I keep meaning to blog, I do. But there’s so much love to catch up on.
There’s a lot of laughter.
And some horseplay.
We’re eating like kings and queens.
And sometimes we even grab a nap.
Thank you, God, for bringing us home to Texas. Thank you for our family.
Yeah, ok, so not really. When the OB asked how I was feeling today, I told him I felt like an irritable, sore gummy bear. And it’s true! I have very little patience. My pelvis is coming apart in places. My belly is so big I can’t reach my feet to tie my own shoes and I’ve officially got two chins.
So here we are, nine months and twenty pounds into our pregnancy. My rings still fit but just barely. I haven’t been able to breathe out of my nose for at least the last three months. I am SO. OVER. IT.
But damn, my hair looks good. So there’s that. (I took this pic this morning. If you compare it to the one I took a couple weeks ago, it looks just about the same, which kind of cracks me up. I have A LOT of purple maternity shirts, yes?)
And the little guy seems happy to bake away in there. He measures up around the 77th percentile now, a sizeable jump from the 47th percentile last month. According to the ultrasound, he looks a lot like Homer Simpson – which totally explains the cravings for donuts and beer.
Anyway, now that we’ve gotten our twin blizzards out of the way and my husband is officially forbidden to travel anymore, I do declare that we are ready to have this baby. Not that the declaration influences him one way or the other, of course. I think he’ s perfectly content to continue harassing my rib cage.
But really, Baby Homer, anytime is fine. Mom and Dad are ready to meet you. Big Brother is beginning to think Mom is lying about there being a baby in her belly. Aunts and uncles and grandparents and cousins are looking forward to tickling your toes and snuggling you – and several of them are even flying all the way up here to do so!
Your friends from all over the world, the ones who read this blog and comment and keep your mom sane through everything, they’re ready to see you too. They’re ready for Mom to stop whining about being pregnant and just post baby pictures already, dammit. They’ve even sent gifts for you – outfits and toys and this beautiful, handmade blanket from sweet Jennifer who writes Just Jennifer and lets mom sit at her lunch table on Twitter from time to time.
You are already so loved. See you soon.
I find that when you can’t overcome or prevent something, it’s best to just give yourself over to it fully.
We woke up this morning to snow that was just beginning to fall. Over three hours, we accumulated about seven inches and it’s still falling. The gnomes were not impressed.
Neither was the dog.
At first the kid was less than thrilled.
But wait, this is kind of cool.
Nah, Daddy, I got it.
Ok, that’s enough. Pick me up now!
Final verdict? I think it’s safe to say that while our son is genetically identical to his father in appearance, he’s totally Texan deep down in his blood like his mama and is not a fan of this cold, wet, sticky mess!
Let me preface this by saying that over this holiday season, I did a few things differently. One, I deleted my Twitter, Instagram and for a time, Facebook accounts. I needed a break from the external noise and a chance to focus just on what was in front of me. Two, I don’t think I used my big fancy camera at all except for Christmas eve and morning. And three, I didn’t think about blogging during any of the festivities. I just sort of hung out with my family, completely immersed myself in the insanity and ate ALL the food.
So yeah, the pictures, they kinda suck. But they do give a pretty accurate portrayal of what this incredibly special holiday was like for us.
My mom, sister and nephews made the trek to Kansas City the weekend before Christmas Eve. They arrived bearing bags of citrus fruit, Christmas gifts and even a large Swiss Colony tray – a tradition we’d had as children that my mom thought it would be fun to start again.
I’m not sure if we would call this Christmas “The Pajama Christmas,” since we pretty much spent three days in our jammies indoors thanks to the freezing temps, or perhaps “The Christmas Poo Debacle,” since a water main in our neighborhood broke Christmas Eve morning, leaving about 50 houses without running water until late afternoon.
(FYI, it takes several gallons of water to make a toilet completely flush the morning waste of eight people, and the people at Walgreens will totally look at you funny if you keep popping in to buy more gallons all day, and you will definitely want to kill your husband when you find out he’d neglected to mention there was a full five-gallon bucket of water in the basement you could have used instead.)
We adopted a few new traditions (a Mexican casserole feast on Christmas Eve instead of gumbo, at my husband’s request, and a popcorn tin and Christmas movies before bed) and continued a few old traditions (driving through the Longview Lake Christmas light display, baking a birthday cake for baby Jesus and singing to him).
Christmas morning was the usual mad dash down the stairs (the adults looking for coffee) and slow plod through the hallway (the children, lured from their warm beds by the over-excited adults who were entirely too cracked out on caffeine to pay attention to the early hour) followed by a brief break to clean up wrapping paper, a long family nap and lots of playing throughout the evening.
Two days later, we loaded everything up into two cars to make the trip back to Texas with everyone. My husband had been unexpectedly called to work down there at the last minute, so we got to have one more visit with our extended family before the baby comes.
The drive was a little scary at times through Arkansas, which had received almost a foot of snow in places. Although the roads were mostly clear, there were a few mountain passes that required white knuckles and prayer. And of course, The Posh had to stop and get out to touch the “ice rocks.”
We stopped about eight hours into the drive to spend a night at a hotel, not something I normally do but definitely a welcome break from being cooped in the car. Third trimester traveling is frowned upon by my OB, but between this hotel stop and the eleventy hundred gallons of water I drank, I managed to avoid any pregnancy-related issues.
The little boys wreaked havoc in the hotel room together while the big boys went swimming downstairs with their mom, then we all passed out for a few hours before hitting the road again.
The visit to Orange was an absolute joy. There was no shortage of cousins, aunts, uncles and grandparents to play with.
Sometimes play was gentle, like with the other little guys and girl.
Other times, it was wild and probably dangerous, like spinning chairs and dogpiles with the older boys.
Some cousins shared their toys willingly, others, not so much.
Not even if you hug them first and say please.
We got to help Meme peel shrimp for gumbo and help Aunt Jan grind pepper for steaks.
There were a few Texas-true moments, like finding a deer tail in the outside fridge, making sauces using produce from Pop’s own trees and driving back and forth over the majestic bridges between Bridge City and Port Arthur.
We even got to go to work with Daddy for a little while.
New Year’s was rainy and a little cold, but we still headed out to the country to blow things up with some friends. Living next to an amusement park has made Monkey pretty immune to the noise of fireworks, but he still enjoyed the “BOOM! BOOM!” they provided.
On the way back to Kansas City, we stopped for a night at the lake house. When we arrived we were greeted by a roaring fire and a gorgeous home still decorated for Christmas. And by decorated I mean decorated. Aunt Karen even has a Christmas tree in the bathroom. Oh, and yeah, that’s totally a Santa dressed in camo. Of course it is.
The next day hubs, Monkey and I set out for the longest part of the drive – the drive back to life as usual. As we snaked our way north among forests and mountains, I amused myself by snapping pics of such wonders of the world like snow-capped ridges and my husband’s massive beard.
About halfway through Arkansas, Monkey was totally over the drive. OVER IT.
So we stopped and let him run in an indoor playplace while we stretched our legs. Man, you give my husband a couple of McRibs and my son unlimited access to a slide and life is good once again.
I am thankful we made it home safe and mostly sane. It has taken us a few days to recover from the holiday, but life is up and running again as usual and we’re finishing up preparations for the newest member of our family, set to arrive in a couple of months. As you can see, I’m now more than a little bit pregnant, although some of that might be gumbo, and cookies, and Shipley’s donuts, and…
Union Station is one of my favorite places in Kansas City, especially during the holidays. Every year we go downtown to see the model train display and marvel at the Christmas decorations. The majestic architecture of the train station is beautifully complimented by the brightly lit trees and sparkling snowflakes hanging from the ceiling.
This year we figured Monkey was old enough to enjoy the Kansas City Southern Holiday Express, a train “unlike any other train in the world, with its smiling engine “Rudy”, gingerbread boxcar, flatcar carrying Santa’s sleigh, reindeer and a miniature village, snow covered stall filled with model train displays, the elves’ workshop and even a little red caboose.”
If you want to catch the Holiday Express, you have the option of standing in a three-hour-long line OR, if you’re quick with the internet skills, reserving VIP tickets online so you can enjoy the not-so-cheerful glares of others as you skip ahead to the front. We got lucky this year and snagged reservations before they ran out.
We did not get so lucky with the Santa picture.
My son HATES Santa. HATES HIM.
But he loves trains, and so through the Holiday Express we went.
At the end, Monkey received a big red bag of candy which he later enjoyed, minus the parental chocolate tax. We posed for a quick picture in front of Rudy the locomotive, checked out a few Extreme Gingerbread Home Makeover Prize Winners and got home in time for dinner and snuggles and (unfortunately) another football game on tv.
Next weekend, Texas invades Missouri and we’re looking forward to the house full of chaos with my mom, sister and our nephews. Our chances of a white Christmas are slim, but no matter the weather we’re expecting a festive holiday full of food, friends and family. We wish you all the same!
Today will always be a day I’ll remember. But not because of gunpowder, treason and plot. On this rainy, dreary, chilled morning there’s an entirely different reason why the fifth of November shall never “be forgot.”
For days, I’ve prayed. Prayed without ceasing, you could say. Prayed for a heart with four chambers. A brain formed without flaw. A well-made lip, ten fingers and toes, perfectly sized kidneys, bladder and stomach.
I couldn’t sleep last night. I was beyond nervous this morning. And as I began to recline on the table in the ultrasound room, I said one last fervent prayer.
When the tech placed the wand on my belly, the first thing I saw were two legs squirming around – two gorgeous, long legs with big feet at the end. I immediately began to relax.
The woman who was performing the scan was an expert, and guided the wand quickly across my middle.
“Do you want to know the sex?” she asked.
She didn’t even get a chance to hear our answer or announce the result because it was suddenly, glaringly obvious what kind of equipment our kid was carrying.
I mean, wow. Just. Whoa, dude.
“That’s, um, definitely a boy,” she snorted. My husband broke out in a massive shit-eating grin.
I was instantaneously transported to a whole other plane of existence.
My sons. I have sons. That thought buzzed around between my ears before coming to alight on my heart.
My boys. Brothers.
I barely heard anything else she said – so strange since I’d been so worried – as she finished the scan. Everything beautifully made, perfectly knit.
I was just so in love right then. So in love with the idea of watching my two boys get to know each other. Play with each other. Beat each other up then sit down to share a snack.
I never thought it would be possible for my heart to stretch any more than it did when I had my first son. But sitting there on that table, I was almost short of breath as that same heart threatened to break free of the moorings in my chest.
Monkey was sitting patiently with his father on the bench beside me. We told him, “That’s your baby brother!”
“Baby brother?” he asked. “Ok!”
Y’all, I am so enthralled with the idea of being a mother to sons. I am not a delicate flower, my sense of humor is bawdy and my personality brash. I am, I believe, perfectly suited to raising boys.
My husband is rather smug at the moment. As the only boy on his father’s side, he feels all kingly having provided two men to carry on that name. It makes me giggle – it’s not like we’re Vanderbilts – but I can see how for a man that’s an important thing.
Oh, and remember how I said we had names picked out and I just needed to know the sex so we could start calling it by its name?
Yeah, we’re just gonna call him Turtle, because the second I saw his face all the names we’d decided on just melted away and I feel like we must start from scratch.
So, um, help.
****
My father used to play with my brother and me in the yard. Mother would come out and say, “You’re tearing up the grass.” “We’re not raising grass,” Dad would reply. “We’re raising boys.” ~Harmon Killebrew
It snowed last year too:
I made a snowman and my brother knocked it down
and I knocked my brother down and then we had tea.
-Dylan Thomas
Beside a cornfield in a small town in Kansas, a quiet, unassuming boy waits patiently to fulfill his destiny.
Or for his turn on the slide, whichever comes first.
From the makers of Scarecrow 2010 and Gnome 2011, it’s Clark Kent 2012!
*Thanks to Greta for the invitation to Monkey’s first ever costume party! Super Toddler walked in the door this evening after the festivities, put on his jammies, announced “I SLEEPIN” then conked out cold.
Our kid has always been super easy to put to bed. I know. Don’t hate me.
He’s slept through the night since early on, and once he worked his way up to twelve-hour snoozes has rarely strayed from his 7:30-7:30 slumbers.
When we changed his crib into a toddler bed, we were worried he’d take the sudden freedom as a chance to go hog-wild and forego his sleepy time, but he settled right in to the new shape of things without any problems.
When he wakes in the morning, instead of tossing stuffed animals out of the crib willy-nilly and singing softly to his pillow, he crawls out of bed, comes to the gate at his door and calls out to us.
“Mama, I hungry!”
or
“Dada I get out!”
And so we grumble our way out of bed, take him downstairs and fix him his milk, Cheerios and fruit, and try to start our day.
So we were a little worried this past week when he started flipping out about bedtime. At first we thought maybe he was fighting it because we had houseguests.
Our visit from Aunt Jan overlapped a bit with our visit from my husband’s childhood friend and Monkey is madly in love with both of them. He’d go from charming his aunt to snuggling his “uncle” and back again.
While he’s always been Aunt Jan’s boy, I was absolutely amazed at how fast he took to my husband’s pal. If he was around, Monkey wanted to hold his hand, wear his shoes, steal his hat. We all pretty much passed out from the cute.
When bedtime rolled around, we’d have the boy go around and give everyone night-night sugars and hugs. He’d sweetly kiss each of us in attendance, pat us on the back with a hug…
And then melt down in an epic toddler whine.
Crap.
My husband and I were a little frustrated. But then one of us, I forget which, had the brilliant idea to go put him to bed together.
So we walked him up the stairs, watched him get into bed, turned on his projector and bid him goodnight.
“Love you, Monkey,” his dad said.
“Love you, Dada,” he replied.
“Love you, Monkey,” I said.
“Love you, Mama,” he answered.
And then we left the door slightly ajar and rejoined our guests with no drama. Not even a single whine. We repeated this for several nights with much success.
So tonight, our first night alone as a family in over a week, we had dinner and some snuggles and then my husband went to put the boy to bed.
Only, he wasn’t going. And it had nothing to do with company. He flopped down and started to whine, but only for the ten seconds or so it took us to realize that he just wanted both of us to put him to bed.
“Hold hand, Mama,” he said, grabbing my fingers.
“Hold hand, Dada,” he said, reaching for his father.
And single file, holding hands, we walked up the stairs, through his gate and to his bed. He gave us one more kiss then climbed into bed, covered up, and hugged his stuffed puppy.
“Love you, Monkey.”
“Love you, Dada.”
“Love you, Monkey.”
“Love you, Mama.”
My uncle is a retired lawyer with a penchant for internet shopping and a flair for the unusual. He’s one of those people who pays attention to what you like, files that information way back in his brain and pulls it out at random moments.
Over the last year or so he’s sent us a collection of gifts that never fail to make us smile. This last weekend he sent us our favorite gift – a weekend with our Aunt Jan.
We are so grateful for the special moments we had with her, and the ways he lets us know he’s thinking of us throughout the year.
Thanks, Uncle Mark, for the generosity with the randomosity. (I made that last word up for you. You’re welcome.)
Top Ten Things You Never Knew You Wanted But Are Your Most Favorite Gifts From Uncle Mark Ever
10. Zombie Gnome Splatter Targets – I have a thing for gnomes AND zombies but ZOMG these scare me.
9. Wind up chattering teeth – I remember these from PeeWee’s Playhouse. Who knew they actually made them?
8. Goodnight iPad – Such an appropriate book for my family.
7. Sports gnomes – Eh, so they’re both representing some seriously shittastic teams. They’re cute. And one of them holds money.
6. A gross of glow sticks – Got a toddler? Buy glow sticks in bulk. Always a hit.
5. Gnome hats – I forced my family (here my husband, son, sister and nephews) to wear these for a photo last Christmas. It cracks me up. Just wait to see THIS year’s family Christmas photo. Muahahah. Ha.
4. Nose glasses – Pretty sure my second born will be wearing these in his/her first photo.
3. Hypodermic pens with fake blood – Yeah. Just plain awesome.
2. As Seen on TV – As seen in an informercial is now as seen in my office. Although I really have no idea what to do with this stuff.
1. Zombie Gnome – The favorite of the favorites. His name is Felix and he sits on my side table because I’m afraid if I put him outside people will be so tempted to steal him because of his awesomeness.
*Oh and hai – thanks to all who entered my $50 gift card giveaway last week! Check out the winner here.
