Husband and I went tailgating last weekend, which is something we haven’t done together since we were dating. That was a long, long time ago.
Anyway, I’m pregnant and I had several emotional meltdowns during the day — one which included uncontrollable sobbing because I was SO HUNGRY — and overall it was probably a mistake for me to go in the first place. But I did, and we survived, and here are the pictures to prove it.
I won’t be doing this again anytime soon. Geaux Tigers!!
A Dairy Queen just opened up near my house.
I am in so. much. trouble.
Some kid at ONE’s preschool told him about “burning hellfires” yesterday. He also told him that the Devil lives underground and he’ll get you if you’re bad. First of all … poor kid. How does he know about burning hellfires?! I can’t imagine telling my 4-year-old that the Devil was going to suck him into hell if he’s bad. What kind of parent DOES THAT?
Secondly … why were the “burning hellfires” being discussed on the playground anyway? Aren’t preschoolers supposed to talk about bugs and boogers and superheroes?! That seems a tad philosophical for preschool. So when confronted with the question “Will the Devil get me, Mommy?“ I just told him NO – the Devil isn’t going to get him – and to please just PLAY and have FUN today! Be young and oblivious! Don’t talk about heavy things! To which he replied “Okay ...“
This afternoon when I arrived to pick him up, he was furiously digging in the dirt with a bunch of other kids. When I later asked him what they were looking for, he explained that they were looking for the Devil. Because he lives underground.
Awesome.
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| Hello, THREE! |
ONE knows that “Mommy has a baby in her tummy” and he seems excited about becoming a big brother again. He gently pats my stomach and talks to it.
That kid loves babies.
I admit to having concerns about how on GOD’S GREEN EARTH we are going to handle three children. Our biggest worries are financial ones, though. We make too much money to qualify for any kind of assistance, but not enough money to live without constant concern. We always have just enough for necessities, and our bills are always paid late. We’re always scraping, always juggling … but somehow, we make it. It’s like a monthly miracle, honestly. I certainly can’t take credit for it.
Money is an important part of life, I realize. It protects and cushions, provides for and feeds. But it’s not everything. For Husband and I, it’s not what brings us happiness. There was a time when we thought that it did, but we were wrong.
Today I am thankful for the things life has thrown at us, because through those experiences we have learned that as long as we have our health and each other, we’re good. We have been blessed with two beautiful children and now we have another one on the way … sometimes when I sit back and let that information sink in, I get overwhelmed because it’s yet another miracle. Three healthy children. That’s amazing.
Life is going to get CRAZY. We do not have a rainy day fund. Our car is too small to hold a family of 5. We have issues to work out. But let me tell you, I have been given three little people to care for and I will love the stuffing out of them with or without a savings account.
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| Election Day, 2012. |
THE STUFFING, I tell you.
Guess what?!
We’re having another one! THREE is due June 14th, and I heard his precious heartbeat today. He waved his paddly arms and legs at me and I cried.
We love you so much already. I am convinced you’re a boy.
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| We drank coffee with whipped cream. |
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| We dug in the trash. |
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| We drew pictures of Christmas trees … |
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| And ourselves and our little brothers driving big trucks. |
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| We had fun. |
Husband is participating in Movember. He has a Mospace. In case you have no idea what I’m talking about, and I’m guessing that you don’t … it’s a moustache-growing charity event for the entire month of November. All 30 days. The goal is to raise awareness and funds for men’s health issues, specifically prostate and testicular cancer.
If you truly want to understand what’s happening and why, and I know that you do, you can visit the Movember & Sons website. Or, you can visit Husband’s “Mospace” and donate. You can also follow the growth of his “mo” there, which I’m sure will be riveting?
Honestly, I am proud of him for participating, and since prostate cancer runs in his family I understand his interest in raising money. But … Movember is bringing me moproblems. Here’s what: Husband shaved clean and will be growing a massive ‘stache all month. I happen to be married to a hairy man who can grow a serious amount of facial hair in like 48 hours. Thinking about what is going to be happening on his face in a few weeks SCARES me.
Another moproblem: can he do his job effectively if he looks like a serial killer? Yes, everyone at his place of employment is participating. I appreciate a good rally … but … he’s a SALESMAN. As an average consumer, I can honestly say that I steer clear of anyone with a creepy moustache. Especially if he’s trying to sell me something. So will raising money for men’s health issues make us even poorer?! If so, I object.
Next moproblem: I have to kiss this man.
I do not enjoy moustaches, and I especially do not enjoy them when they are by themselves, i.e., no other facial hair to accompany them. Ew. There are rules to the mo and one of them is you can’t have any other facial hair interference. Which … brings me to my next moproblem: I have an entire month of facial hair trimmings in the sink to look forward to, because Husband will be shaping his mo daily.
BIGGEST MOPROBLEM: the pictures we’ll have from Thanksgiving this year. I shudder to think of it.
Then, there was the stress I felt this weekend over our family photo. I asked my mother-in-law to photograph us for our Christmas card. Husband refused to shave. Thankfully, he waited until after the picture to do this:
He’s calling this “The Trucker.”
It frightened the children.
Help me.
Here are the cute overalls that TWO was supposed to wear for our family photo this Sunday.
How did this happen? Ask the dryer. We’re not on speaking terms right now.
Thanksgiving is 3 weeks from today and I am already salivating at the thought of it. I want to make almost everything in the November issue of Southern Living. But after bingeing on ONE’s Halloween candy for two days, I decided to put myself on a no-sugar diet until Thanksgiving … when I (and Southern Living) will more than make up for it.
Husband had to work late last night, so my mother-in-law came over to accompany us on our trick-or-treat outing. Thank goodness I had her there to help wrangle the pirate and the tiger. Sometimes I don’t know how I functioned before we moved back to Louisiana. She tried to take some pictures, but 6:00 p.m. is a horrible time of day for us and they just wouldn’t sit still.
Happy November!
I definitely just caught myself chanting “Chug! Chug! Chug!” to my 4-year-old as he drank a small cup full of medicine.
This is not a keg party, Mommy. Sadly.
Get it together.
Yesterday, a terrible thing happened.
Let me preface this by saying that I am struggling to adjust to summer break. Struggling. Like … it’s good? But also horrible? Can something be good and horrible all at once? Because I’m pretty sure that is exactly what parenthood is.
Making the transition from having all three kids in school for 6+ hours per day (and working during those hours), to having them home all the time and trying to get my work done in addition to mothering in a loving fashion, is not going great. As I have already established in multiple blog posts from previous years, summer is effing relentless.
Pepper is obsessed with two things: outlets and babies. Here she is showing her baby doll the outlet in her bedroom. #multitasking
Thankfully, this year is somewhat easier than previous years simply because my children are getting older and more independent. Pepper will be 3 next week, so I think we’re finally on the upswing after a very dark time in the Valley of Motherhood.
Yesterday afternoon, we got home from playing at the park. The boys jumped out of the van, heard some kids next door playing, and asked if they could go over to play. I granted them permission and took Pepper inside. Her clothes were filthy — covered in layers of peanut butter and dirt — so I stripped her down to a diaper.
I ran to the bathroom with her trailing behind me, always my little shadow. And then, my mom called. She’s not feeling well and I can barely hear her on the phone. I was straining to understand what she was saying — did she just say she needed to go to the hospital?! — and naturally, my toddler got really loud at exactly that moment. As her shouting drowned out my mother, my stress level started to rise.
I went to my bedroom and closed the door. My daughter cried from the hall, and when she stopped, I was thankful. When I emerged only a few minutes later, the house was quiet. A panicky feeling started to rise in my chest, and then it felt like my heart stopped.
Just.
Stopped.
Beating.
Our back door was standing wide open.
Screaming her name, I ran outside. She was gone. Or hiding. Or missing.
I heard a woman’s voice — our across the street neighbor — yelling at me that she just saw a little girl cut through the fences in the backyard.
“She went that way, sweetheart! I was standing here watching her!”
I was barefoot and it did not matter. I ran. I ran until I found her. I couldn’t feel my feet. I couldn’t feel my body. All I could hear was my own voice screaming her name, and my heartbeat deafening my ears. That is what blind panic feels like.
My 2-year-old was wandering one street over from ours, wearing nothing but her diaper. She was holding a toy pet carrier with a little stuffed dog inside. I will never forget the way her face looked when she saw the horror on mine.
“NEVER AGAIN,” I said to her.
“Not with my dog?” she said.
“NEVER, EVER. Do not ever leave this house without a grown up,” I said, as I wiped away my tears.
I’m sharing this story to demonstrate how quickly children can disappear. How many times have I heard stories of toddlers wandering the streets and thought to myself, WHERE WAS THE MOTHER?
That mother is me. I was right there. It happened anyway.
I’m a damn good mom. I am capable. I am aware. I am not negligent. But children are fast. And sometimes quiet. And things happen. So today I’m hugging my babies tight, grateful for their safety, knowing that sometimes other mamas aren’t so lucky.
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Modern Mommy Madness 