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11月27日 Benadryl and Left-Over Turkey--The Breakfast of Champions Whew! Yesterday is over!
Thank you to the people that prayed for my dad--his surgery went fine and he is doing pretty good. Tomorrow he even has a job interview! I talked to my mom almost all day yesterday while she waited around at the hospital. It was one of those days that I wished we lived closer. A lot closer. I know I'm supposed to be a big girl now, but I miss my mommy and daddy.
My doctor's appointment went just dandy. My bee-sting is looking not-so-infectious, my head cold is going away, and the baby is growing just like it ought to, despite the weight loss, which, I think due mostly to Thanksgiving, has started to slow down a little. That, and it's so freaking cold I can't bear to go for my daily walk around the neighborhood. Anyway, I get to schedule THE ultrasound in about 3 weeks--and yes, I've officially cracked as far as not wanting to find out the baby's sex. I sooooo want to know. It's killing me--the fact that in 3 weeks I could start calling the baby a "he" or a "she". I could start psyching Mia up for her new brother or sister. And most importantly, I could start shopping! I've got to talk Caleb out of "waiting"...but I think maybe he's close to the breaking point, so only a little push should take care of him. Hmmm...What other part of our alleged "plans" can I destroy?
Since my meeting with the dietician, I've gotten into the obsessive/compulsive habit of adding up my "food groups" at the end of the day. Did I get in enough calcium? How many starches did I eat? Can I count pineapple-coconut ice-cream as a fruit? And is it absolutely mandatory that I have 2 servings of vegetables a day? It's become sort of a game for me...and a somewhat enjoyable game at that. I know I pretty much sound like a nerd right now. Deal with it. I'll be back to my normal chocolate-inhaling, coke-and-beer-guzzling self after I have the baby.
I managed to pass my nasty cold along to poor Mia, who hasn't slept more than 20 minutes at a time in the past 2 nights. She can't breathe through her nose, and apparently breathing through her mouth is too radical a thought to comprehend. She's so miserable. I've tricked her into thinking Benadryl's Chewables are little purple candies, so keeping her medicated has been fairly easy. I can't wait for this thing to be over.
And so as we are both not feeling quite up-to-snuff, today is going to be another indoor, pajama, blankets, and hot cocoa day for us. You guys enjoy the rest of your week. 11月25日 Don't Know Much About Football, But...My husband and I are surprisingly on speaking terms after the FSU/Florida game last night. I myself am not too happy with the outcome but Caleb's flying high. I wish he hadn't secretly trained my child to scream "Go Gators!". Bad move, Caleb. I'm soooo going to get this next one to come out doing "The Chop".
And an update for those who haven't already heard:
Thanksgiving: Fantastic. We stayed right here in our house. A good friend and neighbor helped us fry a turkey. Caleb whipped up a few other things to go with it. We spent approximately 4 hours cooking, 5 minutes eating, and 2 hours cleaning up.
Black Friday: Got up at the crack of dawn and drove into town...to hit up the local Urgent Care Clinic. The doctor took one look at my bee bite, which had turned a lovely shade of purple, and gave me a shot in the ass and wrote me a prescription for antibiotics. I had to brave the mob at Target to pick up my medicine at their pharmacy...The good news is that, once I found a parking space and fought my way through the sea of stark-raving-mad shopaholics, my prescription was immediately filled. Apparently I was the only person in the store who was there for pills only. I got a good reminder of why I NEVER LEAVE THE HOUSE on the day after Thanksgiving.
Saturday: I sat. I ate. I watched TV and drew funny people with Crayola markers. Caleb built himself a workbench in the garage. Cheyenne went to a friend's house to play and Mia ran around the living room like a maniac, as usual. Watched the Florida/Florida State game once it FINALLY came on. Good times.
Today: Not a lot planned. My bee bite is looking and feeling better.If I feel brave we might try to knock out the rest of our Christmas shopping. But that's only if I feel brave.
Tomorrow: My dad is having heart surgery down in Pensacola. It's his 3rd one in the last few years--I talked to him the other day and he's said he's not nervous..but then proceeded to launch into the numerous risks and consequences of the surgery...Damnit Dad, I know you're the one having it done, but I need the reassurance here. I have a doctor's appointment, my 15-week whatnot, in the afternoon. I can't wait to tell her that I neglected to take the appetite-enhancing drugs and instead opted for antibiotics prescribed by someone else...oh, and the flu shot you recommended? Never got it. Here's the thing: if you're not going to give me the shot right here, right now, in your office, don't expect me to go out of my way to have it done. I don't willingly go looking for shots. And what's your policy on episiotomies? I heard through the grapevine that this place loves to do them--for the record, when the time comes, don't you even dare come at me with anything remotely sharp because I swear I will mule-kick you in the mouth. My kid will make it out of there without the assistance of scissors just fine thank you very much. 11月21日 Getting BetterSTILL GOING WRONG:
Darcy broke her thumbnail and has been painfully limping around all night, whining and crying...attached at the hip to Caleb.
I'm sick as a dog with either a stuffy or runny nose (they rotate shifts) and a sore and scratchy throat, watering eyes, pounding head.
We are probably not going down to Texas to celebrate Thanksgiving with family. It wouldn't be right to go and give 50 other people my cold.
My bee bite is bright red, itchy as hell, and swollen beyond belief.
I'm disappointed and miserable. But believe it or not, I'm feeling a little better than I did yesterday. Maybe by tomorrow, I'll be able to make it through 5 minutes without sneezing, coughing, or hacking.
THINGS I AM THANKFUL FOR:
Car's fixed.
Took Darcy to the vet this morning. She's fixed now, too.
It's nice and cold and Thanksgiving-y outside. They say we have a chance at some snow flurries over the weekend. That could be cool.
I am now in my 2nd trimester, more traditionally known to me, and the people that know the pregnant me, as "FEEDING TIME". It's so on.
And as of yesterday, I am officially licensed to drive in the state of Oklahoma. It's a good feeling, even though it took me five hours one day and one hour the next day, to get it. And even though I look all runny-nosed, red-faced and basically stoned out of my mind in my picture. One for the ages, folks.
Hope everyone has a Happy Thanksgiving. Love you all. 11月20日 Life IS NOT CandyLife is hard, and I'm doping up on Benedryl to handle it.
Sunday I got my very first ticket ever in my life. I knew it was coming. They've started road work on the main highway in our town and switched the speed limit from 55 mph to 35 mph. I knew it was just a matter of time--but more importantly, I haven't transferred over my Florida driver's license to Oklahoma since we moved here 3 years ago. (Miss Red Van--I predicted this on your blog about being pulled over. I blame you.) The girls and I had just come from watching "Bee Movie" I knew as soon as that cop passed me that I was done. Sure enough, I saw those damn lights in my rearview mirror coming around the corner.
The officer was very nice, probably because of the children staring him down in the back seat. I apologized immediately for speeding, saying that I wasn't yet used to the change. I was in the rattier of our 2 cars and I was looking good and feelin' fly with a new haircut and clean teeth...but even my gi-normous pregnancy boobs couldn't get me out of this one. I got a ticket for speeding and a verbal warning for the driver's license. Then I drove the rest of the .12 miles home in tears.
Caleb was pissed to say the least. He held it in pretty good, with minimal lecturing and clenched teeth. Then I realized I left my cell phone at the movie theater.
THEN I GOT STUNG BY A BEE.
A fucking bee. For no reason. Right after watching the be-kind-to-bees "Bee Movie". What the hell? What are the odds of that happening? It was a perfectly shitty end to a perfectly shitty day.
Monday I had an 8:00 a.m. appointment with the dietician. She charged $140.00 per hour to tell me that everything I'm doing is fine. My food choices are perfect. My weight loss is healthy. Everything is great.
Then I paid my ticket. Then I picked up my cell phone, which, thankfully, WAS found and returned to the front office. Then Mia and I spent 5 grueling hours in the 13X13 cinderblock building that is the local Department of Motor Vehicles with about 100 other people. I was worried the waiting would be in vain as they stop taking people at 4:15; I got in at 4:12. Mission Impossible: Complete.
While I waited at the DMV all day with a 3-year old, Cheyenne was locked out of the house. Caleb was stuck at the Emergency Room trying to get through his 3rd round of rabies shots. When he was finally done, his car wouldn't start, adding approximately $500.00 to the $100.00+ I'd already cost us this week. Last night we all admitted defeat and miserably went to bed early.
Today I'm tired. Lethargic. And like I said, doped up on Benedryl. I'm thanking God out the yin-yang for everything I got done yesterday, but I still think laying low for a few days is the best way to round out our very eventful, and very expensive, week. Is it really only Tuesday?
11月16日 1,2,3: Break Someone's Clavicle!WARNING: I'm about to condone violence amongst children.
After Cheyenne was flickered in the nose last week, I've been a tornado of anger, swirling about. I was stark-raving mad--Caleb and I had to negotiate each other off the "Kick a 13-year-old's ass" roof that we were about to jump off of. At the very least I planned on giving his mom and dad an earful right before I tweaked their noses. And then something happened: Cheyenne stood up for herself.
I'm going to get flak for this, I know. I really don't care. I'm not even going to be one of those mommies that say, "I'm not trying to encourage violent behavior, but..." because that's exactlty what I'm doing, at least to a certain extent. I'm staight-up glad Cheyenne shoved that boy the hell out of her way when he tried to block her. It made him back off, and she hasn't been bothered again. It probably took that little punk by surprise.
Cheyenne, at school, is the mousiest girl you'd ever meet. She's not big by any means--she's incredibly skinny and delicate. She makes straight A+'s. She's quiet and shy and she lets people walk all over her. In other words, she's a walking target for anyone feeling less than secure about themselves, which, in middle school, is pretty much everyone. She has gone from quiet to painfully shy to straight-up scared to talk to people, she had stopped dressing up--stopped carefully coordinating her outfits, stopped wearing make-up and jewelry...even stopped combing her hair--really. She just rolls out of bed and slings it back in a ponytail. She quit the cafeteria entirely and eats her lunch in the library, and instead of checking out her normal, challenging, way-above-grade-level books, she opts for simple Nancy Drew or Baby Sitters Club. Can you say "Down-ward Spiral"? She's had a tough time this year--it's become harder and harder for her to be sociable, even with the few good friends she used to have. This has made even more withdrawn. The thing that puzzles me is that she seems perfectly content--alone in her room at home, or standing by herself at school, for the most part--until someone starts picking on her. It's especially hurtful (Hell, to her and to me!) when the picking comes from her so-called friends.
Now Caleb's talking me down from the "Call an 11-year-old a bitch" cliff. I would never, ever, call a little girl such a thing, of course...but my protective nature is raging to come out and tell off just about every kid that ever made Cheyenne upset, to go nuts on the principal, the teachers, even the lunch ladies for not noticing what was going on last Thursday, to write anonymous letters to every house in our small town and warn them "LEAVE MY DAUGHTER ALONE"...but of course I can't do that. It would do no real good.
I firmly believe that for Cheyenne to be "happy" again, she must make herself happy. She has to decide how to react to certain situations. She has the power to ignore, or run crying, or fight back. She determines how she lets things or people make her feel. Caleb and I cannot possibly rescue her from everything that happens to her. We can distract her of course, and get involved when we need to (i.e. making a call to the principal and letting him know what's up) but as far as what went down last week goes...I think she did a good thing.
Yeah, I said it. And I'll say it again, and I'll say it to her. You shove that kid if he blocks your way. If he tweaks your nose, tweak him back and then go tell a teacher. If some little boy runs up behind you and slaps you on the butt, you punch him, in the face, as hard as you can. I got your back--Caleb, too. If you get in trouble, so be it. But damnit, somebody else is coming down, too, and not just the kid that did it in the first place--but the people in place at your school that are supposed to prevent stupid stuff like this from ever happening to begin with. Cheyenne, you do what you've got to do. I'll handle the rest.
I gave her another pep-talk. Be Cheyenne again, Cheyenne. Be proud of who you are. You like pretty clothes. You like reading. You make good grades. You tell insanely funny jokes. It's okay! You're so awesome and you act like you don't even know it! Don't dare be ashamed or embarrassed of your looks, your body, your intelligence, whatever. You don't owe anyone excuses or apologies for the way you are. And give people a chance! Not everyone is out to get you! Why, they're "just as scared as you are"! And give people a chance to get to know you! Don't deny your public!
Cheyenne's wearing dresses again. She's putting on pink eye-shadow and tootsie-roll flavored lip gloss. Yesterday she wore a ribbon in her hair--that she did comb. Instead of glasses she wore contacts. She took out 3 books from the library that I'm not even sure I could read. She's brimming with ideas about how she wants to decorate her room, and she's itching to spend her money on a new scooter. She's got a spring in her step and a smile on her face again.
So, my daughter shoved a fat boy bully, got a across a message, and earned a little self-confidence in the process. Thank goodness for that little semi-violent streak. I don't know what I'd have done without it.
11月15日 Life's CandyFeeling pretty freakin' fantastic today here, people. So dad gum fantastic that I don't even know what to do with myself. Life is good, and here's why:
Cheyenne even, for the past 2 days, has been acting somewhat normal again--she's back to her fashion-plate chipper self, at least for the moment. She's doing her hair in the morning and wearing a little jewelry again. She's smiling a more. So I don't know what happened to get her out of her funk--it seemed to be worsening and then it just QUIT all of a sudden. Thank God. I'm trying to keep her busy so that she doesn't get a chance to slide back down.
Got some nice comments as far as my name game. Know this: The list you saw was but a mere 1/16 of the actual names I'm loving right now. I'm pretty stuck on only about 12, though. Whatever name I go with has got to sound right with the middle name Caleb and I have agreed on: Joy-Marie. Caleb wants to call the child Joy-Marie no matter what first name I pair it up with; I'm still debating that idea. I'd comment on the boy's name, but like I said earlier, I sold my soul as far as that goes. So I have no real say. And it is because of this that we will probably have a boy.
And I'm more than okay with that, too. 11月13日 I Couldn't Give a Rat's PatootieIt's no secret: I love to whine. If you don't love to hear me whining, there's no need for you to read my blog or even talk to me at all. Because at some point or another, I'm going to whine. I'm just going to. It's your job to listen and love it, or at least put up with it.
That said, I'm sorry for whining yesterday. And that said, I feel a whole lot better today. Honestly, I was overweight to start off with. I expected to gain slowly, maybe even to lose a few pounds, in the beginning. But since I've been pregnant, I've dropped 16 pounds--and I haven't thrown up that much. Even though I'm making no effort to lose weight, I want to be sure the baby is not negatively affected. I did indeed call my doctor to see if what I was experiencing was normal, thinking that she would sshh me, calm my fears and tell me everything's gonna be alright...and now I've screwed myself into seeing a dietician and taking some weird kind of medicine that's supposed to increase my appetite. Frick.
Frick.
I'm also really trying to work on my cussing. Mia's picked up a super-sassy attitude; I don't need her using 4-letter-words at me, too. Plus, I don't want my latest hatchling to come out swearing.
Speaking of the baby, I've been tossing around a few baby names; mostly girls' names, since I've handed over all major boy-naming rights to Caleb in exchange for the chance to have a precious little Lucy of my very own. I've always wanted a "Lucy" but with my last 2 girls have been firmly denied, not just by the baby daddy, but by pretty much everyone. Now...well, I really don't give a flying piece of corn what anybody else thinks.
But lately I've been pondering other possibilities. At first, it was just because I could. Now, I'm starting to think that maybe, just maybe, I might like something else better. Here are a few ideas, and keep in mind my inexplicable obsession with the letter "L".
And so that's what I got right now. I love people's opinions, but I'll completely ignore whatever jacked-up bad thing you have to say about my Lucy. 11月12日 Bring on Ice Cream and Pickles (and the Brownies and Cake and Cookies and Fried Chicken)Due to what I'm sure is embarrassment, I'm forced to decline to comment on the round of rabies shots, er, I mean, DOG BITE situation that Caleb has been dealing with today.
So, moving on to a more important subject (read: ME), let me tell you about my current battle: for the first time in my life, I am having trouble gaining, weight. I'm having trouble just keeping on the weight that I already have on. Before I elaborate, I need to give you a little background information on my pants. I have several pairs and they fall into 3 different catergories:
The other day, I fit easily into a pair of pants in the iffy catergory. Encouraged (yet, a little bothered and concerned) I reached for a pair treasured old khakis sitting back of the drawer--and they glided on effortlessly, zipped and buttoned up comfortably...WHAT THE HELL? It's not that I don't want my beloved pants to fit me again, but Geez Louise, isn't it about time that I start getting a little too big for at least some of my clothes? I thought for a moment last week that I'd arrived at that stage, but no. Guess I was just having a bloated day. This morning I dared get on my scale for the first time in a little while to discover a weight loss of 6 more pounds--completely unrelated to morning sickness. I freaked out and called the doctor--shouldn't I be gaining at least a little bit? Is my baby big enough? Will it be able to grow if I'm not gaining weight just yet? I can't even feel a real bump! I've become obsessed with my stomach...looking in the mirror constantly, laying in bed patting my tummy...poking out my belly as far as it'll go...For the love of Pete I'm almost 4 months along! And I don't even feel like there's a baby in there! I mean, sure, the ultrasound pictures indicated so much, but can they disintegrate somewhere along the line or something? Is that too morbid a thought? Everyone else I know (INKA, you bitch) is perfectly cute and round. My sister had a little tummy by this point. My other friend, Jaimie, The Golden Girl of Pregnancy even looked at least a little bit pregnant at 4 months. Hell, SO DID I with Mia and Cheyenne. Okay, I've gotten rid of a little anxiety now. I'll quit venting for today and pick up tomorrow...after I bug my PREGNANT AND PREGNANT-LOOKING doctor about the situation. 11月10日 Taking Down NamesIt is my duty today to go and hunt down the parents of a boy who has been picking on Cheyenne at the bus stop all year--no big deal, really...Normally it's just the usual verbal taunting about a big nose that all kids go through at some point or another between grades 1 and 12. (As if my poor girl didn't have enough social problems at school--I swear she's a living, breathing kick-me sign.) But Thursday, this boy, this older, much bigger boy started jacking with her nose when he happened to notice her in the lunch line at school. Flicking it (lightly, yes, but still) and messing with her face. He started a pushing match with another kid in line, causing him to spill his chocolate milk, then to bump into Cheyenne, who in turn, of course, fell splat into the chocolate milk. She came home crying. AGAIN.
I was enraged, not so much because she's being picked on, but because somebody laid hands on her IN ANY WAY, SHAPE, OR FORM...and I think that's wrong. I think there's a line--a fine one, I'm finding out, but as a parent I feel I should step in and ever-so-politely see that the situation doesn't present itself a second time. Or not ever-so-politely; whatever works best. I'm pissed. Pissed at people and their dogs (there's roughly 3 or 4 assholes in our neighborhood that feel their little pooches should be able to run free) and people and their chunky bully sons. With all the talks we'll be having with our neighbors this weekend, I'm sure we'll become the most hated people on the block. Dog nazis. Overprotective parents. Whatever.
Mia, thankfully, has no problem taking care of herself. At storytime the other day, the Librarian read "The Night Before Christmas" and when she got to the part that says, "He turned with a JERK," Mia, who had been a happy little chatterbox all day, stopped her, looked her dead in the eye, and solemnly said, "YOU do not say that word to ME."
Poor Miss Kay, the librarian, thought explaining would help. "To jerk means to move very fast," and she smiled, thinking the problem was solved.
"That is not a nice word," Mia said in her stone-cold tone. She narrowed her eyes. "You don't say that word to me."
Miss Kay finally conceded. "I'm sorry."
Mia stayed in Dirty Harry mode for the remainder of storytime.
UPDATE: Cheyenne confided in Caleb that on Friday the fat boy-bully tried to mess with her again by standing in her way in the lunch line. She shoved him and that was that. I asked her if she'd like me to still threaten, er, talk with his parents and she begged me not to. So, I'll keep my torch and pitchfork in storage for now. As long as she's standing up for herself.
UPDATE: Mia has forgiven the librarian. 11月8日 Where Did I Go Wrong?Week 12, day something. Thursday. Story time at the library day.
My mom has asked me to put together a few Christmas lists so she can get her shopping over with and presents sent out. I told her I don't care what kind of noisy-ass toys she buys my kids as long as they're small. Our entryway has become an unofficial playroom. I swear. In it, we have a table and chair set, a big honkin' artists easel, a plastic beauty salon complete with a plastic chair, a Dora shopping cart and a tricycle. NO MORE BIG STUFF! We have run out of room. One more huge toy and I'll be forced to make a trip to the Salvation Army, which I ought to do anyway because my kids have a lot of stuff as it is. Spoiled? Yes. But not yet rotten. So sue me.
Mia is naturally drawn towards "boy" things; it would be funny but this is a stage that's lasted over a year and she shows no signs of growing out of it. I missed having my little "girl"--my dress-wearing, doll-playing, semi-dainty mama's girl. Mia will tell anyone who will listen that SHE IS A BOY. And not just a boy, a stinky boy, she says. And to describe her as a "tomboy" is an understatement by far. She wants nothing to do with traditional girl's toys and instead just naturally gravitates towards Spider-man figurines and Diego paraphanelia. At Halloween she had no desire to dress as a princess, or a fairy, or even a witch. It was all I could do to get her to not be a Ninja-Turtle. She's super active and she loves sports and playing rough. It's cute, and I don't dare try to change it, but...
Did we go overboard in the beginning? Trying so hard to not have a super-uber-feminine-cry-baby child that we made her be just the opposite?
I wonder what the next one will be like. If it's a boy, will I try so hard to make him NOT grow up to be pig/jerk/asshole that he'll be wearing dresses before he's 5? This raising kids stuff is hard.
It's cold here; my body is in shut-down mode. I don't want to move--don't want to get out of my cozy jammies, out from under my cozy blanket...hot chocolate and cookies appeal to me a whole hell of a lot more than a nutritious salad does. I'm cranky. The very thought of going for my daily walk makes me sleepy--rather than put on my sneakers and hitting the pavement, I'm hopping into a nice hot bath and settling down for the evening. I'd make a great bear. I could hibernate like nobody's business. The fact that it's dark at 5:30 doesn't help; thank God the time change only lasts until early March this year.
Watched "Elf" last night for no reason. Maybe I'm just too eager for Christmas. I can't remember exactly who said this; but somebody I know doesn't like Elf. I'm sure I love that person, but seriously? You don't like Elf? Have you no soul?
But back to all things Christmas--I'm so ready. I'd get a tree right now if it would last 2 months...but who am I kidding? I like to leave those suckers up until the end of January. So it'd have to be a three-monther. I want to get the lights out, and the glittery ornaments out of their boxes. I already have the kids' presents (fairly small presents, mind you) safely wrapped. I'm itching to bake cookies. I know we have Thanksgiving to get through before I should even begin to think of this kind of stuff, but I just can't help it.
And now if you'll excuse me, it's time to hightail it to the public Library. Gotta go.
11月6日 Gotta Love ItYesterday I went for a dentist appointment--just your standard cleaning and check-up. I had the kids with me, Cheyenne patiently watching Mia play with the toys in the waiting room while I was in the back. I got to kick my feet up in a reclining leather chair and listen to Marvin Gaye while a nice lady massaged my gums and cleaned my teeth. Ah, the pleasure. And yes I just did compare a routine teeth cleaning to a day at the spa.
You know you're a pathetic stay-at-home-mommy when a trip to the dentist's office sounds relaxing.
But am I really so pathetic? I don't get my nails done. I haven't had a (professional) hair cut in almost a year. It's been ages since I laid in a tanning bed, which is probably for the best. I don't freak out if I haven't had "Toni Time" all week. I take enjoyment out of little things. And I feel like I pretty much lead THE perfect life. Here are some of my recent favorite things:
So I'm obviously not your average *desperate housewife*. I'm no less of a woman because I don't pay an arm and a leg to be traditionally pampered. But you know what? I'm OKAY. At least my teeth look freaking great. 11月5日 More shortsPet Peeves:
Okay. Let me just remind the dog owners of the world, or, at least, more specifically, my neighborhood, TO KEEP YOUR DOG IN YOUR DAMN YARD. Holy freakin' shit mother fricking mother fricker my GOD. I hate you people. Moving right along. We've redone Mia's room--brought in the new-old "big girl" furniture and rearranged a few things. She's pleased as punch and has spent a lot of time in there, I guess getting a feel for the new room and testing out all her toys as if they, also, were new. It was a sad day, taking that toddler bed to the attic. I told Caleb that if we weren't already pregnant, I'd be really depressed. Mia's most certainly not a baby anymore. Tear. I've got a dentist appointment today. I made a whole gallon of chicken salad because it sounded good at the time, but I'm pretty sure I'll throw out--IT IS NASTY. I am so sleepy I can hardly keep my eyes open. Mia is a sports machine. The girl can throw and bat like no other 3 year old I've seen--and I think she's left-handed. And it's like she was born to kick a soccer ball. Caleb and I are so proud of Cheyenne. She spent Sunday chopping, weeding, and tilling (using the tiller, which is really kind of hard) the garden--and she did a good job and she acted like she enjoyed it. I loved to see her get outside and have a good time, especially when she's normally inside reading books all by herself. Up until today I've been losing Toni-weight faster than I've been gaining baby-weight--all my skinny pants have actually been a little loose, but today, I'm feeling slightly enlarged. I'm stoked and bummed at the same time--I finally feel a little pregnant, but I dread going shopping for maternity clothes, and no, I do not think the maternity clothes out there now are the least bit cute or stylish. At least not on me. At least not yet.
11月2日 ShortsLot going on.
Halloween. Awesome. I added pictures to the Fall album. It was chilly, but not freezing. Mia was a pirate that apparently had the appearance of little dutch boy--I didn't get it, but she got great candy anyhow. Both of the girls did. I have yet to steal some.
Tomorrow we're breaking Cheyenne's old bedroom furniture out of the attic and setting it up in Mia's room, since she has pretty much outgrown her sweet little-girl bed. The past 2 nights she's been sleeping on a twin mattress on the floor in her room and, except for the Halloween-induced nightmares, she's done very well on it. So I mentioned the project to Caleb--he has been warned. I don't think it's so much the work of getting the stuff down as it is the putting away of the bed he made for her. We're both a little saddened by the thought.
Caleb picked up fried chicken last night, my most recent insane craving. I threw it out there earlier in the week--he remembered. God bless my husband.
My sister's baby shower is tomorrow down in Pensacola. I curse myself for not going down there this weekend, but after doing some Christmas shopping in Target I was reminded why I'm waiting until January to visit--presents truimph plane tickets during the holidays. I'll see her, and her husband, and her baby, soon enough...but right now I'm so homesick for Florida that I could puke.
My friend Inka is pregnant, too--one week behind me, to be exact. She and her husband sent out pictures of her ultrasound and of her belly. She is already round and adorable and glowing and beautiful and pregnant. I'd like to hate her. I can't, but I'd like to.
I have a very exclusive list of CILFs. (Celebrities I'd like to...). James Franco has officially made the cut. I'm putting him at number 2. If my obsession lasts long enough he'll replace the Rock at #1. Do not be threatened, sweet Caleb. I find him attractive because he reminds me so much of you. You guys and your cute little ears.
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