There's a song Anna loves from one of her Tom Hunter CDs that sings about getting up in the morning and leaving for your favorite place to play. She asked me to sing it to her the other night, so I did. And when I paused so she could fill in her destination, she enthusiastically said "Hawaii!" And as I finished singing the verse she muttered, "by myself! And my brother is coming too."
Ever since Little Llama came along, I'm chopped liver. She tells him every day that she loves him more than me. But refuses to clarify whether that means that she loves him more than she loves me or that she loves him more than I love him. I firmly believe that if she could lift him, she'd take over as his mother and banish me to my bedroom for the rest of the summer. And I think I might take her up on it some days!
When I first found out I was pregnant last summer, I was really nervous. Anna was in the middle of a really nasty tantrum phase and I was terrified about adding to the stress and responsibility of one child. I was worried about how she would take the addition of a baby to our family. Worried about how much worse her tantrums and behavior would get. Worried that she would think I didn't love her once the baby came along.
But you know what, that girl is a constant surprise. She has handled the transition to Big Sister with amazing ease. From the moment she walked into our hospital room in April, she has been nothing but proud and loving to that baby. Only a few hiccups here and there, and I think I need to take responsibility for most of those. I don't have much patience when I haven't gotten any sleep.
She's a great helper and she adores Henry. She loves to read him stories and make up crazy songs to sing to him. Often when Henry starts to cry and I'm in the other room attempting to scarf the oatmeal that I've reheated 3 times but still not finished, Anna will yell "I'M ON IT!" and run to find his nuk or just be with him.
Her first demand every morning is "where is my brother?" No "good morning." No "hi, mommy." And it isn't a question. It's a threat. She may as well be saying, "Tell me where my brother is right this second or else!" Of course, her second demand is to hold him. And then they smile and talk to each other until Henry decides he's hungry or spits up so hard I have to clean it from between his toes. Anna only wants him when he's clean and happy. But I'm welcome to him the rest of the time.
Watching them together makes me incredibly happy and also makes me feel incredibly blessed. I'm trying to learn to hold on to that feeling during the chaotic times because I know how fast this will go and very soon I will be wishing for these days.
Added bonus, a video of Henry's new trick, the fake cough. Please excuse Anna's smokers hacking cough. It grosses me out, but Henry finds it funny.
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
Two's Company, Three is CRAZYTOWN
I had just begun to contemplate changing the name of my blog since Anna's not so hot on the Cheerios and really, she has been sleeping through the night pretty consistently for at least two years now. And then, boom! Llama Face.
For the most part he's a pretty good sleeper. But he's hit a growth spurt that has me remembering why I titled this blog Tales of Sleepless Nights. I tallied it up last night and over the previous three nights combined, I'd slept about 7 hours. Seven hours of sleep does not a coherent or emotionally controlled Kerry make.
In some ways the second time around is so much easier. I know what I'm doing now. I know that the hard parts are not permanent, nor are they really that hard compared to some of the other parenting trials I've now tucked under my rapidly expanding belt (ever tried to explain to a rather inquisitive 4 year old why her brother's "bottom" is all bumpy - why isn't hers bumpy like that? Or calm not one, but two tantrums over the fact that said 4 year old can neither marry, nor procreate with her brother?).
What I find myself struggling with is the fact that there is only one of me. It seems like someone is always having to wait around here these days. And that waiting is frequently accompanied by crying. I try to meet the needs of both kids as quickly (and reasonably) as possible, but sometimes I just really need to use the bathroom! It's especially hard when Anna makes comments about me never having time to play with her any more (that's partly true, I don't have AS MUCH time to play as I used to). But she tells me every day she loves her brother better than me, though she won't clarify as to whether that means she loves him more than I love him or she loves him more than she loves me.
Watching the two of them together has made every second of morning sickness (mostly) worth it. Anna pokes his cheeks and makes up crazy songs and Henry soaks it all in, smiles and coos at her. And you can just see in his face, a look of "Just wait, sister. I'll be able to move soon enough and then that hair you're always dangling in my face will be mine. MINE! Oh, and BTW, I'm going to play with all your toys while you're at school and there's nothing you can do about it." Yes, one look says all that. My baby has some really, really expressive eyebrows, ok?
I'm working on balancing fulfilling their needs and still managing to fulfill mine. I can't tell you how many times I've run the garbage out or gone to grab something from my car and realized (usually too late) that I have half a boob hanging out from the last feeding because I forgot to put myself back together. Sorry, neighbors!
In an effort to take care of myself, I've taken up running 3 times a week. I had considered forming an "I Love Ice Cream Club," but running is healthier, albeit, a lot less tasty. Usually I have to go after the kids are in bed which is not until 8:30, but it's still an hour to myself. An hour when I'm just me and I don't have to answer to anyone. I can crank my music as loud as I want it, and just go.
So, no, I haven't taken up late-night prize fighting. I just have some really rockin' dark circles under my eyes. I'm not inventing a new perfume called Eau de Baby Vomit. Henry just requires that anyone who burps him wear a HAZMAT suit. Unluckily for me, I don't own one. There is an awful lot of bribery, begging and prayer involved in my daily shower. And if I get breakfast before noon, then it must be Saturday.
For the most part he's a pretty good sleeper. But he's hit a growth spurt that has me remembering why I titled this blog Tales of Sleepless Nights. I tallied it up last night and over the previous three nights combined, I'd slept about 7 hours. Seven hours of sleep does not a coherent or emotionally controlled Kerry make.
In some ways the second time around is so much easier. I know what I'm doing now. I know that the hard parts are not permanent, nor are they really that hard compared to some of the other parenting trials I've now tucked under my rapidly expanding belt (ever tried to explain to a rather inquisitive 4 year old why her brother's "bottom" is all bumpy - why isn't hers bumpy like that? Or calm not one, but two tantrums over the fact that said 4 year old can neither marry, nor procreate with her brother?).
What I find myself struggling with is the fact that there is only one of me. It seems like someone is always having to wait around here these days. And that waiting is frequently accompanied by crying. I try to meet the needs of both kids as quickly (and reasonably) as possible, but sometimes I just really need to use the bathroom! It's especially hard when Anna makes comments about me never having time to play with her any more (that's partly true, I don't have AS MUCH time to play as I used to). But she tells me every day she loves her brother better than me, though she won't clarify as to whether that means she loves him more than I love him or she loves him more than she loves me.
Watching the two of them together has made every second of morning sickness (mostly) worth it. Anna pokes his cheeks and makes up crazy songs and Henry soaks it all in, smiles and coos at her. And you can just see in his face, a look of "Just wait, sister. I'll be able to move soon enough and then that hair you're always dangling in my face will be mine. MINE! Oh, and BTW, I'm going to play with all your toys while you're at school and there's nothing you can do about it." Yes, one look says all that. My baby has some really, really expressive eyebrows, ok?
I'm working on balancing fulfilling their needs and still managing to fulfill mine. I can't tell you how many times I've run the garbage out or gone to grab something from my car and realized (usually too late) that I have half a boob hanging out from the last feeding because I forgot to put myself back together. Sorry, neighbors!
In an effort to take care of myself, I've taken up running 3 times a week. I had considered forming an "I Love Ice Cream Club," but running is healthier, albeit, a lot less tasty. Usually I have to go after the kids are in bed which is not until 8:30, but it's still an hour to myself. An hour when I'm just me and I don't have to answer to anyone. I can crank my music as loud as I want it, and just go.
So, no, I haven't taken up late-night prize fighting. I just have some really rockin' dark circles under my eyes. I'm not inventing a new perfume called Eau de Baby Vomit. Henry just requires that anyone who burps him wear a HAZMAT suit. Unluckily for me, I don't own one. There is an awful lot of bribery, begging and prayer involved in my daily shower. And if I get breakfast before noon, then it must be Saturday.
Thursday, May 24, 2012
And Baby Makes Four
I can't believe it's already been a month since little Llama Face made his debut in the world. I wasn't completely sure I wanted a baby boy until I saw his face. Instant love. Even though every nurse on duty for the next two days greeted him with "So you're the fella with the giant head!" He had quite the reputation.
(I don't think his head is THAT big and I had to push him out so I'm the only one whose opinion counts.)
When Anna came to meet him in the hospital the next morning, her eyes were big and she looked a little shy. She walked right up to his bassinet and looked at his face with a HUGE smile. I told her this was Henry, her little brother. She turned on the angry eyes, and with serious attitude told me, "Um, mom? His name is NOT Henry. It's Llama Face!"
Right.
A week later, I heard her out in the yard talking to who I thought was the 4-year-old neighbor boy (turned out it was his parents!). She told him with much remorse, "I have a baby brother! His name USED to be Llama Face! But now it's just Henry." She said that last bit as if it were an apology. I could not stop laughing.
Parenting two kids is a bit like showing up for a dance class, in a style you've never studied, only to find out that it's not a class, it's the recital and you are the lead dancer. You'd look a bit silly to just stand there on stage and do nothing, so you attempt to do the steps. You miss a few and definitely look confused, but you're trying and at least you're moving.
We have a lot of he's crying and I'm in the middle of helping her use the bathroom; or he's eating and she's screaming that the crocodiles are chasing her and will eat her right this second if I don't stand up and "save" her; or he's screaming for food, she's screaming for food and, quite frankly, I'm about to be screaming for food because it's 11:00 and I still have no pants on, have not yet had breakfast and can't remember if I showered yesterday or the day before.
But we also have a lot of Anna telling Henry she loves him more than anyone else in the world; and Anna begging to give Henry just one more kiss; and Anna's face lighting up like it does on Christmas morning when I tell her that she can give Henry a bottle (since I breastfeed this is a big deal); and Henry following the sound of Anna's voice with his eyes; and Henry calming down at diaper changing time just from listening to Anna sing.
We're surviving the transition. More than surviving. I'm actually enjoying a lot of it. Because I'm realizing that newborns are pretty easy (it helps that Henry actually sleeps, whereas Anna didn't). We haven't altered our usual routine by too much. We've already been to the zoo, parks, library, Bible study, grocery shopping and I imagine that list will just continue to grow. Henry's very portable. And Anna's very proud and protective.
I was going to write more of the "funnies" that have gone on since Henry joined the fam, but I'm exhausted. And you know what they say about sleeping when the baby sleeps. So I'll save it for another day.
(I don't think his head is THAT big and I had to push him out so I'm the only one whose opinion counts.)
When Anna came to meet him in the hospital the next morning, her eyes were big and she looked a little shy. She walked right up to his bassinet and looked at his face with a HUGE smile. I told her this was Henry, her little brother. She turned on the angry eyes, and with serious attitude told me, "Um, mom? His name is NOT Henry. It's Llama Face!"
A week later, I heard her out in the yard talking to who I thought was the 4-year-old neighbor boy (turned out it was his parents!). She told him with much remorse, "I have a baby brother! His name USED to be Llama Face! But now it's just Henry." She said that last bit as if it were an apology. I could not stop laughing.
Parenting two kids is a bit like showing up for a dance class, in a style you've never studied, only to find out that it's not a class, it's the recital and you are the lead dancer. You'd look a bit silly to just stand there on stage and do nothing, so you attempt to do the steps. You miss a few and definitely look confused, but you're trying and at least you're moving.
We have a lot of he's crying and I'm in the middle of helping her use the bathroom; or he's eating and she's screaming that the crocodiles are chasing her and will eat her right this second if I don't stand up and "save" her; or he's screaming for food, she's screaming for food and, quite frankly, I'm about to be screaming for food because it's 11:00 and I still have no pants on, have not yet had breakfast and can't remember if I showered yesterday or the day before.
But we also have a lot of Anna telling Henry she loves him more than anyone else in the world; and Anna begging to give Henry just one more kiss; and Anna's face lighting up like it does on Christmas morning when I tell her that she can give Henry a bottle (since I breastfeed this is a big deal); and Henry following the sound of Anna's voice with his eyes; and Henry calming down at diaper changing time just from listening to Anna sing.
We're surviving the transition. More than surviving. I'm actually enjoying a lot of it. Because I'm realizing that newborns are pretty easy (it helps that Henry actually sleeps, whereas Anna didn't). We haven't altered our usual routine by too much. We've already been to the zoo, parks, library, Bible study, grocery shopping and I imagine that list will just continue to grow. Henry's very portable. And Anna's very proud and protective.
I was going to write more of the "funnies" that have gone on since Henry joined the fam, but I'm exhausted. And you know what they say about sleeping when the baby sleeps. So I'll save it for another day.
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Three-Year-Old Funnies
I've had a couple of conversations with Anna in the past few weeks that I really don't want to forget. So I'm posting them here, both for your entertainment and my ability to pull them up later.
___
Last week Anna and I were driving to my mom's and had to make a potty stop at a gas station (I'm going to say it was her idea, but really, at 8 months pregnant, either of us could be to blame). She said, as she was washing her hands, "Mom, I'm pretty hungry. Maybe we should buy some Cheetos!" Of COURSE we should buy some Cheetos! So we headed to the snack aisle. We found the snack bags of Cheetos on the bottom rack and I asked Anna to please bend down and grab them since bending is not my forte these days. She responded, very dramatically (complete with both hands on her lower back) that "uhhh, I can't bend over either, mom!"
"Really? Which one of us is 8 months pregnant?"
"Uh, Mom? I'm pregnant too...With puppies!" (read in the voice of a know-it-all 13-year-old)
I swear the lady behind the counter almost peed herself trying not to laugh. For the record, I had to bend over to get the Cheetos.
___
Anna loves to tell me about what she wants to be when she grows up. For a pretty consistent couple of weeks now, it's been a brownie chef and a mommy ("just like you!" awww). Last week she asked me,
"Mom, when I grow up, can I be a brownie chef, a mommy and a ROCKSTAR?!"
"Well, sure, I suppose you could be all of those things at once. Who will be in your band?"
"Daddy. Just daddy. Not you."
"Ok, what instrument will daddy play?"
(very matter-of-factly) "The Tuba."
"Huh, Ok. And what will you play?"
"I'll be the conductor and you can be the audience."
And thus, her "rockstar band" was formed. I believe the last I asked her, she planned to name it Kiki.
___
For those keeping track, here's a list of names Anna has suggested for the baby:
Ice Cream
Monkey Nurse
Pinocchio
Winnie the Pooh
Llama Face
Though, when last questioned, she vehemently defended my choice of name: Rutabaga. Maybe someone else should name this poor child.
___
Last week Anna and I were driving to my mom's and had to make a potty stop at a gas station (I'm going to say it was her idea, but really, at 8 months pregnant, either of us could be to blame). She said, as she was washing her hands, "Mom, I'm pretty hungry. Maybe we should buy some Cheetos!" Of COURSE we should buy some Cheetos! So we headed to the snack aisle. We found the snack bags of Cheetos on the bottom rack and I asked Anna to please bend down and grab them since bending is not my forte these days. She responded, very dramatically (complete with both hands on her lower back) that "uhhh, I can't bend over either, mom!"
"Really? Which one of us is 8 months pregnant?"
"Uh, Mom? I'm pregnant too...With puppies!" (read in the voice of a know-it-all 13-year-old)
I swear the lady behind the counter almost peed herself trying not to laugh. For the record, I had to bend over to get the Cheetos.
___
Anna loves to tell me about what she wants to be when she grows up. For a pretty consistent couple of weeks now, it's been a brownie chef and a mommy ("just like you!" awww). Last week she asked me,
"Mom, when I grow up, can I be a brownie chef, a mommy and a ROCKSTAR?!"
"Well, sure, I suppose you could be all of those things at once. Who will be in your band?"
"Daddy. Just daddy. Not you."
"Ok, what instrument will daddy play?"
(very matter-of-factly) "The Tuba."
"Huh, Ok. And what will you play?"
"I'll be the conductor and you can be the audience."
And thus, her "rockstar band" was formed. I believe the last I asked her, she planned to name it Kiki.
___
For those keeping track, here's a list of names Anna has suggested for the baby:
Ice Cream
Monkey Nurse
Pinocchio
Winnie the Pooh
Llama Face
Though, when last questioned, she vehemently defended my choice of name: Rutabaga. Maybe someone else should name this poor child.
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
Pregnant and I Know It
Today I heard "Sexy and I Know It" by LMFAO on the radio and I started to sing along, until I realized that there is absolutely NOTHING sexy about my current condition. I'm swollen, bloated, moody, emotional and downright crazy. So then I started changing the lyrics in my head and laughing like the crazy person I am while driving down the freeway. So this goes out to all my pregnant, formerly pregnant and soon-to-be-pregnant friends.*
****
When I waddle by, I feel so huge I want to cry
When I try to sleep, back pain, heart burn and I have to pee, yeah
This is how I roll, midnight cravings, outta control,
So wide out front, I can't reach my toes
And my moods change FAST, that's how it goes.
Whoa, Look at that belly! Whoa, look at that belly! Whoa, look at that belly!
GET THE KID OUT!
When I lay down to rest, this is what I see
Ripples from thrown elbows and kicking knees,
I got elastic waist-band pants and I ain't afraid to show it
I'm pregnant and I know it.
When I'm at the store, old lady asks how long before
I say fifty days, and her wrinkled old jaw falls down a ways
Got the need to clean, mess up my house and I get mean
Try to touch the baby bump without askin'
And I'm gonna give your face a real good smackin'
Whoa, Look at that belly! Whoa, look at that belly! Whoa, look at that belly!
GET THE KID OUT!
When I lay down to rest, this is what I see
Ripples from thrown elbows and kicking knees,
I got elastic waist-band pants and I ain't afraid to show it
I'm pregnant and I know it.
****
(Original Song: Sexy and I Know It by LMFAO)
*For your own psychological well-being, please do not picture me singing this, wearing a Speedo.
****
When I waddle by, I feel so huge I want to cry
When I try to sleep, back pain, heart burn and I have to pee, yeah
This is how I roll, midnight cravings, outta control,
So wide out front, I can't reach my toes
And my moods change FAST, that's how it goes.
Whoa, Look at that belly! Whoa, look at that belly! Whoa, look at that belly!
GET THE KID OUT!
When I lay down to rest, this is what I see
Ripples from thrown elbows and kicking knees,
I got elastic waist-band pants and I ain't afraid to show it
I'm pregnant and I know it.
When I'm at the store, old lady asks how long before
I say fifty days, and her wrinkled old jaw falls down a ways
Got the need to clean, mess up my house and I get mean
Try to touch the baby bump without askin'
And I'm gonna give your face a real good smackin'
Whoa, Look at that belly! Whoa, look at that belly! Whoa, look at that belly!
GET THE KID OUT!
When I lay down to rest, this is what I see
Ripples from thrown elbows and kicking knees,
I got elastic waist-band pants and I ain't afraid to show it
I'm pregnant and I know it.
****
(Original Song: Sexy and I Know It by LMFAO)
*For your own psychological well-being, please do not picture me singing this, wearing a Speedo.
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Countdown
I've successfully made it a good chunk of the way into the 3rd trimester. I'm truly counting the days until I can be the only one in my body (as a woman in my Bible study said this morning, "Our bodies are really only meant for one person!"). I have a feeling he's going to be early, but I'm not sure how much of this is wishful thinking.
53 days. That's how many days I have left until my due date. I like to count it in days because it sounds shorter than 7.5 weeks. Maybe when I get down below 20 days I'll start counting in hours.
Anna is getting so excited to meet her baby brother. She helped me organize and clean all her old baby stuff and get the baby's room all set up. She's set on naming him - last night she suggested Franklin. Previous suggestions have included Pinocchio, Winnie the Pooh, Ice Cream and Monkey Nurse. I'm rather fond of Rutabaga or Guillermo myself. Hubby will (quite obviously) need to be the voice of reason for the sake of our son's future.
I'm making mental lists of all the places that easily accommodate a nursing mom with a rambunctious 3-year-old. Zoo, Library, Monkey Joe's, the park, etc. I am hoping to beat utter newborn fatigue by getting out of the house a bit. End of April is the perfect time to do that.
I intended this to be a more fun update of what's going on, but I'm far too tired to be witty right now. I should be napping. I'm going to rectify this now. But I'll leave you with this:
Two days ago I feel asleep on the couch during naptime while Anna was watching a movie. I woke up to a big pair of brown eyes just inches from mine, with a little voice stage-whispering, "Mom! When am I going to have boobs?!"
The things you wish you didn't have to figure out an answer to...
53 days. That's how many days I have left until my due date. I like to count it in days because it sounds shorter than 7.5 weeks. Maybe when I get down below 20 days I'll start counting in hours.
Anna is getting so excited to meet her baby brother. She helped me organize and clean all her old baby stuff and get the baby's room all set up. She's set on naming him - last night she suggested Franklin. Previous suggestions have included Pinocchio, Winnie the Pooh, Ice Cream and Monkey Nurse. I'm rather fond of Rutabaga or Guillermo myself. Hubby will (quite obviously) need to be the voice of reason for the sake of our son's future.
I'm making mental lists of all the places that easily accommodate a nursing mom with a rambunctious 3-year-old. Zoo, Library, Monkey Joe's, the park, etc. I am hoping to beat utter newborn fatigue by getting out of the house a bit. End of April is the perfect time to do that.
I intended this to be a more fun update of what's going on, but I'm far too tired to be witty right now. I should be napping. I'm going to rectify this now. But I'll leave you with this:
Two days ago I feel asleep on the couch during naptime while Anna was watching a movie. I woke up to a big pair of brown eyes just inches from mine, with a little voice stage-whispering, "Mom! When am I going to have boobs?!"
The things you wish you didn't have to figure out an answer to...
Monday, January 30, 2012
Pregnancy Update
So it turns out that not all pregnancies are created equal. When I was pregnant with Anna, I loved it. Well, I think I loved it...Mommy amnesia is some whacked-out crack and I'm quickly realizing that my memories of pregnancy (and probably of labor) might not be entirely accurate.
Thus the radio silence for the last few months. I've tried to keep this blog fairly positive and this pregnancy has not had me feeling all that cheerful or witty. Horrible insomnia and back/hip pain have pretty much had me feeling like an emotional monster since October, and who wants to read posts from a grouch?
The good news is, pregnancy is not forever and as of today, I only have 83 days left (unless Jr. wants to show up early, which I am TOTALLY fine with! Hear that, Rutabaga?)
Anyway, we're chugging along. Anna is very excited for her baby brother to get here. I hope this excitement carries her through the attention shift that is coming down the pike. I'm trying to prepare her by talking a lot about what the baby will need/do when he gets here, but I'm not sure you can really prepare a kid for something like that.
She loves to talk to the baby - her favorite thing to do is poke my belly, get right up by my bellybutton and say "hey, baby, BOO!" Just enough to get him riled up and kicking my bladder. Then she scampers off on her merry way while I fend off internal ninja blows to my delicate organs. Fun!
As soon as she understood that there was a baby growing in my tummy, she began telling me (and anyone who'd listen) that she was growing twin puppies in HER tummy. Because who wants to go through pregnancy alone?! So around Christmas, I braved the obvious risk involved and asked her, just how did she plan on getting those puppies out of her tummy. She looked genuinely concerned for a minute until the perfect plan dawned on her - "I, um....I'll have to use Santa's magic!" Thankfully, she didn't ask the obvious question - How am I planning to get my baby out...
Until we were in the food court at the mall last week, during lunch time, surrounded by tables of people - "Mom? How'd you get that baby in there? Mom? MOM? HOW'D YOU GET THAT BABY IN THERE? How's he going to come out?!" You don't hear a kid ask that in public without turning to stare and find out how the mother is going to answer. Thank God, she took "Let's talk about that when we get home, finish your lunch!" as an acceptable answer and dropped the subject. I was not prepared. I'm still not prepared. Though I suppose I better get prepared, because Anna's like an elephant - she never forgets.
Disclaimer: I am not actually naming my baby Rutabaga. Unless I change my mind. Which I very well might do.
Thus the radio silence for the last few months. I've tried to keep this blog fairly positive and this pregnancy has not had me feeling all that cheerful or witty. Horrible insomnia and back/hip pain have pretty much had me feeling like an emotional monster since October, and who wants to read posts from a grouch?
The good news is, pregnancy is not forever and as of today, I only have 83 days left (unless Jr. wants to show up early, which I am TOTALLY fine with! Hear that, Rutabaga?)
Anyway, we're chugging along. Anna is very excited for her baby brother to get here. I hope this excitement carries her through the attention shift that is coming down the pike. I'm trying to prepare her by talking a lot about what the baby will need/do when he gets here, but I'm not sure you can really prepare a kid for something like that.
She loves to talk to the baby - her favorite thing to do is poke my belly, get right up by my bellybutton and say "hey, baby, BOO!" Just enough to get him riled up and kicking my bladder. Then she scampers off on her merry way while I fend off internal ninja blows to my delicate organs. Fun!
As soon as she understood that there was a baby growing in my tummy, she began telling me (and anyone who'd listen) that she was growing twin puppies in HER tummy. Because who wants to go through pregnancy alone?! So around Christmas, I braved the obvious risk involved and asked her, just how did she plan on getting those puppies out of her tummy. She looked genuinely concerned for a minute until the perfect plan dawned on her - "I, um....I'll have to use Santa's magic!" Thankfully, she didn't ask the obvious question - How am I planning to get my baby out...
Until we were in the food court at the mall last week, during lunch time, surrounded by tables of people - "Mom? How'd you get that baby in there? Mom? MOM? HOW'D YOU GET THAT BABY IN THERE? How's he going to come out?!" You don't hear a kid ask that in public without turning to stare and find out how the mother is going to answer. Thank God, she took "Let's talk about that when we get home, finish your lunch!" as an acceptable answer and dropped the subject. I was not prepared. I'm still not prepared. Though I suppose I better get prepared, because Anna's like an elephant - she never forgets.
Disclaimer: I am not actually naming my baby Rutabaga. Unless I change my mind. Which I very well might do.
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