Our Little Lady July 20, 2008

I think that every mom dreams of having a daughter, though I can attest to the fact that mothers of boys are ferociously protective of their little boys, and it would take wild oxen to drag the truth out of most of them, we even deny it to ourselves. However, I can firmly attest to the fact that having a daughter is absolutely delightful! So far she mostly sleeps, and barely wakes up to eat. And we all take turns passing her around. The Captain and the Adventurer cuddle her, doing their best to make sure she keeps sleeping while they hold her. The Entertainer talks ‘baby talk,’ I have no idea why, very loudly into her ear, and does his best to make sure that she wakes up. Lilly will peek out of half of one eye, see all those curly locks in her face, and quickly pretend to fall back asleep.

They fly their paper airplanes, genously letting her keep one, when it lands on her face, the Entertainer was gracious enough to share his pirate-eye patch with her yesterday, and they love to style her.

Brandon took them shopping on Friday night to get her some things. They came back with the sweetest little dress (very fashionable, I might add), to go with her “princess shoes,” and a sparkly head-band, and a lovely purple shirt for when she is 3. We dressed her all up, and took pictures, the boys were so proud. Brandon told me later that they practically cleared out the baby-girl section of Target, loading all the things they loved into the cart. Narrowing it down had taken some time!

Lilly, as we will call her in Blog-land, has long finger and toes, dark hair that will surely turn golden like her brothers all have, and the prettiest little mouth. She is just as soft and snuggly as anything, and I can hardly wait to watch her blossom into a little girl. I think the very best part is how easy she is to love, and knowing that I felt exactly the same about each of her brothers before her. How do you love someone totally new just as much? She is number four, it shouldn’t confound my mind anymore, but it still does! She is a beautiful note to end on, and I have high hopes that she will be just as sweet as she will have to be tough. Pampering at the hands of older brothers does come at a price!

I think that I am only sad that this part of life is already finished… how did our little nest fill up so quickly? I can hardly wait to march right along, though I can say I will be doing it while paying a fair-bit more attention to these days that are so quickly flying by. As quickly as the last 7 years have gone, I am sure that the next 18 will fly by with unparalleled speed. How does life rush on so quickly, especially during days that seem so long? I will never understand.

Salud! Here’s to really living! H

When left to imagine… July 20, 2008

After breakfast this morning, I sat down to feed Alivia, and fell fast asleep. Brandon was out like a light too, he gets so worried about me after each baby, and despite my demands that he rest, he never does. So, our three boys got very busy in the land of “No Supervision.” It is amazing what they can do in 30 minutes. There was laundry everywhere, there were legos everywhere, there was play dough everywhere, and a random assortment of other toys. My boys were also wearing an inordinate number of shirts…

So, after they had cleaned up the play dough and the legos and the laundry, and an assortment of other things, they giddily had me sit down on the couch and watch their “show.” Apparently, they had spent their time brainstorming how to become Chip and Dale dancers. Now, where they got this idea from, I will never know. But after pealing off three shirts each, they kicked off their pants to reveal that they were each wearing about a dozen pairs of underwares. The Captain had the great idea of putting some red ones on first, so that he would know when he got to the end. The Adventurer didn’t have enough foresight to think of such good ideas. Anyhow, my husband and I sat on the couch laughing until we cried, wondering exactly why boys like to be naked so much, and being very amazed by what little minds can dream up in so short a time.

Here’s to Happy Dancing! Salud! H

She Made It! July 19, 2008

Our lovely little girl has made it into our lives, hurray! She is healthy and happy and just as wonderful and sweet as can be. So far she mostly only sleeps, and I am beginning to think it is a coping mechanism for dealing with her eager brothers… They adore her, all three of them, and sometimes I get a little anxious, waiting for my turn to hold her! Learning “all things girl” has been much less intimidating than I expected, and we are all having a blast primping! I think I’ll call her “Lilly” (at least here)- she’s our little flower!

Salud! H

Disclaimer… July 10, 2008

Everything posted in this blog is directly from the mind of a woman who is dangerously close to going overdue with her fourth child, who just so happens to the first girl in a family with three boys. Any sane parts left in me are 100% nervous about having a girl, which is probably why she hasn’t decided to be born yet.

Posts added in the following days, weeks, and months will probably not reflect the true feelings of this blogger, as they will be skewed by the induction of an infant, a huge hormonal shift, sleep deprivation, and the devastating realization that bodies are a lot like balloons: Blow them up and deflate them to many times, and you’ll be left with a sad looking, wrinkly mess that is double it’s original size. Anything I post will not be credible or sane, and should be taken with a grain of salt.

Thank you. H

PS: If any one has a magical way to induce labor that does not involve: Walking, sex, nipple stimulation, oregano, basil, cumin, red leaf-tea, evening prim-rose oil, warm baths, or grotesque amounts of pineapple, YOU HAD BETTER LEAVE A POST!

The Adventurer’s Big Adventure… July 8, 2008

Last summer, we took our boys to see our local minor league baseball team. As we were ducking out early, my husband caught a fly ball, and handed it to the Adventurer. He was 3 years old, and he was hooked. All he wanted for Christmas and his birthday in the spring was baseball stuff. Gloves, helmets, bats, a tee-ball stand, grandma even made him a baseball apron. He LOVES baseball.

So, you can imagine our excitement when we moved to FL, and found out that the Big East Championship was going on. We’d only been here are week and a half, but B took the afternoon off to take us all to see some college baseball. The Adventurer pouted the whole time. No one hit him a baseball. He even tried hanging around the bull-pen (hope that’s the right term), pouting for a ball. No luck. It was a long car ride home, as we explained that catching a ball is something really special. It maybe only happens once or twice, if you are lucky.

3 days later, my dad took us all to see the Ray’s play. Having been thoroughly warned that he would not be getting a ball, the Adventurer was put on a “no pouting” alert, and we headed off to eat way to many dollar hot-dogs.

I think it was in the 5th inning that I looked down the row, past my parents, and my brother and his wife, and realized that something was not right with the Adventurer. Apparently he had dropped something behind the seat in front of him, and had gotten his arm stuck, really, really stuck. They called the EMT’s, they called for back-up. 30 minutes, and half a gallon of vasaline later, with four huge men pulling on the seat backs with all their strength, his arm finally came free. As I was signing the incident report, the EMT tells me, “I’ll go grab him a ball, so that he feels better.” Inwardly, I groaned.

Sure enough, he came back not only with a ball, but a hat and a t-shirt and a glove and some baseball cards, and even a toy car for the Entertainer.

The rest of the night, he was in deep thought, trying to figure out why the man had given him so much stuff. As we pulled into the driveway, the light bulb went off. “I know why he gave me all this stuff, it’s because my arm got stuck, daddy!”

And that is how the Adventurer scored his second baseball. It is also why I am a little nervous to go see any more Ray’s games. That and the dollar hot dogs.

Salud! H

This is a Public Service Announcement: July 5, 2008

FYI: If you are a man who wears his shirts with the sleeves cut off, and the seam cut out of the side, you need to be informed of the facts: IT IS NOT SEXY. Yes, as much as I am sure you would love to see young hot women riding their motorcycles down the street with the sides of their shirts split open, WE DO NOT SHARE THE SENTIMENT. Your hairy chichas and flabby tummy will never turn me on, especially not from the gaping side-view you so proudly display.

Secondly: If you are a man who has embraced the Banana Hammock, all I have to say to you is exactly what my little boys say, “EWWW mommy, why is that man wearing lady underwear at the beach?!?” It doesn’t matter if you are weight-lifter guy with the broad shoulders and the cocky-walk and ray bans, or if you are the leathery-looking skinny old guy, or the fat man with the hairy chest, or anyone in between. I guarantee every woman on the beach is thinking the same thing, and it’s not “wow look at him work that roll of quarters..” It’s more like, “Eww, nasty. Look away, and avert the stares of young children!” As sexy as you think it is for women to wear a thong 3 sizes too small with no shirt or otherwise, WE DO NOT SHARE THE SENTIMENT!

Unfortunately I don’t think I have a wide reader base of men who would benefit from this information, but should you stumble upon it, my best advice is this: leave a little mystery. No, no A LOT, leave a lot of your body to the imagination. Please.

Salud!

Drug out into the street and shot July 5, 2008

Some women should be drug out into the street and shot. Frankly, there are several camps of women that drive me nuts, but today I want to focus on one particular group: Those with easy labors.

Specifically, the ones who say things like, “don’t worry about when your baby will come. 42 weeks isn’t a big deal, your baby will come out to meet you when he or she is ready. Your body knows what to do, it’ll kick into natural, spontaneous labor all on it’s own. Don’t try to rush it.”

Seriously?!?! Any woman who has given birth before should know better than to say crap like that. Don’t they remember what it is like to be waiting for a baby!?!?!?

This is my fourth pregnancy, and I can offically say that when it comes to labor and delivery, some of us truly are special ed. Despite going late, trying every recommendation I’ve come across with any validity, I have never gone into spontanious labor. My body is just as much a first-born as the rest of me. It’ll toy with the idea of going into labor, but it waits for permission. THANK GOODNESS all those wacky women with perfect birth stories aren’t my doctor. I would probably still be pregnant with my six-year old.

And while I’m at it, lets talk about the Lactivists. Last time I checked, breasts where still considered “private parts.” I still remember being in church with my oldest, who was about 2 weeks old. I was feeding him gasp a bottle, when a man walked up and asked, “what are you feeding him that for?” I think he saw the fire, or maybe tears, in my eyes and quickly swallowed his words, making a rapid exit, but not in time to miss my answer: “Because he’s hungry.” Seriously, it’s my job to feed my baby. We all know that breast milk is specially formulated to do that job, and I am a big fan of the whole process, but if I meet one more person who makes a mother feel bad for FEEDING her baby, I swear I am going to take the shank out of my purse and whack them in the knee-caps. My baby, my breasts, my business. What you do with your baby, and your breasts is your own personal business.

Which leads me directly into my final point: What you do with your baby and your breasts is YOUR personal business. Babies have to eat. I have no problem with any one who eats in public. I do have a problem with mothers who refuse to throw a blanket over snack-time. Seriously, it is NONE of my business! “Nursing is the most natural thing in the world…” they say. But so is going to the bathroom, or picking your nose, or having sex- all natural things, all should be done in private. Seriously, you put a diaper on your baby so that we don’t all have to see the wonderful natural overflow of lunch time, right? Well when your breasts are involved in lunch time, you should put something over them too. It’s not magical or sexy or natural for any of the rest of us. So, what you do with your baby and your breasts is your business, spare me from being involved in your mommy-baby time.

So, three things I hate: Women who’ve given birth and aren’t empathetic to women who don’t have an easy time going into labor, any one who makes a woman feel bad for feeding her baby (unless it involves the rest of us having to see her breasts), and women who don’t keep their breasts to themselves, which actually goes beyond my final group of “public nursers,” but opens a whole new can of worms that I don’t have time to deal with right now, because I have to go drink some more magical labor inducing tea.

Salud! H

Am I too close now? What about now? June 30, 2008

This weekend, B bought the boys “Milo and Otis.” I never knew it was so funny! The narrator starts the movie by saying something like: “The barn cat was about to become a new mother for the first time. She decided to always be a Very good mother, and to Never raise her voice or yell at her kittens. But almost from the moment Milo could walk, he was trouble. She would say, (sweetly), “Milo, don’t get to close to the - MILO GET AWAY FROM THE EDGE OF THE HAY LOFT, YOUR GONNA FALL!” (Going to the supper-sonic mom voice that only dogs and small children can understand.)

Later in the movie, the mother kitty takes the baby kittens to the dock and says, “Now children, this is the dock,and that is the river. You must not get to close to it.” Milo says, “How close is too close mother? Is this too close? What about this? I’m I too close now- ahh!” and he falls off the dock into the water and his mother has to jump in and save him.

The boys were watching it in the van, so I could only hear the movie, but I was laughing so hard I almost went into labor. Brandon looked over at me with a quizzical expression, while I bordered on hysterics, so thankful that there are moms who have had days just like mine…

Salud, and good Luck! H

I miss my family! June 23, 2008

My husband is a hero.

Thursday night he and our three boys hopped on a plane and flew to the opposite coast, for my family reunion. I know, that in itself is beyond heroic!

I was bummed because I had to stay home, something about the shift in cabin presure sending women into labour, and since I didn’t want to give birth somewhere over Texas, I had to kiss them all good-bye, and try not to cry before they went through the gate, alone in a new city.

Brandon, however, made me promise to do some fun things for myself. So my weekend was filled with hair appointments, shopping, a pre-natal massage, Life-time network movies, Italian Ice, and walks by the bay. I have been so spoiled and pampared this weekend…

And you know what? As relaxing and enjoyable as it has all been (and it has been AWESOME), I can’t wait to pick them up from the airport in a couple of hours. All his thoughtful pampering has been iceing on the cake of the wonderful life he daily provides us with, and I can’t wait to start eating cake again, so to speak.

Salud!

Disclaimer: My husband is pretty fantastic. He is also highly respectable, so if you try to use your wonton womanliness to scoop him up for yourself, you will find yourself highly disapointed. You will also find that all this resting has made me extreamly agile, and I will take you DOWN. Besides, there isn’t a woman (or plastic surgeon) in the world who can compete with my prego rack. But, should you still feel inclined, go for it. I’m feeling kinda fiesty.

Control Z (the short story) June 22, 2008

If someone tried to give Mrs. Brady a pixie-cut with a weed wacker, her hair would look EXACTLY like mine does right now. Still trying to determine if it was a bad cut, or just the most horrific blow-out known to have ever existed in any salon. Undo! Undo!

Salud! H