Category Archives: pregnancy

The boy who never grew up


I am reading Peter Pan to the girls at bedtime. I think they are enjoying it – even Princess Crybaby gets mostly still and quiet. Sometimes she will lay her head on my lap and I’ll rub her back while I’m reading. It’s terrific. Munchkin and I read The Secret Garden last year and it was really fun.

peter-pan-15Last night, we were reading the chapter where Wendy decides it’s time to go home. She’s telling the story about the Darlings and how the mother always kept the window open for them to return – never forgetting them. Peter goes on to tell his version of that story, when his own mother “forgot” about him, locked the nursery door and replaced him with another little boy.

Call it runaway pregnancy hormones, but I started to choke up. The girls were absolutely silent too. It was quite the literary moment.

I reassured the girls at the end of the chapter that I would never forget about them if they flew away to Neverland and I would always keep the windows unlocked so they could come home. And then the bedtime rodeo recommenced and the moment passed.

For them.

Peter PanBut, a little while later, I found myself thinking about Peter and his story and I could not help but think of Riley. The temptation to fantasize about our eldest boy being one of the Lost Boys, running wild around Neverland; having adventures with Indians and pirates is an intoxicating thought. And then we get to coming back to the window. Would our little “Peter” (aka Riley) think we’d forgotten him? Would he see the crib and bassinet and a closet full of clothes waiting for The Boy’s imminent arrival, and decide that we must have replaced him?

Yes, I know it’s irrational. Riley is in heaven and has been since that morning in October, four years ago. I have not forgotten or replaced him. In fact, I don’t think a day goes by that my heart does not, in some way, whisper his name.

It’s just a story. And I’m VERY pregnant.

One day, I will read Peter Pan to The Boy and kiss the top of his head for the trillionth time and, yes, think of my own Peter Pan. And, while I am perfectly aware of the fact that this is from the movie Hook and not Peter Pan or any of the original versions, I still love this quote from Tinkerbell:

“You know that place between sleep and awake, that place where you still remember dreaming? That’s where I’ll always love you, Peter Pan. That’s where I’ll be waiting.”




So, the Doc said a couple of weeks ago that I was far too cheerful to be “ready” to have a baby and that there would come a point where I would just be OVER. IT.

Friends, I believe that train has left the station.

Like Chinese Water torture (see, sis, I got it this time), I can’t tell if these B-H are hurting more because they are getting stronger OR if my pain tolerance is compromised because they’ve been continuous for a week.



Either way, they suck and I hate them. Well, hate is a strong word. If they are going to continue and ramp up (TODAY), then they are great and by all means, they should continue. BUT. If they are just messing with me, then I hate them.

classic straight jacket

According to wikipedia (the source of all knowledge; reliable and otherwise) – the purpose of chinese water torture is to drive the victim insane by the incessant drops of water. Sounds just like B-H. I wonder if they make straight jackets in maternity sizes?

Had this been an actual emergency…



Dangit. I said I wasn’t going to do this. This is baby #3 and I KNOW what real labor is like. I told this child he wouldn’t get one over on me. I blogged, oh-so-smugly about being onto the mental games played by Braxton-Hicks. I felt invincible.

But, my darling son simply can’t let that stand (who is he to not join his sisters in running me in circles) and so he got creative. He gave an Oscar-worthy performance. All the signs pointed to the real deal. Even the OB nurse got excited. I was pretty convinced we were headed to The Show. I finally agreed to go into the clinic so the doc could “just check things out.”

Well, as it turns out nothing is, in fact, happening. I am right where I was YESTERDAY (at my regular appointment). The contractions feel different and they are stronger and lower, but not strong enough to progress. So, I bought myself a chili dog for lunch and came back to work. I have mollified myself by saying it wasn’t L&D so it doesn’t really count as a practice run.

I hate being wrong. I have a real problem with it. Did you know?

I yelled at my kids today

It was NOT a good mommy morning.
I yelled at Princess Crybaby for dropping her cookies in the car.
I didn’t tell Munchkin “goodbye, I love you” when I dropped her off. I told her to be good and mind her own business.
I mumbled something huffy under my breath when I had to find the compact cards for Coach.
I feel like I failed as a human being today by being a complete bitch. I’m going to make something yummy for dinner tonight, to make up for my awful-ness this morning. And read bedtime stories.
And, yes, I’m trying not to cry about it, but I’m not doing a very good job.
I’m tired of being pregnant. I feel fat, my uterus feels like it’s starting to fall out and I DO NOT want to hear another person tell me how quickly September is going to go by because I might punch them in the throat.
I’m terrified about having three little people need me – at the same time- to help them get ready for the world when I, myself, feel like such a tangled mess.
I’d like to go back to bed, please. I’m being unkind and that’s the same crap I yelled at Munchkin for.



Have I mentioned how much I detest the unknown? Walking down paths unexplored gives me hives. I hate not having a plan. HATE. Like I hate mayonnaise kind of hate. Oh, I’ll eat mayo, but it was almost assuredly a mistake or an accident that lands it on my plate.

And that’s where the adventure part comes in. When my mother uses the word Adventure, I know the wheels have come off and all hell has broken loose. That’s generally how I feel about the unknown. It’s not good. It feels me with no positive feelings. No slight euphoria at the thrill of discovery. Just a dull, sick feeling. As if my body is preparing to be punched in the gut.

Ok, enough with the metaphors.

I am 32 weeks pregnant. A month ago, our doc informs us she’s leaving her current practice and going to work for the big hospital (where we always intended to deliver). We had insurance ($$) all worked out and everything was going according to plan. And then. Well, her move means that insurance estimate is now something we have to mess with. Dealing with insurance people and medical billing people makes me want to puke on the best of days. But having to deal with the unknown of how this change will affect our very carefully balanced finances, as I’m staring at six weeks of maternity leave in a little less than 2 months makes me want to faint every time I think about it. Or cry. And you KNOW how I feel about crying.

Now, let’s add the fun part. When I left the school business, I went to work for a smaller business. While there are many, many ups that have come with the change (uh, the pregnancy being right there at the top of that list), there were some benefit changes that came along with losing the buying power of a large company that I didn’t think about (not that it would have really made that much of a difference), but that are having a very big impact on the bottom line. Thanks to the ridiculous increase in healthcare costs, it makes far more financial sense to drop my coverage on myself and go back on Coach’s insurance with the district as soon as possible. That’ll be effective in a week. That solves several problems; once all the wrinkles are worked out.

So. The fun part comes in this morning. Since my doc is now with the big hospital, all the insurance estimates have to be redone. That part, itself, really isn’t that bad. It’s just numbers. Add on top that I am switching insurance and all the mess they scratched on those papers today will be null and void come Monday. Back to unknown.

Ugh. So, we’re looking at a hospital balance due before the end of September, but we really don’t know how much will be due because the new insurance isn’t effective. It’ll be somewhere in the neighborhood of what we’ve already been estimated, but I HATE not knowing. Bam. Done. Ugh (again).

I know. This too shall pass. (I hope you heard that in the most sarcastic, obnoxious voice you can imagine, because that’s how it sounds in my head.) Platitudes make me almost as sick at the unknown.


“B-H can Eat It”


Today, I was talking to my mother and I told her I’m having a lot of Braxton-Hicks, but that I’m onto their “let’s make her think she’s in labor” game and they could just “eat it.” Because that’s what they do. It’s like taking your car to the mechanic. It never does it once you get there to check it out. And then they look at you like you are a little stupid and maybe you should have paid closer attention to those childbirth classes and a little less attention to Pinterest.

This is not my first rodeo. So you would think I would know what I was doing 100% by now.

My pregnancy with Munchkin was pretty easy, if you don’t count that pre-term labor thing at 22 weeks (don’t worry, I carried her to a lovely medium-well done 37 weeks). Delivery was a PIECE. OF. CAKE. So much so, that I almost hesitate to tell my birth story because I figure other mothers might want to slash my tires.

Princess Crybaby was another easy pregnancy. Sure, I threw up a little every morning from about 10 minutes after the pregnancy test until the morning they induced her at 38 weeks (so we could make it into the hospital we wanted before they closed it to rebuild it as a children’s hospital). Quick and (as these things go) unremarkable (other than they, “hey look, it’s a redheaded miracle baby!” part of delivery – DUH). Another easy delivery. Well, for me it was harder, but I fully believe that’s the 8 years older business. *ahem*

The Boy has been super sweet. No nausea (well, not enough to really talk about), no stupid sweet tooth that made me blow up (weight-wise) and lord, the weather has been an absolute gift. Y’all, it was 70-something degrees this morning. In Texas. In late August. UNBELIEVABLE. (not that he had anything to do with that, of course)

But I’m nervous. What if this last one is “the hard one?” What if I finally earn my mother stripes by living through the delivery from hell? You know what I’m talking about; the one where I finally earn the right to stare down my son and say, “I labored 22 hours with you, BOY, so you’ll eat your green beans standing on your head if I say to..” I can’t really use that card with the girls. “Munchkin, I pushed six times and you were out,” or “Princess Josephine Crybaby, I pushed 15 minutes with you, young lady, so I think I’ve earned the right to tell you you aren’t going to dye your hair,” just doesn’t have the same affect. Not. Even. Close.

But it’s not time to find out what kind of labor it’ll be. Hrmph.

So, in the meantime, these B-H can just keep on doing whatever it is they are trying to do because I ain’t falling for it this time. Nope. Not me.

Dangerous Road


Once again, the geniuses at Pregnant Chicken slayed me with their cleverness in the weekly email and I had to comment. Here.

Because otherwise, I’m going to whine about having to get down on my hands and knees and look for Princess Crybaby’s shoes AGAIN this morning and, just as I was about to really let the profanity go on the phone with The Coach, I found it. Under the table. “Exactly where she left it.” (and yes, I’m making that face, Coach – so don’t start)

Yes, it did occur to me to pick them up when I saw those shoes in two different places (is she throwing them around now or something?) last night before bed, but then I remembered I had corn to harvest on Hayday and I forgot. Sue me, dudes, I’m 31 weeks pregnant.


Things Never to Say

I’m pretty sure being pregnant is the most obnoxious way to pass most of a year. Not because of the process itself so much, but because you can’t be pregnant without people saying REALLY dumb things. And, while I’m sure there are some who feel perfectly entitled to shoot back a stinging retort to all the inappropriate touching, comments and shenanigans (Coach, I’m using that word just for you), I am *trying* to be a little more laid back.

But the first one on this list really struck me as funny and TRUE. Friends, gather around and let Auntie fridaynightgirl share a little safety message: just don’t. There is no good or safe way to remark on a woman’s silhouette when she’s pregnant. Especially not by 31 weeks. And yes, I’m going to explain. By this point, we feel like we’ve been hauling around a pumpkin in our belly for a couple of months now. We are hot. We are sore. We are uncomfortable. And, for the love of mike, we haven’t seen our feet when they are directly under us in weeks. So, saying “well, you just don’t even look pregnant!” is a no-go for a couple of reasons. FIRST, by saying that, what we HEARD with our psycho-preggo ears was, “Geez, you always look like a beluga whale to me!” Whether our weight gain is on track or headed off with the second gallon of dutch chocolate Blue Bell ice cream, we don’t want to be reminded of the all the clothes that don’t fit because of this little project we’ve got going here. We know we’ve gained weight, so don’t try and lie to us. SECOND. When you say it, YOU are trying to compliment us for not blowing up into the Stay-Puffed Marshmallow mommy. We get it. Somewhere. But our sore back, stretched skin and four articles of clothing that still fit mock that sentiment. Growing a human is HARD work, y’all. There are things that happen in pregnancy that are awful. Messy. Painful.. And that’s before labor and delivery. So, as whacked out as this logic is, telling a woman after 31 weeks that she doesn’t even look pregnant somehow discounts all this back-breaking work we’re doing here. At least, between my ears (which, for the record, is the ONLY part of my body that seems to not be a little puffy today) – don’t get me started on the chin. UGH.

I think we can all agree on the general stupidity of remarking “how big” a pregnant woman looks – at any point of her pregnancy. This doesn’t require much discussion. That’s just asking to have a chair thrown at you. Don’t do it. Ever. She’s perfectly aware of the fact that she’s not cutting much of a figure other than the previously mentioned relative of the WHALE.

My advice? When she comes to you and makes some remark about feeling as big as a house or whatever, pat her on the arm and tell her she looks fantastic and ask her if she wants a cookie. Or a Dr. Pepper. Or, in my case, a brand new bag of chips and french onion dip.






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This new little miracle.

Little hands

Little feet

Little ears (have I told you I have a thing about my children’s ears?)

How can I be so in love with this boy I haven’t met yet?

Oh, come on October.

I want to see him.

Hold him.

Kiss him.






I’m in a sour mood.

I’m hot.

I feel fat and round.

I want Munchkin home. Now.

I have wishes that no star, well, or fairy will grant.

I’m too old to actually pout.

I need a sink to scrub.





24 weeks. The magic point at which, it seems, comfortable is becoming a passing memory; something to think about in the past and look forward to in the future. It’s sometime around 4am and I’ve given up on sleeping any more. Princess Crybaby woke up a little bit ago, asking to go to the bathroom, but she was so sleepy I don’t think it actually occurred to her to go. Then she asked to sleep in our bed. Well, she’s so dadgum snuggly at 4am aaaaaaand I relented. (I have NO willpower at 4am) Well, by the time I settled her back in and got halfway situated myself, I was well and truly awake. Knowing better than to lay there and watch the clock, I got up. And here I am.

I actually don’t mind it. (right now; ask me again this afternoon when I’ve propped my head up with catalogs so I can pretend I have enough batteries to get me through the workday.) The house is still and quiet and it’s still dark enough I can’t see our “happy mess.” *laugh* I have surrendered to all but the basic “necessity” cleaning until the children are old enough that it’s not like watering your yard in a rainstorm. I mean, really – what’s the point? (don’t think that lets Coach off of dishes duty while school is out. I have my limits.)

I think of my sweet sisters and how lovely and clean their house is and I envy them. (and wonder where they get that extra energy and if it something that comes in a pill form.) While some people want to be Martha Stewart, I want to be Molly Weasley. She had a spell to do the dishes for goodness sakes and that beats making crepes and origami christmas ornaments any day of the week.

I console myself with the Joel Olsteen-esque “name it and claim it” platitude (i.e. completely useless, but so warm and fuzzy) that they won’t be little forever and time I “waste” scrubbing floors and sinks and doing laundry is time I could be spending with the kids. Or something like that.



You know the really funny thing about this picture (and many others just like it)? I don’t think there is a single child within five miles of this room. Low sharp coffee table? White upholstery? Skinny vases three inches from the edge of the table? Open, roaring fire? And, look at the shine on those floors. Are you kidding me?

One day I’ll have a lovely clean house again – probably right around the time I can reach the stuff on the floor (or sometime after Halloween). For now, excuse our mess.

Oh, and if you hear snoring coming from the corner office around 3 today, you’ll know why.

I got nothin’


I’m tired. It’s been a crazy, hectic week; to be followed by a hectic Friday and Saturday before I can relax. I am SO thankful, though, for the holiday weekend. So, today’s post is a whole lot of nothin’. Nothin’ funny. Nothin’ sappy. Nothin’ inspiring.

I’m empty today. Well, that’s not true. I have a baby boy the size of a bell pepper hanging around that I’m trying to get to know, two little girls who light up my life with their fireworks every day, and a husband who delights, completes and overjoys me. I have friends who encourage me, family that holds me close and faith that keeps me afloat. I have Jesus.

You know what, maybe I’m not so empty after all.

A Son of my Own


There is a very special gift in daughters. They touch your heart in a very specific way. I have two. One is turning 11 this fall and the other will be 3 two weeks before her older sister. They are my joy and my truest delight. They are as different as night and day. They love differently. They laugh differently. They cry differently. They pout differently (well, Princess Crybaby doesn’t really pout; she skips straight to laying on the floor and yelling) And I am filled with a joy that I never knew possible.

And yet.

I longed for the chance to raise a son. A boy. With all the boy-ness that comes with raising a boy. (that sounds very Jack Sparrow-ish) I have no idea what his personality will be, but seeing his face and his hands and his arms and all the other wonderful parts God is knitting together yesterday was a wish come true.



I laugh in advance of the messes he’ll make (probably at the urging of his sisters).

I pray for the special bond I’ve heard about between a boy and his mother. 

I hope he is like his daddy. Oh, what fun we’ll have then. (and by fun, I mean I’ll be yelling down the hall or out the back door at him (AND his dad) a LOT)

I wonder if he will be quiet or loud.

I wonder if he will sing.

I wonder if he will be our artist, thinker or athlete – or all of the above.

I wonder if he will like blocks and legos (I’m sure my brother certainly hopes so).

I wonder if he will play GI Joes and recruit his sisters into playing with him. (Princess Crybaby I can TOTALLY see… Munchkin…not so much)

I wonder.

1 Samuel 1:27 – For this child I prayed, and the LORD has granted me my petition that I made to him.








Today is Wednesday. I woke up to the sound of Princess Crybaby whining in her bed. I let her whine. She woke up happy this morning and I didn’t wake up with feet in my ribs. I’d call that a success! Downside to whining at 2:30? Preggers Mommy can’t go right back to sleep. SO, I feel a little dazed this morning. I’m hoping coffee will solve it. *grin*

Overall, things are going well. I need to come up with a nickname for baby #3 for the blog – any suggestions? I feel great (besides still being uber-tired and HUNGRY a lot of the time). I don’t know why, but I feel like this is our boy. This pregnancy is so different from the girls. Virtually no morning sickness, food cravings not involving sweets, exceptional tiredness, but overall a piece of cake so far.  This baby is going really easy on me. Maybe this baby will be my sweet, compliant son. Why are you laughing? 

The girls are good. Munchkin finishes standardized state testing today. I’m confident she’s done well. She’s a smart kid and she has good teachers. The entire testing system is ridiculous, but I don’t have a good solution beyond abolishing it, so I’ll just be thankful to have a child who performs well and doesn’t seem to suffer very much at these things.

Princess Crybaby is growing like a freaking weed. I think, in the last month, her arms and legs have sprouted – all the spring dresses we bought her before Easter already require leggings underneath; and not just because this weather is schizophrenic. It was 80 Monday; 45 today. She hasn’t even been able to hardly wear them because it’s been so up and down and the ups turn down in the middle of the day so I’m never confident she won’t be cold. URGH. Ready for summer.

It’s cold in my office, but it’s always cold in here so it’s hardly worth remarking. I have decided to bring lamps in here. These florescent lights are driving me crazy. Other than that, work is good. I’ve created some projects that are keeping me busy enough not to mind being stationary. Boy, that’s probably the single biggest change. Being in one place all day long. I don’t know that I’ve had a job where I didn’t get out and travel since my very first job out of college.

There are so many things I could blog about, but haven’t found a way to articulate them so, for now, I’ll just wait (or put them behind a password).

letter to Munchkin


my sweetest punkin’ brains

That was one of the names I called you in the hospital.  I will never forget the feeling when they gave you to me – a feeling of utter astonishment that I could have made something so beautiful.  Do you know I still feel that way every time I see you?  Just the other day I caught myself having that same feeling of breathless disbelief that something so wonderful could have, at one time, been part of my innermost parts. 

Munchkin, you are my treasure.  You are one of the very best things that has ever happened to me.  I love everything about you.  I love the way you make up silly songs.  I love the way you dance through life.  I love your pouts and dramatics.  I love listening to you read.  I love watching you sleep.  I love listening to you breathe. 

I know my being pregnant has caused you to question your place as the apple of my eye but I hope to show you every day that my heart is WAY big enough for everybody.  The Stowaway is going to be just as precious to me, in her own way, but you will always be my first. 

You were the girl who mailed her pacifiers to Santa Claus. 

The girl who defied an entire school and potty trained when SHE, not some uppity woman, was ready. 

The girl who decided one day to read and can now read anything you put in front of her.

The girl who is a dancer, singer, cheerleader, gymnast, acrobat and clown – all at the same time.

The girl who loves to laugh almost more than she loves to eat.

The girl who will slay a thousand dragons in her time because she’s so smart, sassy and confident. 

My girl.

I love you so much, Munchkin.  You are the greatest gift God ever gave me and now He’s giving me another one in your little sister.  I can’t wait for snuggles, kisses, headaches, tantrums, hysterical laughter, tears, jokes, songs, books – all of it – with BOTH my girls. 

Love you lots and lots and lots,


end of the road in sight


Like it or not, little Stowaway, your arrival is imminent.  I know you might have it in your stubborn little brain that you can choose to stay in there forever but that’s just not so.  I’d love to see you before next Thursday but next Thursday IS the day when we will see you. 

We have a doctor’s appointment today and I am hopeful that we will have made enough progress to go across the street.  Coach doesn’t think so (I think he just says that b/c he wants to win the bet) and Munchkin is kind of hoping you’ll wait now so she can bring home the new puppy.  I’m tired of the waiting but I’m even more tired of wondering when it will happen. 

Yesterday was a great day – completely exhausting, but great.  We changed our back to school event from a convocation to a professional development conference.  SO much more relevant and I think the teachers got a lot out of it.  I did a session on social networking and how it can be dangerous to your professional reputation.  Hopefully, it was informative. 

I will post pictures of the baby dog tonight, unless we’re having a baby.  🙂

emotionally drained


The excitement of the past weeks has caught up with me, I guess.  Getting everything ready for the move, moving, setting up the new house, having Munchkin home and waiting for the Stowaway has proved to be more emotionally exhausting than I’d anticipated.  As my mother says, “even good stress is still stress.”

I had a horrible dream last night.  I dreamed the Stowaway was stillborn.  We’d come all this way only to end up with a terrible tragedy.  I know it’s exhaustion.  She’s moving.  The movements are smaller but that could be because we are getting close and they always settle down right before delivery.  But, last night and early this morning, my brain came up with a horrifying alternative; something is very wrong and that’s why I still haven’t gone past this early labor business.  And now, she’s in trouble. 

If I still haven’t gone into labor tomorrow, I’m going by the doc’s office, just to hear her heartbeat and reassure myself that she’s ok in there. 

I hate this.  I hate feeling so exposed and vulnerable. 

I just want it to be over and her to be here – safe. 

Stowaway, you don’t have to come until you are ready but please be ok.  God, you are in charge of this and I totally trust your timing.  Hold the Stowaway in your hands in these last days before her birth – then I will know she’s safe. 




I hate waiting.  I know it’s better for her to be in there and she’ll come when she’s ready and it’s almost time and it won’t be much longer. blah. blah. blah.

No, I am not a patient person.  Yes, I am tired and cranky because I was up until nearly 2am with our “practice run” to the hospital.  Why is it that when you are at home the contractions are timing exactly as they should, bringing tears to your eyes and making you feel like you are actually getting somewhere?  BUT, when you get to the hospital, everything stops or slows down to just “irrritability” contractions – contractions that are still timing ok and have some strength to them but aren’t long enough to really make progress.  I did laugh when she (the nurse) called them irritiable contractions – she was certainly right about that. 

By midnight, I’m a pretty irritable person.  By 1:15 am, if we aren’t actively in labor, I want to go home and sleep.  And that’s what we did – after a run to Jack in the Box.  *laugh*

Coach was a total champ last night.  He made me laugh – putting latex gloves on his head and telling his goofy jokes which, under the stress of the moment, made me laugh hysterically.  He held my hand when I cried out of frustration (I hate practice – I want the real deal). 

I will say this about practice though: we did have a chance to figure out our strategy for getting everybody in the car (including a very sleepy Munchkin), getting her to Mom & Dads, make a few phone calls on the way and get there in good time.  I guess that’s something…

So, it won’t be long.  We DO want her to stay in there as long as she needs so she will be healthy.  And I know she’ll come when she’s ready and that’s ok with me.  Really.  But, Stowaway – can we please save our practice runs for daytime hours – Mommy is NOT a night owl like Daddy.  Thanks.  Love you.  I can’t wait to meet you.

just checking!


Braxton-Hicks aren’t new in this pregnancy (33 weeks) but Sunday they took a definitely more enthusiastic tone and threw in a little pelvic pressure and the ability to take my breath away. 

When they continued yesterday morning, I decided it couldn’t hurt to call and talk to the OB nurse.  Of course, she recommended I come in and get checked.  Two hours and half a roll of paper later, nothing is happening and they are, after all, just B-H. 

Surely as I sit here, though, had I NOT gone in, it would be true labor and then we’d have a real crisis. 

I know it’s better safe than sorry and I’m glad nothing is happening (I’m ready to meet this little critter but not this week) but sheesh, it’s like taking your car in when it’s making a horrible noise but dang it if it will make that noise when you get it to the mechanic… 

On the up-side, we did get to hear our little soccer star’s beautiful heartbeat and, when they hooked her up to the fetal monitor, we were treated to the sounds of her rambunctious movement – something to go with the alien-esque contortions of my stomach! 


On another note, the house is set to be ready a little earlier than we’d originally thought so we are going to start moving in NEXT week!  I’m SO excited!  I’m so ready to get things settled and set up for the Stowaway and I really wanted to have Munchkin’s stuff all set up for her too when she comes home.  I wasn’t really happy about things still being in semi-transition when Munchkin comes home but didn’t think we really had a lot of options because of the timing of the new house.  PIctures to come – as soon as we can get inside the house to take pictures, I’ll post them!


One more thing – I still can’t post many details but suffice it to say something for which we’ve been praying seems to be on the verge of happening.  My brother and I have been so concerned about Mom’s health this last year (couple of years actually) and even her doctor has warned her about the amount of stress she lives with.  It seems like there may be another option for her that will still allow her to use her gift (teaching children about life through theatre) and not be subjected to the same set of circumstances that has put her in the hospital two years in a row.  But enough on that now. 

Since I came home early yesterday to rest after the excitement of the morning (well, not exciting per se, more like the “omgosh, could I be in labor NOW?!?!” reaction and subsequent exhaustion), I’m going in early today.  Later, gators! *grin*



I feel entitled to, on the rare occasion, just gripe. 

Gripe because I’m hot.  I hear the news reports of the “critical” heatwave in the northeast and my pregnancy hormones want to scream back at the TV, “SO WHAT?!  I live in Texas, people – it’s ALWAYS hot like that – get a fan and get over it.”  But that’s not very nice.

Gripe because I’m TIRED of my back hurting.  I swear I walk like a sway-backed mare.  The Stowaway is riding in a ball and she’s really low in my uterus so my back is just killing me. 

Gripe because I’m hungry alll the time but when I DO eat, I can’t eat more than a few mouthfuls because the Stowaway is squishing my stomach! 

Gripe because the time is totally dragging.  I feel like I’ve been 32 weeks FOREVER.  I want her and I want her NOW. 

Gripe because I don’t really want to be at work but if I go home, I’ll just be reminded I still have an entire house to pack… 

Gripe. Gripe. Gripe.


I try very hard to NOT be a gripey pregnant person.  In fact, it’s been remarked that I’m one of the more easy-going pregnant people some have met.  This is not my first pregnancy so there aren’t very many unknowns in this (at least of the stuff I can control). 

I don’t know if it’s just a combination of wishing I was home, hot, hormones, or whatever but today is a day when I just want to be anywhere but where I am.

why yes, I’d love to use your time machine


Ok, I’ve decided I’m just stuck in the 32-week spinzone.  Time is slowing down to a non-crawl.  I know time is moving forward because we keep running out of toilet paper.  But golly, gee, willakers – is this pregnancy EVER going to be over?!  I could bore you with the endless whine that is late 3rd trimester stuff but I’ll spare you.  See how understanding I can be?

please hold for a coffee break

[insert musak here]

now we return you to this regularly scheduled blog…

Ok, that was silly. 

So, World Cup is almost over. 

Yeah, I want to talk about pregnancy too.  The greatest thing about the Stowaway getting as big as she is, is that I can feel her moving all the time and it makes me smile (most of the time).  She had hiccups day before yesterday and that’s the first time I’ve felt them.  She’s such a pistol!  She moves and rolls and kicks and the instant I invite Dad or Nana or somebody else to reach out and feel, she stops.  Stinker. 

So, I’m watching HLN this morning and they are showing this wife-carrying contest in Finland or somewhere that has silly games like this that make it to international news.  It made me stop and ask myself what, exactly, determines whether something is “newsworthy.”  I had that show on, in the background, the last 45 minutes and there was not a single mention of Iraq or Afghanistan.  I heard about a 100-mile car chase in California, tar balls in Galveston from the BP spill, wife-carrying games in Finland, LeBron James *yawn*, and on and on and on…  The only thing I could see that might remotely resemble news would be the continued MESS in the Gulf because of BP’s reckless disregard for ANYTHING. 

If France bans the Islamic veils, they just might surpass us as the most hated non-Muslim country.  Ah, the world in which we live… *sigh*

90-degree heat in the Northeast?  So what? 

Ok, I’m quitting.  I promise this will be the last time I blog while watching the drivel masquerading as “news.”

Have a great day, folks.

A little preview *happysigh*


I love going over to my in-laws’ house.  They are such sweet people and I consider myself super lucky to have them.  As if scoring Coach wasn’t great enough (he really is the greatest thing since sliced cheese and chick-fil-a waffle fries), he came with a pair of parents who are a delight. 

So, we try to go over there at least once a week just to visit.  We don’t always get over there during the school year but we’ve been pretty regular lately.  *laugh* 

We have a little added bonus for visiting – the Little Man.  Coach’s sister had her second little boy around Mother’s Day and he is a snuggle bunny.  I love holding him.  He’s got that new baby smell and it is exactly what all these pregnancy hormones need.  Who needs to eat when you can hold the Little Man? 

I love babies – always have.  Since becoming a mommy, though, I know how hard it is to break one so they aren’t scary anymore.  *laugh*  Since the Little Man was born, I can’t hardly keep my hands off of him.  I’m a complete hog with him.  Coach laughs and asks if he’ll ever be able to hold the Stowaway once she gets here.  I tell him, sure, I’ll have to go to the bathroom and shower every once in a while.  (just kidding, honey)

I think my fixation on the Little Man is two-fold.  First, I’m VERY pregnant and can’t hardly stand waiting until our little one gets here so holding the Little Man is a nice way to top off my happy mommy endorphins.  There is just something about holding a snuggly little baby that smells so sweet that makes all the achy joints, stretched and itchy skin and lower back ache go away for a little while. 

Second, had Riley survived, he and the Little Man would have been born about the same time; within a few weeks of eachother, actually.  Now, I don’t think about Riley everytime I hold the Little Man.  I look forward to holding the Stowaway and know that Riley is in Heaven, fishing with Paw-Paw. 

I have plenty of love for all these babies.  We were remarking last night how neat it will be that the Little Man and the Stowaway will be so close in age and will get to grow up together. 


Speaking of previews, I had to laugh at 3:30 this morning when I was awake, trying to get comfortable.  I realized that the Stowaway was also awake, kicking around happily in there.  I told Coach to expect to see that time of day again.  *laugh* 

Normally, I can fall back to sleep in 20-30 minutes but I could not get back to sleep.  My left hip hurt terribly and I could not find a comfortable way back to sleep.  I finally moved out to the couch around 4:30 and fell back to sleep around 5.  *sigh* 

I could hug my Asst Supt of HR for coming up with the 10-3 work schedule idea.  Not having to be up and at’em at 6:30 this morning would have been delightful.  And, if I’m going to be this uncomfortable the last 7 weeks of my pregnancy, starting July 1 (new fiscal year) is going to be an amazing blessing (thanks Boss!). 




Yesterday, we had our 4D sonogram and it was amazing.  I’ve looked at the pictures 1000 times already.  To see the contours of her face, that she sucks her thumb, that she puts her hands up by her face (like I do!) when she sleeps and that she has her own ideas about things is a delight.  She made us laugh yesterday because she kept turning away from the sonogram – almost like she was showing us that SHE was in charge of what we saw, thank you very much Mommy and Daddy, and we should keep that in mind for the future. 

She sucked her thumb, yawned and even smiled.  My heart just about stopped.  I didn’t cry yesterday but did a little this morning when I went back and watched the video again. 

She is beautiful.  She has Matt’s nose and my cheeks.  I haven’t compared her picture with Munchkin yet, but I think there will be a strong resemblance since Munchkin looks so much like me and she was born with those cheeks too! 

We’ve sent the pictures across the web to our friends and family.  Technology is fantastic! 

What really amazes me, though, is that God has known this little girl from the beginning and what we saw yesterday He’s been watching for the last seven months.  He knows the color of her eyes and the number of hairs on her head (and if they are RED or not).  He knows if she will like to sleep a lot (like Daddy) or if she’ll be a morning person (like Mommy).  He knows if she will have a servant’s heart (like Daddy) or a bossy get things done type (like mommy).  He already knows these things.  But, most importantly, He knows the hour she will accept Christ.  Technology is very cool, but SHE is the miracle. 

Eagerly waiting the arrival of our little girl….

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So tired of sneezing!


Something blew in a few days ago and I’ve been sneezing and congested ever since.  It’s AWFUL.  Half the folks in my office are hacking and coughing.  UGH. 

Thank goodness for

In other news, it’s FRIDAY and I’ve managed to blog almost every day this week.  That’s quite an accomplishment after such a long dry spell.  I think, like my friend Sarah, fb and twitter have taken over my life and I can only think in 140 characters at a time. 

We have our 4D sonogram TOMORROW!  I am so excited, I can hardly sit still.  Knowing that tomorrow afternoon, we’ll see our little someone’s face just takes my breath away. 

I hope she’s in an accomodating mood and we get to see good pictures.  She’s usually pretty active in the afternoons so that’ll be even better! 

I know I need to do more packing and finish boxing up Munchkin’s room.  Maybe I’ll do some of that tonight.  I’ve taken most everything off her walls and I’ll get Dad to take her bed apart. 

Working on moving utilities but the house is so new, nobody can find the address…  URGH.

ahhh…coffee…and Saturday!


I love Saturdays.  Not because I’m not at work – I love my job.  But because for one whole day, I can pretty much decide what happens. 

Like now.  I’m sitting in Daddy’s chair, world cup on near-mute on TV, blogging and perusing digital scrapbooking sites.  I’m still in my pj’s and the baby is happily kicking or dancing or whatever it is she’s doing in there.  The cats are laying around and Daddy is snoring snoozing on the couch… *laugh*

I love Saturday. 

We took Munchkin to the airport yesterday and it was the easiest hand-off to date.  Sandra has such a gentle way about her, she puts you at ease.  I really like her and couldn’t have hoped for a better soon-to-be-Stepmomma for Munchkin. 

After we left the airport, we found a new store (it had been recommended by a friend) called Buy, Buy, Baby.  I think they are part of Bed, Bath and Beyond b/c they are the same size and set-up.  Needless to say, we found a bedding set that is just TOO darling.

I think, with those colors, it will be a breeze to find something sassy to coordinate Munchkin’s bedding.  It’s the first big purchase we’ve made for the baby and it sparked a flood of emotions because, if we’re close enough to make big purchases like bedding for the nursery, that must mean she’s almost HERE!!!

I wish I had a window into my uterus to see what’s she’s doing in there.  It makes me crazy, speculating all the lumps and ripples and jabs. 

Well, I’m off to figure out what kind of glider we have – maybe I can order new cushions for it (smart) instead of a whole new glider (not so smart). 

Lunch with my dear friend, Sarah today.  I can’t wait!!!  It is a rare treat when she comes into town and I’m SO looking forward to it!

I think I enjoyed vacation TOO much.


Not that I’m not getting things done but, gee whiz, I’m tired!  My eyes feel SO heavy and I could close my door and take a nap (no, I’m not going to do that). 

I can feel the stowaway pushing around in there, trying to get comfortable.  Sweetie, I don’t know how to tell you, but my lungs are attached and not really all that moveable.  Squishing them up into my esophagus just makes Mommy feel bad and doesn’t really give you any more room!  *laugh*

 Well, back to it.  I may resort to taping my eyelids open.  If you see a very pregnant woman jogging around Central Office, you’ll know it’s just me.  😉

No baby today!


All is well.  False alarms are wonderful.  I love them.  Little Bit has a good, strong heartbeat and she actually didn’t kick the doctor today (which is a switch for her).  Usually, she kicks the dopplar whenever the Doc tries to listen to her heartbeat.  It’s really quite funny. 

She’s been very active today. 

I feel better – much more reassured.  Glad to know all is well.

Same Song – maybe – Second Verse – maybe?!


When I was pg with Munchkin (now almost 8), I went into pre-term labor at 26 weeks.  Doc stopped the labor and I carried her to a normal delivery at 38 weeks.  She’s perfectly healthy and suffered no complications from the pre-term labor.

I’m working on 25 weeks and, on Sunday, noticed my abdomen tightening up and releasing.  Since then, the “contractions” have continued.  They are not painful (only mildly uncomfortable) and are not regular in duration or frequency. 

I slept normally last night and baby is still moving around. 

Doc moved my regular OB visit from next Monday to tomorrow.  Better safe than sorry. 

Little Bit, I can’t wait to meet you but NOT YET. 

Coffee by IV


I like this picture – I found it on another blog (

It’s one of THOSE days, folks.  I am so incredibly tired.  For any number of reasons this week, sleep has eluded me like the storied Loch Ness Monster. 

Matt is sick and the heartburn that was my constant companion throughout my pregnancy with Munchkin is back for this one.  Yeah.

Well, other than needing way more sleep than this week has provided (yes, I know it’s only Wednesday), the week is going well.

Baby is moving LOTS now.  Munchkin really enjoyed seeing my stomach jump last night.  She’s so curious and excited.  It’s fun to watch her.

Funny how God works, huh?  It was never in MY plan to space children this far apart but it’s working perfectly.  Munchkin is thrilled about the baby and I think it’s because she’s old enough not to be so threatened by a younger sibling.  She’s looking forward to “helping” and being a good big sister. 

Oh, did I mention Matt thinks she’ll (the baby) be our “warrior princess?”  LOL  Because she’s so rambunctious, he’s convinced she’ll be our athlete.  I just smile and say, “we’ll see, honey.” 

I can’t wait to meet her.  (I know I’ve said that in every post since February)

In other news (pregnancy is not the ONLY thing I think of) –

Work is good.  Clipping along at our usual crazy pace but it’s all good stuff so YEAH! 

Disney is starting to send teasers for our trip about once a week now and we are all getting excited.  This week’s little package had three luggage tags with the “What will you Celebrate” theme on them. 

Munchkin wants to make sure she gets an autograph book for all her signatures and a princess dress for her breakfast with the princesses. 

I’m going to start making a list soon of what we still need to pack and take Munchkin shopping for vacation clothes (you HAVE to have a few new outfits when you go on vacation – my grandmother taught me that!) at the end of the month.  (that way, she won’t have time to grow out of them before our trip!)

Well, it’s time to refill my coffee cup and move on to the next project.  Later, gators!

Down and Out


This baby is pushing in ways that are amazingly uncomfortable.  Doesn’t she realize I have an entire torso where she can spread out?  Apparently not, if this OMGosh tight stomach is any indicator. 

I called the 3D/4D ultrasound place today.  I can’t wait to see this baby’s face.  I was a total non-believer until I saw the video and pictures from SIL’s 4D.  Oh, WOW, you could see his little face and, in that moment, I knew we wanted one when our turn came around. 

I have no idea why but Munchkin has been tearful all afternoon.  *sigh*  I don’t know how to help her cheer up.  She had a good day at school and that’s great.  She was very excited about her work today which is a first in a while.  She’s a brilliant child and I love hearing about how she learns. 

Munchkin is standing over my shoulder, talking to me about her favorite websites and I can smell the meatloaf in the oven.  20 minutes left on the timer and I still have to come up with sides.  I’m thinking mashed potatoes and some kind of beans…or maybe corn.  corn and potatoes and meatloaf is always a good combination. 

I guess I’ll get back to being mommy and get ready for dinner. 

Maybe another post later, after bedtime.