Wondering why we even bother

Train table with 3 different "Thomas the Train" wooden track sets... $300

Die-Cast cars representing the entire cast of  Disney's movie "Cars"... $150

Spending an hour playing "good guy vs bad guy" with shampoo bottles in the bathroom ... priceless

Melting My Heart

It was a tough summer. The heat. The pregnancy. The child. The combination made me want to cry many times. It was no secret that this summer my child turned into the demon spawn. There were times we thought his head was going to spin around as green goo shot out. There were a few of these times. At the pinnacle of this stage, I actually took him to the Dr for a check-up, and begged the Dr to find something horribly wrong with him (that could be easily remedied with antibiotics) that would cause this uncontrollable behavior. When he found nothing, I came home and cried and felt like I was the worst parent in the world.

People kept telling me it was probably a stage. That his out-of-whack schedule, multiple trips and house guests mixed with some anxiety over the impending arrival of Princess Buttercup was causing him to act out. We could only hope..

And you know what? It was. A horrible monster stage, that RIGHT in time seems to have vanished into thin air, leaving my precious little man in time for a stage of UBER cuteness. I have no clue what caused his drastic turn-around, but I'm not going to question it.

These days, the adorable squishiness of Lucas is almost too much to handle. He's happy, he's eating, he's sleeping, he's playing, he's cuddly and he's the sweetest little thing out there. The other day he was playing in his room and I decided to take advantage of him entertaining himself and lay down on the couch. As I dozed off on the couch, I vaguely remember Lucas coming in the room and saying that he wanted to cuddle with me. I scooted over and he curled up next to me, resting his head on my belly and promptly fell asleep. I woke up about 3o minutes later to find him still there, hugging my belly, fast asleep. Smiling, I stroked his hair until he woke up, turned to me and smiled, and said "Oh, mommy. Your big baby belly makes such a nice pillow!"

This morning I woke up and Lucas was already on the couch, watching Charlie and Lola. Jason was telling me that Lucas woke up asking about the baby, when she was going to come and what she was going to look like. Jason said that he told Lucas he wasn't sure, but he bets the baby will look like Mommy. When I walked into the living room, he came bounding up to me. "Mommy! I'm SO excited for the baby to come! I think that she is going to be so pretty like you!"

Oh man, that was too much for the hormones first thing in the morning before any coffee.

I'm just thrilled that my sweet boy is back. The timing of this return could not have come at a better time.

Conversations with a Preschooler - the collective "aawwww" version

Scene:  Yesterday, Mom and Lucas on the couch chilling - him, recovering from the freaking CROUP, me - well, 9 months pregnant and almost unable to move at this point.

Mom: "So, Lucas, when the baby comes Daddy and I were thinking that maybe you would like to school 3 days a week. To run and play with all your friends!"

Lucas: "No Mommy, I want to be home with you and my baby sister."

Mom: "But honey, it may be pretty boring for you.. She's really not going to do anything except eat and sleep, and I think that school will be SO MUCH more fun for you!"

Lucas: "Um, but I think that if I go to school my baby sister will cry."

Mom: "Well, she's going to cry a lot anyway.. remember that babies cry to tell us that they are hungry, tired or need a diaper change.."

Lucas" "No, if I go to school, I think she will cry because she misses her big brother.."

sniff... sniff... 

Let's get this party started right.. let's get this party started quickly

When you get to this point in your pregnancy where you don't call someone in a few days, or you miss a swim lesson, or you don't update your blog in a week, people start assuming things. Like you've had a baby.

Well, nope, the belly and I are still here, thriving and dealing with the simple things in life like standing up without groaning and waddling to the phone that you left across the house before it goes to voicemail.

(side note, I'm a little late with this image, I'm actually 35 weeks as of tomorrow)

While I feel like I do nothing but talk about my procreation, I realize that I have not mentioned a very important part of the whole process - how I'm gonna' get this kid out of me. Maybe it's because a little personal, maybe because I had not quite made up my mind, or maybe it's because it may require me to type the word "vaginal".

For those of you who haven't heard how my precious little monster entered this world 3 and a half years ago, I'll keep it brief. Pregnancy induced hypertension which lead to an induction at 39 weeks, which lead to hyper stimulating contractions about 3 hours later, which lead to fetal distress, which lead to a get this kid out of me NOW emergency c-section. Flash forward to 3 years later and one of my first doctors appointments when the Dr casually mentions "You know, just because you had a c-section last time doesn't mean you need to have one this time.."

Hhhmm.. a choice! Something else to spend the next 30 or so weeks OBSESSING about other than strollers (Joovy Ultralight), gliders (Dutailier, duh), names (tba at a later date), and the fact that I really, really want Doritos (cool ranch) right this very second.

To me, the most important part of the entire process is to leave the hospital with a healthy baby in my arms. Not really how she gets here. But the thought of avoiding major abdominal surgery does sound nice.. After months of obsessing, scouring the internet and reading books with names like "Don't cut me again!" (a book that actually almost did the opposite of what the author intended, with labor stories that start off "after 34 hours of labor at 43 weeks pregnant.."), and Dr's appointments with lists of questions a mile long, I made the decision to attempt to push this little chica out.. of uh, my chica. (Nice visual, huh? You're welcome.)

And let me tell you - I'm scared to death.

I have this perfect plan in my head of how the big day is going to go. It starts the day AFTER a Dr's appt where I'm told that I'm already 2cm dilated and 50% effaced, which causes me to quickly get waxed and my roots touched-up (and of course, my girls get me right in). I start the day with a mani/pedi, where the girl DOES NOT make a comment about my size or how tired I look. After returning home, I start getting minor contractions. I do some of my prenatal yoga moves and sit and relax and then jump into the shower where my water breaks (see, no mess!). Excited and nervous, I put the "Lucas Plan of Action" in place by calling my parents. They jump into the car and head down from LA, shocked and thrilled at the lack of traffic and arriving 2 hours later to take care of Lucas. At this point I'm having contractions about 10 minutes apart and we head to the hospital. We check into L&D and wow! I'm 5cm already! I get my room, the epidural comes a little while later and within about 4 hours of labor and 30 minutes of pushing (and just enough time to brush my hair and reapply my lipstick), I get to help pull out my baby, put her on my chest and VOILA!! We have baby!

I know.. I know.. you are laughing at me right now. But hey, its my fantasy birth plan and I'm sticking with it for the time being.

And no, I'm not smoking crack while pregnant.

Hindsight

Now I know it's really a language barrier, but honestly, I wish I that I would have kept a running log of all the comments I've gotten from the manicurist while pregnant. It's usually something about how swollen my feet are, or pointing out that they are acutally also pregnant, further along than me and "feeling so fat" when they they are barely showing. Yea, thanks.

Today, sitting there getting my toes done, trying to relax and not worry about the fact that my blood pressure sky rocketed to a place is waaayyyy higher than my Doctor is comfortable with at the moment (sigh), the manicurist looked over at me and commented "Oh, you tired? You look tired and you look like you very heavy.."

Zen.. go to your happy place... Serenity now!