She cracks me up.

I'm working up a post about all the crafty goodness that comes from this woman, but I can't stop staring at this picture.  I hate this picture of myself - but I love this picture of US.  Know what I'm saying here?  There is a certain amount of joy that is tangible in photos of true friends - friends who haven't seen each other in too long - friends who lived together in 'historic' houses through hot Macon summers with no air conditioning - friends who get each other and complete each other - friends who always make you laugh and don't know the meaning of TMI.  She's my designer, my fashion guru, my authority on motherhood and blogging:

She's One Rad Mother.

Consider me showered.

On Saturday, Cameron and his friend took the three kids to The Falls for the afternoon while Mom and Alice and I trekked into the big city {okay, fine - Smyrna - almost the city} for a baby shower of epic proportions.  I'll give warning here that I am seriously responsible for almost NONE of the photos that follow.  I was socializing. 

The baby shower was thrown by three of the most amazing and outwardly classy women that I have the priviledge of calling my best friends. {Outside of the public eye, there may have been some swigging of champagne directly out of the bottle, but I'll never tell.}  We've been thick as theives since college, minus a couple of dark periods.

Best hostesses ever.

{Photo courtesy of my sissy.}

There is so much that I could say about these ladies - but because I don't actually feel like crying tonight, I'll just say that I love them beyond measure and I'd be lost without them.  I could call any of them and they'd be wherever I needed them to be in 30 minutes less than Google maps says that it'll take.  They've loved me when I was unloveable.  They have allowed me to make mistakes and forgiven me with open arms when I realized that I was wrong.  They throw one heck of a shower.

There was delicious cake...

And delicious snackies that included two party trays of Chic-Fil-A - cause it's good chicken, y'all!

The decorations were beautiful, and I was particularly blown away by the diaper cake courtesy of that amazing redhead, EM.

She says it was her first attempt - I don't believe her.

I made almost everyone pose with me for pictures because pregnancy makes me sentimental - and because I have a blog to think of.  I haven't received all of them yet, so here are just a couple of my faves.

Poor Brandon was an awesome sport, even though he didn't know what to wear to a baby shower, and I don't think he liked being forced to rub the belly. Please notice the rocking necklace that I'm wearing courtesy of Four 37 Designs.  I'm obsessed with it.

Great photo of Aunt Juliet, my mom, and my mother-in-love.

I was blown away by the generosity of my friends and family and how much they already love Baby Bo.

I learned that you should always have 2 of the favorite lovey in case one has to go into the wash or gets left at Nene's house.  I might have talked to monogrammed monkey heads - don't mind me.

I can't begin to tell you what an amazing day it was or how much I appreciated everyone being there.  Guess I should stop blogging about it and write some thank you notes.  :)



Yeah - I love him.

I haven't figured out buttons yet.

This morning, I woke up, rolled over and scooted towards where I believed my husband would be.  I wanted a quick snuggle before I ran out the door to work.  I woke up quite abruptly when I realized that he wasn't there.  I waddled to the living room, expecting to find him on the couch - he and Dr. Who have been pulling some late nights recently, but he wasn't there either.  In just a minute, he came stumbling out of Tyler's room, still wearing his blue jeans and clutching his back.  He spent the night in a twin sized bed with a squirmy 4 year old to protect him against whatever boogieman had been after him last night.


He is our protector, our provider, and our everything.  I've seen him go without sleep, work multiple jobs, and cook delicious and nutritious meals out of practically NOTHING when it was necessary.  Through it all, he always makes time for his family - for each of us individually AND for us as a unit.  He demands togetherness when the rest of us roll our eyes.


He tells people all the time that in our relationship, he is the reacher and I am the settler.  Truth be told, he made me a better person because he believed in me so strongly.

GET ON MY BELLY!

33.5 weeks!

So - I had avoided taking another belly photo.  I was waiting for a day when I might actually be wearing make-up or putting in some effort.  However, getting out of bed and working 9 hours is about all I've got right now, and the rest is just the cherry on top.  Don't expect any cherries out of me for the foreseeable future.

So - here I am... in all my pregnant splendor.  And let me tell you something about my belly: I'm proud of it. I get tons of emails everyday about pregnancy and everything that goes into it.  There seem to be a ridiculous number of women who want to know how to keep people's hands off their bellies.  I can't completely identify - maybe I haven't been fondled by enough strangers yet.  I've always been a hugger, so I don't have much of a problem with physical closeness. 


I rub my belly all the time.  I feel for little feet or knees or elbows or whatever that is that's poking me now, and I poke back.  I massage.  I knead.  I love on him.  I play with him.  


Bo is already my most incredible accomplishment ever, and I want to share him with the world.  I want other people to know how strong he is, how hard he can kick, how squirmy and fun he is.  I'll gladly share him with you.  Just let me know.

Who's got my title?

It is amazing what good sleep will do for your mental state. 

Bo and I went for our weekly check-up yesterday.  You may know that I have been disappointed by pretty much every ultrasound that we have had, because he’s like a deer in headlights when they place that wand on my belly.  He freezes and backs away SLOOOOOOWLY.

Yesterday, though, he danced like no one was watching!  He wiggled and squirmed and reached for his toes and tried to get his hands in his mouth!  All the movement meant that the still photos were all a little blurry, but the little guy got 8 out of 8 points on his biophysical profile.  They measure muscle tone, body movements, breathing motion, and amniotic fluid volume.  Last week, we got 6 out of 8 – no breathing motions.  Laurie, the ultrasound tech, assured us that it was just a little early for him to be getting all 8 points, so we didn’t panic, but it was amazing to hear that he got all 8 points this time!

He’s already rocking the honor roll.  I promise not to put a bumper sticker on my car… yet.  :)

Rocking and Rolling

Dear Peekers,

I'm pregnant.  I know - I know - you might have gotten the memo.  However, I feel that it bears repeating, because suddenly, I FEEL pregnant.

This may sound whiny to you, but this is one of those posts that I am recording for me.  My sincerest apologies - I'd probably just skip this one if I were you.

XOXO,

Me

***********************************************************


I am 33 weeks pregnant.  Up until week 32, I felt AWESOME.  My hair had luster, my skin glowed, and my fingernails grew like never before.  As of my doctor's appointment one week ago, I had gained 9 pounds since the beginning of my pregnancy.  I had spells of being tired, but a quick nap always enabled me to work through it.


Suddenly, in the last week, I became the stereotype for pregnancy.  One day, I ate french fries, and my fingers and toes swelled up like little sausages.  The swelling went down slightly, but it didn't go away.  My ankles were swallowed by my calves.  I went from lovingly dressing my bump as a fantastic accessory to grabbing the first thing in my closet that still manages to contain the rapidly expanding belly.


I have adjusted my work schedule to accommodate taking a half day every week to visit the baby doctor - getting up earlier and taking shorter lunch breaks takes more of a toll on me than it ever has before.  


I have 5 pounds of human camped out in my midsection.  Bending is hard.  I run out of breath putting on my shoes - not that they fit anymore.  I rock and roll everywhere I go.  I *rock* myself out of whatever chair I sit in.  I *rock* myself out of my car.  I *roll* myself off the couch and out of bed.


For the first time in my life, I actually believe that schedules are flexible.  I'll get where I'm going when I get there.  I don't have the energy to rush.  


I am sore - every evening.  My legs stay numb or tingly - and I can't decide which I'd rather deal with.  I move from chair to chair to couch in the living room before I remember that I'm just *not* going to get comfortable, and I give up and go to bed.


I feel like a ticking time bomb.  Two nights ago, I lied in bed, unable to sleep, because I couldn't stop thinking about what a mess it was going to make when my water broke.  (Yes - I know.  Typically it isn't a gush... but I didn't say that I was rational right now...)


This baby is coming - ready or not.  I'm trying to plan it out in my mind, but there are too many unknowns.  I need a bag - one at home and one in the car.  I need a plan for how it goes down if I'm at work or at home.  I need a plan for if it's daytime or night time.  I need a plan for if the kids are here or if they aren't.  I'm overwhelmed and panicked, but I'm still breathing.


I think that this is normal.  


If it isn't, maybe you just shouldn't tell me.


*********************************************************

Edited to add:

How did I forget the heartburn?  I woke up in the middle of the night this week choking on my own acid reflux.  Disgusting, I know.  I was there.  Why do I want to remember these things?  I dunno.  But I do.

Lessons learned.

I love my hometown.  I do.  I love most small towns, but I love mine the most.  I can probably say this truthfully because I left for most of my 20's, and came back to kick off my 30's. 

Homespun is a yearly festival with arts and crafts, music, rides, food, a parade, a 5k, a duck derby, and topped off with fireworks.  It's always hot and crowded, and for me, at least, it's always worth it.

This year was the first year that I've attended avec bebes, and like pretty much everything else, they only made it more fun.  I have a lot to learn about life with kids, and Saturday was no exception. 

I started the day at 6:30AM by greeting runners who were registering for the 5K.  This was special for me because it is run by our church - Crossview Community Church - and it was the first event that I volunteered for last year when we started attending.  This year was almost twice the size as last year, as now we are a qualifier for the Peachtree Road Race.  It was a busy morning!

After the race, I met Mom, Cameron and the kiddos at the First Methodist church for my favorite Homespun tradition - hot breakfast cooked by the Methodist men.  Unfortunately, after breakfast, Cameron had to head off for work, leaving the kiddos and me to our own devices.  We made one lap around the festival to check it all out and decided that as soon as the parade was over, we'd head back toward the bouncy houses.

1st lesson - You CAN have too many balloons.

Too many balloons leads to tangles and general mayhem.  These are fantastic kids, though - Tyler lost a balloon, so Des let him have one of hers.  A little later, Des lost her remaining balloon and Tyler gave her one back.  This was all with NO prompting.  *happysigh*

Des loved the parade - it was her favorite part of the day.  She loved the clowns, and she positively beamed when one threw confetti on her.  I watched her jump up and down on her toes in an act of completely unbridled joy.  {For a minute, in my eyes, she was 4 years old again.}  She also wanted to ride on the firetruck.  She says that she'll be a cheerleader if she can ride on the firetruck.  That brought me back to the present.

We did some bouncing on the bouncy houses post-parade and then headed home for cool-down, lunch, and naptime.

When Cameron got home, we headed back down for his favorite part, the food trucks.

There was chicken on a stick, homemade chips (ribbon fries?), fried fish, fried pickles, a blooming onion, and fried cheesecake.

2nd lesson - Take a blanket.

We sat in the grass to eat our fill of greasy fried deliciousness.  The tables were all full, and because I'm usually content to stand and eat, the logistics of sharing platefuls of food off the ground with two kiddos under 7 who were overly concerned with grass and every tiny bug that crawled by didn't occur to me until we were in the moment.  No harm, no foul, I suppose.

3rd lesson - Kiddo tummies are much MUCH more hardy than mine at this point.

Just watching this happen directly after eating made me queasy - but the boys enjoyed it.  Each of the kids got to choose one activity post-dinner.  This was explained to them very specifically.  Destyni did a great job standing with me and watching the boys go round and round.  Once his ride was over, we walked back to the bouncy houses.

4th lesson - Des will ALWAYS choose the bouncy houses.

Tyler was very unhappy to watch his sister bounce without him.  Those blue eyes welled up, and the bottom lip started to quiver.  It hurt my heart - and Cameron's too, but he had been presented with his options.  We had to stick to it.  I would not tell him, for obvious reasons, but I will tell you, dear Peekers, that sometimes working to raise responsible human beings sucks.  My heart wants to give them everything that they want now.  It's so hard to say 'no', but my prayer is that they will learn the hard lessons, and one day say 'no' to their children - so that I won't have to.  (Isn't that what we have to look forward to as grandparents??)

5th lesson - There's always time for one more ride.

As we walked to the car, we saw a train of carts pulled by a John Deere lawnmower making laps around the park.  We had seen it in the parade earlier, and it was just too good to pass up.  The kiddos hopped in for a spin, and Cameron and I stood in the relative quiet, holding hands, and taking it all in.  I love my family.  I love my life.  I love Homespun.  I already can't wait for next year.

Final lesson - ...

Flour Baby

Des and Tyler have about a million questions each about their new baby brother.  

• What's he doing?
• Is he sleeping?
• What's he saying?
• Does he like what you're eating?
• Did he get scared when the tornado came?
• When will he be here?
• Does he cry?
• Why is he upside down in your belly?
• Why can't we dress him all in pink?
• How big is he?

Pretty sure that I got all of those... YESTERDAY.  


I get email updates that compare Baby Bo's size to a fruit or vegetable.  It drives Cameron crazy when I call him up to say, "GUESS WHAT?!?  Your son is now a JICIMA." He says he's sick of having his son compared to food.  Which is why I thought the following was downright hysterical:

We were told at the ultrasound this week that Baby Bo is about 2 ounces short of 5 pounds at this point.  So when the kids were asking about how big Baby Bo is last night, I handed them a bag of White Lily self-rising flour.  Des cradled it and kissed it and hauled it around.  I thought that Cameron would collapse on the floor laughing when she jumped at him around the corner, holding the flour and yelled, "IT'S BABY BO!!"  I think it helps them understand why my belly is "SO BIG AND SO HARD!!"  

I know I'm sensitive - especially as I get rounder and more uncomfortable and sleep deprived, but nothing keeps your sense of humor intact like having two little people around to marvel and make observations about your changing body.

I think that the best so far has been Tyler telling me, "Tricia!  Baby Bo kicked you hard!  He made cracks on your belly!" while he traced my stretch marks with his finger.

Bo will have the best big brother and sister ever.  Love some kiddos.  Like whoa.

God is good. All the time.

Bianca wouldn't start this morning.

My heart stopped briefly this morning when I hopped into my car, turned the key and heard a click.  I tried once more, and still nothing happened.  I woke Cameron up, and he came out and tried.  Again - nothing.  So - I drove his car to work, and he'll call Mom and she'll come up and help jump it off.  Hopefully, it isn't anything serious.

Now - let me tell you how this turned into an exercise in thanksgiving as I drove towards the office.

I thanked God that Bianca didn't pitch her hissy fit yesterday while I was at work or during my late night trip to the corner store for No More Tears and Honey Nut Cheerios.  I thanked God for providing a loving husband to help take care of things like this.  I thanked God for my mother - who lives 5 miles away and is always happy to help.  I thanked God that I had planned to leave for work early, so this hiccup didn't actually make me late.  I thanked God that we are blessed to have 2 cars so that when things go wrong with one, it doesn't mean disaster.  I thanked God that Cameron's father answered the phone and backed up my highly speculative diagnostic.  I thanked God that this happened on a day when Cameron is off - so that he has the time to take care of it.

Being a believer does not mean that things won't go wrong.  We live in a world where it is a given that things will go wrong.  Faith in a loving God does change your perspective, though.  Faith takes the focus from what went wrong to what went right.  

God is Good.  All the time.

**UPDATED**

Cameron just texted to say that the car started!  All it took was patience, Coca-Cola, and jumper cables!  *happydance!*

**UPDATED X2**

Charge didn't hold.  Off to the shop.  Yargh.

Nothing to see here.

Hello Peekers!


You're a bunch of creepers, but I love you.  In other news: it's Monday.

This is how we feel about Mondays.

Finally Friday

The memorial service was beautiful.  Family was all together - I'm sure that it made Gramma happy to see.  People laughed together and remembered how amazing our stunning matriarch was.  I could have laughed more, but hormones being what they are, I cried like a baby through most of the service.  Ben spoke about what it was to grow up with her just down the road, and I felt that he hit it out of the park.  He said things that I would have wanted to say had I been able, and for that, I feel truly grateful.  Juliet sang beautifully and gracefully as ever.  Her song choice was perfect for the occasion, and it is always a treat to hear her sing.

Lunch was served at the church, and I know that I, for one, ate too much and laughed too loudly.  Post luncheon, the immediate family convened back at the farm.  Once the rain had broken and the escaped cow had been corralled, we made our way to the family cemetery, where we sang and prayed and placed Gramma lovingly with her husband, our daddies, and my sister.  We left her favorites, Brie and a Klondike bar, and ate the rest of the Klondike bars, knowing that for once, we wouldn't be reprimanded.  

State of the Mama (to-be!): TIRED.  SORE.  Like whoa.  Yesterday was a blur of activity, during which I positively refused to stay off my feet.  There were people that I wanted to talk to - face-to-face, not face-to-belly button.  There were hugs to be had.  People brought me drinks, and the ladies of FUMC-Rockmart hid me in the kitchen so that I could eat a second breakfast of coconut pie.  Despite everyone's good intentions (including my own), I collapsed at 4PM yesterday and am still not completely recovered.  I may have finally learned my lesson, though - Cameron has been instructed to remind me that I should sit before I hurt for the duration of the pregnancy lest I regret it later.  Sometimes I have to tell him what he should say to get through to me.  It works best for everyone.  

State of the Bo: 32 weeks down, 8 weeks to go.  Probably around 17 inches long and somewhere around 4 pounds.  Residing underneath my ribs, as usual - inhibiting breathing and making me generally uncomfortable.  Most active from 10AM - 12Noon and whenever I lie down in the afternoon.  

Things to Do: Stop by Goodwill and drop off bag of donations that has been lingering in my car for the past week.  Clean out car.  Wash Tyler's sheets.  Continue recovery so that I can be in top form when I pick up kiddos tomorrow.  Choose appropriate outfit for NWM's christening.  Get together names and addresses for family baby shower.  I'm cutting off the list here.  I could keep going - but I won't - because I'm recovering.  

Does Everything Have to Have a Title?

It's been 4 days.  Tonight, we visit.  We visit with friends and family, and we tell each other that Gramma is in a better place.  We try not to feel guilty at the relief that comes from knowing that she is no longer trapped here in the physical realm with us.

Pregnancy has complicated this whole experience.  Hormones and a 4 pound person trapped in my midsection have made me extra emotional and just plain exhausted.  I was advised by the doctor on Monday to take it easy.  My blood pressure has been slowly rising for the last month or so, and while we are still in what they consider to be "normal" territory, as we approach the due date, we will be taking more precautions.  Most alarmingly to me was that the doctor now wants to see me once a week... for the next 10 weeks or until Bo decides to grace us with his presence.  Next week, we're slated to have an ultrasound and a non-stress test.  I can't help but think that this test is VERY poorly named, because even if you stick the "NON" in front of it, telling an expectant mother that she needs another test will cause stress.

Cameron will be with me, and that makes me happy.  I'm tremendously lucky to have him.  It may be a side effect of everything going on, but I feel completely out of control right now and terrified of everything.  He assures me that I am normal.  That worrying about whether or not you will be a good parent is pretty much a pre-requisite to being a good parent.  Let's hope that he's right.

My sweet sissy has been staying with us this week when she isn't out doing music teacher type things - sight reading songs with strangers for fun... seriously... sounds like a blast, doesn't it?  Anyhow, Aunt Juliet is suffering from seems to be enjoying an almost gravitational pull to my belly.  I'm slightly in denial that I am actually the size of a planet now, but it just may be because now that I think of it, Cameron is exhibiting similar symptoms.

I can worry until the cows come home, but one thing is for sure - this little guy is loved - now and forever.

Goodbye, World, Goodbye.

I have decided that it doesn't matter how prepared you are to say goodbye to someone, when it actually happens - when that person finally shuffles off this mortal coil and goes home, it won't be easy.  The selfish tears will come.  On Saturday, July 7th, my last remaining grandparent went to be with Jesus.  It hasn't been easy to watch her slip away in these final years.  I'm sure that I am not the only one who has had moments of wishing that she'd leave behind her ailing body and mind.  She told me - in the last month - that what she wanted was her freedom.


There are so many things to say about her - and to her, but I can't seem to find the words.  I, and the other grandchildren, were asked if we'd like to speak at her memorial - or even to write a letter to her.  Much as I hate to not take the opportunity, anything that I have to say to her is between us.  I always felt that we understood each other, and she has been my confidante on more occasions than I can count right now.


Selfishly, I wish that she could have hung around - long enough to meet her first great-grandson at least.  I know that she'll see him, though.  I know that she'll watch him grow.  I know that she'll love him - and we'll always love her.

Partners in Crime

Ugh.

Thank goodness it's Friday.  I woke up in the middle of the night, not just for one of my normal 'kid kicked my bladder hard enough to wake me up' potty runs, but because suddenly, I may be allergic to any and everything in my house.  I'm congested and my throat is all scratchy.  So - to work, or not to work.

Unfortunately, with impending maternity leave, sick days are like gold. 

Hi-Ho... Ho-Ho... *cough* *wheeze* *sniffle*

OOPS!

I had a new belly picture last night, but I completely forgot about it in the other excitement.  So...

30ish weeks!

So far, my journey into the third trimester has involved a reappearance of that complete and utter lack of energy that I suffered from in the first trimester.  {And just when I had almost forgotten.}  This is complicated by my inability to fall asleep or stay asleep and my desire to clean until 10 or 11PM.  So, basically - my body hates me.  


At this point, I can get heartburn from just about anything.  Most surprisingly {to me anyway}, is milk.  Whoever would have thought that the creamy deliciousness of milk could give you heartburn?


Baby Bo is kicking and squirming most of the day and night.  I might be biased, but you would not believe how strong this child of mine is.  :)  Breathing is slightly difficult at this point.  Bo has no sense of personal space, and he seems to be cramping every internal organ I have.  You don't have to tell me that it'll get worse.  Trust me, I already know.


For the last 30 weeks, I've been *slightly* stubborn - insistent that I can still do everything that I ever have done because I AM PREGNANT - NOT CRIPPLED, THANK YOU VERY MUCH.  Suddenly, though, I'm having trouble getting myself off the couch.  I need to be heaved up with the help of a darling and patient husband who apparently wants nothing more than to help when I'll allow it.  


It's getting to be time to pack that hospital bag.  It's flown by.  Some days hours minutes, I think that this baby can't come fast enough - and five minutes later, I don't ever want to let him go.  I'll share my personal space forever if he can just stay safe and sound and close by.  Nothing in my life makes any sense, but at the same time, things are falling into place better than I could have ever dreamed.

Two Birthdays and a Braves Game

Last weekend, I learned exactly why heat and pregnancy DO NOT MIX.  Don't get me wrong - I loved every minute, but the next time the forecast looks like this:

I will be cancelling my plans.

Friday, after work, Cameron and I drove to Atlanta to see the Braves play the Nationals.  This was exciting, up until my navigational skills dissolved into the mush that my pregnant brain has become and we ended up in the traffic for “Michael Jackson: The Immortal World Tour by Cirque du Soleil”.  You don't really need details on that.

Anyhow, we were only *slightly* late for the game.  We prepaid for parking in the lot directly in front of the stadium, which I would recommend to anyone going to a Braves game.  It was convenient on the front end, and if we had parked slightly smarter, we probably would have gotten out pretty quickly as well.

We were celebrating Ms. P's boyfriend's birthday - and as things are usually more fun in large groups, she had managed to corrall a nice handful of people.

These are 3 of my faves - but I'm not biased.

This happened too.  Don't get excited by that 'come hither' stare, ladies... he's all mine.

I fully expected it to be way too hot for me, but our seats were fabulous - we had a breeze through most of the game! (We were also super close to the little girls room, but I may have been the only one who was really THAT concerned about it.)  The fireworks made for a fun close to the evening, and the fact that they were set to Beatles music was the cherry on top. 

The next morning, I was invited to the sweetest first birthday party that I think I've ever attended.  Sweet Baby A was adorable as always, and there was tons of baby lovin to go around. 

Happy Birthday, beautiful girl!!

I'm officially cancelling any and all birthdays that my son might have.  I can't keep up with the cute.





Opening presents!

Watching Baby A open presents hit me hard in a very soft spot.  One of her presents was a little doll that she instantly fell in love with.  She gave the baby doll open mouthed baby kisses.  Several times, she crawled back to pick up the doll, and as I watched her do it, I suddenly thought to myself that next time, I'd be happy with a little girl.  I'm not even through this go-round, and I'm thinking of the next.  It's official.  Pregnancy makes you CRAZY.

On Sunday, there was another first birthday for another special baby. (Can't actually believe that either of these tiny people has been on this Earth for a full year, but I'll go with it.)

Another photo foiled by peek-a-boo!

There was a spread of Southern food  (pimento cheese sandwiches and devilled eggs and homemade blackberry ice cream) that alternately made me want to weep with joy and gorge myself - and at certain times, both.

There was live music, and I managed to dance a little myself.

Entertainment!

And then - the rain came.  People flooded the front porch to watch the treetops bend and sway with the promise of rain.  We held our breath and refused to roll up our car windows until there was relief.