Shit’s getting real.

So, this summer I turned 39. I love birthdays, so I want you to know that I seriously can’t wait to turn 40. Milestone birthdays are the best because they give you a REAL REASON to celebrate for many, many days. So, when next June rolls around, you can KNOW FOR SURE that I’ll be excited.

Here’s the thing, though. This particular milestone has some other milestones attached. Like, I’m done having kiddos. There are three. They outnumber us and that’s slightly terrifying. So, no more. We’re settled. We know how to do this life for the most part, even though if you see/hear me at any given point after 5 p.m. you might doubt that. But, everyone is alive, healthy, happy (enough- I mean they are kids, they are no doubt tormented by wanting/”needing” something at this very moment). I have a virtually endless supply of wine, thanks to deciding that while I don’t PREFER boxes of wine, they are perfectly fine and are good to have around. I could go on, but my point is…

We’re all okay. We’re totally doing this life.

Here’s the OTHER thing, though. More seriously. I have lived a lot of my life fairly dissatisfied with myself. I mean, I know. That’s depressing and a whole other thing. But I’m sort of sick of it, and I’m sort of determined to go into my 40’s (and beyond) in a better place.

I don’t mean skinny. Or vegan. Or with a flat stomach (because let’s be honest- I love food, beer, wine, and I have three kids). Or richer. Or smarter (because, three kids). I mean, I want to feel good. And love (some of) the things I do (because, three kids, and I do not love Metal Gear Solid OR cutting 30 fingernails and 30 toenails every few weeks). I want to be the best, happy, fun version of myself (which can’t possibly be the 25 year old version of me, because she was totally exhausting).

I want to learn to say no.

I want to learn to say yes.

I want to do a handstand in yoga. And crow. And side crow.

I want to stop eating processed food (for the most part, because Sour Patch Kids).

I know that I need to (but will not say that I want to) stop drinking Diet Coke.

And I’m sure the list goes on and on.

And maybe I’ll hold myself accountable if I’m reporting it to (my family via) the interwebs.

We’ll just see. If nothing else, we’ll end it all next June with a big party.

Not a marathon, because I’ve done that before here, and it was just terrifying. Turning 40 is much easier. It certainly can’t be harder.

What do you bring to the table?

The baby-making table, that is?

Sometimes it’s easy to think about the little things about you that you might “donate” to your baby.

Good things, like:

Freckles. Height. Book-smarts. Love of reading. Kindness. Open mindedness. Love of music. The ability to follow-through (most of the time). Being on time.

Funny things, like:

Attraction to bad television. Interest in celebrity. Love of Diet Coke. Oddly shaped pinky toes. Double jointedness in pointer finger (only). Lack of flexibility.

Scary-to-parents things, like:

Ability to consume all fluids as quickly as water. Willingness to try new things (trust me, this can go either way).

You see what I’m getting at.

Then, occasionally, you really get to think about the SERIOUS things you can pass on to your baby.

Like your congenital heart defect.

That is my serious thing, anyway.

Today was one of those days.

We had our fetal echocardiogram today. We have had them with our past two pregnancies. It’s wonderful to watch your babies’ heart beat for over an hour. It’s also scary to know that the doctor could be seeing something that you don’t.

Luckily for us, we have never had that issue pre-birth. And also lucky for us, if we ever had an issue post-birth, we have a great relationship with a pediatric cardiologist.

And by that, I mean that we have to pay them lots of money every time we go.

But it’s worth the peace of mind. Of course.

And, by the way, I have managed to pass along some freckles…just in case you were wondering.

consistency…

Yesterday, we had the “big” ultrasound.

(A family affair)

The anatomy ultrasound is REALLY all about looking at and measuring all the little bits and pieces of your baby to make sure he/she is developing “correctly”.

And our little baby is the definition of perfection. We feel so lucky and so relieved. I didn’t realize how much I needed this reassurance until it was over and we were assured that we had another perfect little baby. Believe me, I know we are lucky.

Admittedly, though, one of the most exciting piece of information that comes from this scan (if you are non-waiters, like us) is finding out the gender of your little one.

For me, this means I can really “get started”. On what? I am not sure. On names, on shopping for clothes, on just IMAGINING what life will be like in 4-5 months for this crazy house.

And once I found out I felt like I was on the downside of an adrenaline rush. I felt like I just wanted to go to sleep. But that’s because I am a worrier and I think that I didn’t sleep well for about a week prior to this appointment. My own issues, I think…

So, anyway, post-ultrasound Shaun and I have always gone out and bought our first little piece-of-clothing for the new baby. We did it with Hobbes (he got a polar bear t-shirt). We did it with Finn (he got a fairly useless but VERY cute fuzzy fleece jacket). And we did it yesterday. With the current kiddos in tow.

(Shaun’s choice- Finn helped with the pants!)

  (Finn’s choice)

(Hobbes’ choice)

 

Yes, sir. We are having another boy!

That’s three.

We are nothing if not consistent.

And apparently Shaun is strong with the “Y”.

And we are all SO EXCITED!

Boys RULE!

baby number three: the decision…

I would love to say that I am answering a question that had been posed to me by my many, many, thousands of adoring fans…but really, I am just rambling a bit about what I think people might wonder, when they see me wrangling my two boys in Target and then look up and notice that I am going to have ANOTHER ONE!

There are obviously a lot of reasons that folks decide to have babies.

And, obviously, some babies aren’t exactly planned.

Little old baby number three…he/she was a decision.

A decision that came AFTER the decision to NEVER have another baby.

As in, we sold/gave away most baby things. We had labeled and moved boxes of baby clothes into the attic, and then stacked many things on top of and around these boxes to make them nearly impossible for us to get to and drag down. We love my 4Runner and had decided never to get a minivan, or the like. We liked our household (human) ratio- two parents to two children. We like our house, with three bedrooms. We almost threw up when we had to buy FOUR plane tickets to New York last year to go visit my dad. That’s a lot of plane tickets, not to mention a lot of luggage now that you have to pay to check bags.

So, what I’m saying is, we were a totally happy family. And still are (of course).

So, why the big decision?

Well, all of the sudden, it just seemed like it was time to talk about it, just one more time. I had all sorts of random (sort of scary at the time, but now that they are over it all seems like it was okay) health issues with my baby-making-parts last fall. We thought for a minute that maybe someone would tell us that we COULDN’T have another baby. So, of course, we decided that maybe we wanted another one.

And I am one of three children (Shaun is an only child, so he’s totally out of the water with any number of siblings), so in the back of my mind, three was always kind of the “normal” number.

And, admittedly, I watch a lot of television shows that involve grown up families spending time at their parent’s houses for various reasons and it always looks like more fun when there are a WHOLE LOT of folks there for holidays, etc.

Plus, we didn’t have any more babies around our house. And we like babies (remind me of this when I am not sleeping anymore come November).

Hobbes will make an excellent older brother.

Finn will make an excellent older brother, AND he already seems to have the middle child role kind of down, to be honest.

Obviously, I was never going to actually get rid of all the baby weight I put on with both of my other babies, so why not do it all over again.

I am sort of kidding on that last one.

I enjoy being pregnant. Or, I should say, I ENJOYED being pregnant. I won’t lie, pregnant at 35 is different than pregnant at 29. But I still like it.

And that’s good, because I definitely am.

Pregnant that is.

And, 18 weeks in, I can already barely see my feet.

 

Yeah, as I’ve mentioned to some friends, third pregnancies ain’t no joke.

milestones…

This was Hobbes on the first day of Kindergarten…

And this was Hobbes on the LAST day of Kindergarten…

I can’t believe he is so big. Ridiculous.

one, two, three…

I figure it’s not even worth apologizing for my absence. So, let’s just get to it!

One- I made this Strawberry Pretzel Salad for a cookout that we had this weekend. I had been craving a similar desert that my Nana used to make when I was little. Since Nana could have been Paula’s sister (in looks AND demeanor), I trusted Paula Deen to give me a good recipe. She didn’t disappoint. There is no picture because it may or may not already be gone.

Two- I am turning 35 this week. I am not one to be bothered by birthdays or the fact that they signify that I am, indeed, one year older. I tend to celebrate my birthday for at least a week every year. I will admit that I think that 35 sounds pretty adult, though. And I would say that I probably look 35. I mean, I certainly haven’t been carded in several years. Except by a guy who told me (when I thanked him profusely for being so kind as to make my day by carding me) that they carded everyone. So, about looking my age, yeah…I’m not really sure how I feel about that.

Three- That is how many children we will have by Thanksgiving.

Kilgariff, Party of Five…coming your way mid-November, 2012.

a newfound love…

Yesterday I tried something new.

It’s something that I have wanted to try for a long time, but it always seemed a little…luxurious.

Then I decided to go ahead and do it anyway.

(The fact that is was offered for free this week didn’t hurt, either)

Let me introduce you to the Express Lane at Harris Teeter.

Or, probably, you already know about it and use it.

But I am always behind.

So, now I am introduced. And it was love at first order.

Oh yes.

I went online. I searched for my items and made my list. I selected my pick-up time. I went about my day. I picked up Hobbes at school. Then I picked up my groceries. All without getting out of the car.

And only interacting with one person at the grocery store.

Then I came home and unloaded my trunk.

And did I mention that there was minimal human contact?

I also should add that they were out of a few items.

But to remedy this, the nice lady called me on the phone and told me, then I got to tell her if I wanted to replace them with different items, get a raincheck (if they were on special), or just leave them off my order.

And let me tell you, even if I had paid the small fee (I think it’s 4.95 per “visit” or there is also a monthly option), it would have saved me money. Because I would have probably gotten a coffee (there is a Starbucks in my Harris Teeter). And when the items were not there, I would have decided to get ice cream, or something like that, just to make up for fact that they were out of the beans that we had on the list.

Plus, by the time I got the groceries home, it was like someone had given me several bag of presents. It’s not like I really remembered what I had put on my list that morning. Grocery Christmas!!

So, I truly believe that it saved us money.

I KNOW that it saved my sanity (no three year old running wild in the aisles).

And did I mention that it kept me from having to really interact with people?

I feel like I am trying to figure out how to leave my house less and less.

I say it’s to save money, get more done around the house, and spend more time with Finn that doesn’t involve him sitting in a cart/running around a store.

But really, I think I’m a little anti-social. And I like to sit on the couch.

So, I am going to keep it up, I think.

Finn demands, though, that I tell “the lady” to bring him a cookie. That’s really what he misses about going into the store!