Who's your daddy?

When you meet someone and chat with them awhile you learn things about their life and what they have done in their life previously. At work I once had a lunch meeting and ended up sitting across from a guy whom I'd never really spoken with before or had the chance to get to know, due to us working in completely different departments. But over this particular lunch we learned a little about one another, our kids, spouses, previous jobs and so on.

As we all know I am pregnant and getting to be largely so. It comes up in conversation and leads into new conversations once in awhile. A few weeks ago a gal and I were talking at work and preterm labour came up and we were chatting about this one woman many years ago who had gone into preterm labour at work. I off the cuff said something along the lines off "well, if I go into labour at work you'd better call Soandso" (the luncheon guy) as it so happened my boss was standing right beside me and and looked down at me like I had gone completely mental and said "you want me to call WHO?! Like that guy who works upstairs?"

I only wish at that moment in time I could actually read minds because I made my comment knowing from our fore mentioned luncheon that Soandso used to be an EMT and has delivered a number of babies. I can however, only imagine why my boss thought I needed that guy there.

For the record Big Daddy is in fact the Daddy. No questions asked.

Gender Gap

I think that every child who has a sibling at some point ponders about favoritism and whether or not they are their parents "favorite". What you realize when you become a parent of more than one child is that it is physically impossible to have a favorite. Joseph was our "favorite" for the first 2.5 years of his life merely out of circumstance and simple fact that he was our only. However, Big Daddy and I learnt in the time frame of about a mili-second that when you have more than one child your heart does not become shared, I think it just doubles in size and love. It's an unexplainable feeling.

As your babies grow into people with personalities you so quickly realize that you love each child individually and for totally different reasons. You simply just love them for who they are. I can definitely say that I could never say I love one of my children more than the other, but I do love them in very different ways. Because they such very different people.

But, I have to wonder if that as a parent you recognize with your children on different levels. What I mean is, the other day I asked Big Daddy if he felt he related with Joseph about certain things moreso than Trent because both Big Daddy and Joseph are the oldest in their "clans". Whereas I feel I recognize or relate with Trent about particular things because we are both the second born's in our clan. I also wonder if you relate to your children of the same gender differently than you do your children of your opposite gender?

I don't think that it is something we necessarily choose to do. It is just natural instinct. Or, is that what makes your relationships with your children so special is because you relate to them differently?

I have to say that not knowing the gender of this baby is driving me crazy. Don't get me wrong, my greatest wish is for a very healthy and happy baby. But I can't help myself but to wish for an "innie" rather than an "outie" this time, and I am not referring to belly buttons. I up until this point of my life have loathed the colour pink. But now, it seems to be the only thing on my mind. I want to buy frilly pink things. As surface emotions as those may be I think the deeper side of me really wants the life experience of having a daughter and I would love to know what it would be like to Mother a Daughter. It definately would be life changing.

On the other hand, it is a scary prospect. It would be (or so I think) so much easier to have a boy to round out our family. I mean, I know how it all works (or once again, so I think) we have heaps of clothes and toys which are gender appropriate and the boys would be able to chum around and talk guy talk 24/7. Oh God how left out will I become.

Some days I wish I had a crystal ball to lead my way and light my path, but true parenthood is fumbling around in the dark looking for all items of necessity while not wanting to wake the sleeping baby.

Bittersweet

Why are the best things in life so bittersweet? It took us approximately 10 months to get pregnant this time around...why did it take about ohhhh 30 seconds of actually being pregnant to remind you the things you dislike about being pregnant. Maybe it is the fact that "they" say you should do a long list of things. Being told you can't do something, just makes you want to do it more.

However, there is a proverbial wall in being pregnant and when you hit it you know. I, have hit it.

It is that "I am huge, fat and sweaty and parts of me ache that I never knew I had." But I am told I just glow. No wonder I glow ~ I am sweaty. Therefore, dont stand too close because I might smell too.

I enjoy that people have care and concern but I get tired of answering the same questions over and over. How are you feeling? How are sleeping? Do you know what your having? I mean think about it, how do you think I am feeling? Not like running a marathon that's for damn sure especially since getting up off of the couch is a feat these days. How are you sleeping? I'd sleep fine if people would quit bringing it up and yes I know what I am having... a baby. Am I bitter about not knowing. Probably.

But, with all that said and having hit the "wall" of raging hormons... or just plain rage I am sure Big Daddy would vouch for. I am feeling a little devestated and sad. Why? Because I am almost 30 weeks along in the average 40 weeks it takes to bake a baby, my gestation with my other two boys was 38 weeks, so essentially I have 8 weeks left. In the midst of my aches, pains and feeling sorry for myself 8 weeks sounds like a really really long time. However, in the grand scheme of my life which I have umm, lets say 60-70 years left God willing, 8 weeks is minimal.

Big Daddy and I have concluded that with this baby our family will be rounded out to completion in our eyes. Our hearts are contented and we are ready to move on to the next phase of parenthood and life. No more having the babies, but raising them and spending our thoughts and time on fully enjoying them. Therefore, these next 8-10 weeks are the last weeks in my life that I will EVER be pregnant. It is a very sad reality for me. I know, I know, I should simply be thankful that I was able to actually get pregnant and carry my babies without great difficulty. It all dosen't make it any easier to close that page of my life.

I am tired and ready for this baby to arrive, but on the other hand I never want this pregnancy to end because I know it is the last I will ever have.
Yup, bittersweet.

I guess with most other life changing events where you open or close a chapter of life there is a celebration of some kind. Even birthdays, each year we celebrate a year past and a year of life to come. There is nothing one can say or do that can change these emotions. Wether Big Daddy and I went on to have 18 more babies or end with this one... the feeling would still be the same.
As completed as our family feels with this baby rounding us out to five it is still sad to close that door.

If I know me, and I think I do, I know that in my post-natal state in 8-10weeks I will have a moment somewhere... I don't know when the storm will rise but for me it will and I just have to know it's coming and deal with it when it arises and hope it passes without doing too much damage to my emotional state. But, I warn you, I will be sad when it does hit.

Until then, I will be sweaty and grumpy but I will try to enjoy the simplific moments that I am having that are creating life and soon to be our newest family member.

MOB Mentality

If there is one thing I have learned (or have been taught for that matter) over the last few years it is a bit about MOB mentality. No, it isn't what you are thinking.... like gansta' MOB.

I joined the MOB almost six years ago I was acclimated into the MOB world by mere circumstance. That is how most MOB members join, usually you don't realize you've joined the MOB until it just dawn's on you one day that you are in fact a MOB member and participate in MOB activities and rituals daily. Unless, of course you have a wonderful GOB who gives you a day off.

MOB in my world means Mom of Boy(s).

Because as "Mothers" we are of course girls and we don't know a whole lot about the male species. But when you join the MOB you learn in a big damn hurry.

My Mom isn't a member of the MOB so I couldn't lean on her for MOB rules, regulations or advisory's. However, I lucked out and my MIL is a MOB member four times over. So she is well versed in the area of MOB'ing. She is now a GOB (Grandma of Boys) so I think that is like a Gold club member or something.

As a MOB member (actually I would be a MOB2) if I were to be writing a "MOB Manual" I think Chapter 1 would bear a title something like "Feeding the MOB". Because honestly it is something I feel like I do... Feed the whole dang MOB. But, step one of feeding the MOB is grocery shopping for the MOB. I have to say that since becoming a MOB member my local grocery store has got new carts... With two levels... The inventor of those bad boys has most definitely got to be a MOB member with full understanding of necessity of the second level.

Prior to becoming a MOB member Big Daddy and I used to poke fun at my Mother in Law on her grocery supply habits. I clearly recall one time we were in her kitchen and in one cupboard there were like SIX store bought jars of jam. All the same kind, size and flavor. She didn't see what was so funny as Big Daddy and I chuckled. We could not imagine why someone would need six jars of jam?! Like do you think the store is going to run out? Her reply was "well, they were on sale." Now, as a MOB member I so fully understand the thought process. Boys literally can, and will eat you out of house and home. As a MOB you learn quickly that when something is on sale, you stock up. Especially if it is a dry or canned good. In the sub-chapter of grocery shopping for the MOB it should highly be suggested to have enough food on hand to last what you think will be months. Because it won't.

My cupboards were so well stocked that someone who isn't familiar on the MOB rules would think I was preparing for a natural disaster that would leave us shacked up in our home for quite some time.
I feel good in knowing that if God forbid something like that should happen here we would be ok for some time.

However, since Big Daddy has recently started a new job and is fresh out of University funds have been a little tighter than normal and I haven't been able to do full out MOB shopping as I see fit. So our supply has slowly been depleting. But the best part is knowing that I had my supply to rely on. I have to admit though that my blood pressure is rising and my anxiety is increasing as I realize that my MOB supply is slowly running into regular. I know it will be ok and this stretch is simply a fact of life as a transition between student loan living and paycheck life. The latter of the two being the so much better.
You know your family realizes the lack of MOB stock when they open the fridge and stick their head in and say "hello in there" and all you hear is echo.

But when payday does hit, watch out Superstore I have the MOB to feed.

Oblivious Listening or Selective Hearing

I so clearly remember a few years ago around Christmas time Big Daddy started asking for a bird. He thought it would be a great pet. His convincing (or so he thought) argument was that he would do all the work involved in taking care of said pet. After many sessions of begging and pleading on the budgie front, I caved. Get your damn bird.
Well, as we all know how the old story goes we know who is cleaning the cage and sweeping up bird feathers *cough* me *cough*

So, when we got the boys bunk beds and I was making Josephs and having great difficulty reaching the back to put on the fitted sheet( which by the way is impossible to get on unless you have 18 foot arms with biceps much like Arnold). I commented how much more difficult it would be to make said bed when my stomach begins to stick out further than it humanly should. Big Daddy's response was endearing really it was something like "Well then Princess, I will just have to help you." I was trying to be polite but I must admit I had bird flashbacks and just about died from stifling my laughter. I knew in that moment it was completely the thought that counted and I had better luck of my ass growing mushrooms than I did of Big Daddy actually helping me make a bed.

Here we are 8 months pregnant and stinky bed linens. Getting them off and washed wasn't the problem. Getting them back on.. well just a little.
I got Joseph's mattress down from the bunk bed (read: pull hard and it will fall... Gravity was on my side) but once I had the clean sheets on gravity was no longer my friend. Heeeey hey hey looky here. Isn't it convenient that Big Daddy is standing right there. I throw out my olive branch...
"Hey can you give me a hand please"

silence and him still staring into the bathroom where the kids are in the tub.

"DUDE, can you GIVE ME A HAND!?"

I think he is still thinking on how to get out of this one.

" A HHHHAAAAAAAAAAAND here please"

Big Daddy goes into the bathroom, closes the door and turns on the fan.

Nice.

So I wait.... Big Daddy comes out of the bathroom with the stench in tow and sits down at the computer desk. I walk right up to him and ask if he has gone deaf. "No, why?"
I explain what has just gone on. I get a "doh, hahaha, musn't have heard you" with a continuation of him sitting there as I head back to Joseph's room.
I then return to the computer desk and say "you STILL didn't get the hint?"
"about what?" he replies, as though the previous conversation never happened.

I better go check on the mushrooms.

The deep blue sea

Summer is officially on it's way. With another session of swimming lessons under our belts.

Going into this set of lessons we didn't expect Joseph to pass his, but he pleasently surprised us and did it. More importantly he was proud of himself.

Trent passed his too, out of mere age he passes... but he too was pretty proud of himself.



Look Mom!! I passed!


Me too Mommy!! (Trent really is behind there...)


With all of these certificates and degrees coming into the house I really feel I should do something important with my life.
Hmm, I wonder if the hospital will give me a sticker or something after I give birth. Ahh, who cares. I enjoy their success just as much.

A soapy situation

I swear sometimes the smallest of things perturb me. I try not to let them and I try to just let my kids be kids. But last night could have made me crazy. Over all the ups and downs the last few months and my lack of handling them well I have concluded that the sole reason I am pregnant right now is to prevent me from picking up a severe drinking habit.

Yesterday was grocery day (ie: pay day). The boys like a certain shampoo because of its mere smell. I have to say, it does smell pretty darn good. But, it is of the name brand, pricey variety. But it works well on Trents curls and that is a huge deal. So I spend the few extra dollars to get the good kind. I unpack the groceries and put the new bottle in the shower on the shelf.

Trent then decides to get a lovely bout of the runs in which he doesn't make it to the potty for. Poor dude. In feeling sorry for his upset stomach I decide it might make him feel a bit better to have a nice warm bath. I have to clean the poop off anyhow. So we smell the shampoo and we rub it all over his hair and rinse him off. Its still early so we get dried off and into jammies to go downstairs for awhile until bedtime. At bedtime Joseph needs a shower. Trent decides to get in with him. Whatever.

I go to get them out of the shower and see the shampoo bottle laying on the ground in the shower. I pick it up to put it back on the shelf and realize it is EMPTY. Seriously within a matter of less than 7 hours my two boys have polished off a whole bottle of shampoo.... of the expensive variety.

I know in the grand scheme of things it's not a huge deal. But having lived on such a tight budget for the last five years that was a splurge. I have to say that usually between the two boys I can get about six months out of a bottle. I guess that is when I administer the goods. But six months...six hours, same difference.
Ahhh, its a good thing they are staying at Gramma's tonight. I hope she has a lot of shampoo.