file under tmi

One of the many unfortunate details that no one tells you about pregnancy is that you may find yourself in need of a box of pantyliners. Especially after you've had a couple of babies. Compared to the many indignities that mothers suffer, this one is minor. But then one precocious almost five year old observes the box of pantyliners and of course has questions. You find yourself explaining the many uses of a pantyliner in much more detail than one would think possible.

Days later, Claire joins me in the bathroom and observes the pantyliner procedure. She looks at me and smiles and says, "that's good, Mom, now you can laugh today."

only one of my kids.

We're eating oatmeal. I spoon-feed him a couple of bites. Nate is doing car noises.
Me: How about a truck, Ev?
Everett: Um...how about a vanagon westy?

sweet claire.

She is ready. This morning I was cutting up berries for breakfast and she wanted me to cut some up for her baby sissy. She draws pictures of them together, makes plans, saves dresses. This is the last of my wide angle family, unless of course the babe decides to come early, then I will gladly throw the lens in my hospital bag. A girl can dream, right?

still more fun with lenses

This morning when I took him pee I asked him if he was wet or dry. His response?
"No pee in my bed, Mom, that be gross."

Well said, Mister.

more fun with lenses.

I don't think I realized how good of a man Nate was when I married him. He's the kind of person who just quietly does what needs to be done. For us, lately, this has been cleaning up after the Mister during potty training, taking the kids so I can rest and as always, bringing loads of protein-y food to feed this mama and her growing baby. Also, he knows how to make me laugh. Goofy pictures always make me laugh.

I love you, Nater.

haggard.

Of my three pregnancies, I felt the most beautiful carrying Everett. I also felt the most calm. Maybe it's all of the hormones from my girls conflicting with my own hormones creating a neat little cocktail I like to call crazy. Maybe it's that he was the most planned (by us) of the three. Maybe it's that I really am just getting too old for this.

Regardless, a friend asked me the other night if I was planning to do maternity photos this time around and I really should, because I can grow an impressive bump, even if I feel more manatee than basketball. So far though,this is photo taken by Claire one morning perfectly sums up my state of mind this time around.
Probably not something I should put in her baby book.

post-haircut.

"Peek in the mirror, Mom." He shouts while running to check himself out.

The to do list has changed this time around. With Claire, it was preparing the nursery, with the Mister it was potty training Claire, preparing fun things for her to do while I nursed and spending as much time as I could with her. This time, it's making sure my kids have haircuts and boots in the correct size. This time, it's deciding about kindergarten in the fall. This time it's napping whenever I can and trying to relocate all of my loaned out baby gear.

And I feel so stretched thin while she's here inside of me. Because I am.

as promised.

A photo of you. I had no idea how much I would love being the mother of a boy. There's nothing like it.

dear little boy, who just wants to wrestle.*

Today in the car you told me your back hurt. When I asked you why you said in that low voice of yours, "baby in my tummy, Mom." You crack me up. You are full of motion, your favorite song is "Hark the Herald Angels Sing!" and you enjoy singing it at full volume in awkward locations. You like getting haircuts. You prefer Lowe's to Home Depot. You like pretending your plastic drill is going potty, complete with sound effects.

There is no one like you, Evie.
Love,
Mama
PS. By April, I intend to be able to outrun you. Watch out.
*picture of you coming soon.