Photo a Day: March 23 - 29

Being with my parents is awesome, because I pretty much get to lie around all day and be taken care of. My parents and siblings play with the boys, make us food, clean up our messes, and even do our laundry. My mom is the best ever. I'm living the good life. I just get to lie in bed on my phone, Googling what to pack in my hospital bag, rereading old blogposts about washing cloth diapers, and making lists of tasks to be completed before Baby Boy comes. 

Even my photo-a-day pictures were outsourced, and my Dad took about half of them. I love looking through his pictures after they've been out together without me. It's almost like I was there, without any of the inconvenience of actually going. :)

Sunday: Micah's sweet profile. // Monday: Grandpa Chris and Micah

Tuesday: Grey and Micah, swimming with Grandma Polly.

Wednesday: A visit to the Wienermobile. // Thursday: Grey picked a flower for me.  Spring is in the air!

 Friday: Pretty tulips on the windowsill.

Saturday: Grey and Micah with their aunt Katie after her softball game.

More Pregnant

I keep hearing Samwise's voice saying, "If I take one more step- it will be the furthest from home I've ever been."
Except in this pretend conversation with my favorite hobbit- the words sometimes change to "If I am pregnant for one more day- it will be the longest pregnancy I've ever had."
Today I am 35 weeks and three days pregnant.
When I gave birth to Grey and Micah, I was 35 weeks and two days. This is the longest I've been pregnant.
It's weird thinking that I may have another month of pregnancy- I don't know how to be pregnant for so long.
But it's also crazy that I may only have a few weeks left!
I still am highly unprepared. I keep putting off buying things like diapers. But diapers are a must, aren't they? Sigh. I guess so.
My doctor said something wonderful at my last appointment. In addition to assuring me that my cervix was "super closed, nice and tight" (which is comforting to hear the day before your husband gets on a plane for another country), she also said "We'll try to get this baby out by 38 or 39 weeks."
In addition to other comforting phrases like, "We'll use non-medical inducement, like foot massages and membrane sweeps."
And "I have about a 6% c-section rate."
And "Unless I have wine at dinner, I will be the one to deliver your baby, even if I'm not on call."
Okay, deal. I accept.
I love you, doctor.

My husband says less comforting things, like "If Debbie is your doula then I can just concentrate on filming the best birth video ever! But I won't film your vagina."
Wait. That is not what you need to be concentrating on.

This boy. I love him so much.
Almost every day, Grey and Micah ask when he'll be here for real.
People constantly ask, "Do the boys know what you mean when you tell them a baby is coming?"
Yes.
"But do they reeeealllllly understand what a new brother means?"
Um. Seriously?
I mean, I guess not. Because how could they? Do they comprehend how their lives will be affected by a tiny, squalling child? I doubt it- since they're three. And most adults can't quite comprehend what multitude of changes a new baby will bring.
I've been through it before and I'm still not sure I "reeeealllllly understand" what changes are going to take place.
But the boys know that a baby is coming. And I think they're as excited and ready to meet him as I am.
We call the baby by his name. I still sometimes say it's his "tentative name," but I guess that's pretend. We know what we're going to call him- and we call him by his name all day. Everything Micah does is "To Baby Brother," (except he calls him by his name instead of brother.)
I'm making this playdough house to baby brother.
I'm digging this hole to baby brother.
I'm saving this toy to baby brother.
Grey asks me every day if it's time to go to the hospital and get baby brother borned yet.
They are ready.

Maybe if my stomach wasn't so huge and didn't move around so much- they would have a harder time understanding that a baby was coming.
Speaking of a huge belly: I am down to three shirts. Only three shirts fit me.
(Fit is a generous term that means several inches of my stomach aren't hanging out between my pants' top and shirt hem.) There still is quite frequent, accidental (and not so accidental) belly exposure. I have one pair of yoga pants and one pair of saggy-butted jeans that I can wear "comfortably." The butt of the jeans is excessively saggy, since my belly is hanging SO LOW that the top of the elastic band is below my hips and the top of the actual denim begins several inches below that. This baby is so low, there are actually several inches of my chest- below my breasts and above the beginning of my stomach- where everything is all stretched out (and pulled down by the weight of my belly) and you can actually see my ribs through my skin. My belly is SO HEAVY. It is constantly pulling me forward, down, and off-balance. You can see in the pictures that I'm about 31 weeks when suddenly by belly is extra low instead of high.
I know I'm not as big this pregnancy as last time (duh), but when I say, I'm so tired, I'm so big, or my back hurts like crazy, people are quick to dismiss me.
IMMEDIATELY they respond, You're not that big. You look so cute and tiny. You hardly even look pregnant.
First of all: I do look pregnant. If this is what you think non-pregnant women look like then you really are confused about the human body. I know what they mean, and it's supposed to be a compliment that my face isn't swollen and my legs aren't fat. But it's not really that flattering. Because the truth is: a giant belly still sucks. My body hurts. I am tired. I have no clothes that fit me.
And I'm getting new stretch marks, which seems COMPLETELY UNNECESSARY.
Excuse me, giant, red, itchy stomach - aren't you aware of the fact that you are already riddled with stretch marks? I think you could be making some more use of the one's you've got.
I also didn't expect it to be so sore over my c-section scar as it stretches, too.

35.5 weeks. My doctor wants to start membrane sweeps at 37 weeks. That's a week and a half.
I could have a baby in two and a half weeks, and he'd be full term and perfect.
I'm ready to lie on my stomach again.
As Micah would say, I gotta get ready to baby brother.

Conversations with Three-Year Olds

The boys really like to call people by their formal titles.  If they are introduced to a woman by her first name, they will often start calling her "Aunt."
"Marie is coming over to play today," I will say.
"When is Aunt Marie coming?"
"She's not your aunt, actually. Just Marie."
"I'll call her Aunt Marie."
When they met our friend Tom, they instantly changed his name to Thomas. Recently Micah was looking at a Calvin and Hobbes book and asked me to describe the picture.
"Well, it looks like Suzie is going to get eaten by a dinosaur," I said.
"What will Susan do?!"
"SUZIE is running away, but it's just pretend. Calvin is imagining that he's a dinosaur, but he's really a boy. So she's not really in danger."
"How can Susan escape?!"
Seriously. How does he even know that Suzie is short for Susan or that Thomas is the same as Tom?
They automatically do it with lots of names, too! It's so funny!

Micah has also taken to yelling "Ever!" when I ask him a question (instead of Never.)
So if I ask him, "Will you please come here?" "EBER!"
"Eat a bite of your dinner," I say. "EBER!"
"Did you have fun with your Grandpa?" "EBER!"

Grey: I'm picking flowers to you! I'm picking so many. Here, please don't drop them. Keep them forever.

**Trying to get the attention of a teenage girl dressed in flowered leggings at the mall.**
Micah: Hey! Hey!
Grey: Hey, you girl!
Micah: Hey flower girl!
Grey: Hey! Hey! Blue flower girl! Can you hear me?
Micah: Flower pants! Look at me with your eyes! Hey!
Grey: Hey blue flower pants! Hey! Hey flower girl!
(The girl finally wandered off without noticing my children.)

Grey: Look, I find a really real baby. **Holds up a water bottle**
Me: Wow. I bet your aunt Katie has an actual baby doll you could hold.
Grey: Mm, no. I have this real baby already. **Settles into a rocking chair and rocks water bottle**
I better get up, the rocking could make baby fall. **Moves to a regular chair.**
There, baby. Oh silly. You have water in you, baby. You're all full of water! That's funny! I love you, Baby.

Grey: Can I cut this? **Holds up a newspaper**
Me: Sure.
Micah: No, Grey! It's all letters! Don't cut up the letters!
Grey: I can! **Cuts the paper in half** See, Micah? It's no big deal!

Micah: Hey, guess what! We all live in this cool city now with grandma and papa!

Micah: I have an idea! Let's live in that cool house!
Me: That's actually a prison, so we don't want to live there.
Micah: Yes we do! I want that prison to be my home!

Grey: This my splinter. We can't get it out! But Jesus can do it, when we go to his house. Jesus fixes my owies.

Micah: I can run fast with my shoes. You can only walk slow in your shoes.

Grey: Are you my mother?
Micah: No. Mommy is our mother.

Grey: What's my sandwich doing?
Micah: Nothing. It's just sitting there, waiting for you.
Grey: Nobody eat it?
Grandma: Not unless a mouse nibbled it.
Micah: You have mouses in your house?!

Micah: What's Katie watching?
Jack: I think she's watching Pokemon.
Grey: She is! She is watching Poke-mont!
Micah: I think, Poke-NOT!

Micah: Hey Big Guy, whatcha eating?
Me: Just a roll.
Micah: Why you just eating a roll, Big Guy? Why? Hey! Why you laughing, Big Guy? What's so funny?

Grey: We can do it together, Mother. You are my mother, right?

Micah: Where are we?
Grandma: In the middle of nowhere.
Micah: Nowhere AGAIN?!

Where Can I Turn for Peace?

Our world is so hectic. I feel like I am constantly busy, distracted, often at the end of my rope. There is a queasy, almost constant feeling in the back of my head and pit of my stomach that I've forgotten something. I have pregnancy insomnia (it's 4am now, and the neighborhood dogs are a-barking, so who knows if I'll go back to sleep?) and often I wake up and toss and turn. I'm fitfully trying to remember what I have to do, what needs to be checked off my list. So often, I pull out my phone and scroll through blogs, Facebook, Pinterest, and Instagram- looking for something to quiet my mind and distract me. But that never really works, does it? I just end up with more on my mind; trivial things that I don't care about, people I've never met or haven't spoken to in years, and new things that I suddenly think are a necessity in my own life.
Lately, the lines from two hymns been running through my mind.
The first, Be Still My Soul is perhaps my favorite song. I still remember a powerful moment of personal revelation that I received while singing it years ago. As a freshman at Brigham Young University, I hurt my foot and tore through my tendons. I had to leave the college that I had JUST been accepted to. I had to leave my new-found friends and happy independence and go home to icy Minnesota for surgery. All my high school friends had moved on to colleges away from our small town, and as far as I could see- my life was ruined. I knew how quickly things moved at college. If I left for a semester, I wouldn't have the same friends and roommates when I got back. The boy I liked would probably have some new girlfriend. The classes I was taking with friends would have to be finished with new peers. All torture. But worst of all, I felt betrayed by God. I knew that I was supposed to be at BYU. I knew that was part of "the plan."
So WHY was I going home? Why had God let this happen? If I was supposed to be at BYU, why was I leaving? If I was supposed to be at home, why had God gotten my hopes up and let me get into this college that I loved?
I was heartbroken, to say the least.
One evening, I was gathered with several friends around a piano. I am not musical, but every other Mormon on the planet is- so they were taking turns playing snatches of musicals and popular songs, while the rest of us laughed, joked, and sang along. I try to remember how it happened, that we started singing hymns- but it was just one of those moments, I think. Someone picked up a hymnal off the top of the piano and started playing. We all sang along. Of course we did. We were good Christian girls who loved a hymn as much as any musical number.
And in the midst of my heartbreak, while experiencing exactly the sort of bonding and joyful moment that I didn't want to give up- we sang the words, "Be still my soul, thy God does dost undertake to guide thy future as he has the past."
And I knew. The spirit gave me a little nudge, and quieted my restless soul, and for a moment- he made it okay.
I was still sad. My heart still ached. I still bawled the entire plane ride home, making everyone on my flight uncomfortable. But I didn't feel alone anymore; I felt supported. I knew that my plans and my worries were going to be taken care of- even if it wasn't how I intended. Be still, my soul.
Be still, my soul: The Lord is on thy side; With patience bear thy cross of grief or pain.  Leave to thy God to order and provide; In every change he faithful will remain.
Be still, my soul: Thy best, thy heavenly Friend Thru thorny ways leads to a joyful end.

I am trying to let my soul be still. I am trying to remember that God is in charge, and to let the unimportant things fall by the wayside.
It's hard to do and takes constant reminding.
The other hymn I've been leaning on lately is Where Can I Turn for Peace?
It seems so applicable, lately. With so many sources calling out for my attention, so many distractions. Everything on social media promises us peace, happiness. Right? Easy meals on Pinterest, tricks and tips for losing weight, 5 secrets to a happy marriage.
Everything. So many lists and blogposts offering up advice. So many "articles" explaining why everyone but the author is an idiot. So much drama, all the time, everywhere, and I am addicted to it. And I do not feel at peace.
I feel stressed out. Where can I turn for peace? Where is my solace when other sources cease to make me whole?
Do you do this? I pick up my phone to check the time and find myself on Instagram. I think my fingers have been programmed to automatically open up Instagram without any thought-process from me. I feel badgered and battered by the constant news stream of my friends' lives, but I can't look away.
I feel frustrated and overwhelmed.
In addition to social media, though, I feel overwhelmed with so many moments in my actual life.
Eight months pregnant. Three year old twins. My husband is in India. We are poor, our house is too small, our food is not healthy enough, I let my kids watch too much tv, we don't see Travis enough, I say hurtful things to others, and have my feelings hurt in return. Just. Everything.
Nothing big. I know that I am so blessed, and usually I feel overwhelmed with gratitude- not with grief. But some days it's just all too much.
Where can I turn for peace when with a wounded heart, anger, or malice, I draw myself apart, Searching my soul? Where, when my aching grows, Where, when I languish, Where, in my need to know, where can I run?

Where is the quiet hand to calm my anguish?
Who, who can understand?
He, only One.

I am so grateful to know where I can turn for peace. I am so blessed to have the calm of Christ at the eye of life's storm.
I want my home to be filled with the spirit of Christ- to be a place of refuge and relief. A place to come for peace.
But even when it isn't, I'm grateful for The Lord. I am grateful that I can turn to him in prayer, scriptures, and music and find peace from the noise of the world. Be still, my soul. I can find peace.
And now I think the dogs outside are quieting, and the breathing of my boys sleeping on my bedroom floor is soft and slow. Be still my soul, Thy hope, thy confidence let nothing shake;
All now mysterious shall be bright at last.
Be still, my soul: The waves and winds still know His voice who ruled them while he dwelt below.

Photo a Day: March 16 - 22

This week doesn't really have a photo for every day. I skipped Friday, since the day was spent in the car driving to my parents' house in Nevada. But I included two from Tuesday (both of which you've already seen...)

It's nice to be here with my parents so they can take care of us while Travis is in India. It's especially nice that the boys are being taken outside again. Usually I just sit inside my front door and let them play outside by themselves, but they want to be played with! And what are grandparents, aunts, and uncles for if not to entertain toddlers?

I hope your week is off to a lovely start. Mine certainly is, since my Mommy let me sleep in. 

(Although Micah is sitting on lap right now trying to take my temperature with a forehead thermometer and it's kind of driving me crazy!)

Sunday: Micah built castle to his boys. // Monday: I love this picture of Grey, he looks so tall and lanky!

 Tuesday: My favorite picture of me from this pregnancy. 35ish weeks? // and my cute family.

Wednesday: Micah and Daddy watching airplanes in the yard. 

 Thursday: The boys are their "best Elanor." We miss her the most when we travel! Almost as much as Daddy!

Saturday: Welcome to cowboy country, boys.

Conversations with Three-Year Olds

Shutterfly is giving away an 8x8 book right now (code STORYTIME) and I ordered one last night of all these conversations from the last few months. I'm excited to get it! Talk about a fun and potentially embarrassing coffee-table book. I can't wait to get it!

Grey figured out the word "pregnant" this week. We actually don't use it that much when talking to the boys, since we usually say "I have a baby in my belly," not, "I'm pregnant."
But Grey's said it several times in the last  few days, so I guess he figured it out himself. The first time he said it, though, I was so confused! He kept saying it prog-naught.
"Mom, You're prog-naught."
I'm what now?
We've been having some trouble with being honest this week, too. It's such a hard concept! Because pretending is okay- even encouraged! But lying is naughty. We have a Bearnstein Bear book about telling the truth, which the boys request a lot. We have to go through on every page and really explain it. "They're telling their Mommy a bird broke the lamp, so they won't get in trouble. But who really broke the lamp? That's right! They did. They need to tell their Mom the truth. The truth is, they broke the lamp."
Ugh. About ten times a day, I have this conversation:
"Grey, did you hurt Micah?"
"No, Mom. I not hurt him."
"Is that the truth or a lie?"
"A lie."

Yesterday Grey came out of his room crying with a big bite-mark on his back.
"Micah! Did you bite your brother?"
"No. I not bite him."
"Please don't lie. How did he get hurt?"
"I don't know."
"Did someone bite him?"
"I don't know."
"Micah, did you bite your brother?"
"No."
"Is that a lie?"
"Yes."
"Please tell me what really happened. I know you bit him, I want you to tell me. Did you bite him?"
"Yes."
"Thank you for telling me the truth."
"I not in trouble now?"
Siiiiggh. "Actually you are still in trouble because it's mean to bite." (I proceed to pull out some of my own hair.)

Besides conversations about lying, though, we also have been having lots of conversations in general. Like, proper conversations. They ask me questions and listen and respond to my answers. They love to say, "I have an idea!" which they usually follow up with a request to do something.
"I have an idea! After naptime, we can go to a park and play on the swings!" "I have an idea! Maybe Grey and me can sing popcorn popping!"
And when they ask "Why, Mom?" they listen to what I say and ask a new valid question !! (sometimes) instead of just repeating, "Why, Mom? Why?"

Micah's new catchphrase is "You're just kidding me, right?"
I ask him to eat his dinner. You're just kidding me, right? I tell him that his hat is silly. You're just kidding me, right?
I tell him there are crocodiles in the kitchen. And that time, I am just kidding. Right? Right.

Aaaaand, lastly, we have been having lots of conversations about who is who. Micah, my pretender, wants to role play all the time.
Grey WANTS to role play, but he also really wants to make it clear that is is really Grey. He clarifies this several times a day. "I am just Grey though, Mom."
"These my special shoes. They make me run fast like Dash! I am just Grey, though, not Dash."

Micah: Your name is Mama and also Becky.
Me: That's right.
Micah: Why?
Me: Because Becky is my real name and Mom is my title. Before I had you and Grey, I was just Becky. After you were born, I got to be your mom.
Micah: Why you are my Mom?
Me: Because I grew you in my belly, and now I get to love and take care of you.
Micah: You like me? Why you like me?
Me: Because you're mine. And you're so good, and smart, and silly.
Micah: Yes, I am!

Micah: Grey is Mom and I am Becky and you are Grey.
Grey: I am Grey!
Me: You can be Grey if you want.
Grey: I am Grey.
Micah: Fine. I am Mom AND Becky.
Grey: I want to be Becky, too!
Micah: Anyone can be Becky, Grey! I am Becky and you are Becky. But Mom is not Becky. Mom is still Grey.
Grey: I am Grey.
Micah: Okay. Mom is grandma Polly.

Micah: I wish my baby (doll) was real.
Me: We can pretend he's real.
Micah: I want him to be really real.
Me: Soon we will have a new baby, so that's pretty good, right?
Micah: I want a real baby and a baby brother.

Me: This is BYU, where mom and dad used to go to school. Remember how we talked about that yesterday?
Grey: You don't come to school anymore because I am born.
Me: That's right, now I stay home with you.
Grey: Wow, Mom. You're so grown-up!

Micah: We can go to the park later?
Me: Okay.
Micah: DON'T say okay. Only I say okay. Okay?
Me: Umm...
Micah: Okay, Mom?
Me: Okay.
Micah: STOP. Don't say okay! Okay?
Me: That's fine.
Micah: What?
Me: I won't say it.
Micah: What?
Me: Okay.
Micah: Don't say okay, Mom! Only I say okay! Okay?

Grey: Your baby in here is my favorite baby.
Me: Me too, I love him.
Grey: Soon he will be born and I will hold him so tight.
Me: That sounds really nice, you're going to be such a good big brother.
Grey: I wish he was born now. But he'll be here soon, right?

Grey: You can chew ice because you have a big head. My head is small and my teeth are small.

Grey: I trying to grow bigger.
Me: What can you do to get bigger?
Grey: Eat my food!
Me: Yep, and what else?
Grey: Exercise makes me grow!

Micah: I want to wrestle with you!
Grey: You can't wrestle with me right now. I in the front seat, you're in the backseat. That's just crazy talk!
Micah: I want to wrestle though!
Grey: But if we wrestle in the road, the cars will crash into us!

Grey: Mom, you not pregnant. You have no baby in your belly!
Me: What!? What's in my belly then?
Grey: I don't know. Me!
Me: How did you get in there?
Grey: I cut you in half and climbed in your belly.
Me: Ow! That would hurt me!
Grey: Haha! I teasing you. I not in your belly. It's a baby. You ARE pregnant!

Micah: Heeeey little Buddy, whatcha doing?
Grey: I'm not your little buddy. I'm a big boy. And I'm reading a book about Clifford.

Micah: Hey, Greybee! Look, it's me! I'm in here with you!

Micah: Mom, are you pooping like me? It's so great, everybodies all poops!

Grey: I want to watch a crocodile.
Travis: Do you want to watch a video of a crocodile eating something?
Grey: Yes!
Travis: Here's one that's not scary.
Micah: He's just the very nicest crocodile?

Me: Stop kicking your grandma.
Micah: We're playing.
Me: I don't know if she wants to be kicked. Why don't you say, "Do you want to be kicked?"
Micah: Grandma, do you want to play with me?

Grey: I get to go Grandma's house! And you will come with me. I don't want to leave without you.

Grey: Soon the baby will come out and they will clip you right here. **Traces a line across my stomach**
Me: Clip me?
Grey: They'll clip you, so the baby can come out.

Micah: I have to sit right here. So I can itch my bum, because it's so itchy. See?

Grey: I can punch you, because there's no baby in your belly.
Grandma: Stop punching me, please.
Grey: Okay. Let's play a game.
Grandma: Great, what game do you want to play?
Grey: A game of punching you.

Grey: I don't want that orange.
Micah: It's not an orange. It's a tiny pumpkin.

Micah: You want to say "Oh Man!" with me?
Grey: Yes!
Micah: Okay, the bad guys are coming! Let's say it to them! Oh man!
Grey: Oh man!
Micah: Say it with me to the bad guys!
In Unison: Oh man! Oh man! Oh man!
Micah: We did it!
Grey: Yeah! We said it to those bad guys! Oh man!
Me: Oh man!
Micah: Mom, don't say Oh Man! with us. Only Grey can say it with me.

Me: What are you saying?
Grey: I'm talking to my grandpa, not to you!

Travis: Do you guys like Disneyland?
Micah: No. There's a crocodile in it.
Travis: Do you like sharks?
Grey: No. We not.
Travis: Do you like candy?
Micah: I do like candy.
Grey: I like gum candy.
Travis: Hmm. Do you like fascism?
Micah: No. I like cemeteries.
Travis: Do you like capitalism?
Micah: No. There's a crocodile there, too.
Travis: Do you like Christmas?
Micah: I do like Christmas!
Travis: Do you like President Obama?
Micah: I do not. He can count to 17, 18, 19.

My Boys

Despite yesterday's whiney post, I really do love this stage of our life. We have a crazy, beautiful, happy family and I am blessed with four really good men.
Yesterday as we played, I said to Micah, "You are my good boys. You're good boys, right? You're not naughty?"
He raised his eyebrows and asked in a hurt voice, "You're just kidding me, right, Mom?"
I am. I know you're good. You are so good and I am so grateful for you, for your brothers, and for your father. I am blessed and happy.

Thank you to our wonderful friends, who I was able to coerce into taking pictures of us last night - despite the freezing wind and chilly sunshine! I think it was worth the time, but I am a bit biased when it comes to pictures of my family.

Senioritis

Man, you guys. I have reached that point. I am 34 weeks along, and I constantly find myself thinking "just a few more weeks."
If this were my first pregnancy, I would just have a week left.
One week.
I think I have senioritis. I've just given up. I know what job I have after I graduate, I'm pretty sure that this pregnancy has nothing more to offer. Let's just get to the good stuff already. 

Pregnancy is kind of a downhill slope for me. Somehow, I know there are women who do weird things like run marathons while they're 30 weeks pregnant with twins- so this may not apply to everyone, but for me- my pregnancy gets progressively worse, my home becomes increasingly messier, and I become MORE absurdly emotional the further into this I get.
When I wake up in the morning and am 8 months along, there's a pretty good chance that today will be worse than yesterday, and tomorrow will be even worse than today. And that is just not something I'm good at handling.
But after you have a baby, things just get better. Every day is a little better. Your baby sleeps a little longer, your body feels a little stronger, everyone is a little happier. And sure, there are hard days and hours mixed in there - but I like knowing that I'm on the upward climb again.

I keep doing totally inappropriate things, like checking to see my baby's chance of survival if he was born. I keep estimating things, like how long he'd have to be in the NICU if he was just born today. In four more weeks, I will be so full term you wouldn't believe it. Even though, I know, some people stay pregnant long after their due dates.
I think I might freak out if that happens to me.

Photo a Day: March 9 - 15

This week has been filled with so much good. 

Good food, friends, family, weather, moods, health. But I feel like it's also been such a hard week! Pregnancy does that to me. Every day is the best of times and the worst of times, and every day I cry a little and take a nap and refuse to wash more dishes. But I try to take pictures of the good and not the bad (because obviously, taking pictures of the filth under my couch would gross us all out.) And it's so lovely every Monday to compile these pictures and be reminded that I've got a pretty sweet, beautiful life - even if I'm feeling grouchy about the mess over here.

Also, I swear these pictures really were taken through out the week, even though my kids are wearing the same clothes in half the pictures. 

Sunday: More birthday cake at Grandma's house, and it was too exciting to be real!

 Sunday again: Almost a family picture. I love my crazy Grey, my giant baby, and my handsome husband. // Monday: Greybe.

Tuesday: All over our yard, tiny green things are unfolding themselves in the sunshine. // Wednesday: Ride 'em, Grey!

Thursday: My Micah boy.

Friday: All manner of creeping things are making their way out for spring. Worms are the favorite at our house. // Saturday: If there is sunshine, we will eat outside. I guess bonfire season has officially begun again!

Lactose Free(ish)

I have to make an actual, constant effort to keep my pictures from all looking like this. My milk-addict children constantly have sippy-cups clenched in their teeth.

My children drink a lot of milk. A LOT. They also throw up a ton, like once weekly- but there's no rhyme or reason to it. They puke in the car when the road is curvy, they puke if they take too big a bite at dinner and it gags them, they puke in the middle of the night and sleep in their own vomit because they didn't wake up because it's, like, no big deal.
They can announce "I'm throwing up," and have enough time to make it to the toilet and don't even need or want any help. They just throw up and then are fine. It's super weird.

So, even though people have been telling me to get them off lactose for two years- I've pretty much ignored that advice.
It doesn't seem like "a lactose thing" it seems like a gag reflex thing, or an acid reflux thing.
But a couple weeks ago, we had a weird, rough week.
The boys each threw up once a day, but otherwise acted fine, for like 8 days in a row.
It was bizarre and it was a tipping point.  So I took them off lactose.

It's so hard! Because, besides just drinking milk (which was easy to replace with lactose-free milk), we also eat a lot of cheese (quesadillas for lunch every other day), and the boys are used to a big bowl of yogurt with breakfast.
They have not been happy to let those things go. They both ask for yogurt several times a day, and I have yet to figure out how to cook without cream. Good thing we don't have to give up butter, because I would actually rather take puking than a butter-free kitchen.

BUT. No one has thrown up at our house since we went off milk.
Okay. That's only two weeks of no puking, but it's actually kind of a big deal.

On Sunday, we forgot to buy more lactose-free milk and since we are milk-drinkers, the boys each had several cups of regular milk. And since we were already making a day of it, we also let them have a snack of sliced cheese, and dinner of creamy, cheesy pasta.
No one threw up that night, but no one slept either.
The boys each got up twice in the night and didn't want to go back to sleep. Micah threw a raging tantrum at 2am that made me very grateful to have such a patient, helpful husband. (Since I mostly insisted on staying in my bed and whining while he dealt with things.)

I don't know. It could have very well been a coincidence. It probably was.
But I'm giving milk the blame.

The plan is to be "milk free" for the rest of March. Then to go BACK on to milk in April and see if there's a significant difference in my kids' behavior and health.

Meh. I guess I can fork over 30$ in milk a week.
Oh. You think that's an exaggeration?
Let's figure out the math.
The boys go through a half gallon a day, so 7 half-gallons a week.
The cheapest lactose-free milk I've found is $3 a half-gallon. ($21)
And Travis and I also go through a gallon or two of milk a week (another $3-6)
So. $27 a week on milk.
And if I am successful at my attempts to make lactose-free yogurt  this week, that really would be $30 or more. Yikes.
No wonder my kids are pukers. That's a lot of dairy, huh?

Those of you with lactose intolerance (or lactose intolerant kids), any advice?
Can I bake with cream and milk? because it's hard to let those delicious things go! I assume I shouldn't make chowder.
Also, I'm pretty sure that my kids aren't SUPER intolerant, since they don't have constantly upset stomachs and they poop regularly and stuff, so is a bit of cheese or yogurt for lunch some days really going to make a difference if we're otherwise lactose free?

Anyway. I'll probably update you in April when the grand experiment is finished.

Conversations with Three-Year Olds

They're right. It is the best temple, like a castle. 

Earlier this week, the boys played with a friend from church who they see regularly - but not that regularly.  He was 100% sure that Grey was Micah and Micah was Grey.
He even corrected me and the boys themselves several times when they were called by their real names.
It was really confusing for Grey. He kept saying things like, "No, I not Micah. I'm Micah. Wait. I am not Micah." and "NO! I'm not Grey, I AM Grey."

Micah now enters his own imagination for long periods of time, holding long silly conversations with himself, and his fingers. Each of his hands is an imaginary friend, and the three of them (Micah and his two hands/friends/"boys" talk together all the time.)
The other day, he was in the backseat, talking his head off, and I heard him say (in multiple voices), "I'm peeing in your water! Haha! What? No! I am! There's pee in you water now! I tooted! Ha! I just kidding you! I not peeing or tooting!"
"What are you talking about back there?" I asked.
"I'm talking to myself. Don't talk to me me, Mom." Haha, I get that all day recently.
I'm talking to myself. 
No kidding.

The boys have also both taken to saying, "I ever saw!" at the end of sentences to emphasize what they're saying, whether or not it makes sense. Sometimes it does, "Those are the best cookies I ever saw!" and sometimes... it doesn't. "I'm so hungry I ever saw!" or "You're so pretty I ever saw!"

Travis wants me to explain that, although the boys talk constantly, and we can understand them - they don't really pronounce their words perfectly. Okay. They are three.
So, while the boys examine their new pajamas and shout out the different vehicles on it, they aren't really saying, "Look! A Helicopter! A Fire truck, says Weee-ooh, weee-ooh! And an ambulance!"
What they really said is, "Look! A Hecko-topter! A Pire Tuck says Weee-ooh, weee-ooh! And an aaaan-bance."
But those are especially hard words.

Grey: Whoa! It's too crazy up here!

Grey: Poop is stinky! But pee is nice. It doesn't stink.

Me: We're going to go to the temple later.
Micah: The best, biggest temple I ever seen! Like a castle, Mom! I love it!
Grey: Only Mommies and Daddies go inside, but we can go look at it!
Micah: It's my best temple, it makes me happy!

Micah: Grey! Grey! Grey!
Grey: Yeah, Micah Baby? Haha, I just kidding you. You a big boy.

Micah: Grey!
Grey: Weeooh Weeooh Weeooh!
Micah: Mom! Grey's not talking to me.
Me: He's just making silly sounds. You can make silly sounds, too.
Micah: I don't want to say Weeooh Weeooh.
Me: You can make any silly sound you want.
Micah: Hmmm. I can say, "Mamamama?"
Me: Yeah. That's perfect.
Micah: Mamamamamama! I'm silly!

Micah: What's you baby doing?
Me: Just sleeping.
Grey: Because it's dark outside?
Me: Yep. Time for little boys to go to bed.
Grey: Aaaagggh! I waked your baby up!
Me: Oh no! That's not very kind!
Micah: Shhh, baby. **Rubs my belly**  Okay, Mom. I put you baby back to sleep.

Micah: I so awesome, but I not naughty!

Micah: I love a big ham!

Micah: If I am not obedient, a whale will eat me.

Micah: I have hot lava boots on.

Micah: I'm a lion!
Me: A lion!
Micah: No! I'm an elephant!
Me: You're a what?!
Micah: I'm Grey!
Grey: Hey! No! I am Grey!
Micah: No, I am Grey!
Grey: Stop that. You are not Grey. I am Grey.
Me: I'm very confused. I don't know WHO is Grey!
Grey: I!
Micah: Me!
Grey: YOU ARE NOT GREY, YOU ARE MICAH AND I AM GREY!

Micah: Look! The letter to Micah!
Me: I know that kind of looks like a sideways M, but it's actually the number 3.
Micah: Yes! Three! Two! Micah!

Grey: We in trouble? We naughty?
Micah: Yes. But it doesn't make any sense!

Micah: Don't go to school!
Travis: Mom and Dad don't go to school anymore, we went before you were born.
Grey: But I'm borned now!
Travis: Yep.
Micah: And we're big boys, not borned babies.
Grey: But we are borned now, so don't go to school!

Kick Counts

"Kick Counts" are something I can't quite wrap my brain around.
For those of you who may not be familiar with the term, kick counts are what you're supposed to do during pregnancy to make sure that your baby is moving enough. You lie down for a while, and count how many times your baby kicks in an hour. I used the internets to look it up, and apparently you want to feel 10 movements every two hours (once you're far enough along, like I am).

That seems pretty straight-forward, right? But my babies are not like that. 
My children don't kick me with a little jab, and then wait a few minutes and kick again.
My babies move.
Nonstop.

I want to remember these little things about pregnancy, so this is what it's like being pregnant with Boy:

He very rarely kicks me, but he never stops moving. Instead of kicks and jabs (which was Grey's specialty during my first pregnancy), this boy is a wiggler, roller, re-adjuster. 
The body parts that I can feel most are elbows and knees, and he doesn't jab me with them- he just moves them. I can always feel him at the top of my uterus (the part of my belly that makes a shelf to set things on), almost like someone's knuckle tracing out shapes against the inside of my belly. It looks like a marble moving slowly under my skin.
He rolls over, pulling his knobby knees across me- flapping out his boney elbows like chicken wings as he readjusts.
I can almost always tell just how he's positioned.
He has a hard head, a solid back, and a pointy little butt- and I love to feel him press them up against my hand. That's what other people always seem most impressed with, too. When I can place their hand on my stomach and say, "Feel how hard it is here, that's him jamming out his little head. Feel across, this is his back and here is his butt sticking out."
I love that I am such a small pregnant-person, but I mostly love it because I get all these little insights into Boy's movement. There's not a lot separating my boy's body from my hand.

Boy gets the hiccups several times a day. It's a funny sensation for me. Almost like a muscle-twitching, but not painful. A bit like tiny, constant bubbles popping.
Sometimes he gets them just 4 or 5 times, and they stop. Sometimes he gets them for an hour at a time. When he has the hiccups for a long time, I can feel him become increasingly more active. He bears the hiccups stoically for a while. Then he starts to wiggle, readjust, turn over, and poke me with his elbows. After a while, it becomes clear that he is frustrated with the hiccups, and he starts taking it out on me. He thrashes, he kicks. My belly distorts itself into strange, lopsided shapes as he pushes and pulls and strains.

They say that babies already have sleep-patterns in the womb.  That when I'm walking and moving, the womb is a big warm cradle and swing, and the baby is rocked to sleep. When I hold still (or sleep) and my belly isn't so tight with muscles moving, the boy has some room to stretch and move.
It makes it easy to feel the baby, since he always moves the most when I'm trying to go to bed. (Stinker!)
But besides that, I think I can tell when he is sleeping and when he's awake based on his movements. Because, like my other sons (who roll, kick, and punch in their sleep) Boy doesn't just curl up into a peaceful ball for a nap. He keeps on moving. When he's awake, as I said, I can feel his little elbows and knees writing on me from inside. I can feel occasional kicks and jabs. I can feel him stretch and his head pokes out on one side of my belly, and his feet poke out on the other.
But when he's asleep, his movements are still constant, but slow. Slowly, he turns and rolls this way. Slowly, he stretches and leans that way.
It feels a bit like everything inside of my body has been replaced by a lumpy, revolving bowling ball. Turning, always turning under my skin.

So I can't do kick counts. Maybe a unceasing rolling, interrupted only by the occasional elbow or hiccup bubble doesn't even count as a kick.

But I've decided I'm not too worried. If I don't feel "10 distinct movements" in a couple of hours, surely "1 constant and unending movement" that lasts all day is just as reassuring. My baby is moving.
And yes. He's moving quite enough. 

Photo A Day: March 2-8

I read once that you can tell what's important to someone by looking at their photographs.
I love that, because I certainly take pictures of the things important to me- and the number of each topic is probably a testament to the level of it's importance!
Family. My home. The beautiful world we live in. Our food. and on down the line.
Because what's most important to me is our average, every day, beautiful life.

But lately, what's the most important to me is sleep. Which is maybe why HALF of the pictures this week are of people sleeping.
Seriously, you guys. I am so sleepy! I love when my family is asleep, and have been encouraging lots of naps. (So that I can also nap.)
Luckily, my children love snuggling (so they'll nap with me) and they got a bunk bed for the birthday, so they're also excited to go to sleep in their own bedroom, too.
Micah thinks it's called a "bonk" bed. Because you bonk your head if you stand up on the bottom or fall off the top.
Good observation, my child. It is certainly a bonk bed at this house.
Although, so far, no serious injuries. Grey has even managed to climb up and down the ladder in the middle of the night to get to the bathroom with a full bladder. I call that impressive.

Sunday: Look at that handsome man, so contently nestled up with my babies. Seriously. There's nothing better in the world. // Monday: Picture by Grey of Micah feeling the baby move. 

Tuesday (mislabeled. Yeah.): Happy Birthday to my happy boys.

Wednesday: Micah is "Digging a hole to baby brother to sleep in. Like a bed, and here is a dirt pillow."  // Thursday: Asleep in his sweet new bunk bed.

Friday: Out for a doughnut date with Grandma.

Saturday: Sometimes, they fall asleep in cute places.

"I'm just kidding you."

"Please look at me so I can take a picture of you!"

"Oh no! Your eyes are closed! Open your eyes up and smile!"

"Oh, Mom. I'm just kidding you."