THOUGHT I’d absolutely love! Being right in the middle of the chaos, watering my flowers and waving to neighbors… sitting on each other’s porches drinking lemon aide, neighbor kids giggling and laughing and playing with Brooklyn, my dog having doggy friends to frolic with… so nice… I actually DO have all of that. And on MANY days, I just LOVE it and I laugh at Charkley running with his best buds from yard to yard playing chase. And I smile at Brooklyn and the neighbor kids running through my back yard splashing each other in the pool or swinging. BUT when I have had enough socialization and I just want to clean my house in PEACE or take a NAP or a BATH or COOK or lie in my pool and relax… I get the twitches when I can’t. (And I can’t. EVER). Tuesday I turned on my shower, checked my phone and had a text to check an email so while the water was heating, I went to my lap top to take care of the email. Brooklyn was sound asleep, FINALLY. No sooner did I sit on my couch then RAP RAP RAP at the door. I immediately grabbed Charkley, my dog, by the head and closed his mouth so he couldn’t bark. I did not move because, ONE- I was completely NUDE, and TWO- Brooklyn was sleeping, and THREE- I didn’t feel like babysitting the neighbor kid. AGAIN. WELL- did the neighbor kid leave? After I wouldn’t answer the door I see her start to walk off. Phew. BUT WAIT… she was only leaving my front door. She stuck her face to my big WINDOW and squinted in. Then she moved down a little until she had scanned my entire living room. LUCKILY I could crouch BENEATH the window without being seen. Talk about an invasion of PRIVACY! That’s called TOM PEEPING! (But it’s not the first time BY FAR). And ANOTHER example- I walk into my backyard to find another set of neighbor kids picking all of my blueberries. I’m all about SHARING but my blueberries aren’t even RIPE! They were just merrily picking them off and flicking them to the ground. FOUR kids. The mom and some other lady just watching and not doing a DARN thing about it. And yet ANOTHER example. Starling and I are attempting to finish our deck. It may never HAPPEN- but we try to work on it as much as possible. Starling finished the bottom or whatever you call it and all that is left is laying the deck boards ON the deck. BUT this takes two people so I was assisting. Brooklyn was playing in our yard next to us completely occupied with her dishes and swimming pool. Well, one neighbor and her friend come over. Ok. They start playing with Brooklyn. No big deal. Three more neighbor kids come over. They start attacking Charkley and throwing him in Brooklyn’s pool. Annoying, yes, but ultimately, no big deal. Two MORE neighbor kids come over. One kid is now sticking a metal POLE in MY swimming pool trying to retrieve a BUCKET that they THREW in there that is STARLING’s that he was using to work on his Bronco (probably covered in OIL for all I know). Another kid is trying to remove the water hose from our pool that we have in there to FILL the pool back to the proper fill line. (And spray it on Charkley). One of the little kids is screaming and crying because she’s scared of my dog that has now run under the deck, is curled in a ball, and whimpering because he’s traumatized by the psycho kids.

Well- I’m trying to ignore these events as much as possible, not get outraged, and just focus on the dang deck. I tell the girls for a THIRD time to leave Charkley alone. Starling tells the girls to take the metal pole out of our pool before they poke a hole in our liner and to leave the water hose alone. Does ANYONE listen to us? NO! We get THREE boards put on our deck. That is barely big enough for ONE of my butt cheeks to fit. Starling propped our pool ladder up against the deck so that I could sit on the THREE boards to put down the fourth one. My butt hasn’t even touched the decking before THREE neighbor kids have climbed onto the deck and two more on the way. I look at Starling who doesn’t seem the least bit perturbed. “NO, NO, NO! Everybody down!” I tell the kids. “Why?” Why this? Why that? Are you flipping kidding me? “Because I said get down! We are TRYING to work.” Why? Why can you be up there if we can’t? What are you trying to do? Starling, what’s that? Why does Wendi have to be up there?

“Ok… everyone needs to go play! Get out from under the deck… you see all of the saws and tools? Stop stepping on them. Help that kid get the saw unstuck from her jeans, please. No… leave Charkley under there. No, he doesn’t want to be thrown in the pool anymore. He’s going to bite you if you keep attacking him. Ok, Brooklyn can come over here… because she’s my kid and I’m watching her. Well I can’t watch all of you, too. Leave Brooklyn alone… she is tired of playing. Put her down. PUT HER DOWN. Okay- ya’ll go play.” So when it gets DARK the moms start yelling for their kids to come eat dinner. NOW the mosquitoes are attacking us, it’s getting too dark to see, Brooklyn is crying and fussy, and my nerves are shot. We go inside having put down a total of FIVE boards.

Hmmm… I think that’s really it. I think my nerves stay so shot from little daily dealings with neighbor kids that I can’t handle ANYTHING… and I mean that very literally.

So I told Starling my theory on why I stay crazy. I can’t even CHILL out and get over one annoyance in my life, returning my LINE to normal, before ten more things occur that send me REELING over the top of INSANE. And anyone knows that once you are STRESSED every tiny thing is magnified and FEELS like a ginormous thing. Such is the reason I flip out over dirty socks and dishes and tools on the kitchen counter. I have to FLIP on Starling because I can’t very well flip on the kids! (Except of course when I DO- which makes NO difference in their behavior ANYWAY). And I would MUCH rather apologize to Starling than the kids. And I try to imagine that they are all little Brooklyns and how I would NEVER want someone to yell at her or make her feel unwelcome. OF COURSE I wouldn’t BUM her off every day, either.

Well Starling ordered our blinds which are taking a lifetime and a half to come in. We wanted to order blinds for our entire house at the same time to get the bulk discount and of course nearly all of them were special order because of the crazy shapes of our two-hundred windows. (AND Starling had to shop around for MONTHS to find THE BEST deal). SO that will help. SECONDLY, Starling refused to buy me a shack in the country to let me go live and come visit him in our neighborhood when I feel capable of being civil, BUT he did promise to build me a GIANT privacy fence so that I can walk around stark naked, if I so desire, and NOONE will see me or even know I’m in the back yard. THIRD, he said that he would have a talk with all the neighbor kids about what times they can play in our yard and when NOT TO ASK. (We are still trying to decide what to tell them on that). I just know that summer vacation is coming and LAST summer as soon as I stepped out of my house to take a dip in my pool, AFTER double checking to make sure NO kids were out of their houses, HERE comes the cavalry! A bunch of kids in swimsuits plopping in around me all the while I’m scrambling to tie my top back on before I flash them all. AND that is WITH a fenced in back yard! With the gates closed!

I’m also going to make a wooden stop sign to hang on my front door that says Do Not Knock. And THAT way when I get my NEW BORN to sleep I won’t be testing my taser on a bunch of kids. I know that it’s going to be a LONG time before my privacy is restored to me… BUT even the knowledge that there is HOPE has put me in a chipper mood! And I love my neighbors! I don’t want to never hang out with them. I just have to restore some boundaries so that I don’t go postal and they don’t get me committed to a psych ward.

Friday, April 22, 2011

Play Date at the Pool

I think all present would agree that this should be a mandatory part of motherhood- PLAY dates- of course- but POOLSIDE... sOOOoo much better than inside. Pros- Get a tan while you gab! Kids can get covered in orange and whatever food and its OUTSIDE so WHO cares! Wipe off the sticky when you DUNK em'. Cleanup? NOT much of one! No prep cleaning EITHER. Plus the fresh air was exhuberant!

We all packed a lunch and got our munch on while completely relaxing... I could just live outside all summer (as long as I have cold water to dip in and I only have to wear a swimsuit). The kiddos had a ball, too. They especially enjoyed our discussion on how to get your kids to swim. Throw them in and let them flounder? DUNK them head first? Everyone was scared to dunk their little ones, so I demonstrated on an unsuspecting Brooklyn what I'd been told to do. She looked at me like I had given my mind up in exchange for a pork-n-bean. BUT, she didn't cry and she didn't get water up her nostrils. So then everyone let ME try it on their kid. lol- Let me be the MEAN one! None of them cried. They just looked startled and a little shocked. (But the water was 5 degrees- a deLIGHTful 5 degrees in the 123 degree sunshine). I got some cute pics!

And the preggers...
And the girls with babies who will be preggers soon. hehe- they'll love that!
And just the rest of the pics.

SIX in the A.M

Well it is ALMOST 6 in the morning. And WHY am I blogging instead of using this precious dark, silent time to sleep?? JUST SIT BACK bc you're about to get an ear full.

OKAY it all started yesterday when I looked out my window to see this...
In case you can't tell by the pic, Starling is driving his beloved Bronco with two of our missionaries holding onto a giant swing set. I HAD to take a picture because that has to be the nuttiest thing I've ever seen. Starling took four missionaries to "take apart" and load the swing set. Obviously, they had a genius alternate idea once they got there. I'm sure they got quite a few looks while driving down the road... luckily none by COPS.
After Starling and I happily and joyfully debated where to PUT the giant jewel, and the missionaries and Starling moved it to and fro until I got my ultimate say... I took a try on the swing. SPLENDID! I swung as high as I could go and was reliving every childhood joy of the rush a person gets when he or she is WAY up in the air looking down at the ground far below knowing if the rusty swing were to BREAK, there would some serious OUCH going on.

Then I connected my two baby swings so Brooklyn could have a turn. (I'm not a complete punk mom). Because the elders had done such a MASSIVE service for us, and do all the time, we took them ALL out to eat. (At Chic Filet.. with our free coupons. Don't judge. We're poor folk). We all rode in the Purple Panther with no air conditioning. And it smelled SO good in there at 116 degrees with six and a half sweaty bodies piled in.

Erin Grover took such great care of us at Chic Filet. (So much so that I'm almost CERTAIN one of the four missionaries will rush back home to marry her). Then we came back home and madly rushed to get in all of Starling's tools in out of the rain.

NOW. RAIN means inside. And INSIDE needs a LOT of HELP. I had already cleaned everything out of Brighton's room except for the furniture and other heavy things I didn't think I could lift. Well- Starling had to go show houses and again... I was STUCK inside... SOOO I found a way to move EVERYTHING out. BY MYSELF. (and no. unfortunately it did NOT put me in labor). When Starling finally got home to "help me" I was pretty much DONE so we went outside and pressure washed the swingset. Well- I did for awhile until I was soaked like a drowned rat and Brooklyn was climbing up my leg. And then Brooklyn power washed until Starling finally took over.

That's when I decided I was starving and wanted pasta. That was at seven. So at nine thirty when the frozen pasta was done COOKING we ate it and it was really yummy!! (And we probably ate twice as much as we would usually because we were starv-a-tional!) Starling asked Brooklyn if she wanted some Mac-n-Cheese (since Brooklyn calls anything that is cheesy or yellow or edible Mac-n-cheese). She exclaimed, "Ye-ah, Daddy!" And then examined the plate. "Es not mac-um-cheese, Daddy! Es PAS-TA!" then she named off all the other foods on his plate. "And dis is du-rink!" She told him as she chugged her juice. Thank goodness she could set him straight.

And so it was getting late. And we should have all went to bed. BUT... STARLING went to his office to work, Brooklyn wanted to drink CHOC-LIT Mi-yilk, and I wanted to decorate Brighton's room! I rearranged the furniture about fifteen different ways, finally decided there was TOO much furniture and that most of it HAD TO GO. So I stuck it all in our hallway. (where is remains). I then pulled out all of the decorations I got from my shower along with the ones of collected over time ALWAYS waiting for the time when I'd get to create a Sailor room. Unfortunately most of my collection was BLA or didn't match right. So it had TO GO. I put things around the room trying to imagine some sort of finished product with very little luck. Starling came back home and gave me some of his opinions. By then it was like eleven and Brooklyn was still wide awake playing with my nails and hammer.

"BROOKLYN! Are you ready to go night-night in your BIG GIRL BED?!" She squealed with delight and JUMPED into the bunk bed. (Yes.. you may be confused. Brighton's bedroom of sailor decor will actually be where BROOKLYN sleeps and Brooklyn's adorable little room with the white crib laced out, and with pink bedding will be where BRIGHTON sleeps). I know its strange but I really like how Brooklyn's room is set up and I didn't want to repaint. Plus big bulky brown bunk beds? Screams little sailor, not little princess...
ANYWAY- Brooklyn was thrilled to be in her bed. (Even though she HATES/DETEST the toddler bed). I think its because the bunk beds are cooler. She helped Daddy build it and she thinks its made out of monkey bars. So Starling and I knelt down in front of the bed and said, "Do you want to kneel like us to say prayers?" She furrowed her brows and stuck out her chin. "No. Don't want it say prayers...n-more..Brooklyn es go sleeping." But she FINALLY relented and said prayers with us. Then she got cozy on her bed and fell asleep watching my wheels turn as I tried to make up my mind where to put things.

I attempted measuring out things but NOTHING is an even number and fractions make my brain shrink away in agony. SOO, after several tries of trying to figure out what was the middle of 32 and 4/16 or 2/8 or 1/4, I eyeballed it and started hammering.

I banged away, hot glued, and taped things on the wall until Starling finally peaked in at the wee hours of the morning and asked if I was EVER planning on coming to bed. I shrugged, but figured I'd hung almost everything, so I headed to the bed. But won't you look at all that empty WALL space!! I am SOOO excited to deck those walls out! (I've crammed every wall in my house with something and I've been very saddened that I've nothing left to decorate. So YAY for a new project!)

AMAZING what sleep without someone tossing, turning, kicking, smacking, and mumbling something about cheese and pizza all the time can do for a girl! For the first time since I can remember I fell asleep and did NOT have to move because my spot was overrun by little kicky legs. I fell into a DEEP, dark hole of total relaxation and rest. Until 4:30 a.m.

I woke up as my body was literally LEAPING from my bed and my bedroom door was open when I finally registered that Brooklyn was SCREAMING like wild bears were mauling her. I barely saw her STANDING in my doorway with her trusty Charkley by her side before I completely ran her over. Charkley had the good sense to scadaddle when he saw the freight train leaving the station. Brooklyn did NOT. I pulled her out from under me. She immediately stopped crying when I turned on my bedside lamp and examined her. No giant bear bites. No claw marks. No signs of a struggle. Just droopy little eyes.

"Okay Brooklyn... you want Mommy to go lay down with you in your BIG GIRL BED?!"
You would have thought I'd asked her if she wanted a terd on top of her ice cream.
Her eyes shot open. "NOOOO!!! WANT to go SLEEP ri-i-ight HEEEE-ERR!!" YES ma'am... GEEEEZE...
So I didn't press the issue... I don't want to traumatize her. As soon as I sat her in my bed she melted back into sweet malasses, "Mommy," she said in her falsetto voice, "lay down by Bwook-lyn. Es time go night-night." So I laid back down and two little arms wrapped around my head and her feet went to kickin me right in the gut, SO in TURN- Brighton starts kickin BACK. I glare at the ceiling. A few minutes later Brooklyn starts her talking, "No.. NO! Es mine blank-let!" and Starling starts HIS talking, "Don't tell Mommy no..." So I JOIN in, "She's asleep. She's just sleep talking."
Brooklyn: "Mommy.. Bwook-lyn es asleep."
Starling: "Yes SIR, Brooklyn?"
Brookln: "Yes si-ir, Daddy"
Then heavy breathing resumes between the two coma communicators.
I look at my clock. 5 a.m. I close my eyes and start PLEADING with my adrenaline, which is still coarsing through my body making my mind race and my heart pump at an unheard of rate, to go back to my reserve tank so I can SLEEP. It screams back at me, "NOT HAPPENING!!"
So I lay there for a while more. Finally, I just decided to get up. And so here I am!! I'm sure sleep will hit me RIGHT about the time Brooklyn jumps up and exlaims, "DOOO-ed MORN-ING, DADDY!!"

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Today's Highlights

I had a doctor apt today that was quite eventful. FIRST of all... I weighed in at 146... so 38 pounds gained... which is ACTUALLY a relief because my weight gain seems to be teetering off... I mean I'm still GAINING but not like 10 pounds more every time I go... (hush. I know I'm going more often now.. so THAT's WHY it seems less of a jump on the scale... but I'd really like to relish in the hopes that I won't break 160 in the next five weeks).

And then I got CHECKED (and you already KNOW my feelings ON that. JOYOUS feelings. I couldn't have been more excited about putting my legs in the stirrups if my dentist would've told me he was giving me a root canal with no anesthetics). So after the doctor sent me almost flying off the chair, squealing like a piglet, she told me she felt the head. (With as far up as she jabbed I was thinking.. MINE or HIS?) Then she told me that he's in position and I'm not completely closed. (Whatever the heck that means... I figured I couldn't be completely closed after she stuck her whole arm in me anyway). So that wasn't all too exciting. I was not so secretly HOPING she would say, "well I'll BE! You're 4 cm dialated! You'll have this baby out by the end of the week!" But no such luck. Then she asked if I had any more concerns.

I had to tell her, on Starling's STRICT orders, about me falling down this morning. I told her it wasn't too big a deal, but my husband inSISTED I tell my doctor in case I had ripped something. She asked what I was doing when I fell. "Trying to put my pants on." She and the nurse cracked up. I said, "It sounded a lot worse than it was because I had both feet in the pants and when I lost my balance I tried to catch hold of my closet door. Of course the door had enough sense to bolt when it saw a hippo coming at it so I just slammed into it on my way to the ground." It sounded like a gun shot went off. Starling, of course, TOTALLY over reacted. (Normally he would've been cracking up at such a scene, which HAD to be a funny sight. "I" was cracking up lying on the ground just THINKING of how it must've looked). But he DRAMATICALLY inquired, "WENDI!!! WHAT HAPPENED!? ARE YOU OKAY!?" And I stopped giggling long enough to say, "I just fell down trying to put on my pants." Which sent me into another giggling spell. He was NOT in the least bit amused. "ARE YOU KIDDING ME?" I looked up from the floor and said, "obviously NOT." He had to examine me head to toe and kept asking me the same three questions every three minutes. "Is the baby moving? Are you cramping? Are you bleeding?" And every 3 minutes I'd say, "Starling. I'm on my way to the doctor. Chill."

SOOO when my doc was done laughing, which she kept apologizing for, she told me she'd stick me on a monitor just to be sure she didn't see any probs. So twenty minutes LATER she told me I looked fine and said, "If the baby stops moving, if you start cramping, or start bleeding call me." (Which almost made me giggle again thinking of Starling and his little Doctor Johnson self).

I went home and was so sore all over I just laid in my bed and took a nap. I woke up and took Brooklyn to Tophers because I've been craving their shake and incredible bacon something something burger. Well... LAST time Starling gave me the chocolate bacon shake and it was inCREDIBLE. I didn't taste any bacon, just ice chunks that were absolutely a pregnant woman's dream. (I love chunks of ice crystals in my ice cream...) So I ask the dude at the front if all of their ice cream has ice crystal chunks or just the bacon one. He said, "Those were the bacon chunks. Our other icecream is completely smooth." So I got the bacon one again.
WELL- it was NOT made the same as the first time... I took my first sip and a big CHUNK of SALTY, GREESY bacon came THROUGH the straw, onto my taste bud, and I gagged! I took another sip. AND GAGGED. I let Brooklyn sip it. She made a face and said, "No... don't want it, arce tream, n-more"
I finally just took the shake back to the front and said, "I'm sorry... I can't drink this. This tastes nothing like the shake I had last time... this is salty and nasty..." The guy looked at me like I was an idiot. "Yeah.. it has bacon in it." But he made me a regular chocolate shake that HAD ice crystals in it and I was happy. I love thier shakes.

So then I went BACK home, ALMOST got Brooklyn to sleep when BANG BANG BANG.. neighbor at the door. Then I FINALLY got her to take a nap by about 3:30 or 4:00 and I slept, too. (I had NEGATIVE amounts of energy today... probably because Brighton woke me up at 4 a.m. leaving me feeling like there was a crab clamping my bladder and I got up to pee every thirty minutes until my alarm went off at 7:00). So we woke up at 6:30 PM (and I felt like a complete BUM who got NOTHING accomplished ALL DAY... bc I DIDn'T) and told Brooklyn we at least had to go run all the errands on my list that I was supposed to do after my doc apt, but didn't because I could barely walk.

NOW shopping with Brooklyn is ALWAYS eventful. I never know WHAT kind of mood she'll take up and it usually varies from store to store. For Old Navy she INSISTED on taking her baby doll that is 30 years old and I am NOT using the Wendi-Factor on that one... it was given to her from my 30 something year old cousin. It's bald, dirty, and is wearing a nightgown. AND she wasn't satified with JUST taking her baby... she ALSO had to have her singing bear that is as TALL as her and WEIGHS as MUCH as her. Remember Old Navy doesn't have buggies in the parking lot. I had to CARRY BROOKLYN who weighs 22 pounds while holding her doll (that's head weighs at least 5 pounds) and that dang bear that HAS to weigh at least 15 pounds. And of course I drug in Brooklyn's diaper bag because I would rather LUG around that 20 pound bag then lock all the doors in that van. (BECAUSE- remember- it has power NOTHING). So by the time I even GOT to the door I was panting and couldn't catch my breath. And then the child has the audacity to WHINE because SHE wants to push the cart thing WHILE holding both her GINORMOUS toys. So we are moving about an inch every three minutes. And everytime I try to STEER the buggy I get a sharp, "NO, MOMMY... Brooklyn has ta do it!" Well, I let her say that twice. Then I got down in her little stubborn face and put the fear of MOMMY into her. She got her tail in the cart, held on for dear life, I got my flip flops and her a swim suit in 5 minutes and we got out.

THEN we had to go to TARGET where I had to find ME a swimtop (bc none of Old Navy's were cutting it)... I of course pick a couple of cute SMALL swimsuits because I've never worn anything but, and some x-small and even some SMALL (since I'm pregnant) sophe shorts... Brooklyn is in a JOYFUL mood now, singing and waving to all of the shoppers. We go to the dressing room and Brooklyn is just chattering away in a very LOUD voice. "MOMMY! Look'ed at DI-IS!" I look. "A little chair! That's nice, Brooklyn." I'm trying to take my pants off WITHOUT busting my butt with little success as I'm teetering.
"Dis is a CUTE chair, Mommy! Wanna sit on da chair, Mommy?"
Finally, after five minutes, I'm out of my pants.
"No thank you Brooklyn. You can sit on it."
Brooklyn looks up and gives me a pat on my now undressed bum. "I lub your booty, Mommy." I yank her hand off my butt and say, "err.. thank you? Please don't touch Mommy's bum... your invading my bubble.. go sit in your chair."
So she obeys. "MOMMY LOOK! I lub a mir-uh, Mommy! I got you Brook Brook!" I give her a glance. "Don't stick your mouth on the mirror, Brooklyn."
I SQUEEEEEEZE into the tankinni top which surprisingly fits FINE on my enormous GUT but the top... NOT so much.
"MOMMY! You're so PRETTY, MOMMy!" I stop mid examination and unfurl my eyebrows and pursed lips. I give Brooklyn the most adoring smile, "THANK you, BROOKLYN! I'm gonna keep you, little Miss! You are such a sweet complimentor!" And she goes back to singing to herself in the mirror.
I pull the x-small shorts over my butt which is NO LONGER an EXTRA SMALL butt! Brooklyn loses all her brownie points when she says, "TOO SMALL!! Mommy es TOO BIG."
And then I put on the small shorts and she says, "TOO SMALL!! Es too little, Mommy." My teeth are clenched as I try to nicely say, "THANK you, BROOKLYN for pointing out the OBVIOUS."
So then I get COMPLETELY dressed and haul ALL of my WOULD BE purchases to the "I can't FIT into these cute clothes bc I'm FAT" rack and head to find bigger sizes. I look behind me and realize Brooklyn is still playing in the dressing room. "Come ON BROOKLYN"
"I'm tumming!" She sings as she doesn't BUDGE. "Look Mommy! A STICK-TER!" Its a long sticker she has pulled off the floor that says SMALL. She can't walk straight because she's attempting to wrap it around her arm like a bracelet. I throw her in the buggy and go back to the shorts rack. I hold up a medium. "NO WAY will those fit me. They are HUGE. My butt HAS NOT GOTTEN THAT BIG." I go get a medium top... (that was with no trepidation... I'll gladly accept and WELCOME more stuff at the top of me). We head back to the dressing room and Brooklyn starts taking HER clothes off because, "Es mine turn!" I let her strip while my eyes bulge at the fact that the shorts that look enormous to my eyes fit my butt perfectly. "Insane. Well I'm only getting two pair because in three months these better be too big."
"HEY BUGGY!!" I look at to see my stripped child laying on the floor WAVING to our buggy from under the dressing room door. "BROOKLYN, get off the FLOOR! Lets put your clothes on!"
"Noooo... I wanna wear dis dress..."
"That's not a dress Brooklyn... that's a swim-suit. Its for Mommy. Now get your clothes on."
"MOMMY, I got antsies!" And then she takes off her shoes to show me the ANTS that are on her.
"You don't have antsies, Brooklyn. Put your shoes on. Target is trying to CLOSE! We're going to get stuck in here if you don't come on!"
"*SIGH*oTAY, Mommy."
So then we left Target while they are TURNING the lights off on us in the dressing room and went to Wal-Mart to get some groceries. By the time we got home I couldn't even climb out of the van. I just sat there. For about three or four minutes just DREADING having to stand up. Only because Brighton gave me a swift punch in the bladder did I stand up and slowly crawl to the bathroom. Then I sat on the couch and said, "Starling, please unload the car- I can't move." BRIGHTON on the other hand coulnd't QUIT moving. Knowing his head is down in my pelvis really confuses things. There are TWO very large lumps that appear on both sides of my stomach while two to four little jabby things stab out of my stomach all at the same time. I just assumed that his butt and head were the two giant round things, but I don't know now. Starling got to see Brighton's full foot down to the outline of his toes stabbing about an inch tall out of the left side of my stomach. I like Starling to witness Brighton's flailings so he understands my exhaustion. Its impossible to sleep when there is something INSIDE trying to climb OUT. It makes for some CRAZY dreams!
Anyway- Its 2 a.m. and I need to lay down and PRAY this little rugrat in my womb will GO TO SLEEP and give me a few moments of peace.
Here are some more baby shower pics...
Jen and Ellie... and my Aunt Rita and Sue

Here's my cousin Lisa and her little Ladell
Candace is ALREADY back in shape after having her little one only a couple of months ago! And go ahead and COMPARE JESSI's tummy and MY tummy. Now mine is obviously bigger... but here is the kicker. JESSI is giving birth in like a WEEK and I've still got FIVE TO GO!!! Blast you girls that can get to the ninth month only gaining 20 pounds!!!

Okay I DID pull my camera out again after everyone left... Hayden and Colton wanted some "COOL" pictures of them making "SCARY" faces. And I can't tell two of my most favorite boys in the world NO... so here are a few of my fav's (out of about 60 pics- and yes that is exaggerated using the Wendi factor)
Then of course I realized I went the entire shower without taking any pics of my kid... so I snapped a couple.
She's doing her two most favorite things... playing the guitar and EATING... come to THINK of it... she DOES have a bit of Starling in her. (and half of mommy... I DOOO love to eat... especially yummy cup cakes- THANK you JESSI).

Baby Shower

Jessie, Susan, and Faith threw me a TERRIFIC baby shower! I didn't know that so many cute boy clothes existed and I had no idea how talented some of the ladies were. I got some cute, cute gifts! Thank you everyone that came! I took some pics of the first people there... and then started eating... YOU can probably guess that the camera never made it back out of the bag again once food was near my face. IT was VERY YUMMY food!
Here's Emily and Preston! And Candace and Whitney with their little ones!
And sweet Susan! Thanks for hosting the shower at your house. ON PROM DAY. Trooper Mom!
And my mom and Brooklyn
Faith, Emily, Jessie, and little Ella

Saturday, April 16, 2011

WOW. Time to play catch up. (Don't worry... it'll be the abridged version).

SO... I went back to the doctor and weighed in at 143... (my trusty calculator reminded me that I've gained 35 pounds...) I go back to the doctor on TUESDAY with the comfort of knowing its CHECKING time. (If you don't know what that means... consider yourself VERY lucky... the doctor tries to grab your tonsils from the other end of the body.. in a nutshell) ANYWAY- I am NOT excited about that... I figure that I'll KNOW when Brighton's on his way out because either a ton of fluid will fall out of me OR contractions will hit and send me to the emergency room just for the epidural ALONE... so I've really thought about playing hooky and forgoing all of my apts until I go in for the finish. Because... they don't GIVE you medicine before they go to jabbing to Tim-Buck-Two with their hands and it is NOT comfortable! And I'm a little terrified... its worse REMEMBERING what it is like then going in completely oblivious. And all they can tell me is.. "Hmm... looks like NOTHING is happening... but the good news is... i'll be searching up in ya' again NEXT week!" ugh... I get a stomach ache just THINKING about SIX weeks of pregnancy. And SIX weeks of doctor's apts. And SIX weeks of WAITING for the inevitable... LABOR... I might need one of those RELAX pills. I am KIND of freaking out now that the end is in sight... Oh... actually... its FIVE weeks away. DANG! that means that Jesse's baby will be here in TWO weeks or less... funny. That doesn't stress me out nearly as much. lol

I feel so unprepared. We haven't set up Brighton's bassinet in our room. And I haven't taken all the pink ribbons off of the car seats and strollers. And I haven't finished Brighton's room...NOT that any of that is ESSENTIAL... it would just make me feel a little more prePARED.

You want a glimpse of what I HAVE done?? If you haven't heard of nesting... well... here's some pics that might demonstrate...

I tried to wait on Starling to help me... I did... but he's so busy and I'm so IMPATIENT and Brighton's so... ALMOST HERE that I just took EVERYTHING out of the play room and moved it to OTHER places and NOW I can see what I'm working with. A big ole' empty room. I'm now back to waiting. Starling has to put up the bunk beds and be my furniture rearranger so I can say, "Let's try this here.. NOPE. THere... NOPE move it there... NOPE... ya know... i liked it better the first place we tried it." And so on with the twenty things that need to fit up in that room. Starling did put up all the base board in the red room! and we've since moved everything back to its original position and I cleaned it up so its not looking a hot mess... BUT Brooklyn's room remains the same... I moved all her toys to the red room though so she has plenty of play space.

I've also been cooking! Granted... it meals like Pork-n-beans and weanies, corn (out of a can), green beans (out of a can), and mac-n-cheese (out of a box... and things such as THAT, but its a BIG step up from cereal! Brooklyn helped me cook stuffed crescent rolls... well... helped with the cheese clean-up anyway.

Brooklyn has also been begging DESPERATELY for some "birf-day take!" so I finally broke down and made her one... even though its NOT yet her birthday...

And... Starling bought Brooklyn the most WONDERFUL thing that can be bought for an almost two year old OBSESSED with going for a "ru-i-i-i-de" on her Daddy's motorcycle or four-wheeler... a HELMET. Starling gave it to her and told her that he'd take her on his motorcycle the next day when he got home from school. WELL he didn't get home until TEN thirty AT NIGHT (even though he was GOING to be home at SIX) and despite that little DARK and LATE factor... when Brooklyn heard Starling's motorcycle roar into the breezeway... honey, I've never seen such a scurry to get down from her booster seat and RUN as fast as her little chubby legs could go to find her helmet. She met him at the door with her helmet on her head, her hands raised high, and yelling at the top of her lungs, "HEY DADDY!!! WANNA GO FOR A RU-I-I-DE!!!" Like he could tell that little grasshopper NO... So I grabbed Charkley and we went on a little family ride around the neighborhood. (Yes. All of our neighbors appreciated it... the loud rumbling of a motorcycle going UP and DOWN the road ten times...). But it made Brooklyn happy and sometimes I choose her over other people... some STRANGE partialness... I don't know...
Isn't she cute in her helmet.. OH and her SHADES...