Jack is growing more and more independent every day. This week he is picking out his outfits - normally I give him a choice and he usually picks out his pants. He refuses to wear jeans to the sitter because (and I quote) "they come undone when I slide down the stairs and it hurts." Point taken. Elastic band pants or actual buttons to the sitter's house. So, this week has been baseball themed except for the shirt today that he decided was too big, so we opted for Star Wars instead. Yesterday took the cake. He was absolutely adamant about the socks and shoes. Exhibit A:

I explained that we usually don't rock the socks/sandals combo and that they might be easier to wear without socks, which sent him into a heap on the floor. We wore the socks. Note that one is upside down. Note that Charlotte (in the car seat) is not wearing shoes. I don't think her feet have grown since birth. She cannot wear shoes - she swims in them and they fall right off of her feet - if they don't first wind up in her mouth. Toes to mouth is her favorite way to roll. Speaking of rolling, she's rolling, scooting, and squirming. She barely stays in the Bumbo seat. So far she has unraveled a roll of paper towels, pulled a plant down, and examined a bunch of bananas, and gone for the knives (thank you hubs for intercepting that one) while sitting atop her perch. Either we get a tray or she is no longer the counter top helper. She is lightning fast - quicker than even Jack was. She goes in circles on her belly and scoots backwards. Her tooth came through (!) and she is sampling baby veggies. Sweet potatoes:
I have a nearly identical picture of Jack eating carrots. Speaking of which:
Charlotte's head is not quite as massive (he has power alleys too!), but fun to remember Jack at that age. Right now could be his most fun yet. He is discovering and playing and growing so compassionate and loving. He is very proud of his potty training and decided to make the backyard his personal toilet the other night...#2, on the steps. He came in, breathless, and reported that "Maddie ate my poop!". Yes, my dog. Should I even be writing this? The fact that he went outside is enough, but the dog. The dog! Thank heavens for privacy fences. So, not only is the dog demolishing the sock population of the house (I'm not sure we have any actual matching pairs), she is also the sewage department. She has also eaten two pairs of Charlotte's shoes (not that she ever could wear them, I guess), her jacket, numerous stuffed animal ears, and so on. But how can you not love her?
Anywho, I leave you today with more pictures of my babes. Oh, they make me smile...

March Madness has begun and I assume that since productivity levels at work have plummeted, I might as well throw a blog into the mix. Last night I was thinking of a brilliant post and of course today has brought me back to a blank slate. I can't think straight, I'm sleep deprived and worn down! Miss C has decided that teething should be taken to a whole new level and our household is all paying the price. Except maybe the cat - which brings me to my original thoughts from last night. Random much? I have a list of things that I need to do in my house that simply cannot get finished for all of the reasons mentioned above. The baby papasan that is hardly used has now become a cat's bed on our bedroom floor. It's gross, and if I don't wash it soon and put it away, I'm going to be able to make a blanket out of the hair collecting on it. The problem is that he is always sleeping in it, and I have a problem disturbing sleeping things, people, babies, etc. I have paint sitting in our entryway - which has been painted, but my next project - which I have decided is painting the den - remains untouched. My closet is a hellhole of unorganized shoes, scarves, and purses that I've been saying I'll "clean up" for weeks. I have pictures that need organizing and put into frames. My house isn't a hovel of filth - it's actually pretty clean all things considered - but the things that haven't been done really need doing. I used to be a night owl, doing my most productive work after everyone had gone to bed. Now I'm lucky if I make it to the 10:00 Golden Girls on Hallmark.

The kids are growing wildly fast. I don't even know where to begin. I started thinking about Jack being a little boy now instead of a toddler and I just wanted to wrap him up in my arms like he was a baby again. I miss the days of doing "rockie" in the chair before bedtime and watching him learn to walk. His huge open-mouthed smiles and pulling everything out of the cabinets. Now he's using words like "interested" and "mystery" and organizing his blocks by color. When did he get so grown up? He only wants to wear sweats and insists on taking "bp" in the house. Charlotte is doing so many things like her big brother did - squealing and wriggling all over like a little worm. I think we have a little pistol on our hands...she is desperate to sit up, eat big girl food, and crawl. Her eyes have an ornery twinkle and she can cry and cry in some one's arms, then when I take her, she laughs at them. Laughs! She is ticklish and loves kisses and is starting to belly laugh...one of my favorite sounds in the whole world. So much like her brother, yet so completely different. I constantly pinch myself because I am amazed that I got two of the coolest kids around.

Tonight and this weekend, I will attempt to sandwich some projects in between basketball games some much needed hops, and some nice long runs. Let's hear it for the Jayhawks, my hubby, and my kiddos...love you!

Yesterday we bid farewell to one of the happiest, silliest, amazing hearted women ever...sweet G'ma Margaret. A lady who truly lived, laughed, and loved...and we will miss her dearly. Some of my favorite memories of G'ma include: Her big, dangly earrings - she loved her costume jewelry (maybe where I got my adoration for it) and as a kid I was always amazed at her earrings. She loved to play pitch and was a cheat! As my cousin fondly remembered, she only needed the "ace/deuce" to win a hand, which she usually did. The lady hated to lose and was fiercely competitive. We played a lot of dominoes in the last few years and I remember she'd sneak pieces out of her stash into the "bone pile" to go out faster. She loved ice cream (something I may have inherited as well, darn it!) and I think might have eaten it for every meal if she was allowed. She was such a doll with her scratchy voice and easy laugh. I was touched at all of the memories shared at her funeral. Memories I shared with my cousins and some from before I was born, yet I was delighted just the same. Such a doll...I will miss her to bits. One of the things I hate about funerals is seeing grown men weep...and my tough guy cousins were all brought to tears and it was heart wrenching, but clearly the woman was cherished by all. And leave it to my Jack Jack to bring a smile to my face...after I read a scripture and was leaving the podium, he says for all to hear, "Good job, mama," then reaches for a big hug. Wow, I love that kid. He kept telling us he missed Grandma Margaret and that we needed to be quiet not to wake her. Such a sweetie. He never misses a beat. Someone said to me today, "It's easy to be lighthearted around children." And it's true - they make the toughest situations easier to swallow...xoxo G'ma Marg.

I keep thinking of things lately that I need to mention. Things about Jack that I am afraid I will forget...like at the sitter's when he and B get married and do their wedding dance while I watch. Or how they played brother and sister and "slept" on the floor for a slumber party. Today he smooched her cheek while she giggled helplessly. Or how he walks past and says, "I can't talk now, I have to go to baseball practice," or "Mom, I'm going to football practice, I'm on the Chiefs." The way he jumps around the room shooting an imaginary gun because I won't let him play with a real one or using the vacuum cleaner attachments as baseball bats. Always asking me who I want to be - will it be Princess Leia, Alicia from Diego, Ariel, or any of the other female counterparts to his male heroes. We are always pretending. He often pretends he's his cousin, Cade - Charlotte is Riley and hubby and I are my sister and her husband. Our house is a fantasy land of characters and the hilarity of it never gets old. What are my favorite colors? Do I like purple, orange, or red (I think we all know the answer to that one). The way he says, "Mommy, come sit by me, I love you," or "I missed you while you were gone today." These words have become so frequent lately and I hope he never loses that soft-hearted little personality I adore. I love you, Bubby!

Jack has come up with some real beauties lately. I'm trying to decide where he gets his wicked sense of humor and wit and I realize I have to look no further than the mirror. Ha. Seriously - after two years, his favorite song remains "Low" by Flo Rida. Not a particularly child (or woman) friendly song, but hilarious all the same to watch him sing it 1. To his sister while naked 2. While using his great-grandmother's cane as a microphone ("Ladies and gentlemen," he says), or 3. In the car and telling me that not only am I not allowed to dance to it, but if I sing to it, I will spit up. Spit up = throw up in Jack's book. Our babysitter is endlessly delighted by his charming ways. The other day while she took him on some errands, he told her - rather loudly - as they passed the beer cooler, that "My dad LOOOOVES beer. I mean, looooves it." So, I'm sure that not only does she think we are alcoholics, but that we also love misogynistic music. All class, all the time. Today he threw up at the sitters...which on a normal day would have been fine, but came on the heels of a three day stint in the hospital for Miss Charlotte (thank you, pneumonia - mother of the year here). The hits just keep on coming!

So Charlotte is a zillion times better. Her hoarse little cries and horrible cough were so sad. I was truly scared for the little gal. I drug her all the way to Texas to meet her great grandma and she was such a trooper. After three days in the hospital and wrapping every nurse around her chubby little finger, we headed home for several more days of isolation. It's one thing to be home, but another one completely to know that you really. can't. leave. Wow. I know for a fact that I ate an entire box of Thin Mints in less than 24 hours. Those damn Girl Scouts probably give you way fewer cookies than they used to. And they're so delicious coming out of the freezer. Charlotte learned how to roll from her belly to her back, so she's officially on the move now, rolling, rolling all over the floor. I think she might be even busier than her brother. She does not want to miss a minute. A photo of her practicing:
She is a wild woman for sure. I'm thinking she will keep dear old dad on his toes so it might be convenient that dad is handy when it comes to hunting.

A few other photos of the kiddos:

So, over the terrifically busy (and tiring) weekend, I managed to co-host a successful jewelry party, make Valentine snacks for a brunch, drink too much wine, and watch in delight as my little girl rolled from her back to her belly. She is so pleased! I am simultaneously thrilled and sad that she is already reaching (I accidentally typed reading first - wouldn't that be something!?) these milestones. This little gal is moving right along. I believe her bottom middle teeth are ready to burst through. She is close to gnawing her little fist off. Time is flying for my little gal who is growing like a weed and blowing raspberries nonstop. She is so darling!

I pre-enrolled Jack in preschool today. I think I'm fine, but now I'm realizing that the tears are slightly welling up thinking of it. Preschool? Really? I really believe he needs a challenge - the boy is so smart. He's ready for anything. I hope some innocent girl doesn't get the wrath of his fist like B at the sitter's did last week. Poor gal - took it like a champ. Two bites, a punch to the gut, and he managed to knock her off of a toy chair. I think he's just a boy and this is how they function because their little minds don't know what else to do. I'm sure Charlotte will treat us to her girly dramatic meltdowns when the time comes - the kiddos just handle frustration differently.But anywho, it is totally unacceptable and we are definitely working on it. I hold my breath on the walk up to the sitter's door - waiting to hear the latest. He really is a love bug, honestly. Last week at gymnastics he was convinced a darling redhead was a baby and insisted he needed to hold her. He smothered her with hugs, baby talk, and repeatedly tried to hold her hand. "But I wanted to hold that baby," he kept saying. She (and her father) were good sports about it. I'm a little nervous for tomorrow. I have to say, that's what impresses me most about Jack right now. He loves babies. Baby babies, baby animals...he saw a baby Panda on TV last night and that was it. "I want that baby Panda, mama, I want it." The baby kittens in his new (old) favorite movie The Aristocats..."That baby kitty, mama, I love it." I want to buy him 14 baby kittens and watch him bask in their tiny cuteness.

I told hubby the other day that I wouldn't mind a third little G running around. I got the old eyebrow raise and was assured that we aren't ready to run a zone defense and we need to stick to man to man. I think maybe I might be high on spit-up fumes or just the fact that I adore my little peanuts more than I can say. I know I say it a lot, but they are the most precious gifts I could ever have. My dreamy little babies who light up my world...they make me laugh, cry, love, and live.

Happy Third, My Little Bear!

Happy third birthday, my little babe! Thursday, February 8, at 1:03 in the afternoon, you came into this world...a lunchtime baby they called you. I labored for 29 1/2 hours - you were determined to stay in my belly forever - and after 45 minutes of pushing, there you were! Perfect! So much brown, crazy hair...foreshadowing to your personality, I suppose. Your fingers and toes were so tiny - just seven pounds of you laying in my arms (at least 5.5 was your bucket head!), gazing at me as if to say, "I know you."

How in the world have three years gone by so quickly? I swear it was only yesterday when you were somersaulting around inside my belly and today you are running around doing it in gymnastics class. You are my bouncy, crazy, silly, funny, wild, tender-hearted little man...ornery like a little boy should be, sometimes naughty like you shouldn't be, and at the same time, such a lovable little fellow.

You entered the world pretty quietly and contently, but it didn't last long. You were easy and happy and as soon as you found your voice you were hollering and laughing to anyone who would listen. You came with me everywhere. You skipped over crawling and went straight to running. You occasionally shared a water dish with the dogs. Walking at nine months...talking a short time later. You'd say "woof woof!" constantly. I can't remember when I haven't been able to have a conversation with you. I discovered so much about myself from having you...a capability to love a person more than I could have imagined. You captured my heart with your puppy dog eyes and easy laugh. You did everything so quickly and wanted to grow up so fast! I went sleepless for nearly a year because you woke up a zillion times a night. To eat, chat, poop, whatever...I didn't even mind because it meant a few more precious minutes with you. The first day I dropped you off at the sitter, I cried all day. I no longer cry but it hasn't gotten any easier. Ok, I'll be honest, sometimes I do still cry.

You are growing so fast...you question everything in the world. What does this animal eat? I saw the firetrucks, who is hurt? What's this? Where's that? Endless questions for your curious little mind. You are such a boy's boy...loving the outdoors, football, and hunting (gasp!) because your daddy does. You love animals immensely. You are convinced that only certain colors, driving, and football are for boys. You can't wait to ride your Lightning McQueen bike when the weather gets warmer and you are counting the days until you can be Daddy's bat boy this summer. You are too smart for your own good - and you know it. You are witty and silly and the perfect three-year old package.

I am so proud of how much you love your baby sister...I love to watch you with her. My heart melts when you touch her face and baby talk with her. I adore that you hold her and just want to watch her at times...you truly are a wonderful big brother. You are turning into such a little man...it breaks my heart that you are no longer a baby, even though you will always be mine. I love you, my little bear...happy birthday!

As I often do, I read about my friend Sarah at Mashed Bananas and am reminded that I need to blog. She is a better woman than I, doing it at night, away from work, but that's not the way I roll. Maybe I just don't have enough to do here...maybe I just don't want to do it.

First off, I thank the potty training gods for finally getting Jack over the hump. Again, could have been the Diego underpants or just the simple fact that the child was ready. Hubby and I are breathing a collective sigh of relief. Those damn pull-ups were sucking the life out of me and my wallet. We still aren't where we can go pull-up-less at night, but as long as the days are dry, I'm good. No accidents for a couple of weeks now...(sorry little guy, hope I didn't jinx you!**).

Life is immensely better with Miss Charlotte in the world...and I'll get to that...but balance. How do you do it and not feel guilt? My house is nowhere near the cleanliness level I need and it's driving me insane. I want to be with my kids more. I want to work, too. My jeans don't fit and it's making me want to cry. I don't think a beautiful wardrobe of shoes matters when there's nothing to go on top. Speaking of top, don't get me started. I sincerely believe I am within five lbs and realize that it does take time, but I need my jeans. I refuse to spend money on new ones at this point out of sheer stubbornness. My wardrobe is taking a major hit without denim. I can't wear sweats to work every day. I remember thinking it took about six months for things to feel normal on my body again, but that six months is still two and a half work months away. Shit! I constantly remind myself that all of this is worth it, and it is. It totally is, but I tend to lose sight of that when I'm standing in my closet, bawling for 45 minutes, cursing at my husband for having zero sympathy, late to Christmas dinner because there's nothing that can possibly fit my post-baby body. F*&K!

But Charlotte...Charlotte is an absolute dream girl. She is insanely spoiled - I can barely put her down, and that's just the way she likes it. When she's ready to get out of her swing or seat and she fusses a bit, she immediately laughs when I pick her up, as if to say, "Ha! I got you!" I love her kicking and excitement when she sees me! I almost forgot the joy that a little baby can bring with her discoveries and personality. Of course Jack has been delighting us with his tooting ("it's firetrucks!"), going to the bathroom ("I fell in the pee water, Mom"), recent infatuation with Luke Skywalker (sunglasses on, "I'm Skywalker" - even though he's never seen the show ??), apparent new hobby of peeing in the sink (?!?), filling the sink ("swimming pool") with cat food and water, to reasons why he should not eat boogers (he doesn't, but said, "what if I get hungry?"). The child is a pistol.

Charlotte makes up for it in coolness. Sleeps like a dream and wakes up smiling. How could I not enjoy waking up to a face like hers? She is finding her voice - yelling and squealing - and has even rolled from front to back. Obviously a genius child. To my horror, I think she is teething. How is this happening so fast? I am not prepared for this. My daughter! daughter! ...already pushing four months in the blink of an eye. I haven't decided yet who she looks like. I think she just looks like her darling little self with a bit of her mom's nose and her brother's wild hair (also inherited from her mother). I can't wait to see who she looks like, who she is, yet I want her to stay a snugly baby forever.

And finally, some photos...the "swimming pool" and a few other candids of the kiddos...


The final picture is obviously a cop car parade in the refrigerator...Jack puts things in there to keep them safe from Maddie, and just because he likes playing in the fridge in general (it's where all of his "deliveries" are when he plays mailman. I've gotten many applesauce, jello, mustard, and cream cheese packages).

**Editor's note...I totally jinxed him.

I'm trying to balance work and two kids, the guilt that comes along with being home for the last three months and suddenly leaving them. I hate it. I love a paycheck and I love using my brain for adult conversation and tasks, but I miss my kiddos. I will say, some bad habits can develop over the course of a long maternity leave. For one thing, there's only so much you can do with a two-year old and a newborn when it's cold out, and I became an expert at every show on Nick, Jr. I know every show that's on HGTV and I was briefly obsessed with Ellen DeGeneres (I really miss her and really think we could be besties). And no, I don't need to eat every single time I'm nursing Charlotte - or do I? What's another handful of Cheez-its when you are married to your sweats? But I digress. It's the first week back to work and I'm not happy about it. I find myself wondering if it's real. Did I ever actually leave? It's like summer vacation - once you step back into the school, it's a distant memory. I sometimes think I am still pregnant and thought I saw my former big-bellied self in a window reflection.

Charlotte is a dreamy little gal who is at her chattiest in the morning (probably because she actually sleeps!!!) and loves to have her diaper changed (foreshadowing to an easy potty training, perhaps?). She is starting to holler and laugh and I love it. She is such an easygoing baby - how did we get so lucky? Two fantastic babes! Jack is finally agreeing to go to the bathroom...could it be the Diego underwear? Maybe it's the Pop Rocks that hubby has turned him onto when he goes alone. Either way, I'm at the point where I'd feed him sugar cubes just to be done with it, so I think we're almost there!

Speaking of Jack. He is not interested in sharing his parents with little Charlotte. Don't get me wrong, he treats her wonderfully, but the brunt of his frustration is now taken out on mom. He is no longer mama's boy, but daddy's. He talks back. He hits things. He even told me I was going to get my ass spanked. Very nice. Especially considering ass is the one cuss word that hasn't slipped out in front of him, so I'm wondering where he heard it. I don't want him to hate me and I know he doesn't, but it hurts. Just the other morning he was laying with hubby and I came in to kiss him, he said, "Don't bother us, Mommy." Sob. This morning I brought him milk and he said, "I want Daddy to bring the milk, not you." Sob sob. I cried to hubby but he doesn't get it. He didn't nurse the child for a year, wake up with him every two hours for almost a year, cry at work when he left him for the first time, pump milk every day at work for a zillion days, sing the KU alma mater and any other song he wanted at bedtime (I'm no longer wanted at bedtime now, apparently), carry him everywhere, even while nine months pregnant because I wanted to hold him for as long as possible, and sneak into his bedroom long after he was sleeping just to see him one last time...I could go on, but then I'd be crying even harder. Like any mother, I will keep trying, keep loving, and keep waiting for him to come back around.

Can eleven weeks have passed already? Just a few short weeks ago I was hugely pregnant, hoping for baby to come on its own, treating Jack to a day all his own where he ate Cheetos, hot dogs, pizza, went to the zoo, and he purchased a Hawaiian Punch out of a machine just for the sheer novelty. I don't believe he drank a drop. My big boy is now looking huge and so grown up compared to his new baby sister. Miss Charlotte...born on October 7 at 5:07 pm after an eternity of waiting.

I never went into labor on my own...Miss Stubborn was facing the wrong way and didn't want to budge. She wanted in my warm belly forever...maybe she knew the Jayhawks were ready to begin a skid so horrendous she couldn't witness it...who knows. She didn't come around until about 4:15 in the afternoon when she decided to turn, my body decided to dilate and she moved down over the course of 15 minutes. I'm SO glad I asked for the epidural to be turned down so that I could feel these moments in all of their heinously painful glory. Right. 20 minutes of pushing and there she was!!! Gorgeous, amazing, a head full of rooster hair just like her big brother, and a set of lungs to make Aretha proud. Perfect!

Oh, my baby girl...what a gem she is. Laughing, smiling, blowing bubbles, and the occasional bout of colic - but nothing major. The girl belches and farts like a truck driver and loves to be walked around so she can see her little world. She sleeps like a champ and likes napping in her swing or car seat the best. She coos and flirts and oh my, I love her. Who doesn't love her? Jack adores her...kissing and loving her and occasionally holding her until he decides, "Mom, she's too heavy," and gives her back. There's nothing like hearing your husband talking to his baby girl, whispering, "Hi beautiful girl!" "Good morning pretty girl!"... you know, the things that used to be reserved for the wife. I love it. I can't believe how much I love her - I really do have room for both!

These past few weeks have been glorious. I know that I will cherish this time with both my babies forever - and being able to spend 12 weeks at home getting to know Charlotte Jane and playing with my big boy Jack has been priceless. They have both changed so much!

39 Down...

I sit here one week before my due date reflecting on a few things about this pregnancy. First of all, for the most part, it was extraordinarily easy. The only thing I can really complain about is tiredness, which simply comes with the territory. I have had only a couple of major meltdowns (both being this week...oops, sorry to all those involved). It all began Thursday at the weekly appointment when I got teary thinking of some random story about Jack and then the fact that I feel I'm at the end of my mental rope. Doctor just hands me the Kleenex and says it's perfectly ok to be hormonal at this stage in the game. I hate feeling stereotypically hormonal and I know sometimes it can't be helped. And now I'm just uncomfortable in really anything except underwear and a sports bra, but that's a mental picture none of us need...

I will not miss certain things about pregnancy - the feeling that I'm not myself, that sometimes I'm incapable of things that would normally be easy, the itchiness of my belly (which has far exceeded the first pregnancy), and the fact that this little person has complete control of my life...something I suppose I don't necessarily like to relinquish. I will miss several things - I love the idea that this little person is growing inside of me and I love feeling its acrobatics inside of my big belly. I love that since I've been through it before I have an inexplicable, amazing moment ahead when I first see his or her face and we are properly introduced. Mostly I will miss how this baby has bonded me and Jack. I know he doesn't fully understand, but I am going to be ridiculously sad that there's no more "Mommy, open your tummy," so he can rest his face against my warm belly. Or to lay his blankie on it (satiny side up - always) and say, "Let's cuddle baby." Although the memories will be sweet, tears well up in my eyes at the thought of those moments being over. I love that he is comforted by it just before bedtime or after a bad dream. I know if he hasn't already done so, I can suggest it and all is right in his world. I love his questions about baby and his concern for the dogs coming to visit in the hospital while we are there. He is going to be an amazing brother. The boy has a huge heart to match his personality and I can't help but think that somewhere along the way, hubby and I have done something amazingly right. I am cherishing these last few moments that we have as a family of three...I know it won't be much longer and I want to love, love, love on him so he doesn't forget his place in my heart. I am also looking forward to becoming a family of four and seeing him take on his new role as a big brother and the incredible moments we have ahead.

With that, I give you recent pictures of my little man...wearing a headband he found in my drawer, several pairs of my sunglasses - and daddy's athletic cup inside of his pants at his insistence when I told him what it was for - some pictures we took at the pumpkin patch yesterday and a few other randoms...

Well, let's see. I think I have 18 days left. Here's hoping for less, but at this point, I'm not really that optimistic. I think I almost tried to put myself into labor today with the day I had at work - I mean could it have gotten any more ridiculous? I am still swimming in the huge wake of a mess that someone left behind (So glad you are gone! Good riddance!) and I am quite certain this person does not want to meet me in a dark alley. Pregnancy + extreme hatred = dangerous. I have to say, I do need a few more days of work. Just a few more things (I keep telling myself this), and I'll feel like it's ok to go. Frankly, I've had enough, though. I need the break from work. I think the chaos of two children would be easier at this point.

Jack was insane today - I finally had to put him to bed slightly early just to regain my sanity. My breaking point was the "Don't look at me like that, Mom-my," in a very surly tone after he got in trouble for the bazillionth time for jumping on the furniture. Yep, see ya. Actually, furniture jumping isn't a huge deal - when I'm not in the chair, not eating cereal, and there's not a large dog involved. I feel like such a cow when I have these moments - like, where in the hell is your patience, woman? However, there is a moment when you wonder just how many times you can repeat yourself before the broken record finally snaps in two. I need to give myself a break.

To add insult to injury, last week I woke up with a rash splashed across my sides. What. The. Hell. As if I need to feel less attractive in the midsection area. Doctor doesn't even think it's pregnancy related. Which means I have no idea what it is and it's not making much of an attempt to go the hell away. So itching sides are awesome coupled with an itchy belly that I swear cannot get any bigger. I feel like an absolute atrocity. When will this pregnancy end, exactly? I think an eviction notice needs to be served...lease up, little babes!

Finally, a few new pictures of the silly monkey. He makes his favorite new face - the face he gives me after he blows me a kiss goodbye. Then, a good shot of his new chin scar - thanks to sitting on the edge of a chair while bird watching, then rolling off into a basket and finally to the floor. And finally, the picture he insisted on taking - with his "ambeeance" - which is actually a firetruck, but he insists otherwise.

So, I say goodnight...time to hopefully read a smidgen of a new book I borrowed and to hopefully get a bit of good sleep...

Jack taught me how to throw a Frisbee today. "Mom, just cross your body and throw, like this!" I vaguely remember someone teaching him the art a few weeks ago, but really. He knew just what to do. How old is he again? The obsession with firetrucks also continues. No matter where we go, what we do we must drive by the fire station. "I want to see the fire trucks," he says. The other day he was in trouble and said, "Mommy, I need to see the fire trucks. That will make me feel better." How can you argue with two-year-old logic? The kid loves his firetrucks. It helps that his uncle is a fireman and gives Jack the inside advantage on riding around the block in the "big truck", checking out the computers (heard about that this morning), and overall firetruck knowledge. He also points out every. fire hydrant. we. see. It can be exhausting. So, thinking he would want to be a fireman for Halloween, I asked him what he'd like to dress up as. "Santa Claus," he said. And there you have it. His personality is so big and wonderful. Tonight as I sat with my shirt up (hey, it's more comfortable to go commando!), he came over and rubbed his bare belly on mine. Who does that? My kid..my amazing, hilarious kid who cracks me up in a new way at least ten times a day.

I have been bustling around trying to get everything done at work (never going to happen) so that I can feel somewhat content when baby arrives. I am making personal bets with myself as to how soon after the birth my boss will call with questions - if not during. In between short bouts of sleep, I wake up and think of something different that needs to be done. I suppose it's better than knowing they don't need me at all. I feel like I rush around all day long with very few quiet moments and sometimes barely a lunch break. I am ready for maternity leave - I realize it will be hectic with a toddler and a newborn, but it will be nice to get away from the noisiness of work and just be in my own house for awhile, enjoying my babies and hopefully the occasional nap. Or two. Tomorrow we go back to the doctor again for the 37 weeker. Holy cow, in three and a half weeks (or less. or more), I will be a new mama again. I can't wait! I may not have to wait long - seems I am already pretty progressed, which is insane. Which makes me insane. I wish I didn't know. Every twinge, every pain, every kick, I think, "hmmm...what's going on?". After last week's visit, we immediately pre-registered. Which automatically means at least four more weeks, I'm sure. That's what I will get for putting the cart before the horse.

My b-day was pretty uneventful, although I got some delightful new treasures and enough Pottery Barn gift cards to finally feel good about purchasing the bedding I've been eying since at least 1988. And a shiny, new computer! Finally...I don't have to blog at work and I don't have to wait for hubby to get finished using his laptop. I feel like I have finally entered the 21st century. And it only took a zillion years to get here.

I continue to stick with Pilates and lots of walking. And yoga. I'm not sure how effective I really am these days - how effective can you really be with a bowling ball strapped to your belly? I try. I suppose the effort is worth something. Isn't it? If anything, it calms me to do all three. Everything seems chaotic and rest never seems to come. I'm almost sure I don't care about the aerobic or toning benefits at this point. I just want some peace.

This baby is practicing the splits in my belly today. Please, please don't let it be a cheerleader. No offense. I can't do cheerleaders. I can do things like volleyball, baseball, softball, and football. Even basketball (though I stink and haven't played seriously since I was the point guard on the SES junior high championship team of 1992). Seriously, it feels like two rocks are poking out from my sides, and feels equally delightful. I think I just want to complain today. I'll gripe about the fact that I was awake from 3:15 - 5:30 or 6 this morning. I caught up on Hawkeye, Pierce, and the gang and several infomercials. When we decide to re-do our floors in wood, I'm set because there's an amazing tool called the Shark Steam Pocket complete with "next generation technology" and there's nothing like it! My belly is having alien moments nonstop now. It is bursting...and making me groan out loud from the startling power of its boxing technique. My belly is also lopsided. Baby tends to the right - I can look down and visibly see that my shirt is off kilter. I am decidedly ADD when it comes to work. I'll go and go and get so much done and then all I want to do is read gossip sites and look at the sale emails the evil Nordstrom/Steve Madden/Victoria's Secret send.

Jack is as silly as ever. He is fighting potty training (I am throwing in the towel for now), however he does tell me he has to go #2, which makes me laugh. Yesterday he lined up the firetrucks on the bathroom counter so they could watch him. Then they all had to go also. Except one, who "had an accident and needs to change his Pull Up". He doesn't understand that I am incapable of doing certain things with him these days and wants to roughhouse constantly. Jumping on my belly, playing "horsey back", running, tackling. I do what I can, but I am limited. He has convinced himself there is a bug flying around in my stomach, and I argued with him for two nights about no, there's no bug. It's just baby moving. I think he has finally relented. I told him I let the bug outside. He's getting to the age where things worry him and every night before bed we have to go through all of the noises...the dogs running, the cat, the air conditioner, bugs outside, daddy walking upstairs. The whole drill. Endless questions. It does test my patience at times and I feel guilty that sometimes I wind up tuning it out. Oops...it's just that my attention span at this point is probably even smaller than his. He is such a great kid, though. Telling us to be careful when we leave and his concern for everything around him. His kiss-blowing and belly love. I love him times ten bazillion.

My birthday is Friday...the big 32. I can say I'd rather be this age than 22 again. Or maybe just 22 knowing what I know now? Not really...life is happy and good. It will be a pretty low key weekend...except that the Jayhawks open up their football season and I am so excited about it I could wet my pants! I love this time of year. We head to the doc tomorrow morning to find out what's going on down south...I'm interested to know. I feel this baby is going to come in September vs. October, but who can say. I'll probably be pregnant until October 10 just to spite myself. It's every week after this - something that will surely make the time go quicker. I love these last few moments of anticipation and getting things in order. Oh, my niece just called and told me the baby must be birthed before October 5...band concert...I'll see what I can do about that.