A Letter To My Boys' Future Wives + Why I'm "A Mean-o"

Sometimes when I'm disciplining my boys, in the back of my head I'm thinking, "Gosh, if these kids persuade women to stick with them through marriage, I'm going to have to have honest talks with these women and say,

Look, we really did try. Some of our trying probably screwed them up, but you weren't there.

You weren't there when two of them both vehemently denied breaking XYZ no matter what the punishment was, and we had to punish both the same and HATED IT, but wanted them to not be flaming liars by the time you met them.
You weren't there when they got snippy and rude with me, or their brothers, and we made them write letters to each other and didn't let them do much else but breathe until their attitude improved, because we wanted them to not be cutting and cruel in their response to you at times when you need grace.
You weren't there when they damaged someone's property or hurt someone else's kid, so we sent them over with an apology letter and to do yard work for them for the afternoon because we didn't want them seeing others and other's belongings as worth less than their own.
You weren't there when they put their friends over their family and in response we made them miss the cool thing at the cool place because we want them to choose you over the new hotness that will always be out there, but never stay true.
You weren't there when they did the same thing we'd disciplined them about four times already, and we had to make the consequence so much harsher than before because they had to learn that the consequences as an adult are sometimes forever.
You're going to hear their side of all the stories from their childhood, and while sometimes it's going to look like I'm the meanest, often dysfunctional jerk of a mother, please know that every step of the damn way I just wanted them to not suck as a human and possibly be a great husband, so I did what I could with the tools I had. WE did what we could. You'll get and feel all of this if you have kids one day, and probably feel it all exactly if you mix genes with my kids. 😂 Tread carefully, girlfriend. 

Being a parent is so lovely when your kid is cute, snuggle, giggly, and you have the answer to their problem. But it's just as imperfect as I am--sin is there no matter what the age, and each sin ripples beyond the person sinning.

Now that my kids are 10, 8, and 5, I realize that the time I thought was the hardest --the nursingdiapersnosleepteethingwhatdoesthisfevermean stage-- was actually the piece of cake in some respect. I'm getting a full night's sleep now but the life lessons come HARD AND FAST and the pre-teen growing and stretching and testing are creeping in. The clothes are getting way too large and long, and the issues we talk about are often uncomfortable for me to pass over my lips.

And it's just started and almost over in the same breath. Jack is 10--five years to a learner's permit, but five years ago I watched him walk into school for the first time. He's more than halfway to being considered an adult. Wyatt's where Jack was five years ago, but my youngest baby who no longer needs baby things. I need absolutely nothing in the baby aisles at any store, and that's freeing and gaspy-cry-inducing all at the same time. What. Is. This. Parenting. Madness?!? How is it short and long, slow and fast, and makes me want to pause and fast-forward, depending on the breath we're taking?

I'm so blessed that I don't have to do it alone, and I have such a wonderful husband who doesn't buckle emotionally like I sometimes want to do. Conversely, he listens when I think maybe we need to consider it from a different angle, and we adjust. Thank you, John, for being the balance to the Force, whichever side that needs to be at the moment.

I'm also so very aware of the single parents out there who don't have that second voice and heart to balance the equation or get tagged out when their resources are drained. I see you. Hugs and high fives and pats to the behind for doing the hard thing when it feels all tight and panicky in your chest and you'd rather let it slide because you're exhausted but you don't because then your kids will grow up sucking. Thank you for persevering, because maybe your kids and mine will meet and because of our collective hard work, they can be decent people to each other most of the time.

To my babies,

I'm trying, dammit! You probably don’t like me most of the time, but you know without a doubt that I love you. You will also have limited tools if you choose to parent, and you'll feel like you're on a roller coaster against your will. It'll be thrilling and wonderful some of the time, and other times you'll just want to throw up and stop. The wonderful memories I've had raising you will always overshadow the hard moments I've had trying to not screw it up, because you're worth the stress and grey hair and "fine lines." I love you too damn much to stop being "a mean-o."

Love,

Mama

The First of the Ramblings

I’m not very good at writing just to write. I actually hate it. If I’m not forced to for an assignment, inspired by something ridiculous my kids have done, or filled with emotion, I’ll question every word I type. This is only the third sentence and I’ve backspaced 100 times already. But maybe there’s some worth in this. I’m going to give it a go. I'm not very disciplined and often only care about something until the novelty of it wears off and then it slides onto the never ending heap of "When I Have Time."

John tells me I should write, because he is inspired by my words. I don’t think I’m out of words, but as my kids are growing my material seems somehow lamer than before. I’m no longer stuck in the thick of the diapers and nursing and very little sleeping, which gave me so much material to reflect on and, honestly, complain about. My boys are a little older now, and less work in the physical sense. I no longer have a baby on my hip, a toddler in the basket of the cart, and a kindergartner racing about touching everything. It's different. Not easier. (Never easier.) Just different.

I feel like I am just peeking over the fence toward the next season of parenthood, into the deep molding of ethics, character, and drive. It’s way less physically exhausting, but the psychological and emotional exhaustion is unparalleled. Managing and taming that inner destructive voice these wild and handsome little men own is a huge challenge. I’m not good at demonstrating grace and patience, so I feel like I'm always hoping God and other people in my babies' lives will help fill the gap with goodness and helpful life lessons. Perhaps the angels God sends will diminish the amount of therapy my kids will need due to my own failings!

Parenthood is nothing like the brochure! There are plenty of snuggles and kisses and good teaching moments where no one is yelling or sarcastic or loudly sighing. But anywhere there are people, there is messiness and selfishness. We get tired, we get short, we get ugly sometimes. Feelings get hurt, apologies are deserved, and it becomes a whole circle tour on the struggle bus to pull those apologies out of our mouths.

No one really tells you when you're trying for kids--maybe out of a attempt to not be a naysayer, maybe because you'll never listen--that it's not the kids that are hard, it's the dying to self and growth as a parent and person that is insane. I don't think babies are hard, toddlers are hard, or even this preteen stage that my Jack is sliding one foot into. I think it's hard to feel prepared when you have no idea what's coming next. You honestly can't predict what's going to walk off that school bus and burst into the house. You don't know if you have an elated child who really connected with another kid and feels ten feet tall, or if one careless word from a classmate has made your son question their entire idea of worth. You have to be prepared to be present, whether just to listen and high-five, or to give guidance and encouragement.

I hope I'm doing better more times than not. I hope they remember the good, and pray that with perspective one day they will understand how easy it is to screw it all up, and how vital it is to keep trying. One day I pray they have beautiful squishy babes of their own and can experience all these joys and struggles. I cannot overstate the abundant joy!

Jack, Hunter, & Wyatt, I will fail you often, but I will always keep trying to give you what I believe is best for you. I work hard for you to see that I love all three of you, that I desire your company, and I am enamored with the beautiful personalities God gave you. You are so precious to me, and so markedly different from each other. I am amazed that Daddy and I could help make three vibrantly different sons with such a wide variety of interests, preferences, and perspectives. You have such worth and potential in this world, and it is my joy to live life with you while you become men. 
Love, your Mama.

Woah. Playing catch up is going to be a doozy.

*deeeeeeeeep breath* Holy cow, I've neglected this blog. I even forgot about it. Now we have three kids. Boys. Probably not going to have any more kids. Ouch. That hurts to type. We bought a home. I love it. I love the idealistic vision I have for it too, but I love it mostly now because we're all in it. Most of my record-keeping and memory-recording take place on facebook and via the emails I set up for each of the boys. If I could just ==pause== life for like three days, I'd love to get everything organized and wonderful for each son, but maybe that's what I get to do when they're grown. I hope. Jack is attending a charter school. He's adjusting, but the days are long. He has always been beloved to me, but nothing like NOW, since I say goodbye to him at 8 a.m. and don't see him again until 3 p.m. It's painful for both of us. I wish school was more efficient and was a half day no matter how old you are. Because I think it would be possible. Seven hours is a long time to be away from home when you're 6 years old. Jack is so big. Tall, lanky, gap-toothed as his two front teeth barrel through the small space to nudge and force their way front and center. He has a good sense of humor, is anal-retentive (dunno where he gets that from. seriously, it's both of us.), apologizes quickly, thinks creatively and constructively. He is amazing and I just want to cuddle with him, although it's hard because the kid is all sinew and bone. Hunter is my looooooove. His heart is ten sizes bigger than his own being. He cares, feels, loves so deeply. He ugly cries when he is disappointed. Everything is about whether it is "fair" in regards to Jack. But sometimes he exhibits such amazing understanding and compassion for others. He is charming, thoughtful, silly, and has crazy laughing eyes. I can't believe he is mine. He takes endless (and I mean ENDLESS)abuse from Wyatt as he constantly tries to love on him and Wyatt tries to pummel him. Yes, I had another child! Wyatt is a vivacious, passionate boy of 18 months. He is loud, silly, and has a very strong will. He slaps me sometimes just to gauge my reaction. He is fearless. He can outshout everyone in our house. He "gives loves" after he hits you, which I guess I try to treasure as a trade off. John and I will be married 10 years in July. God, that's a long time. Long and WONDERFUL, of course. ;) Enough for tonight. At least I got something down here.

6 months later...my heart explodes

Estrogen.
Pretty much the best and worst thing to happen to humanity. On one hand, nobody can function correctly without the appropriate "pinch" of it. On the other hand, it causes all sorts of problems. Like puberty. Then, pregnancy. Or like ME, weeping at the thought that one day my babies won't need me to put blankets on them at night. (Because I'm not a creeper like in Love You Forever. I'm not the mama who drives to my son's house, unstraps the ladder from the roof of the station wagon and climbs in his apparently unlocked window so I can rock him, singing a lullaby. I'm not that mama. YET.)
Yes, I'm blaming estrogen here.

Today (yesterday by the time I finish this) my "tiny" love is 6 months old. Not many people care. I don't mean that in a pity-me or any other sort of way. It's like telling people it's your XX-year wedding anniversary. You pretty much go, "Oh! Congrats..." and then go back to checking facebook and getting dinner ready. Unless you're this tiny love's mama. Then you look over at his chubby delicious cheeks and beautiful, God-sculpted smile and the estrogen damn near creates a supernova of warm fuzzy baby-loving intensity.
Watch out, world!

(Yes, I know that STILL only like four of you know Hunter's birth story. And I know, by how loudly you're all clamoring for the details, that like only four of you really care and maybe a couple more are mildly interested. Whatever. It bothers me that I haven't told you because I'm trying to be consistent with how I ooh and ahh over each child. I'm already failing, LOL. 'Cause you're not getting that story today!)

Dear little Hunter,

You are so sweet. You are truly a good-natured child. The skinny, womb-folded version of you gave way (soooo quickly) to the current plump version of you that causes estrogen supernovas in all the women in our lives. You eat like every meal is your last. Strangely I'm not getting any thinner because of that, so please don't be so very different from your brother that you take all the water and leave the calories 'cause I was banking on the passive weight loss!
Your knuckle-dimples make me cry (everything makes me cry) because they are fleeting, special, squishy. Your toes are like little caterpillars. Your eyes light up like a Christmas tree whenever someone acts foolish for your sake. Your smile explodes when Jack talks to you or runs around like a crazy person to entertain you.
I stop and close my eyes when I hear you babbling in the other room (I stopped doing that when you babble in the car, trust me...) because I want to take that moment and somehow fold it into a little square...a Viewfinder disc for later, complete with smells and sounds and feelings. I LOVE my life with you, with Jack, with Daddy. You are evidence of the fact that life goes by so fast that I can't catch up.
I hold you and feel your super soft skin and already notice how weathered my own skin is. Am I really nearly 30? How does that happen to a person? That's so...decidedly grown up and irrevocably adult. I am so happy that I have given this world two great lights so far, you and Jack. I'll do my damnedest to raise you to be wise and committed to God.
Hunter Cole, I love you. I love love love love love you. I love that you're here and that the Lord has given me all these hours with you. Sometimes I'm shaken with fear, knowing that bad things can happen to anyone, good or bad, Christian or not, and I squeeze you and your brother and Daddy, praying that I never have to go through losing any of you. It would be too hard to breathe.
Happy half-birthday, sweet one. I will sleep now and cuddle you in a few hours when you crave mama and milk and warmth and all things safe.

Love, Mama.

If I Forget To Write Things Down...(freakishly long post)

...then they just disappear forever. Seriously. I promised that my "next post" would tell you all about Hunter's birth story, but it won't. And Hunter will be 5 months on May 3rd...so you see how ridiculously LAME I've been about documenting our little lives here. I think, if we didn't have the internet (and I'm not BLAMING the internet, just my addiction to/reliance on it), then I think I could actually keep a written diary of some sort. That's the only way I'd have time. But then, I am typing this at nearly midnight just because, for the moment, NO MALES OF ANY AGE NEED ME RIGHT NOW. Unless Hunter wakes up. Or John realizes I'm not in bed and lumbers down the hall to make sure I'm not dead. Or the covers fall off of Jack. But not right now.

So. I am 29. John is 26. Jack is nearly 3. Hunter is nearly 5 months. We're all alive, well, and entirely too well-fed compared to the rest of the world. We are not even close to rich, yet our essential needs are met. We have family close by who invite us into their lives constantly and love our sons. We're so grateful. We have many friends, even though this thing called parenthood clog life enough that we don't get to see each other ever. We are on facebook enough that we could probably get a whole lot more done if we weren't. Feel updated yet?

Didn't think so.

How do I catch up from this gap? The delivery of Hunter and the four and half month since...I don't know if I can! Well, I will try, but not tonight. Instead, I'm going to jump right in to today, to NOW. Because if I spend ten posts updating you, I'll still have missed documenting what's going on NOW. And I have an incessant, nagging need to document the now because it is flying by at a speed incalculable by human means. Seriously.

Jack looks more and more like a boy every day...and now that I have Hunter I can barely believe that Jack was once at that stage. Now that I stare at Hunter for hours a day, Jack's baby pictures look funny to me--a baby I once knew, but is now morphed into a tall, slender blond-haired boy with stinky feet who refuses to be potty-trained and smells all of sweat and none of baby goodness anymore. He is not even technically 3 yet and has just graduated to 4T clothing. He wears size 10 shoes. He stands on a stepstool to brush his teeth right next to me. He can fetch "baby diapers" and "Jack diapers" for me. He says "thank you, mommy" and "awwwwwww I love you, mommy."

But he's not an angel. Right now he's in a weird phase where he will smack himself when disciplined. Makes for great scenes in public. And he sasses back, which I haven't found an effective discipline for. I get a lot of "You no touch-a me, mommy!" when I try to hold his hand or "You no say that!!! (dinosaur roar)" And he physically runs from me when he knows he's in trouble.

Jack can't look for a toy in a toybox. He empties the whole box and spreads the contents around the room first.
Music used to be "mitch" then turned into "muse-kit." :)
I have caught him several times laying on his stomach with his face in the dog's water bowl, lapping at it with his tongue. Ew. He will also try to sniff things by putting his face down on the floor next to the item, then picking it up with his teeth.
His fear of flies "bees!" seems to have subsided from the epic proportions we had grown accustomed to.
He willingly goes to bed after a bath, teeth-brushing and 2-3 stories. We turn the hall light on and he can quietly sit or lie in bed with the books he was read until he wants to go to sleep.
He is constantly following me around to see how he can help me. "I help you? Djyou need help?"
He LOVES Hunter with an amazing passion. His first thought when he gets up is to run into our room to see if the baby is awake. He will open our door and check to see if Hunter or I am moving. If so, he'll bound onto our bed asking, "Baby awake? I see a baby? I kiss a baby?" Now he's also useful when I can't get to Hunter right away and he can sort of be the court jester, distracting Hunter with his words and dancing and toys.
He has seemingly limitless patience with Hunter so far as long as he doesn't grab one of Jack's toys.

Hunter is just...well, fat. LOL He's well over 20 pounds and wearing 9-12 month clothing. His torso looks like one of those roasting chickens you buy. His legs look like turkey legs. (Shut UP, I'm not a cannibal. These are just good visual examples. Despite how he looks, we are not basting him with butter. I'm out of butter.)

He is definitely, BY FAR an easier baby than Jack was. This, I'm sure, is a combination of me not being a new mom and him just seriously being more laid-back. A couple days ago we were all going home in the van and Hunter had decided to cry from the AV Mall all the way home to Challenger and I. We just kept driving home, but John and I had to chuckle for a moment because when Jack had done that sort of thing years ago, we pulled over so I could nurse or change him. Now we're fairly convinced that a baby can survive a few moments of crying, so Hunter got to wail during our drive.

Hunter JUST started rolling over from back to tummy--yay!!! BUT we aren't yet at the stage where he can roll back, so all day now he is rolling onto his tummy, then becoming FURIOUS because he's done with being in that position, I flip him over and he immediately flips back and starts the process again. It drives me batty, but I'm so proud of him growing up.

Well, this is long enough. Let me wrap it up with my customary love notes:

Jack,
You are such a joy with your goofy grin and your imagination. Today I told you to eat your dinner and you told me you couldn't because you didn't feel good. I asked you what hurts (expecting you to tell me it was your tummy or throat or something). You told me it was your leg where you had a teeny tiny scratch but scabs currently freak you out a bit. That's why you couldn't eat your food. Over a scratch. I love your love for all things boy: trucks and trains, dinosaurs and dirt. I'm so proud of you. You make me feel "bree-full-o" everyday.
Love, Mama

Hunter,
You are such a chub of amazingness. I can't believe it's been nearly five months. Ridiculous. Of course, now you weigh enough to equal three of you at birth, which is shocking. It is so wonderful to again have a baby because it's a real confidence booster for someone to grin and coo and giggle and have a full-body glee spasm just because I walked into the room! (Daddy loves me and all, but after six years we're a little more comfortable with each other for that sort of behavior. Hee hee!) Having another baby makes going to the store a very tiring event, but I love taking you out because everyone who sees you just loves you! I'm so excited to watch you grow and for you to be a little playmate for Jack! I love you, "tiny" love. I'm all twitterpated over you.
Love, Mama

41 weeks: Everyone needs to quiet down!

Okay, so I'm writing this waaaaaaay after week 41. Say, week 46ish. But I have GOT to catch up. It makes me very sad that I haven't kept up with this documentation of Hunter's little life...well, of all of our lives. And I know that, try as I may, I won't remember so much that has gone by already, even if I document some of it.

Week 41 was very difficult for me. No, not because I was late. I wasn't worried about being late. I was worried about everyone ELSE being worried about being late. Because the later it got, the fussier people got. Ironically, after NINE MONTHS of waiting, every day after my very-rough-estimate "due date" was TOO LONG TO WAIT!!!! TOO LONG!!! You know, I'd read about fudging the due date to people...like, telling your friends and family that you were one week "earlier" than you were, so no one got a chance to bug you because the baby came "early"!
Yeah, I should have done that. Because I had to quit facebook at one point just to stop justifying myself and feeling like I was failing when I had no reason to feel that way.

I can't even point out any specific remark (aren't YOU all grateful!) that put me on edge. Honestly, it was the combination of my own anxiety with anything anyone said, good or bad. I was worried about Hunter being late because I was having him in the hospital and doctors are (sometimes understandably) fussy when your baby seems "overcooked"...but often it's a liability issue.

Now, Dr. Kurian was WONDERFUL at the birth (as you'll read in another post). SIMPly WONDERful. But his nurse asked me if I wanted to schedule an induction. Before I was due. I was actually 39 weeks. And healthy. No complications except Group B Strep Positive, which isn't an issue really. So it irritates me GREATLY that they would encourage scheduling an intervention so routinely without there being any cause whatsoever. I get it if I had gestational diabetes and was going blind. That I get. But for a healthy mom with a healthy baby, who could naturally give birth (as I did) at least two weeks after her "due date." Grrrrr....

But I digress. Or complain. Both, probably.

So on Wednesday of week 41 I went in for a non-stress test. "Non-stress" is definitely a misnomer for me. Because I was beyond stressed. Not because I was worried about Hunter. I had no signs to indicate that Hunter was unwell. I was worried that perhaps Hunter would not put on a "good show" and make people worried when he was really doing just fine.

So, for the first time during my pregnancy at any doctor's visit, my blood pressure was really high. Then the nurse had me lay on my back, which hurt my hips and lower back like you can't even believe. Then they can't get a good reading off one machine. Like, it just broke. Then they wheel a second machine in. Which stops printing. Thankfully, Dr. Kurian came in, looked at the results on the monitor and deemed everything fine. But I would have to come in the next day for an ultrasound to monitor amniotic fluid, then again the day after for another non-stress test.

That night I felt little pains that came sort of regularly, which I "walked off" around Jill's pool table after dinner. But it tapered off. I woke up the next morning to Dr. Kurian's office postponing the ultrasound to Friday, which suited me just fine. I'd been drinking LOTS of water to make sure my fluid was good, but it's not like that would hurt me. I just had to pee a lot!

I kept feeling little pains off and on that day, which was exciting but I tried not to get too excited. I knew it could stop and I didn't want to get disheartened. So I tried to test Murphy's Law. I started making poultry stock with turkey and chicken carcasses. It takes six hours to make poultry stock and I figured that if this was real labor, it would interfere with my six hour time period and I'd much rather sacrifice a pot of stock (sad as it would be) in order to get the baby out! Around 3 p.m. I decided to start keeping track of the contractions seriously! And...you'll have to find out the rest in the next post! *grin*

40 weeks: I'm ready!

Well, Tuesday, Nov. 23rd is the big day! But only big-ish. Because Hunter may not come then. He probably won't. But that does mark the 9-months of active people-building on my part, which is pretty impressive. God lets us make our own people! How awesome is that?!?

So I would like to state that this pregnancy has officially been different than the last in that the last trimester has been MORE DRAMATIC THAN COULD EVER BE EXPECTED. --My photography business took off (a GOOD thing, but makes for a busy me!) and I am STILL editing shoots from my uber-busy October.
--John and I made some crucial financial decisions.
--We had to move on Nov. 6th (thank you landlords...), which is NOT what a nesting mama wants to do! We are still unpacking (and probably will be for awhile) but had some awesome people come help us out--friends and family which are all amazing in my book.
--My grandpa passed away yesterday.
--My grandma is very sick.
--Thanksgiving is Thursday.
--We found out that John has to go to Minnesota for manager training (good thing) in January (at least not this month or next month) for THREE WEEKS (bottom lip quivering).
I am officially ready to not have any more drama, good or bad. But I am ready to have this baby!

I am still editing the last two boudoir sessions I shot (the day before we moved, I should add). My plan/hope/wish is that I get all the photo stuff done and in client's hands before I have Hunter. Had we not had to move, that would have been nearly effortless, but having to stop all post-processing for packing and unpacking was a serious problem! Thankfully all my clients are extremely patient with me. <3

Tonight I finished packing everything for the hospital trip...the whole while thinking that this is DEFINITELY one of the reasons to have a baby at home. Ridiculous to do all this packing for a spontaneous trip that has no set length mere miles from my house. Ugh. But, then, I would have had to to about half of this packing anyway as a backup. So I am ready. We would have about half an hour of scurrying around the house collecting things like toothbrushes and cell phone chargers, but the bulk of it is done. Thank God.

We have Jack packed with sensible things like clothes and diapers, but also my childhood suitcase (that bears the phrase "going to grandmas" on the side) full of new little treats for him to enjoy/stuff to keep the grandparents sane while he really wants Mama. I bought him a picture book, a book called "If I Could Keep You Little" which makes me so sentimental I don't know if I'll ever read it to him, a set of Crayola Color Wonder markers and paper, a Thomas the Train DVD and a Thomas the Train book that plays music. AND a slew of plastic dinosaurs and we'll throw in trucks and cars last minute. I hope he enjoys them. :) I hope he goes to sleep for everyone fairly easily.

My little love has been so sweet when he's not a holy terror for being the age he's at. The social and verbal connections he's making blows me away, but he's still just a wee boy and still wants me to hold him. "Mama, hold you?"

When we go through animal sounds he'll start with, "Howwww bowwwwwt...a cow? Mooooooooooo!!!!! Howwww bowwwwt...a sheep? Baaaaaaaaa!!!"

When I found out grandpa died I cried for about half an hour. Jack came in and saw me, then said, "Right back, Mommy. Teh-EE bear." He found his white teddy bear and gave it to me to make me feel better. How sweet!

Last night when I tucked him in bed, I leaned down to give him a kiss. He grabbed both sides of my face and put my head near his nose, breathed in and said, "Mommy spmell nice." He kicked off his blanket (which he used to call "gank," then "ganket" and now it's "mangknet") but five minutes later asked for it back, whispering, "Please Mommy, mangknet." After I draped it over him he whispered, "Thank oooo, Mommy" and fell asleep.

Tonight he didn't want to sleep in his bed, but on the floor where I normally sit or lie down on another pillow next to his bed until he falls asleep. So we cuddled there and he told me how all the characters from the show "Kipper" were sleeping, individually. Then he put his hand on my cheek and fell asleep. :)

If he hears a sound from John or I when we're out of sight, he will come over to us and ask "Mommy/Daddy okay?"

He will often hug my tummy ("the baaaaaaby") and rub it or kiss it. Last night he showed Hunter his book and all the animals in it.

We have not tried to actively potty-train, but he's to the point now that he will tell me most of the time when he needs a new diaper. This only works if it's a pee diaper. If he poops, he'll hide and cry saying "Hurts!" because, obviously, if he doesn't tell me and I don't notice, it isn't comfortable for me to clean him when it's been there for a few minutes. I am looking forward to potty training him, but not worried about it for awhile, given the change of moving and the coming change of Hunter arriving.

I know this post is long. It's long for me, not you. Because I won't remember all of this stuff, but if I type it, I will remember it again later. So if you're still here, I'm going to talk about my pregnancy too.

I have finally reached a point that I'm getting weary of being pregnant. I really do love being pregnant, as I've said before, and I know I'm lucky because some women have a miserable time. Sometimes I'm miserable, but the good always outweighs the bad for me.

I love the small amount extra of attention.
I love the loose waistlines and no expectations for me to LOSE weight.
I love that I remember to take better care of myself because there is a helpless person inside me that needs that.
I love feeling the baby move, 'cause no one else can experience it like I can.

But I think I'm okay if he comes out now. My hips hurt a lot when I'm in any position for two long. It's hard to change position, especially in bed. Just today I've had to pee probably 20 times, each time just a trickle. That gets really old. Especially when it feels like OMG-if-I-don't-pee-I'll-just-die. And that's even more difficult when I have to heave my giant self out of our super-soft mattress to do it! Hunter is way TOO strong to be kicking me for very much longer. It's painful sometimes. I'm tired of sharp, stabbing pain here and there and WAY down there. I'm tired of heartburn that shows up BEFORE I eat. Seriously.

So, Hunter, you can show up anytime. Your Daddy has been anxious to hold you for weeks, especially this past week. Everyone's excited to meet you and I can easily psych myself out when I think about going through labor, so if you could just come, we could get it over with and I could just meet you and love you and feed you 10,000 times each day. And love it. Love you, tiny one.