He’s here! More to come in the next few days…all is well.

What happened to the calm, you ask? That’s what I’d like to know.

In the middle of the night, sometime around 1:30 a.m., Liam and I awoke to a pre-puking cough warning from Frances. I sat up in a hurry, forgetting my huge belly, in an effort to retrieve a trash can. I didn’t make it in time. 

After changing sheets, blankets, pjs, and resettling back into bed, I discovered that my body was starting to develop a pretty regular rhythm of contractions. I’m not sure if it was the physical reaction of sitting up so suddenly, or the stress and anxiety of dealing with another sick kid, but it seemed like labor had begun.

However, after about two hours, two more spit-ups, a shower, and a snack of peanut butter and banana toast, I was able to fall back to sleep. A total stall.

I stayed home from work today with our little sicko just in case things would start to progress further. Franny and I rested a lot and did loads of pukey sheets and blankets in the laundry.

After Nora came home from school we all enjoyed a walk around the neighborhood on this seasonably warm afternoon. Ever since then I’ve been pretty uncomfortable (in a good way if you consider the pain and pressure to be an early sign of impending labor, which I do!). But, contractions are still not regular or super frequent, so who really knows.

We just returned from another walk, post-dinner, with Liam. The girls walked nearly the whole loop around the neighborhood, a sure sign that this winter has been a terrible one (they usually walk for a bit and then request to be carried or ride in the stroller). They were loving running and skipping about in the fresh air.

Halfway through the 25-minute walk, Liam and I glanced at the troubling sky, which was only slightly, if brightly, cloudy when we set out. Dark, storm clouds had begun rolling in at a concerning speed. Neither one of us had known about or expected a storm this evening. I reached for my phone to check the weather, and the advisory confirmed our suspicions. A serious hail-producing thunderstorm was due to hit our area in fifteen minutes. We picked the girls up and put them in the stroller and walked briskly home. 

We did get caught in the rain and wind for a few minutes, though thankfully no hail or lightning. And, I may have thought, just for a moment, that our fast pace and laughter at our situation was going to bring on the baby.

Now I’m settled on the couch and resting comfortably again, wondering what the night will bring. 

More puking? Or has the stomach bug decided to finally let us be? More contractions? A trip to the hospital? To make things even more dramatic, my parents, our Plan A for caring for the girls should we need to go to the hospital, are halfway to Atlanta by now, on a trip to visit my dad’s mom, who turns 90 this weekend. We have Plans B and C in place. Should make for an interesting next 48 hours.

Or, alternatively, I could wake up, still pregnant, feeling like a million bucks, and head into work for one more day before the week’s end. Only time will tell.

Pictures below show the sky just a few minutes apart from our walk.

After puking off and on for three days, eating little more than nibbles of toast, drinking water and juice only when forced by her concerned parents, logging more couch time and watching more TV than ever before in just three days, and crawling around because “I just can’t walk, Mommy,” the oldest child seems to be (knock on wood) coming around to some sense of health. She’s eaten some soup tonight and is drinking without threat from her parents. She’s even begun to sing again some of her favorite movie musical ditties. Thank goodness for all of this!

The youngest wanted to wear undies after bath tonight, and announced, promptly after peeing in said underpants, that she had to go potty. She then sat confidently on the potty, without fear, and finished her business (never done before!). We were all jubilant! Even the proud older sister who only hours before had been catatonic.

The husband made a scrumptious dinner, served up with a glass of wine, and cleaned the kitchen afterwards. And took the girls for a walk so I could take an early bath. And got them ready for bed and entertained them while I hid away in bed reading my latest Kindle title (yes, a romance novel; I almost went for a literary award winner, but then decided against it at the last moment).

Nursing the littlest now as I finish typing on my phone. Then picking up my book to enjoy some more reading before sleep.

Feeling totally grateful.

For how many more days will I get to enjoy this pregnancy perk?

The local forecast is calling for more snow to begin falling sometime tomorrow, early in the morning. We are likely to see anywhere from three to five inches. The timing of this event will be everything. Will there be a delay? An early dismissal? It’s hard to say, but this tired mama is hoping for something. Please, please don’t pass us by. 

I’d like nothing better than an early start to the weekend. Then, assuming the baby stays put, I’ll have just one more full week of school, next week, followed by two four-day weeks and a four-day long Easter weekend in between. I think I can, I think I can.

We are nearly there. We have almost made it. (And of course, by “we” I most certainly mean “I”). That’s right. I’m taking selfish credit alone for enduring these past nine months. Can I really have been pregnant all the way back in July? Craziness. Seems like a lifetime ago. 



The girlies. Enjoying some food from the cultural celebration at mommy’s school tonight.

Over the next few weeks, if I happen to miss a day of writing and posting to the blog, it could possibly be assumed that I have:

A) fallen asleep with one or more of the children ahead of my bedtime and against my will (as happened one night last week)

B) gone into labor and given birth to a child

C) gone off the deep end, motivated by ever an increasing lack of patience, screaming children, messy house, and raging hormones, or

D) fled to Mexico

I nearly fell asleep with both girls again tonight (it’s a basketball night). Well, I did fall asleep for a spell. But an overactive bladder, which is being squashed by what must surely be a nine-pound baby by now, forced a bathroom break.

And so, I rallied to type out these words. Now it’s back to bed and the warmth of my babies, one of whom will be four tomorrow!

I’m happy to report that there was much resting at the roost this weekend. I was able to nap both days for a couple of hours, and didn’t leave the house to do much. Feeling like I’m ready to take on the work week ahead.



A day at the park. Finally able to get outside!

Our mean-faced dragon child.



Getting ready to head out for groceries. Take note of floor litter and my being totally OK with it alll.

Salami and cheese eating snacker. She is her father’s daughter.

Trying on her mother’s boots. The poor thing couldn’t take a step!

Seriously. What are we going to do?

Last night, as I was drifting off to sleep, I started getting stressed out about adding another body to this family. I feel like we have our hands full all the time as it is. What were we thinking? And having them so close together?

There’s a reason that throughout human history child-spacing has occurred naturally every four years or so. It makes sense to me that the body should wait until a firstborn child is older and more self-sufficient before it decides to have another. But, having these babies two years apart? Total craziness.

But, I will be thirty-seven in little over a month (I know, apart from the gray hair, I don’t look a day past twenty-three), and we wanted to try for a boy, so it was either keep-them-a-comin’ or just stop and say enough is enough. As you know, we decided to keep going. I don’t regret it for a second, but man-oh-man am I feeling overwhelmed.

Last night I was considering posting an ad to Craiglist for a roommate so we could keep the adult-to-child ratio in balance once the new baby gets here. I’d even be open to the possibility of letting the roommate live and board for free. So long as she is open to changing diapers, giving baths, cleaning the house, doing laundry, cooking an occasional meal, co-sleeping with one or more of our children (we only have the two giant beds, although I guess she could sleep on the couch if she prefers), and maybe, just if she’s feeling up to it, being a wet nurse from time to time.

Sounds like a pretty good offer, don’t you think?

It’s been a little more than three weeks since I’ve checked my Facebook Wall for news of family and friends. Though it’s been a harrowing and difficult experience (extreme exaggeration here), I’m happy to report my suffering has not been as bad as I imagined it might be.

In fact, in the beginning, I felt relieved not to have to play catch-up each day. Ignorance is bliss, right? Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy going through posts and updates, but it seriously stresses me out to make time to read through everything, especially when people post links to articles that look interesting.

I usually end up clicking on the links to the articles I deem worthwhile, and then I store them on my phone in a queue in Safari for a time to be read later. This means I sometimes have as many as fifteen windows open at once. And they all sit there throughout the week, as a constant reminder that there is always more to be consumed. 

I’ve taken much needed breaks from Facebook before. I find it’s a good practice for me that encourages mindfulness and time spent doing more productive things. Usually, what gets me is the fact that I’ve got the phone out and on in front of the kids too much. Not exactly the kind of behavior I want to model for them. 

Or, I read in succession one too many heartbreaking stories of parents who’ve lost children to a variety of illnesses or accidents. It matters not that these folks are strangers. I internalize and imagine their pain, shed genuine tears, and then of course begin to be consumed with worry that our family will be next to experience tragedy like theirs. This is obviously no good for someone with my anxieties. As a side note, one would think I’d know better than to go read about these things, but I don’t. So the break from these kinds of posts has been welcome too.

Still, I’ve felt myself itching lately to be connected again. When I get home from work and put my feet up on the couch. When I’m nursing the youngest to sleep. When I’m awake with pregnancy-induced insomnia in the middle of the night. These are all times in the past when I’d have pulled out the trusty phone to waste time and indulge in the details of others’ lives. 

The past few days I’ve found myself wondering, well dreading actually: What have I done? What have I missed?! And then I like to remind myself that we didn’t have Facebook years and years ago and we managed to keep in touch and maintain friendships all the same. 

It’s kind of like my cousin Brian quipped on Instagram a month or so ago:

Remember the good old days before Facebook, Instagram and Twitter? When you would take a picture of your dinner on a disposable camera, go and get the photos developed, then go round to all your friends’ houses and show them the photos? No? Me neither. Stop it.

Very funny. We once survived well enough without daily glimpses into the intimate details of each others’ lives. I try to keep things in perspective and not get too overwhelmed by the fact that I’ll essentially be missing out on forty days’ worth of news and updates from all of my best peeps. 

But, I am looking forward to the day when I can jump back in again, with good balance of course, and preferably not when I should be minding and or playing with the children, and be smack in the loop of the current events of the times and the lives of my favorite people.

See you soon!

Liam has been participating in a basketball league on Monday nights for over a month now. He usually doesn’t make it home until after the kids have gone to bed. Since I’m by myself with the girls and typically exhausted, and Nora doesn’t nap most Mondays, we all go to bed early, in the same bed (usually Liam is the one who puts Nora to bed in the other room while I’m with Frances in our bed).

Of course, Nora has come to love these nights. “It’s a basketball night? Oh goody!”

“Why ‘oh goody,'” I ask her. “Won’t you miss seeing daddy?”

“Yeah, but I get to sleep in your bed with you and Frances!” Thankfully Liam’s feelings aren’t easily hurt.

I treasure these nights too. Not only do I look forward to the early bedtime, but I enjoy being able to snuggle close to both of my girls, while at the same time marveling at the movement going on inside my belly. I know I won’t always be able to hold all three babies as close as they are right now. So I’ll enjoy it while I can.

Four more weeks to go!