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.

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.

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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.

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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.

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.

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...

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.

Psychotic Food Texts

My poor, poor husband. I'm only 12 weeks pregnant and already I've given him a MUCH harder time with the "honey, can you pick up..." texts throughout the work day. I can only recall a few from my pregnancy with Anna.

1. Beef Jerky from Karl's Country Market in Menomonee Falls. Yes, that specific. He went in, cleaned them out and then told them they better keep it coming because his pregnant wife was craving it.

2. Cheetos. "Hubby, we have a cheeto emergency. THERE ARE NO CHEETOS!!!" His response? "A lack of planning on your part, does not constitute an emergency on my part. You should have stopped on your way home." Bah. Humbug.

Lately, though, since I have the excuse of crazy, tiny human who won't let me go to the store without driving the car carts and buying at least two packs of M&Ms (I MAY have *something* to do with that. STOP JUDGING ME!), I've been sending texts to him indicating my preference that he be at my constant beck and call, and shower me with whatever food tickles my fancy. Are you surprised he's started ignoring my texts? See below.

From bed the day after I told him about the baby. He was letting me sleep in.

"Baaaaaacoooon..."
"Paaaancaaaaaaaakes...."
"Baaaaacooooon..."

A few days later. Hubby had texted to ask if he could go out with some friends after work. I had earlier said no problem. Please, before you label me "too crazy to be friends with any more" understand that these took place over an ENTIRE afternoon (about 4 hours).

"Changed my mind. Only ok if you bring home potato chips. I am not joking."
"Plain potato chips, no ruffles. Ruffles are for weenies."
"For real will you please bring me potato chips?"
"Poh-Tay-Toe chips. I shall not rest til thee are in mah belly! It's becoming a problematic obsession."
"Potato Chips or Perish!"
"If you'd acknowledge my request I wouldn't have to change the locks on the off-chance you come home WITHOUT potato chips. Which would be ridiculous."
Hubby: "There will be potato chips."
Me again: "Listen out your window! I think you'll be able to hear the Hallelujah Chorus from there. (thank you)"
"Do you hate me yet?"

Another day, around lunch time.
"Yeah, I'm gonna need a pie."

This is not food related, but I found it in my perusal of texts between me and hubby and it made me laugh.
"Ohh man, the kid just asked how the baby got in my tummy. I really wanted to say I ate it. Then she said "mom, I wish it was twins."

One evening trying to figure out dinner plans before end of day.

"Dear, could we please please have Noodles & Co for dinner? Could you please please bring it home with you?"
"Or enchiladas?"
"Or a giant pan of frosted brownies?"
"You should respond or I'm just going to keep sending you random foods."


And, finally, last night.
"I can't stop thinking about pudding...can you help a sister out? I mean, I know I'm not a sister but could you still pick up some pudding on your way home?"

I'd also like to add, that hubby is a good sport, and I do this mostly to amuse myself. He did bring the potato chips. And I think he brought Noodles & Co for me. Otherwise, he just ignores me and laughs at me when he gets home. As he should.

Checking In

Apologies for the sparse updates. It's hard to write when there's a lot I'm trying not to say. Yeah, confusing, I know. So here it is.

Anna's been giving me a run for my money with an increase in the frequency and intensity of her tantrums in the past month or so. In a moment of desperation I posted on Facebook in July and got some GREAT advice from a lot of my parent/nanny friends there (Thank you ALL again!!). It was much appreciated and I've woven bits of all of it into my ever-changing strategies for dealing with Anna's fiery temper. I also checked out "The Happiest Toddler on the Block" from our local library. Had some good points, but I gotta tell you, it's difficult to lend a lot of credibility to advice given by a non-parent about parenting (who isn't a teacher/nanny). Especially when it involves baby-talking to my child who has been speaking in complete sentences for 6+ months.

Amidst the melt-downs (for Anna and mom!), there have been a few funnies, so I'll share them in an effort to focus on the good tonight.

1. In the car earlier today, Anna and I were discussing the days of the week. I told her today was Thursday, which means tomorrow is Friday - the start of the weekend and we'll get daddy all to ourselves! She promptly and seriously responded, "no, mom, you can have him all to YOURself. I'm going to Hootie's (my mom's). If you miss me, you can just call me." Apparently, now that she's 3, she's arranging her own babysitters.

2. Last week Anna told me she wants to be "a police" when she grows up. I told her that's a very important job. And she responded, "yes, and then I'll get to have a whistle." I'm taking submissions for my list of OTHER jobs that also allow a whistle - perhaps jobs that won't lead to stress ulcers for her parents!

3. "Mom, gimme your rings, I need to go marry Uncle Mike." Eh, my brother's a catch. Enough said.

4. This story I've been sitting on because I wasn't sure I wanted to tell it publicly, but it's too funny not to share. We got a Little Mermaid book from the library a while ago. Anna was looking at the cover and suddenly exclaimed, "Oh, Mommy! Look! Look at her beautiful BOOBS! They're big and beautiful JUST LIKE YOURS!" Why, thank you, sweetheart. I'm not really sure how to respond to that.

5. I'd like to give major credit to my two friends who showed up for dinner at my house last week only to discover that Anna had decided to make it a naked dinner and sat COMPLETELY naked at the table, conversing and eating as though nothing were amiss. These two didn't miss a beat and acted like everything was normal. Maybe they suspect that most meals at my house are pants-optional? I'm not sure I want that reputation.

And now I'm signing off to attempt to do some dishes before bed. To the sounds of Anna playing hide and seek in her bed with her jaguar beanie baby. Strangely comforting.