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There is not enough of me.

Do Over

Do Over

This morning, a friend, who I revere, posted a link for her teacher friends (she is also a teacher) on an alternative to behavior clip charts. I clicked on the link and was reminded why even systems that reward good behavior over negative still miss the mark. 

Here is the link. 

Know what I hate about these systems? The public review of transgressions at the end. The one size fits all “they’ll police each other” mentality (which is complete nonsense because they don’t know how to control their own behavior a lot of the time.). And especially the complete lack of grace. One or two children are enough to spoil it for the whole bunch, leading to ridicule and exclusion by the other children. I’ve never seen the consistently quiet kids “save” the day with their behavior or earn the occasional do-over for other students having a harder day managing their behavior.

By 2nd grade, Munchkin had completely accepted that she would never earn gold tickets, smiley faces, top of the ruler clip placement, or whatever other thing they came up with and she gave up. I watched her internalize the message that there must be something wrong with her, when, in reality, she was just too emotionally immature to manage her intellect. Her voracious need to know everything meant she was always talking, moving, and daydreaming – the exact opposite of the level 0 culture in elementary school.

Now that she is in middle school, she has blossomed. Her schedule has been tailored with all advanced classes to challenge her, and by virtue of it being middle school, she is not expected to be still and silent all the time. And no behavior charts, clip/ruler, or stars/smilies. We have not had a single behavior problem this year and her grades have soared- even doing competitive cheer. And, she’s older and more able to manage herself. Maybe if less time had been spent obsessing on making all children fit into a rigid behavior model, the first six years of Munchkin’s education wouldn’t have been so heartbreakingly hard to watch her go through. 

I know teachers have the mostly impossible task of corralling a classroom full of live wires and I do not envy the task. As a parent who  watched my child broken down, not built up (opposite of a teacher’s calling) by rigid behavior expectations, I urge you to correct one on one, to remember that emotional and intellectual maturity do not grow at the same pace, and that sometimes kids just need a do-over.

Here is an article that seems to get it. 




There is something so final to saying I am done having children. In 2 more weeks, The Boy will be a year old and I’ll be out of the baby business. And, while that’s a good thing – I have three beautiful children that are growing and learning more about themselves and their world and one in heaven watching over us – I will never again experience the wonder that are those first flutters. Hiccups in the middle of the night, from the inside out. Heartburn so profound I’m surprised it didn’t melt the enamel off my teeth (ok, I won’t miss that at all). Writing lists of names and arguing with the stubbornest man I’ve ever met until we come to just the right one. Final.

Soon, there will be no more bottles or binkies, formula or diapers. Primary colored blocks and noise-makers will give way to trucks and trains; stuffed teddy bears will give way to Barbie dolls and hair bows. And then, even those will be gone; replaced by laptops and smart phones. The floors will get cleaner and I won’t have to cut grapes in half or clean up the disgusting half-chewed mess that is mealtime with a toddler. And, somewhere deep, I will miss it.

The soft cheeks, the smell of their hair, the sound of them as they sleep. Fighting invisible spiders on the wall (a thumbtack in the ceiling where her butterfly once hung), or tip-toeing ever so quietly by the baby’s room, or smoothing back the hair from the finally still face of the oldest one as she sleeps; the only time of day when she isn’t halfway rolling her eyes at me, “Moooom, I’m SOOOOOOOO busy….”

I worry every day that something will happen. Something bad. Those fears that surely lurk in the back of every parent’s mind; fear that is too horrible to express for fear of breathing truth to it.

I worry over scraped knees and fevers. Bad dreams and math anxiety. Too much time on the computer and not enough time at church. Balancing equipping them to face the realities of the world in which we live and protecting them from as much of it as I can until they are “ready.” Figuring out what the hell ready looks like. Because I certainly am not some days.


Parenting is tiny heartbreaks, smoothed over by overflowing joy.


In case you hadn’t figured out…


In case you hadn't figured out...

Life is life. It is good. It is busy. It is LOUD. So many thoughts roll through my head every day that, if I had more hands and fewer bibs to wash, I would totally be blogging them. Really. But right now is just not a good time, apparently.

So, I’m going to take a little break. Because they won’t be little forever.




Today you are three. You are the light at the end of a very dark tunnel. You are water. You are sound and motion. Never. Ceasing. Motion. You are my sweetest Princess Josephine. You are unruly – like your hair.

You are the funniest three-year old I’ve ever met. You are the most exasperating person (besides your father) who I can’t wait to get up every morning to see. You are Hope.

Things you love to eat:

  • Chips and “dip-dip”
  • Mac & cheese
  • Hot dogs
  • Watermelon
  • Sweet tea
  • Ponatoes (Tomatoes)

Things that scare you:

  • The lion that comes in your room
  • Cornbread (the dog)
  • Having your hair washed

Things you love:

  • Bunny
  • Your family
  • Books
  • Your new Hello Kitty shoes
  • Harry Potter
  • Lord of the Rings (awesome)
  • Mickey Mouse
  • Doc MacStuffins
  • Sofia the First

I love you, Princess Josephine Crybaby. More today than I did yesterday. Happy birthday, little one.

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alarm-clockI will freely admit I am a type-A personality. (PR people like stating the obvious) I like routine. I dislike disorder. So, summer’s “what do you want to do?” “I dunno. What do you want to do?” schedule makes me CRAZY. (and it doesn’t take much to accomplish that these days.)

So, I’m super excited school starts Monday. My children? Eh, not so much. I’ve been pushing morning wake-up earlier and earlier and I’m noticing two little grizzly bears emerging from where my daughters had been.

Lump it, kids. Momma can’t think when we’re in a hurry. Then I can’t ever find my keys and you KNOW how that works out. I call Daddy and start yelling on the phone. #truestory

Who’s betting I’ll start getting up BEFORE 5am; just to get a quiet moment with my coffee before I have to start wrangling kids. And that’s BEFORE we add The Boy. OMGosh. Somebody shoot me now.

Reflect grace upon grace #hellomornings


Hellomornings – Day 1 – May 6

Today it was easy to get up because I was excited about starting the study. Princess Crybaby was up a while last night (and not happy about not getting to stay in Mommy and Daddy’s bed) so that made it a little harder to go ahead and get started, but my enthusiasm won out.

I am excited about this study and am glad I decided to start my morning a little earlier so I could read my bible. Now I’m off to get the house moving for school and work.

John 1:1-18 –

What did Jesus do? He was the agent of creation. All things were made through him and, in turn, he is in all things.

What did Jesus teach? (What truths, promises, and commands did Jesus declare?) From Jesus we learn of gods glory in a very hands on way. That receiving and believing him would in turn give us the right to become children of god.

What did Jesus call himself?
The Son
The Word

What true things do others say about Jesus? John said Jesus was the Word, and the Light.

What is one truth about Jesus and/or His promises from today’s passage that I need to meditate upon and believe today? I must find away to reflect that grace upon grace (vs 16) that I have been given. Also, like John, we are not the light, but we bear witness about the light. This in turn tells us how we are to share the Gospel: I have been shown grace upon grace and I am a child of God; not because of blood or any good works I’ve done, but because I believe in the truth of the Word.

Repost: On Innocence Lost, From the Eyes of Gen X


I was in 4th grade too. I will never forget the meanest teacher I’ve ever had, Mrs. Morgan (who I now love and respect; for the record) turning her face to the chalk board so we would not see her cry.

Childhood Relived

Challenger_explosionThe smoke twisted and turned across the sky in a fluffy white cotton candy stream.  I didn’t know what it was supposed to look like – should it look like this?  I looked to my teacher’s eyes and I knew – something was wrong.  The Challenger was broken.

But there I sat among the neat rows of 4th graders, in our Crayola-colored chairs, waiting for the explanation.  Instead, we heard gasps on location in Florida.  And we stared in silence at the television cart that only minutes before had been wheeled in for the momentous occasion.

For weeks we’d talked about the Challenger’s impending launch.  Christa McAullife would be on board — a curly-haired, common school teacher whose smiling face we’d come to recognize.  We’d read about her selection in our Weekly Reader and watched video of her training at Space Camp.  And now she was . . …

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Open letter to myself


Dear fridaynightgirl:

I was reading through your posts from last year and I have to say, you need to give yourself more of a break from time to time.

You are a great mom and wife.

You are doing your very best work right now.

You are in the refiner’s fire. That’s why it hurts. But you will come out stronger and better. Just hold on.

You cannot be everything to all people without losing YOU. You are already doing it. Again. *insert mommy frown right. here.*

Trust me, an opportunity will come along soon enough to walk through a different door every day and you will be scared, but you will take it. You will find another group of people with amazing hearts and a passion for their work. You will figure out how to balance all the good with all the crazy that creates so much tension. Tension that will steal your joy for your craft. A bone-weariness at the end of the day that robs you of your ability to be a mom or wife or friend or member of the community.

You will, very soon, be presented the chance to do something you love, with good people who do not feel it is their responsibility to save everybody from themselves. You will miss what you do now, but you need the opportunity to do things differently.

I am not discounting the work you do now. Far from it. You have been called to stand in the gap for those without a protector. To put into words things that defy articulation. To bring truth, calm and clarity in the fog of confusion, chaos and deception. For those who work on the front lines, you have been called to be a shield. You are in the mission field. And your work is good. It matters. You are making a difference. Don’t ever let anybody tell you what you do doesn’t matter. (and if they do, don’t believe them. That is a LIE.)

You are a great mom and wife.

You are doing your very best work right now.

You are in the refiner’s fire. That’s why it hurts. But you will come out stronger and better. Just hold on.

You. Me. Us.

It’s the end of the world…wait, what? No? Oh, ok.


12/21/12. I’m sure there are lots of posts about this 21st day of December, 2012. Facebook is positively exploding (unlike the planet) with posts about it. I’m sure it’s trending on twitter and tumblr. (Goal: See how many social media sites I can mention…check)

In all reality, I didn’t really think today was the End of Days. Specifically because everybody said it was. I don’t, generally, put stock in stuff like that. I’ve learned if a website is started for a specific event and they use Times (in italics, no less) in the header, it’s almost CERTAINLY  a hoax.

So. What am I doing today? Working, of course. Tonight, we have NOTHING. I repeat, sports fans, NOTHING on our agenda. Now that’s something to blog about.



November is the beginning of my favorite time of year, but it has become my least favorite month. It is a month that seems to invite sorrow.

November is when my grandfather died.

November is when I admitted the truth and had a D&C.

November is when my favorite kitty, Oscar, died.

November is when Matt’s grandmother died.

I hate this month.

I’m in this show at the Theatre. I have no idea what made me think I could possibly do a straight play. A comedy on top of it. Memorizing lines is so much harder than lyrics, blocking and choreography in a musical. I suck at this.

On top of all of this, I am staring at two more days at the District, then I start my new job. My office is empty, clean and organized. It feels totally foreign; like I’m borrowing a spare office because mine is off-limits. That natural detachment that people do as part of the coping process has started happening. I feel separated from the rest of the building. Oh, everybody is being super nice (as always) and I still very much feel the love, but I am not really part of the team any more.

Regardless of the reason, I’m leaving. Bailing. Abandoning my post. There is a mentality in the school business that you must sacrifice yourself completely for your calling. Completely give yourself over to your job. If you are somehow not able/willing to do that 24 hours a day for the rest of your career, then there is something lacking in your character; your quality.

No. Nobody has said any of that and yes, I’m probably being dramatic because it’s past my bedtime and I’m discouraged over memorizing all my !P(*@!#Y% lines in this !!@#(% play. I suppose it’s better than not expressing them and having to live with them rolling around in my head.

I guess I should probably clean up the living room a little bit and go to bed. It looks a little like some kind of disaster area in here. Another of the million or so examples of how parenting was so not what I thought it was going to be and how miserably I’m failing at that.

I never thought I would say this, but I wish I could just make them stay little. Right now Princess Crybaby is so loving and cheerful and helpful. She is just like her big sister was. I can remember Munchkin as a toddler. Gosh she was enchanting. She’s only 10 and I feel like I live in a mother-daughter groundhog day nightmare every day. It seems like we are always at odds; repeating the same tired conversation. I always thought you laid the foundation and then reinforced. But every single day the rules and expectations seem brand new. It’s as if the first 10 years didn’t happen and it’s the first time I told her to say please, thank you, excuse me, I’m sorry, etc. I thought we passed this chapter.

I remember being in at least middle school before I thought my mother was an idiot. (actually, I doubt I thought she was an actual idiot – just somebody “totally” out of touch with “today’s kids.”) I’m pretty sure Munchkin (a mere 10 years old) thinks I am the stupidest human alive. It is so disheartening – I feel like a complete failure. Every single day. I don’t understand her at all. And I don’t know how this happened or how to make it stop.

So I pray. A lot.

I’m tired. Aren’t you? Go to bed. Hang the mess. It’s almost the weekend.



Where am I?


Where I am and where I’ve been seem to be far apart these days.

What is the incessant drive to do more? More. MORE. To the point, there is nothing left of me; just work.

I know that I cannot, physically/emotionally, continue as I have. Perhaps, instead of a new direction, I need a different perspective on my current direction. After all, I have everything going my way (metaphorically speaking). I have a job I LOVE, filled to the brim with moments that matter. Work that matters. Challenging, different work. Perhaps, instead of a new job, I need to RE-new the job I have (and love).

I don’t want to be in my office as much as I find myself. I want to be out – on campuses. How can I recapture the freedom from the first two years of my job? This requires some thought.

All I know is I can go left, or I can go right. But I cannot go back.




WARNING: Contains Spoilers.


Went with Mom to see Hunger Games last night. I’d already seen it and enjoyed how the book was interpreted for the screen. I thought they made certain assumption about the level of familiarity with the content from the books and felt it could lead to confusion for the unaware. I was right. Mom hated it. She didn’t have enough of the back story to really appreciate the subtlety of the story. So, all she saw was the barbaric Hunger Games, the result of 74 years of oppression in the districts as to offer up their children and the excess of the shallow, insipid Capitol. She did not see what I saw.

I loved the characters and the story. I loved the complexity of the crossed plots and the maneuvering. Even in the first book, you could tell there was a LOT more at stake than just the Hunger Games. But more than anything else, I love Katniss.

Katniss’ nearly fatal flaw is her overblown sense of responsibility for everybody. This is something with which I can closely identify.

She sacrificed her own safety to hunt outside the fences for her family. She volunteered as Tribute to protect her little sister. Yes, she had to kill but it was always in defence. She was NOTHING like the District 1 & 2 tributes who were predatory. She looked after Rue. If she were a heartless murderer, she would have taken her out as easy prey. Same thing with Peeta. He was already wounded – why not just let him die or, out of mercy, kill him quickly. But she didn’t do that. Instead, she played up the whole romance thing in order to get sponsors to send what she needed to save Peeta. It would have been faster to the finish line if that’s all she really cared about.

She didn’t love Peeta. She didn’t really want to go along with the star-crossed lovers scenario. The book does a much more thorough job explaining the inner conflict she had with the idea. And the book didn’t make such a meal out of Peeta’s infatuation; the movie over-dramatised that part so she looks much more deceptive. Peeta knew all along she had a thing for Gale and he accepted their actions as a ruse for the cameras. But, because you hadn’t read the book, you didn’t know all that.

She made a number of very calculated risks to survive and protect the people for whom she felt responsible. A very high-stakes game of poker. She paid a very high personal price; as do all guardians. It would have been easier to refuse to fight and be killed right off but she felt like she should at least try and survive in order to get back home to her little sister and Gale. Then she picked up Rue and then Peeta she felt compelled to protect. In the end, she survived. But it’s not until subsequent books do you get the full picture of what her victory would mean for the 12 districts.

I couldn’t put it any better

The singing and dancing is done.  Now I’m waiting on the phone call. 
I love theatre.
ps. I’m sorry this is a lame excuse for a blog post.  I’m in a dry spell, I guess.  Maybe it’s because of the dry cough…

Making the Move


WordPress has been a great platform for all my randomness. BUT. I long for cute layouts and the freedom to mess with the template WITHOUT paying for it. (yes, I’m cheap)

So, it’s back to blogger. You can find all our ramblings from the past five years at Hope to see you soon!



Ok, epiphany time…  I find it easier to lose weight when I’m NOT working out but controlling my food intake.  When I work out, I hardly lose anything.  I think it’s because I am still figuring out how to balance the increased calorie needs with the increased calorie burn that comes with working out.  My body goes into starvation mode pretty easily.  Is that because I was always too thin in my teens through the birth of my first child?

When I think back over time, food and my weight has been a touchy subject all my life.  When I get busy, pre-occupied or anxious, I quit eating.  Literally, I forget to be hungry.  Now, that sounds crazy but it really is true.  My mother was forever checking my collar-bones and grilling me about what I’d eaten.  I was always very thin – sometimes to the point of concern.  I never tried to be thin.

Then, somewhere in college, food became something else.  It was almost a weapon I would use against myself if I was unhappy.  (this conclusion was made upon looking back; when I was doing it, I was not aware of what I was doing.)  This, combined with the party lifestyle I adopted, brought my weight to near dangerous levels.  When I moved home to start UMHB, I was a size 4.  I’m nearly six foot tall.  In nobody’s book is that considered healthy.

Then, as tends to happen, my metabolism slowed down in my mid-20s and I began to gain weight.  Since the birth of my first child, I’ve hovered around the same weight.  While I was working at the CAC, the workload, single parenthood and life, in general, triggered that no-eating cycle.  I suffered terrible stomach pain – I thought I might have an ulcer.  Everything I ate (besides ramen or salad) would hurt so I began to eat less and less.  I got down to a 10; the smallest I’d been since college.

I didn’t stay that small, of course.  I started eating again eventually and didn’t work out.  Then, comes the second baby and that brings us to now.

My conclusions:

  • I do not know how to lose weight in a healthy way.
  • I have a love/hate relationship with food.
  • I am not a stress eater.  (thankfully)
  • I am a stress-starver.
  • I have a lot of stress in my life (even good stress is still stress; as my mother says).

What I’d like to do is lose the weight in a way I know how to lose it (control food intake) and then incorporate fitness to keep it off.  But I know all my fitness friends are already shaking their heads and saying, “you must balance fitness and nutrition at the same time in order to achieve long-term goals.”  How I break this cycle and get to the weight I want without starving myself is the question of the year. I haven’t had that epiphany yet. LOL

huffing and puffing and…


Well, you get the idea.

Work is flying along at a frantic pace. We are down to two weeks until early voting and three weeks until regular voting. I hope people vote. I’ve blogged before about how I feel about civic responsibility so I won’t belabor the point.

Family stuff is going well. Munchkin has straight A’s and Em has tooth buds under her gums. Haha

We are doing some cool things for Holy Week this year. Sunday, munchkin and I decorated construction paper palm branches for palm Sunday. Yesterday, we learned about the Seder meal with some friends of Nana’s. It was interesting. I’ll have to do some follow up with munchkin because it wasn’t really presented in a way she could understand what we were doing or why we were doing it. But it was still neat. Well, I thought so. I think the whole effort was lost on Coach.

Friday night, we are going to the Good Friday service at church.

I’m planning a big supper Sunday, after the traditional scavenger hunt at mothers house. Ham, mashed potatoes, French green beans, rolls and maybe a peach cobbler for dessert(with ice cream for the weird people). Yum!

no self-examination here, thank you


If I have learned anything in the past two years it is this:

  1. 1. No good deed goes unpunished.  If you come up with an idea that will help others, it is sure to be:
    1. more work than you thought it would be;
    2. more trouble than it’s worth
    3. completely thankless in the end.
  2. Saying “no thank you” is not an option.  This is an all-you-can-eat not an all-you-care-to-eat project buffet.  You WILL stuff yourself with projects and deadlines until you feel like exploding (or quitting).  You will smile when given another task; no matter how banal or how much of a time suck it presents.  Oh, and while accepting these projects is not optional, neither is anything but perfection on all the other stuff you were supposed to be doing all along but now don’t have time to do because your plate is otherwise full. 
  3. You WILL receive hateful correspondence and you will suck it up and take it.  There will be no option for recourse, response or retaliation.
  4. Self-reflection is not necessary or invited.  You will be told what your mission and objectives are and you will complete these and ONLY these – or else.
  5. Working yourself to death is a very good death and should be aspired to by all participants.

In conclusion, while Golden Corral has all-you-can-eat steak, it doesn’t mean it’s any good.  I generally shy away from buffets because the food sucks and you almost never actually see a value in food versus price.  You’d probably actually save money (and your waistline) if you’d picked one thing from the menu.  I think that lesson bears remembering come October.



So much ambition, so little motivation. I woke up this morning, thinking, “today would be a great day to finish packing Munchkin’s room.” That was an hour ago, and I’m still sitting at the computer. *sigh*

I am going to do it today – no messing around. Well, I’m going to eat breakfast first and then put on some kind of clothing and get Coach to get boxes out of the car….

Ok, I guess I have a few things to do before I can get started.

Wish me luck!

Sleeping by the door


For some reason, Oscar the cat (the one I suspected of hiding my fancy moving list) has taken to sleeping by the front door and I don’t know why.  There are no shoes over there.  This cat has a shoe fetish.  If there is a pair of shoes, you can bet Oscar has laid on them.  He’s like a mother chicken, waiting for her little shoe-lings to hatch. 

Seriously, he is a darling cat (even if he has destroyed the carpet).  I got Oscar when he was six weeks old.  I knew he was the one for me when he stood up on his little toes, stuck all his baby fur out and hissed at me with as much ferocity as an animal that could fit in a Starbucks cup could muster.  Then he ran up into the wheel well of a friend’s car – thinking we couldn’t reach him there.  He was going to be a perfect friend for my 9-month old diva cat, Kali. 

Kali is a petite calico.  She is the runt of the only litter her mother, also named Kali, had before she died.  Momma Kali was a lanky, grey striped shelter cat I picked up when we had to put our dachshund, Trixie, down after she hurt her back.  Momma Kali got out of the house one night when the kittens were about 3 weeks old and was hit by a car.  She made it back up into the driveway before she died and that’s where I found her.  I resolved, then and there, to never let another whiskered child (cat) of mine be an outside cat – it’s too dangerous for them and they are no match for a car. 

I managed to keep 3 of the 6 kittens alive and kept the littlest, a calico with her mother’s eyes.  I named her Kali.  She’s been with me 13 years and she is still my diva cat.  She will not accept she is not my eldest child and has never quite gotten over the indignity of being “replaced” by a human child.  Wonder what she’ll do with the Stowaway…  (I won’t tell her about the great Dane puppy we are planning to adopt this fall – that might just send her over the edge.)

By the time she was about 9 months old, I was a senior in college and she was by herself all day – she needed a friend.  In comes Oscar.  It was loathing at first sight.  She was practically an adult, MOTHER, and how could you bring a baby in here who has to be taught everything all over again?  (if cat’s could suck their teeth, she would have done it)

Within a few months, though, Kali & Oscar were dear friends.  Even had two litters of kittens together before I decided we’d had enough romance in our house, thank you very much. 

Fast forward 12 years.  Oscar and Kali are an old married couple.  They have their favorite food bowls and don’t spoon anymore when they nap.  They are fiercely competitive for my attention (Kali is SUCH a hater) and completely indifferent to Munchkin (thus the impending addition of the dog).  Kali will kiss (groom) Oscar and then, in a heartbeat, hiss and smack him as she runs off – leaving a very baffled (and somewhat henpecked) Oscar.  Oscar is a wonderful singer but is terribly shy so you’ll probably never get to experience it.  Kali will steal food from your hand/plate/countertop if you are foolish enough to get it within her reach while Oscar smugly sits on the floor, looking up at you with an oh-so-innocent “Mommy Dearest, may I please have a bite of the delectable little morsel in your lovely hand?” 

In the musical Cats, Bustopher Jones is a fat cat and I imagine the song very much takes after my darling Oscar (except that the show predates him).  He has never been thin.  Until now.  Well, thin isn’t a good word.  Thin enough that, for the first time in his life, I can feel the bones in his shoulders and back.  I don’t know if it’s just that he’s getting old (hey, aren’t we all) or if there is something wrong with him that I don’t really want to know about. 

I don’t really know what I’ll do without the kitties when they go to Heaven.  (yes, I think they will be there)  They have been with me most of my adult life.  They are my constant companions.  They know all my secrets.  Kali knows when I don’t feel well and will cling to me as if to say, “I know my being near makes you feel better.”  (and it does!)

I’m so glad God created kitties.  They are funny, outrageous, darling, exasperating and infuriating.  Dogs are great and I do enjoy them and am looking forward to the Dane puppy.  But I am, and always will be, a cat person.

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.

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. 

polka dots


Lately, all I’ve been thinking about it polka dots.  Green dots.  Yellow dots.  Orange dots.  PINK dots… 

It’s a GIRL!  We found out last week that our little critter is most likely a girl.  And what a personality she’s already got!  She squirms and kicks and stretches and, I swear, she finds a way to tell me when she’s hungry and what she wants me to eat! 

I can’t wait to meet her in August.