Sunday, February 17, 2013

survival instinct

I ended up having both girls with me as I visited the midwife last Friday. Luckily, Kiddo is always a sucker for new toys and books, so was thrilled with the box of toys aimed at one-year olds. And Babs is always with me, so that also wasn't such a big deal. (Providing a urine sample was more interesting than I hoped though.)

At the end of the visit, after discussing my various concerns (nothing out of the ordinary for an "elderly multigravida"), we listened to the heartbeat.

A strong beat sounded the moment she pressed the little instrument on my belly, then almost immediately disappeared.

"Third child," I explained. "It already knows that if there's any pressure there, it's time to retreat to the back."

We heard him/her moving around quite a bit, kicking a few times, and eventually got the heart beat back, briefly.


I have started feeling it, occasion gentle pokes from the inside (after all, it's only about 5 inches tall). I had forgotten the problem with early movement though - it makes me feel extra sick to my stomach.

Wednesday, February 13, 2013

our valentine's ritual

Nine years ago (really? nine?) my husband and I were not married, not dating, and had just spent hours going to and from the temple. We stopped at a Wendy's on the way home, and unknowingly ordered the same thing. To say I was having a rough weekend would be an understatement. To say I was slightly hyper would also be an understatement. He sat across from me, and opened an identical sandwich to mine.

"Spicy chicken buddies!" I exclaimed, a little overexcited for the situation. To his credit, he did not run, but instead smiled back at me.

Since I realized I loved him the next night (he'd known he loved me for a while), and we got married six months later, I often think of that moment at a key moment in the start of our relationship. (Actually the whole weekend was key, but that's another story.) So I drag him to Wendy's every year for Valentine's Day. I also make him bring the kids.

After all, it's not just him and me that started that weekend, it was our whole family (all 4 1/2 of us).

(Wouldn't this be a great place for a recent (candid or professional) family photo? I'm pretty sure the last one was taken months, possibly years ago. I should work on that.)

Tuesday, February 12, 2013

the last place I'd look

Babs loves babies. One of her favorite songs is "Santa Baby" (not one of my favorite songs, and why did it take me two months to figure out she loved it for the idea of the baby?). The Christmas season is her favorite because it's truly all about a baby.

We bought the girls a Playmobil nativity set in early December, mostly so they'd forget about my breakable set (which she didn't). But it's been a winner in the respect that she has played with Baby Jesus for more hours than I could have imagined.

A few days ago, some of their friends came by so their mom could move apartments in peace. The first thing Babs did was show them her Baby Jesus. It was also the last time I saw him. As he is approximately 2 inches tall, our chances of finding him again seemed slim.

But the other day, my good husband was both cleaning Babs' room, and packing away some toys when he found Baby Jesus. He called Babs in to share the news. He decided to be clever, and pretend to pull the baby from out of her ears, a slight of hand that is well-loved in his family (and ours).

For the next two days, Babs excitedly told anyone who would listen that Baby Jesus was lost, but we found him in her ear! No wonder I hadn't found him yet, I didn't think to look there.

Saturday, February 9, 2013


My husband was explaining what a teenager is to Kiddo today. My husband continued, "When you're a teenager, you'll disagree with most everything we say."

"Well, I will not!" Kiddo insisted.

Tuesday, February 5, 2013

like you didn't know when we bought the minivan

Kiddo was pretending to be a mom a few days ago, and was taking care of her charges. At one point she says, "I'm sorry, I can't do much. Moms who are pregnant can't do very much." She's right. And she should know because her mom is pregnant.

After weeks of heavy napping and serious sickness, I finally told the kids why their sometimes-fun mom had become a seriously not-fun mom. In the ensuing weeks since breaking the news to them, I have not become any more fun. Although I have fed them, at least three times a day, every day (except when there was someone else to feed them). Except my super-star husband has been making dinner for the last two months. So I guess I've only fed them at least twice a day. But they are fed. And clothed. So there's that.

I am starting to show. Not enough to make it obvious that I'm pregnant, just enough to make me feel fat, and make sure none of my clothes fit. This baby makes its entrance in late July.

Babs asks me at least once a day "You have a baby in your tummy?" She often follows this up with "what's its name?" I tell her we don't know the baby's name, or even whether it is a boy or girl. But fret not, because "when the baby cracks open" (a technically inaccurate, but disturbing, description) it will tell her its name.

(Kiddo has "always wanted a brother." Babs has "always wanted a sister." My husband and I want someone to wear the boatloads of clothes we have out in the shed, but would be happy to learn new skills as well.)

Sunday, February 3, 2013

her testimony

Last week in Sacrament Meeting, Kiddo turned to me and insisted, "I have a testimony!" I replied that I knew that, and then she told me she'd like to share her testimony at church. I told her that it wasn't the right Sunday, but that she could next Sunday. (The first Sunday of the month in our church is reserved for members to share their feelings about our religion, it's called testimony meeting.)

On Monday, Kiddo remembered that we owned a kid's barn tent. It is folded up in a closet, where I like it best. She wanted to play with it. I was eating breakfast (and no one disturbs my breakfast these days) so told her where I thought she could find it. She and Babs headed downstairs to investigate, while I finished my breakfast in peace. And since it was so nice and quiet, I thought I'd read one more article from my newspaper, but instead I felt like I needed to go down and help them. This was a strong enough feeling that I followed it, and went downstairs. As I walked into the room where I anticipated them finding the tent, I remembered the tent was somewhere else. But before I could say that, Kiddo announced "We couldn't find the tent. So we prayed to Heavenly Father to help us find it."

I told her I was pretty sure the tent was in another closet, and I retrieved it for her. As I walked back to where they were, all the pieces fell together, and I taught her the lesson I just learned. "Kiddo, Heavenly Father did help you find the tent. He knew you couldn't find it, so he sent me to help you. He answered your prayers."

Later that evening, we were having Family Home Evening, and we discussed testimonies so we could remind Kiddo what was expected of her. She bore a lovely five-year old testimony about praying to find the tent, and having Heavenly Father help her find it.

Fast forward to today. She was very excited to bear her testimony. My husband walked up with her to the stand but did not go any closer. She was going to do this herself. Then she bore a wonderful testimony for any age. She testified that the church was true. She told about praying, and receiving an answer to her prayer. She reminded us that Heavenly Father always answers our prayers. She closed her testimony appropriately, then skipped back down to her seat (with nary a backwards glance at her dad, still on the stand).

She is amazing.