Me= Bear

A confession, friends:

I am a bear.

I hit a wall at 32 weeks. The pregnancy waddle lost its luster. The baby kicking was still welcomed, but less so throughout the night. My goal is to not complain. I do it anyway. 

Today I read online that at 33 weeks: "many women are still feeling sexy at this stage".

To which I give this response: Ba hahahaaaaa

I'd like very much to hang around all day in very comfortable, loose-fitting, mismatched clothing. Sans makeup. Sans shower. I only want to read light and fluffy books. I don't want to think about the election. And if Morgan has chicken nuggets a la freezer for the next 7 weeks of dinners, that will be totally fine with me.

In fact, it's probably good that Morgan has to go to preschool and that I have to get out of the car to take her inside, else I would probably give up my feminine nature altogether. 

I am a baby making machine. I'm a bear.

Dan assures me that in 7 weeks I will have more energy. I don't know who his misinformant is, but I'm just hoping to sleep soundly again. Sweet, sweet sleep. 

But then I do have this: I was thinking tonight that when Mary (Jesus' mother) found out she was pregnant, she went to spend 3 months with her pregnant friend Elizabeth. And although Scripture keeps to the basics of their reunion (they praised God for their pregnancies and such), methinks they did a lot of noshing, barfing and groaning. I laughed thinking about them hanging out together, letting their gestational hormones blend into a sea of tears, laughter and general moodiness. Personally, I think Joseph sent Mary away b/c she was too hormonal. Dan is "this close" to sending me away, I just know it.

*sigh* Well, now it's nearly midnight and I'm hoping the Petri Dish Love Child (who I love, thank you very much) will let me get a few winks. 

Seven weeks, baby.

Random Pics

I haven't gotten to posting pics of my *brand new five-year-old* yet, but here's some random ones. Frankly, the one below isn't a phenomenal pic of Morgan but gave me an idea of what she's going to look like when she's older and I just couldn't bring myself to erase it. I can almost picture her at eighteen saying, "Ma, will you put that camera away? Sheesh."

*Random sidetrack: Am I the only one who looks at the BACKGROUNDS of photos to see how people live? Notice my cluttered countertop? It's the bane of my existence. I clean it every day and somehow it grows things again. Grrrrr. *

And here is my little princess in dress-up before ballet practice. 

When the Goin' Get Tough, the Tough Go Browsin'

Being a mother with the chaos of home life can be straining. So sometimes I go to stores (without child... important... without child) to make me feel like life can be orderly, peaceful, smell good and not have to pick up things off the floor. I don't always buy, but here's where I browse:

The beautiful smells, the way the kitchen gadgets call out my name innocently... The nice people there who make the shopping experience relaxed. And the way they wrap their green boxes with that beautiful cream ribbon... the world is at peace.

My regular (but annual) visit to Nordstrom woos me with it's music, it's fancily dressed salespeople who don't say "I'm on commission" but make you feel like a princess... the kind customer service and the amazing restaurant and coffee bar.  It's very woo-ey.

Especially at Christmas... the lights, the smells, the decorating of their windows... life is good. And their Land of Nod Children's Store is a page out of a Storybook. 

I love their table decor. I told Dan that "when we're old and rich" I'm going to march into one of their stores and order an entire table's worth of dinnerware and decor. haha

Okay, only in AMERICA would a store exist simply to store our abundant love of stuff. I suppose I should feel guilty saying that, but it's amazing... if you want to store your collection of vintage pushpins (huh?) or create a closet that is exactly the dimensions of your dreams... it's all there. I was there yesterday and it took all my strength to only leave with the things on my list. Oh, and stocking stuffers there are a BLAST. 

Good old Starbucks. Gotta love the carefully chosen furniture, the strategically  placed "impulse" buys in a variety of price ranges, the selective choice of music that oh-by-the-way-you-can-buy-here... I don't mind being sucked into their amazing marketing enterprise. And the coffee is good, too. It's a good place for comfort.

Another El Cheapo Makeover

For those of my friends with new, mighty-storage kitchens, this post probably won't interest you. 

Dan and I aren't in the market for a new kitchen, so I thought of a new way to organize my canned goods: a soda can dispenser. I always have diced canned tomatoes, canned beef broth and canned chicken broth in my pantry. But lately my pantry has been so difficult to see that I didn't realize when I was running out of these three staples. Sometimes I would buy more chicken broth when what I really needed was tomatoes. I was a dame in distress.

I bought three of these dispensers and now I can see exactly how much I have left. I think it will save time and money in the long run. At least, that's what I'm telling Dan when I justify my purchase tonight. ;)

Gestation-rific

Disclaimer: The following post is rated "M" for "Mature". 

I have a theory: 

The bodily functions a pregnant woman goes through are essentially the same as what the child she is carrying will go through once born. 

The purpose of these bodily changes in the mother is to create empathy for the young offspring.

Stay with me.

1. Poo

There's no use beating around the bush. Poo. It's what we do. (Tempted to say "it's what we doo-doo" but that would be overkill.) Babies adjust to their new little digestive systems and a great big poo will make or break their day. Thus the little hormonal change which some women go through in pregnancy that stops up the system is essentially building their empathy considerably.

Empathy level: 8 (out of 10)

2. Spitting Up

I'm not saying that I do this, but, you know... other people probably do. The whole stomach/esophagus relationship becomes real intimate during gestation. 

Empathy level: 5 

3. Diapers

Okay, seriously... could it get any more humiliating? Kegels or no... one hard sneeze and you're visiting Niagara Falls. 

Empathy level: 10

4. Waddling

The waddle is actually preparing the pregnant person for s-l-o-w-i-n-g   d-o-w-n their life considerably... and not just physically either. Studies in the Dykstra household show that the greater the waddle, the slower the brain activity. Waddling is also meant to simulate the frustration a toddler feels upon learning to walk.

Empathy level: 4

5. Moodiness

This is the best day of my life. 

This is the worst day of my life. 

I'm happy. 

I'm sad. 

I'm happy again.

Now I'm angry. 

I'm sleepy. 

I'm hungry. 

This is just a 5-minute sampler of the pregnant woman's emotions. 

Ditto for newborns. 

Empathy level: 11

6. Narcolepsy

"Oh hi, Mom, I was just going to call you and... zzzzzzz." 

Empathy level: 100

So there you have it: the quick and dirty on the importance of gestational discomfort. Stay tuned next week for my next theory on why God chose women to have wombs and not men. 

Priceless

Morgan came home from school complaining of being very cold. 

But her cheeks were flushed pink. And her eyes hurt.

She had a 103.2 fever. 

Called the pediatrician:

"Tylenol and Motrin alternately until the fever goes down.

Don't push food.

Push fluids. WHATEVER she wants to drink."

So I took her to Walgre.ens. 

New digital thermometer to replace the one that was dying at home.

Tylenol and Motrin.

Orange soda and grape juice (her choices).

A toy to lessen her grief. 

And a $48 bill. Ugh. But a worried mother didn't mind. Her fever was rising quickly.

On the way home, we picked up McD.onalds. Her idea. I was thrilled that she'd suggested eating.

We get home. 

She tells me she wants to save her McD.onalds Happy Meal for "lunch". 

Translation: "Me no hungry. Me eat tomorrow. Maybe."

I offer her some soda or juice.

"Can I just have water, Mom? I want to be 'helfy.'" 

Water? "Helfy?"

Of course, of course. That's the point. "Helfy."

Water. 

Which is free. 

Water.

Am I a Master.card ad or what? *sigh* I just love this kid.

Halloween Survey

1. What was your favorite Halloween/Fall Festival costume as a child?

Easy. My fairy costume. I was a princess and I had lost my two front teeth. I looked like a tooth fairy. Another year I was Snoopy. That was cool, too.

2. Least favorite costume to wear?

Ugh. The scarecrow costume itched. Burlap, baby.

3. Favorite candy?

Butterfinger!

4. Favorite fall treat that you baked?

Roasted pumpkin seeds. Or Pumpkin Chocolate Chip cookies.

5. What age do you think one should stop trick-or-treating?

Eleven. Ish.

6. What is the lamest treat you received?

A handful of pennies from a dentist. *yawn* Like that will prevent cavities.

7. Any other traditions on Oct. 31?

We usually ate a breakfast supper. Eggs and waffles. I intend on keeping this tradition.

8. What costumes will be present in your family this fall?

A chicky for Morgan. And last year I was a banana, but now I have a lump. Nobody likes lumpy bananas. :) Dan... who knows?

9. Favorite Halloween or fall movie?

Peanuts Halloween, of course. That whole pumpkin patch thing was hilariously random.

10. Any funny Halloween stories?

Not much. I do recall my parents hauling us to various relatives on Halloween night to see how "cute" we were. We were not too happy b/c we were wasting valuable candy begging time.

Some years our church would do a fall festival party. They did a pretty good job of game and fun and giving us the sugary loot to take home.

Okay, your turn... fess up to the October fun.

Cocoon

I'm cocooning. 

Is that a term? If not, I claim it as one right now. I'm cocooning.

I'm starting to hunker down for the arrival. Not real social. Staying inside a lot. Organizing. Ignoring emails. Cocooning.

This weekend we painted the nursery (pics to come later!)

We organized the closet. 

We fiddled with the placement of furniture in the itty, bitty nursery room.

We dinkered around with knobs on the furniture.

And today I washed about 72 pair of baby socks. I don't know. A lot. 

I also pulled out the Rubber.maid containers with 0-9 month clothes and washed them. It's a very strange feeling to see such small clothes. Morgan even asked, "Are these for my dolls?" 

And even with the little one kicking vigorously inside me, it still doesn't compute that this room is for a baby coming out of my body. 

To sleep in THIS crib. 

To wear THESE clothes.

To poo in THESE diapers. 

Laughing... but I'll continue to prepare her room and try to prepare my heart.

Bloggy Giveaway

Okay,  y'all... I'm selfishly reluctant to tell you about this bloggy giveaway, but 1. You're my friends and 2. I get entered in the drawing twice if I blog about it. :)

One of my unofficial bloggy heroes is "The Reluctant Entertainer". Sandy, the author, is a mother of three children, all teens, I believe. She has a way of making entertaining in a special way without the pomp and circumstance. She's a real foodie, but she's not unreasonable in her recipes or entertaining. She's the real deal. Me likey. Plus, the photos are great, too.

I'm trying to convince her to write a book. :)

Change of Heart

I'm ticked. Or, at least I was ticked.

Since 3am there have been helicopters flying over my house for HOURS. Loud ones. 

In frustration I called the police department. 

There was a medical chopper crash.

Four killed. One of them was a 1 year old. 

*Pit in my stomach.* 

God, be with those families. 

Whatsa Matta? Chicken?

Every year I tell myself that I won't make her costume. 

And then I get the bug. 

This year she wanted to be a chicky. 

I was so overjoyed that she didn't want to be a television character or a Dis.ney princess, that I went right to work. 

Then I saw that Pot.tery Ba.rn asks, like,  $80 for a costume like this. I love making things for a bargain. (hehe)

Obedience

6:40am

Emily is wearing Dan's sweatpants and an overly large t-shirt. Not one of her prouder moments. She's tired and hungry. 

Morgan is dressed for the day and already ready to assert independence.

Emily: "Morgan, come here!"

Morgan (thinking discipline is coming): "Why?"

Emily: "Just come here. Take this fork. C'mon, let's eat."

Morgan: "Cake? We can't eat cake for breakfast. Do you want your poops to hurt? You have to eat 'helfy'."

Emily: "Sure we can. Here we go!"

Took her a minute, but she got the hang of it.

Five

Birthday Week is officially over.

I hope.

There were cupcakes for Sunday School and cupcakes for preschool. 

There was cake for the actual family birthday celebration.  

All were strawberry with a vanilla frosting. 

Except for when I broke down and bought a cake for the last celebration. Too tired.

There were loud announcements to 5-yr. old friends and strangers that "it's my birthday". 

There were presents. 

Homemade presents. 

Bought presents. 

Thoroughly loved gifts and utterly rejected ones. 

(You can make a 5 yr. old SAY "thank you" but we can all read their face.)

And, of course, one gift is already broken- the butterfly pendant necklace we bought her.

There were many "happy birthday" songs.

And now, after much hoopla, an Ar.iel birthday party with 3 frisky neighbor girls and much ado about turning a year older, we have a five year old. 

Goodbye, birthday week.

Hello, year five.

Party Favors Await Guests

"Under the Sea" Balloons Arch- A Creation of Dan

Poem

The moon is up

The baby grows

It kicks inside me

so I know

That in December

when we sleep

A wee, wee cry

will make a peep

And keep me from

the precious doze

That makes me sane

and on my toes

So when the world

lay mostly snoring

I'll find midnight is

far from boring

But for now

she softly kicks

And I am up

And boy this stinks

But Dan's up, too

and this is good

He will help me

with her food

When she awakes

both day and night

And we can't sleep

Try as we might

*A poem. 

Written poorly. 

In the wee hours of the morning.

 Because I can't sleep. 

Even though I'm t-i-r-e-d.

A Mother's Thanks

Dear God,

Today was a strange day. It wasn't bad. It wasn't particularly good, either. Just was.

Today actually started yesterday. I watched 5 children play in my backyard at various times most of the afternoon and it was disheartening. I watched the children pick on another child. Sometimes the "other child" was my daughter, sometimes it was another child. There was a mean-spiritedness that was overwhelmingly bad. Children were making fun of the way other children spoke. Children were excluding other children because they "had" or "didn't have" something.

I woke up troubled about the children. Do I talk to other parents? Why was my own daughter engaging in the meanness? How do we invite neighbor kids over and not have it be a bash session?

I prayed about it. My heart was heavy.

This afternoon, my neighbor and I talked about it. I told her about how I was so disappointed in how the children played yesterday. "You, too?" she said. We both confessed to talking to our husbands about it at length last night. I'm glad we were both on the same page. It was nice to get it out in the open.

And then, just like that, I saw the answer to my prayer being unveiled: We were agreeing to be on the same page with this behavior. No tolerance for meanness or "secrets" or kids excluding other kids. No children telling parents what to do. Children could be sent home for mean behavior. We were becoming that "village that raises a child" cliché-- and I was completely glad about it. Relieved, mostly.

So thank you, God, for answering my heavy-hearted prayer. Help us to raise children who are kind and inclusive and bring out the best in each other.

Emily

God's Blessing

Oct. 9, 2008
Giselle Eve, 6 lbs. 11 oz.
and
Grady William Caleb, 6 lbs. 13 oz.



A Father Kisses His First Daughter.

Grady (left) and his alert sister Giselle.

Braces

Ugh. I accidentally blurred the first photo. Still... it's the "AFTER" photo that matters!

Dan

Okay, Jenni... I'm slow, but I'm game. :)

1. He's sitting in front of the TV, what is on the screen?
How It's Made.

2. You're out to eat; what kind of dressing does he get on his salad?
Western.

3. What's one food he doesn't like?
He's not too good with veggies. He no likey green peppers.

4. You go out to the bar. What does he order?
Beer. Beer. Beer. He's a beer snob. Brews his own. Then goes to breweries and bawks at their recipes. :)

5. Where did he go to high school?
In a cornfield in Iowa... okay, no I'm kidding... In a SCHOOL in a cornfield in Iowa.

6. What size shoe does he wear?
14, I think. Or whatever the size is that most stores don't carry.

7. If he was to collect anything, what would it be?
Dan is a sentimental. This means that he collects most everything.

8. What is his favorite type of sandwich?
Potbelly wreck.

9. What would he eat every day if he could?
You mean drink, right? Beer. His beer. And he does.

10. What is his favorite cereal?
Probably Golden Grahams.

11. What would he never wear?
Those golf pants that JCREW often sells with the little squares of summer plaid all stitched together.

12. What is his favorite sports team?
M Go Blue! (Did I say that right, Dan?)

13. Who will he vote for?
Obama.

14. Who is his best friend?
MEEEEEEEEE!

15. What is something you do that he wishes you wouldn't do?
Vote opposite from him.

16. How many states has he lived in?
Hmmmm... MI, IL, IA, MD and Confusion... Five?

17. What is his heritage?
He's Dutch and German.

18. You bake him a cake for his birthday; what kind of cake?
Chocolate Cherry.

19. Did he play sports in high school?
ba hahahaha... wait, let me compose myself... bahahahahaa... Um, he doesn't want to admit to any.

20. What could he spend hours doing?
Tinkering in his brew station and watching TV.

21. Does he belong to any men's organizations?
Um, not to my knowledge. The Happily Married Club? *wink*

Turning Five

Too. Much. Life.

Birthday. 

Of my favorite five year old. Only a day, but a blur of love, excess, sounds, foods, packages, phone calls, laughter, some tears and stuff. Lots of stuff. Can't even summarize. Too tired.

Friends. 

Having crises. Having babies. Small group friends. Work friends. Heart too small to hold in all the love and thoughts I have for friends. Time too limited to convey such love. 

Family.

In town. *bliss* Wishing I lived closer to them. Sister having babies tomorrow. Thoughts with her as she doubles offspring from 2 to 4. Dan= braces off. (Pictures to come later.)

Simplicity.

ha.

Smiling. 

A baby gently kicks inside me. 

Pregnancy Dream

I think I had my first pregnancy dream last night, at least my first really bizarre one. 

A little background: Not only has Petri Dish Love Child been kicking tremendously lately, but on several occasions, she has stuck some body part out very hard and not moved it. I gently help push it back in, but this motion literally stops me in my tracks. Point is: she's strong. And I'm glad.

So in my dream, baby girl pushed so hard that she came out of my stomach... near my belly button. I caught her, showed her to Dan (who fainted) and we rushed to the hospital. I'm unsure where Morgan went. 

Oh, and the baby was a boy. Weird.

When we arrived at the hospital, we were a medical anomaly and so they treated me as such. 

I'm sure this isn't the last weird dream I'll have. Maybe it was the mexican food I had for dinner.

Neti Pot Fun

It's that time of year again. Sinus trouble. Let's hear a loud, snorty "hurrah" for clogged nasal passages.

Or, try something new... 

Last year I started using the Neti Pot when it got to be "that time" again. A Neti Pot is a tool for... say it with me... nasal irrigation. You can watch the video below, but basically you fill a Aladdin's-lamp-looking device with a salt water solution and run it through one nostril and out the other. You definitely want to read the instructions carefully before using this contraption (regular salt water will burn your skin) but, if used correctly, it can really help your nasal irritation situation. It takes some getting used to, but at the very least, it keeps one from having to use so many drugs... if any at all.

But don't take my word for it. Here's what WebMD says: 

"The basic explanation of how the Neti pot works is that it thins mucus to help flush it out of the nasal passages, according to David Rabago, MD, assistant professor in the University of Wisconsin School of Medicine and Public Health and a leading researcher on nasal irrigation.

A more biological explanation has to do with tiny, hair-like structures called cilia that line the inside of the nasal and sinus cavities. These cilia wave back and forth to push mucus either to the back of the throat where it can be swallowed, or to the nose to be blown out. "Chronic sinus problems cause the cilia to beat in a slow and uncoordinated way," Rabago explains. Saline solution can help increase the speed and improve coordination of the cilia so that they may more effectively remove the bacteria, allergens, and other irritants that cause sinus problems, he says."

Addendum:
1. Use only the type of salt recommended with your Neti Pot. Regular salt may burn nostrils.
2. Do not use too hot of water.
3. If you feel some water go into your ears, stop. Let it drain. Do not blow nose too hard or water may stay in ears longer then you like.

Dear Kathryn

Dear Kathryn,

Tomorrow is a very special day for you. 

Tomorrow you're scheduled to be induced. 

Tomorrow, you may be holding your baby.

I don't want this to be a note about me and my experience or advice about motherhood. I don't even want to add my cynical edge of humor or bombard you with parental clichés. It's too precious of a moment. Too holy. 

I just want to say congratulations for how far you've come and congratulations for where you will go. 

Congratulations for waiting on God and His timing and His provision with this baby. Congratulations on your IVF success. 

Congratulations on bettering your already-beautiful marriage through this season of life. 

Congratulations on choosing a name for your daughter that you can't wait to say.

Congratulations on the moments yet-to-be:

- On the first time you see her face and memorize it. 

- Seeing a new side of your husband as he transforms to father, and you, mother.

- Snuggling with your peach-fuzz of a baby. Saying her name.

- On a season of life dedicated to bodily changes, both in you and your infant.

- On being the immediate expert of this infant, just by being her loving mother.

- On believing in love-at-first-sight.

I wish your heart all the strength to absorb these beautiful moments and your mind all the wisdom it needs to raise your daughter.

Love, Emily