Catch Up

In my absence from the blog I have missed two very important events!

Happy 1 year anniversary to Marisa and Rusty on Oct. 21st! They celebrated in style by taking a quick trip to the Cayman Islands. They had a great time and enjoyed a few Cay Brews (island beer). Maybe too many Cay Brews?!

Remember a year ago?!

ALSO,

Congratulations to Andria, from Andria's Random Thoughts, and her family on the addition of baby Wyatt! He arrived last Wednesday to one very happy family and a proud big sister. Mama Andria was my wonderful pregnancy buddy this time around and I couldn't be happier for her and the fam!

Big sis Dellaina and baby Wyatt

10/31

Happy Halloween!

Last night we carved pumpkins (actually, David did the carving, Ella and I were the guts getter-outters). I already have a pumpkin in my lap so I was excused from carving duties!

E picked out the difficult pattern for her daddy to carve!

I was sweet and chose the easy one!

Advise Me

My dear, dear blog readers. Never did I expect the response that I got from my bitch fest post about my feet. Quite passionate about the subject, aren't y'all?! I have learned my lesson to keep my mouth shut and keyboard silent when it comes to pregnancy moans and groans! No matter what the comments were, I enjoyed reading them and seeing what everyone had to say. To that end, I thought I would try to elicit more comments from you.

So I'm going to ask for your advice. If you are a mother, hit me with your best motherly wisdom. I'm about to undertake a newborn and a (soon to be) four year old! Tell me something that I don't know and will help me enormously. If you are not a mother, lay down some real sage advice that may help me in life in general. I'm thinking along the lines of 'don't eat yellow snow'. Even if it doesn't help me in life, at least it will make me laugh!

Here's some of my own: 'Be particular' (which is good for things that range from what you are going to eat next to choosing a husband) and 'They make more of 'em every day' (in regards to breaking something, etc) - from The Sweet Potato Queens Book of Love.

Go.

M I A

Lest any of you worry, I am still here, very pregnant.

The blog has been quiet lately and I apologize. I don't know if it's because my brain has been so saturated with baby thoughts that I can't generate a coherent post? Or possibly it's because I am furiously trying to prepare my desk for someone to step in in my absence? Or, more likely, I am so damn focused on getting done with this biology experiement that I can hardly think of anything else.

Whatever the reason, I will try my best to keep up. I only have one week to go!

All Bran

Watch this commercial and pay close attention. I got such a laugh out of this!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RwX8MzOKOzI

All I can say is, you have got to be shitting me!

Photo Shoot

Angie made delivery of the profesh photos that she took Ella to and I am really pleased with them! Who knew Wally World could deliver the goods?!

When Angie and I were discussing the photos she made a comment about how I was crazy if I thought Ella looked anything like me. Umm, hello? Doesn't she know that I am volatile and don't want to hear that my genetics played no part in making my beautiful daughter?! Oh, she says, Ella definitely has my toes.

Well, faaaantastic.

Ashley Kate, take note, sweet baby. I'm expecting full genetic dominance! Your father will be insufferable if you take after him too. Toes don't count!

(Good grief I'm bitter!)

M.F.

Here it is. The not so good, the bad and the ugly of being 8 months pregnant. My meat feet.

Nobody ever said that gestation would be a cake walk and I certainly didn't plan for it to be (hope as I might). I have tried my hardest to be positive about the whole deal and sweetly reply to questions of how I'm doing with 'great!' all the while thinking something quite the opposite.

I don't want to be that girl who just bitches and moans about her pregnancy but then things like my swollen feet happen and I just cave into the temptation to complain, complain, complain. So here I am, attempting to use the blog as an outlet to shout my aches and pains at the world, and yet as I type I am nagged by the feeling that I should keep my gripes to a minimum.

'You knew what this was all about when decided to get pregnant' you may say, 'you're not the first person to ever have a baby' and 'the reward will make it all worth it'. True. Very true. And I know that. IknowIknowIknow.

So all I will say is I'M DONE. I'm done with my bulk and general largesse. I'm done with having to roll out of bed instead of sitting up. I'm done with my damn hips aching all the time. I'm done with maternity clothes that are gettting too small as I continue to grow. I'm done with having cankles and club feet. I'm done wondering what little baby Ashley will look like. I'm done wondering how in the world we are going to handle two kids.

Mother Nature, you are a wise yet cruel gal. You bring preggos to their knees, gladly willing to exchange the end of pregnancy with the fatigue of meeting the demands of a brand new baby. Like making a deal with the devil.

Where do I sign?

Prima Ballerina

Yesterday found me in Wal Mart spending a whole load of money (damn Wal Mart!). Of the many things that I bought were pieces of Ella's Halloween costume as a ballerina. I surprised her with them last night and she was immediately in luv. She even asked if she could put it on this morning! I've got plans for the big night of trick or treating that include putting her hair in a bun and maybe even some make up! (I get to play dress up! Yay!)

Getting her poses ready...

Although, I don't know what pose that is!

The mind of a child

David and Ella were sitting outside on our deck the other day just chatting and she came out with something only a kid would. I thought it was cute, of course!

Ella: 'Why did they build our deck?'

David: 'I built our deck, honey.'

Ella: 'Why did you build our deck?'

David: 'So that we could get into the house. Our door is high off the ground

and we needed something to help us get to it.'

Ella: 'Why don't we not have a deck and get some pogo sticks? We can bounce

high to the door.'

David: 'Well, honey, I don't think that would work very well...'

Ella: 'We could have a Daddy pogo stick and a Mama pogo stick and a little kids

pogo stick for me!'

David: 'We could... but I think our deck works pretty good.'

Ella: 'Ok.'

Punchy

David has been doing some leather work lately and Ella really wanted to help. (He makes belts, spur leathers, head stalls, etc. and then tools designs on them. Remember the spur leathers he made Ella for her birthday?!) Last night David got out a piece of scrap leather and let her go to town tooling on it. She had such a good time and was really into it! I was so amazed at her excellent coordination hitting the stamp that I couldn't resist a little video documentation. It's not all that exciting, but check out her mad skillz!

I think that we have the makings for some cheap child labor making belts! Although, with that accuracy, we could set her up with a hammer and some nails! If anyone needs hand crafted leather products or carpentry work, give us a call! :)

Start the Countdown!

Today marks the 4 week mark, y'all! I don't know if I have officially stated that I'm scheduled for my c-section on Nov. 6th? My money (and hopes) are on little Miss Ashley coming earlier than that, but we'll see!

Here is the latest picture I have subjected myself to. It's from last Thursday during our Tough Enough to Wear Pink BBQ. Since then I have gone and gotten my hair all darkened up for the fall (a little darker than I had planned, actually) so don't be surprised when you see me next!

Hmm... anyone remember my comments about Bert? Coming back to haunt me now!!

Glamour Shots

Angie took Ella to get her pictures taken yesterday (since her sorry slacker mother hasn't done it...) and I got a few photos before they left. Since I've been lax in posting photos of Ella lately I thought I would inundate you with three of them!

Little Miss Glamour Shots!

Scissors

I got this email and just laughed and laughed! Enjoy!


Of course they're scissors!!

Quote from the mom:

"This is my kindergarten's artistic rendering of a pair of scissors. I wonder what his teacher thought. I allowed myself just a small smirk when I saw it. I waited until he was out of the room before I started crying, from laughing so hard."

Well, of course they're scissors. If you know someone with small children or you are a teacher...you will love this! I can certainly imagine seeing this one
proudly displayed on the mother's fridge at home...

Lunch Hour

Live blog (sort of) of my quick trip home for lunch:

Arrive home.

Good grief those zinnias look bad. Damn caterpillars. What is your deal, Lilly? Come inside... oh, you must be out of water in the bucket outside because you are drinking copious amounts from the dish in here. Shit. Fill water bucket soon, Megan.

Go to bathroom.

When in the hell will this cold be over. I have blown my nose until it's going to fall off.

Knock on door. Lilly goes nuts.

Lilly! Chill out! I bet it's the mailman. Lilly! Back off!

Open door. Wave at mailman. Pick up mail.

A big box from... Laura! Ohh! I bet she is sending me something for Ashley! Yay! She's so on top of things!

Rip right into box.

What cute dresses! 18 months, sleeveless, perfect! Wait! Stop looking at the mail and get some lunch!

Put leftover slice of pizza and cheesestick into oven to reheat.

Damn, look at this sink full of dishes.

Unload and reload dishwasher.

Dishwasher isn't full enough to run... maybe I should start a load of laundry?

Go to bedroom. Make ugly face at the pile of clean clothes that need to be folded and put away.

Oh hell, did I already wash my shorts and sports bra for class tonight? Because if I didn't I can't wash them now. No time to dry them. Shit.

Dig through PILE of clothes.

Where in the hell are my shorts and sports bra? Wait! Aren't there clothes in the dryer? Please let them be in there.

Go to dryer.

A ha! Gotcha, shorts! No bra. It's not in the dirty clothes is it?

Go to dirty clothes basket. Take basket to washing machine. Fill washing machine. No bra.

Where in the eff is that thing?! At least it's not dirty. I'll find it after work. Oh crap! Both sets of wraps (for boxing) are dirty. Ugh. Oh well. They'll just get sweaty anyway.

Smell pizza.

Crap!

Run to oven.

Whew! Just in time. Eat fast, girl, you've piddled away your time!

Eat. Eat. Eat.

Pizza's probably not the best for the babe... Calcium! Protein! Carbs for energy! Mmmm... I bought ice cream yesterday at the grocery store. I wonder if I have time for a little taste?

Check watch.

No!

Grab apple instead.

Ok, I'm out. Wait! Start the washing machine!

Start washing machine.

Ok, I'm really out. Come on, Lilly. Oh shit, you need water. I'll get you some when I get home, ok girl? Great!

Walk speedily to car. Immediately begin wishing I had some ice cream.

Well, I do declare!

Mom sent me this website, not that I'm in the market for these products as she said, but because it's pretty damn funny. If you are slightly interested, I recommend checking out LeastLikely2Breed.net and reading the description of each product. They might make you blush, but I think when you are talking about such things you had better have a sense of humor about it all. Or else you will crack up. (Wow, was that a triple pun?!)

Yes, that says Mother Effer's Va-J-J Jelly

B.F.F.

Oh, Tylenol PM, I love you so much.

When a girl gets to be of a certain size in her midsection sleep can become elusive. Sleep can become even more elusive if said large bellied girl catches a cold where she can't breathe during futile attempts at sleep.

Cranky preggo + head cold = a side of preggo that is generally reserved for those who love her the most and are more apt to forgive her for ugly behavior, showing up at work.

Consult with nurse at doctors office, get list of approved medicines and hit up the drug section of the grocery store like a mad woman.

Enter Tylenol PM riding in on a white horse and delivering two nights of sleep that isn't perfect but damn close.

From the mouth of my doctor at today's appointment: "Tylenol PM is perfectly safe. You could take it every night if you wanted to." How did she know that was exactly what I was contemplating?!

Invisible Woman

I have gotten this email a few times and each time I do, I think about posting it. Finally, here it is!

If you are a mom, I'm sure this will speak volumes to you. If you are not a mom, it will at least make you think about how your own mother feels about you.

The Invisible Woman

It started to happen gradually. One day I was walking my son Jake to school. I was holding his hand and we were about to cross the street when the crossing guard said to him, "Who is that with you, young fella?" "Nobody," he shrugged. "Nobody?" The crossing guard and I laughed. My son is only 5, but as we crossed the street, I thought, "Oh my goodness, nobody?"

I would walk into a room and no one would notice. I would say something to my family - like "Turn the TV down, please" - and nothing would happen. Nobody would get up, or even make a move for the remote. I would stand there for a minute, and then I would say again, a little louder, "Would someone turn the TV down?" Nothing.

Just the other night my husband and I were out at a party. We'd been there for about three hours and I was ready to leave. I noticed he was talking to a friend from work. So I walked over, and when there was a break in the conversation, I whispered, "I'm ready to go when you are." He just kept right on talking. That's when I started to put all the pieces together. I don't think he can see me. I don't think anyone can see me. I'm invisible.

It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I'm thinking, "Can't you see I'm on the phone?"

Obviously not! No one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all.

I'm invisible.

Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more: Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this? Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being. I'm a clock to ask, "What time is it?" I'm a satellite guide to answer, "What number is the Disney Channel?" I'm a car to order, "Right around 5:30, please."

I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated summa cum laude -but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again.

She's going, she's going, she's gone!

One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England. Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself as I looked down at my out-of-style dress; it was the only thing I could find that was clean. My unwashed hair was pulled up in a banana clip and I was afraid I could actually smell peanut butter in it. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, "I brought this for you."

It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe. I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her inscription: "To Charlotte, with admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees." In the days ahead I would read - no, devour - the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work:

* No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record of their names.
* These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished.
* They made great sacrifices and expected no credit.
* The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything.

A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, "Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof? No one will ever see it." And the workman replied, "Because God sees."

I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, "I see you, Charlotte. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become."

At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a disease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride. I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder...as one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on. The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree.

When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friend he's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, "My mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table." That would mean I'd built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, to add, "You're gonna love it there."

As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women.

Far Sides

Orange Wishes

Happy Birthday to Jim!

Today is Jim's 40-something birthday! Yippee! I'm sure he's celebrating in high Home Depot style! (He's a store manager where I Can Do It and He Can Help.)

My mom is so crazy. (Have you ever wondered where I get it?!) She had a bobblehead of Jim made for his birthday! I think the people did a pretty good job with his likeness, don't you?

Too bad the bobblehead people couldn't put a Depot apron on him!

Bugaphobia

Saturday David and I took Ella to K-State's Insect Zoo. She wasn't hesitant about going since I told her that all of the bugs would be behind glass where she couldn't touch them and they couldn't touch her. She's so cool.

There was one section of the place that had a 'petting zoo' and she did touch the wandering leaf bug. In my attempt to get her to touch the other things, I had to go first. So I touched a giant millipede and a tarantula. Yeah. A TARANTULA! Which she did not touch, btw. Holy crap the things I do to try and be a good mother!

Generally I can handle bugs OK, especially in front of Ella because I don't want to transfer my fear/grossed-out-ness to her. I am very hard pressed, however, when it comes to roaches. I just can't stand the nasty, nasty, super speedy little shits. (I always imagine them crawling up my arm or something.)

So here we go, tra la la, through the insect zoo. All the way up to the big freakin' display of roaches. Ugh. I start to get a little uneasy, maybe feel a bit of a chill and perhaps hold back the urge to throw up. Now it seems very rational and likely that they will escape from their little glass boxes and crawl all over me. These are no little shits, as mentioned before. Oh no, these are BIG, FOUR INCH LONG mo-fo's that could take a person down if they wanted to, I'm sure. AND THEY HISS. Heaven help me.

I had to walk away.

Ella Grace, in her kind, unfreaked out by the ginormous roaches way, says "It's ok, Mama, they are behind the glass". Such a dear, sweet child. I say "Thank you, baby, I know" from my safe place way across the room.

I think I'll take another round with that tarantula.

Teaching mama how to be cool with bugs is tough work.