Confirmation

After being very wishy-washy about the whole thing, yesterday I finally toured the hospital where I'm expected to have this baby.  It seemed like such a waste of a beautiful Sunday afternoon to drive all the way to Arlington and spend an hour looking around a place I have no intention of going to.  But since I had Ryder, my insurance has changed which hospital they use, so I'd never been to this one before.   And because the majority of home birth transports are non-emergency, it seemed like a good idea to at least know where the hospital is and what to expect if I end up having to go.   (If there is an emergency, I would be transferred via ambulance to the nearest hospital, Prince William, which is where I went after having Kendra.)  I will also admit that I was a little hesitant to go because I was worried that if the hospital was super nice, I would second-guess my decision to have a home birth. 

That turned out to not be a problem.

Now, in the hospital's defense, I started out already kind of annoyed with the whole situation.  I had to leave straight from church, I'd only had time to pack goldfish crackers to eat when I really should have made myself a full lunch, and as soon as I began driving Craig's car (which I hate doing-- it's so low to the ground and doesn't have power steering, so driving it when pregnant is difficult for me), I realized that Craig had left the tank nearly on empty.  Not a great start!  Then of course, I ran into traffic on I-66 (yup, even on a sunny Sunday afternoon!), so that made me late.  And it turns out that this particular hospital was designed as a maze, with two wings that don't line up in any reasonable way!  Luckily for me, a girl who looked like she was working as a candy striper (do they still have those?) showed up at the same time as me and graciously took me to the lobby.  Otherwise I would probably still be wandering around in the wrong wing, desperately asking Siri for help...

So, yes, bad start.

Eventually I caught up with the tour in one of the L & D rooms, and got there right in time to hear about their visitor policy.  Which was how I learned that because it's flu season, this hospital is currently not allowing more than two visitors at a time.  And they have to be 18 or older!  So my kids wouldn't be able to see me (or their new baby brother) the entire time I'm incarcerted lying in!  Which is exactly what I DON'T want.  Especially for Ryder, who just is too young to understand why his mommy would disappear for two or more days.

As the nurse explained the different laboring positions that will be available "after you get your epidural," I decided to raise my hand and ask: "How do most doctors feel about laboring on your hands and knees?"  At least she was honest, with a simple, "They don't like that."  She went on to explain that they had found that holding Mom's knees up to her face really opened up the pelvic floor and allowed her to push well.  Yup, I remember them doing that when I had Bentley.  It was awful.  It didn't work.  And I had to lay flat on my back.

Second sigh of relief that I'm not going to the hospital.

The rest of the tour was fairly uneventful.  Seeing the tiny babies in the nursery got me all excited.  Seeing the tiny rooms made me appreciate my own bedroom.  And there was no tub in the L&D room (just a small shower), so that also made me appreciate the bathroom situation at home.  All in all, I was so glad I'd gone just because now I am even more certain that a home birth is the way to go.


Trying to leave the hospital and discovering that some bozo had parked at an angle so close to my car that I couldn't even get to the driver's side without going all the way around and scaling a small ledge (38 weeks pregnant) and then could still barely open my door wide enough to get in (I'm not actually sure how I managed to squeeze through when the door could only open about six inches) was just the icing on the cake.  That person is lucky that I didn't key their car.  If I hadn't just taught a lesson on making good choices, I might have...

Overanalyzing Songs (Again)

I'm not super discriminating in what music I'll listen to.  And since the kids are around me pretty much all day long, this means that I also don't "protect" them from my music.  Don't get me wrong-- I'm not listening to anything terribly dirty or nasty.  (And when I listen to Eminem, I make sure it's the edited versions!)  But yesterday morning I was forced to admit that I might need to rethink this policy.

Kendra wanted me to play a song, and when she called it "The Train Song" I told her that I had no idea what she meant, and asked her to describe it more.  She immediately began singing, "You, with your words like knives and swords and weapons that you use against me..."  She was referring to the song "Mean" by Taylor Swift.  I like that song, so I have no problem with Kendra knowing it.  But I was shocked by how well she knew those lyrics.  I don't think I could have quoted it verbatim like that!

So I need to be a little more careful, because apparently she didn't inherit the Bentley Family Curse of regularly screwing up song lyrics after all!

This means that songs like Bruno Mars' "Locked Out of Heaven," where he repeatedly sings that "Your sex takes me to paradise" is not going to be one that I'll be buying on iTunes any time soon.  My kids say enough cringe-worthy things without giving them ammo like that.

But not listening to this song is no sacrifice, anyway, because I hate it.  In the first place, I find the background "music" (dare I admit how curmudgeonly I am by referring to it as "noise"?) pretty annoying, so it was already off to a bad start by me.  But it's the phrasing of the offending line that really makes me grate my teeth.  Because I'm pretty sure that, grammatically speaking, "your sex" refers simply to this person's entire gender.  Which is a pretty dumb thing to sing about.  Sex with [a certain gender] brings you to paradise?  And you think this makes a love song? Come on, Bruno, it really ought to be "sex with you" or something a tad more specific, okay?  No girl wants a song dedicated to her to actually be about her entire gender.  That's just embarrassing.

And while I'm griping about Bruno Mars, I'm just gonna throw in these last two thoughts.  And keep in mind that I quite like Bruno Mars (who I saw perform when we were in New York a couple summers ago!), so I don't mean to sound as nasty as I'll probably come across.  But what is the deal with "It Will Rain" and "Grenade"????  I like these songs.  I think they're catchy.  I listen to them and sing along with them (well, I probably mess up the lyrics, but maybe some day Kendra will teach me the real words).  But if you pay attention to those lyrics, they are some of the most pathetic songs ever written!  I mean, can you think of a worse way to get a girl to stay with you than by telling her how miserable you'll be if she leaves and pointing out how much her parents hate you?  Seriously!  Even if they'd been really happy together, I think that song would kill it!

And "Grenade."  Do you really think that telling a girl how you would do everything imaginable for her but she won't do the same for you is really going to fix this terribly lopsided relationship?  Because I can promise you that it won't.  In fact, I'm pretty sure she already broke up with you, moved out, and probably burned all your photos.  So it's time to move on and stop dragging that piano all over town for what was ended a few months ago.  Let her go, man.  Just let her go.

And this is what I spend my time thinking about, rather than choosing a middle name for my next child.  Or planning birthday parties for the children I already have.  Or doing a thousand other more productive things with my life that I see you people doing all the time.

But really, you see my point, don't you?

Pictures of Stuff We've Been Doing

I feel like we've been really busy, but it's sometimes hard to pin down what exactly we've been up to.  Nothing terribly exciting, but all very lifey stuff that I certainly don't want to forget.  So here are some pictures to show you...


Ryder has been adjusting (very slowly, and with very unpredictable success) to his big boy bed in the same room with Bentley and Kendra:

He loves the idea of the bed, it's just hard to stay put when there are so many fun things to explore in the room...

And every time I turn around, I seem to be bigger.  And this is an old picture, so add a few inches to that tummy in your mind!

We've been having Friday movie and pizza nights with the kids.  I kind of love it.  A lot.

Notice the drop cloths on the floor to protect the carpet!

Ryder does strange things when Craig is asleep, like giving him an entire bag of Chocolate Cheerios to snuggle up to:

I guess I should be glad the bag wasn't open!

Bentley and Kendra have been taking swimming lessons.  For some reason it's very hard to get pictures of this, though:

That's just Kendra there.  Bentley is in a different class and he was too far away to even try taking a picture.

Bentley is helping Ryder to love dressing up, too:

And Bentley has been working hard on learning to read and making wonderful progress.  I especially liked this book report (sorry it's sideways) because of how well he copied the style of the drawings: 

Here's the actual book for comparison's sake.  See how well he copied the elephant?!?!

We've been eating chocolate in a wonderfully messy way that makes us look like we're going Goth:

And Bentley won yet another trophy for his pinewood derby car, this time he got 1st place for the Tigers (his age group) at Districts!  I guess next year we'll teach him how to lose graciously.  But he and Craig sure enjoyed themselves!

We've got anywhere from two to three weeks until this baby comes.  In a flurry of activity yesterday, I pulled apart the car seat and began washing it (this meant finally braving the crawl space, because I decided Craig was never going to remember to do it for me), and finished moving Ryder's clothes out of his "old" room and putting the baby's clothes away there.  Craig did his first stake audits for the church, so we're glad to have that done for six months until it's time to do it again (nice that those are in February.  If it had been in March, I would have had to protest).  And he's also been keeping busy working on this new master's degree.  Me, I keep cleaning the house only to realize that these darn kids get it dirty all over again.  How do they mess things up so quickly???

I also keep wondering when it will finally be spring.  My crocuses are already blooming, but it's been so gloomy and cold I have a hard time keeping the faith that winter will ever end.  The other day everything seemed so colorless I could have cried.  When the baby comes, I'm going to cuddle up with him and an electric blanket, lock myself inside next to the heater, and refuse to go out until it's warm outside.  Doesn't that sound nice (if completely impractical)?


Aaaaaaand, Kendra turned 5!  My little girl is old enough to go to kindergarten next year!  But that deserves its own blog post, so I guess that will be up next!

A Rock and a Hard, Contracting, but Happy Place

I've got about three weeks left to go with this pregnancy, and this is such a weird time to be at, I think.  Because part of me feels like it is so close.  Three weeks out of nine months is practically nothing!  I'm nearly there!  And just before I can begin rejoicing at how close I am, I immediately realize how many things I still need to do before I'm ready for this little guy to come and I start panicking: I still need to put all my birth supplies in one place!  Finish putting away the baby clothes!  Get Ryder's clothes out of the baby's closet!  Wash the carrier and install the base!  Finish re-reading all my favorite birth books and force Craig to read them, too!  Pick a middle name for this guy!  Do a practice drive to the hospital so I know how to find it if I end up having to transfer! 

See?  Panic.  Panic-- when do I have time to do all that when all I really want to do is nap all day?

But when I'm not panicking, I'm wandering around trying to live my life and keep up with the kids and the house work, having more Braxton-Hicks contractions than I ever would have thought possible, wishing I didn't have to wear any of my clothes because none of them seem to fit me any more (seriously-- every time I get dressed for church, I end up looking for an ad for why you should never ever ever ever EVER get pregnant.  That's how big and awkward I am now), and wondering how in the world I can possibly survive another day being this huge?  Walking to pick up Bentley from school yesterday brought on at least 5 contractions (it's not that long of a walk, people!), where I had to slow down to a near stop and lean on the stroller, and I kept worrying to myself that pretty soon I'd have to just give up and tell Craig he was on Bentley duty because I just can't handle walking that far and pushing a stroller any more.

And then I have to remind myself that there's only three more weeks to go.  Quit worrying so much-- you're nearly there.

Which brings me back to the to-do list...  And the wave of panic comes crashing down around me.

Honestly, if I weren't so dang excited to meet this little guy, I'd probably be downright miserable!  But as it is, as soon as I sit down to fold some more baby clothes, I mostly just get all happy and mushy-- he's going to be so tiny!  He's going to be so cute!  I wonder if he'll have any hair, and if it will be dark like Bentley's was or if we'll have another boy with the tiniest blonde fuzz like Ryder had... 

Amazing how you can be so happy and so miserable all at the same time, isn't it?

Eye of the Beholder

A few years ago, my aunt gave my kids a series of books published by the Metropolitan Museum of Art-- one about shapes, ABCs, colors, and numbers.  Being something of an art snob, these delighted me.  So much so that I occasionally have a hard time sharing them with the kids because I'm worried they'll damage such pretty books.

I have a LOT of favorites in these.  Some are pretty obvious-- if it's by van Gogh, Monet, or Degas I'm kind of obligated to love it.  Lots have been new to me.  Like this one, Onions and Tomato by Mary Ann Currier:

I know not everyone loves a still life.  They aren't a particular favorite style of mine, either, although taking humanities 202 did help me at least appreciate them a bit more.  But I LOVE how beautifully Currier painted that onion on the far left.  It's so translucent, it almost glows.  Who knew an onion could be so lovely?  Here's a close-up (only slightly pixelated) for your viewing pleasure:

Seriously!  Isn't that one gorgeous onion???

And now this painting has completely warped me, because every time I chop up a white onion, I have to think of this painting and how beautiful something as simple as an onion can be.

I figure that's probably the highest praises a painting can receive-- it succeeds in showing you beauty in an everyday, simple thing.  Right?

Well done, Currier.  I applaud your still life.

200 Years Too Late

Some time after Craig and I got married, I got it into my head that maybe some day I could write a somewhat fictionalized novel about our courtship.  And not just because I'm one of those mushy types who likes to think that I am about as happy in my marriage as anybody can be.  I also figured the story of dating a total jerk and then finding Mr. Right is one that's worth hearing-- too many girls out there are clinging desperately to a crappy relationship not realizing that a truly happy one might be just around the corner.  (And I read enough advice columns to know that this is true, goshdarnit!)

Anyway.  I figured the story would read better if it were tweaked just a bit here and there.  The biggest change was that I'd have to introduce Craig (as a character) earlier in the novel, or else it would just seem choppy.  You can't go around switching romantic interests halfway through a novel without giving your reader some sort of foreshadowing.  Other than that, the story could probably stand pretty well.

But before I ever actually began writing, I realized that Jane Austen had beat me to the punch.  With Pride and Prejudice.  And Emma.  And the Marianne subplot of Sense and Sensibility.  Plus all the spin-offs done of those novels (the first thing that comes to mind is just Bridget Jones's Diary, but I know there are plenty of others out there)...

So this idea has officially been shelved.

Curse you and your brilliance, Jane Austen!  Curse you for writing my novel 200 years before I got around to it!



My only consolation is that she did a way better job than I ever could have anyway.

A Whole Lotta Random

Here are a whole bunch of things I've been meaning to tell you about:


-You know, I usually feel pretty good when I'm pregnant, but just this last week, I get SO STIFF every time I sit down or lay down for more than ten minutes!!!  Seriously, it takes me a full minute before all my limbs work properly, and for that one minute I have to hobble around like I'm 80 years old or something.  It's getting really annoying.  How does being pregnant make this happen?  Is there something I should be doing to make this not happen?  (Other than never sitting or laying down, that is...)

-Last night I was in charge of the combined YW/YM activity.  Somehow I got it into my head that we should do a walk-through of the Plan of Salvation.  It seemed like a fun idea at the time.  I had no idea how complicated it would end up being-- I had to buy, prepare and bring tons of food.  We had to set up all these rooms to look like the various stages and instruct a bunch of grown-ups what to do and when and everything...  It was the biggest pain ever, although I was pleased with how it all turned out.  (Mostly thanks to the many others who helped me figure out what I wasn't planning very well...)  Anyway, I was exhausted after that was all done.  And relieved to have it over with.

-In fact, apparently I was so relieved that I went to sleep that night and promptly dreamed that I was suddenly expected to perform on American Idol, and I was frantically trying to learn some song and a dance to go with it and all this stuff.  I woke up in a sweat (pregnancy is fun!), and realized that the whole American Idol shindig actually felt less stressful than the youth group activity had felt.  Go figure.

-Ryder is finally starting to get a bunch of new words!  I KNEW I was doing the right thing to put off speech therapy for a bit!  It's really fun trying to keep up with all the words he suddenly knows and will actually say back to me.

-Unfortunately, along with all this vocabulary comes a clearer sense of what he actually wants (and doesn't want).  So he's a little more difficult to please than he used to be.  But he's still a lot easier than Bentley ever was, so I'm not complaining.  At least, not yet!

Here he is looking very tough, considering he's wearing a diaper..

(Time to stretch, before my legs completely lock up on me!)

-And back to that whole thing of walking around looking like I'm 80, I also refuse to go up or down the stairs without a firm grasp on the handrail now.  It's not helping me look any younger.  But even worse than looking so decrepit would be falling down the stairs again, so that's a look I'm willing to embrace for a bit longer.  (Four-and-a-half weeks longer, to be precise!)

-Ryder has also started pretending.  It's so fun-- he'll talk in this high squeaky voice and declare "Puppy!" or "Deedee!" (which means Robot, I don't know why) and then act like whatever it is he's being.  He'll usually squint his eyes up in his I'm-being-cute way while he does it.  It cracks me up-- how can you pretend when you can say so little still?

Yeah, that squinty face!  Also, notice his new Big Boy bed in the background...

-I got a new calling this week at church!  I've actually known it was coming for a while now, but it took a long time to happen.  I've been changed from being in the YW presidency, where I've been in charge of the 12- and 13-year-old girls, to being one of the advisers and working with the 14- and 15-year-old girls.  So basically I'll still be pretty busy and involved, but rather than being in charge of all these activities, I'm in charge of teaching most Sundays and then providing support for the activities.  So it's a few less meetings and a lot less responsibility.  And considering this new baby on the way, it's probably a good change for now...  (Although my friend who just replaced me had her 4th baby back in August, so I am feeling a bit bad for her, even though I know she'll do a great job.)

-Last week was the Pinewood Derby for Bentley's scout troop.  I wasn't planning on going to it, until Craig lectured me on its its importance and explained that any semi-decent mom would be there.  Oops.  The things I missed out on, growing up in an all-girl family!  So I went after all.  And Bentley won pretty much every race, taking first place for his age group.  Which meant we had to go back a few hours later and do it all over again!  And he won all his races AGAIN, which meant that he beat all the older boys, too.  And that was both very exciting for him, but slightly disappointing for us since it would actually be good for him to learn the art of losing gracefully.  (It was also kind of embarrassing for Craig, who figured all the other fathers would be as hard-core as he'd been.  After Bentley won, he worried he'd "helped out" a little too much...)  Anyway, we now have to attend the District Level derby this Saturday.  Here's to hoping that any losing will be done with grace and equanimity by both Bentley and Craig...

After his first win

And showing off his car and trophy after the big win!

-Kendra, meanwhile, has turned into Little Mother around here.  It's kind of awesome.  She helps out and plays with Ryder so well.  She even (successfully!) put him down for his nap the other day!  Just in the nick of time, too-- I can use all the help I can get these days!  Ryder and I will both miss her terribly when she starts kindergarten next fall...

Showing off her princess dress when Grandma and Grandpa were visiting

All right.  I think that's more than enough for now, don't you?  Peace out!

Thanksgiving, Part II

After all the craziness, it was absolutely lovely to just stay put at Leah and Brian's for a couple days and enjoy everyone's company.  Of course, I did my normal thing and took hardly any pictures at all.  So you'll just have to trust me that Leah & Brian, Tracy, Rachael & Ian, and my cousin Jan, plus a couple extra people for dinner were all there and we all had a splendid time together!  And we ate so much delicious food it bordered on ridiculous.  But it was fabulous.

Here are the pictures we did take, though:

Leah and Brian live on a beautiful lake, and Kendra loved making her uncles take her out in the rowboat.  And the weather was so perfect, it made for a lovely pastime!

See?  So pretty!  Being an islander myself, I am SO jealous of their view!!!  Some day I need to live near water again...!

Craig's turkey (with help from Brian and Ian).  He was so proud of how well it turned out!

Eliot very generously shares his new trampoline with his older cousins

Bentley gets adventurous on their slide

So naturally Ryder has to follow suit...

And also naturally, it doesn't go as well for Ryder...  (And we stand around taking pictures.  'Cuz we're great parents like that.)

Cousins watching TV together

Yay for a great Thanksgiving break!  Next up, back to what's going on right now!

Thanksgiving Revisited

Back in November, we went to New York. We visited three of my sisters who all live there, enjoyed spending Thanksgiving with them, and managed to see the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade.  I mentioned all this on the blog at the time, but blogger wasn't letting me post any more pictures, so I never did give you the full scoop.  Today I am finally remedying that.

First of all, I should point out that this was all Craig's idea.  If you know us at all, this probably won't surprise you.  Between the two of us, Craig is both the Big Idea Person, and also the Fun Parent.  I'm the one who just wants to stay home and keep things simple.  I'm lucky I married Craig, because without him I'd probably never do anything or go anywhere.  And I'm even luckier because not only does Craig force me to do things like this, he also has a knack for always pulling them off splendidly.  And this was no exception.

We'd arrived at my sister's house the night before, getting in really late, and getting up way too early the next morning because Ryder wouldn't sleep.  So we were exhausted from the get-go.  After helping out with some of the Thanksgiving prep, we took a train into Manhattan that afternoon.  Craig really wanted us to see Inflation Eve, where they blow all the parade balloons up.  But our plans got changed somewhat, mostly because we spent a couple hours standing around Penn Station while Craig sold his iPhone to some guy on the street (who he'd found through Craigslist), and then used that cash to buy the new iPhone.  This was a long and tedious process, but I couldn't really be too put out with him since he actually made money on the deal.  And then he was excited to take all these pictures with his new phone.

By the time that was done, I was beyond tired, and taking the subway with three kids in two strollers into the busiest part of town near the parade was a bit daunting.  Fortunately, several New Yorkers quickly saw our situation and helped haul strollers up and down stairs.  One man even wished me a Happy Thanksgiving as he hurried along his way, a random act of kindness that made me burst into tears.  (Stupid pregnancy hormones.)  Eventually we made it to Tracy's apartment, where she told me to sit down and hang out with Rachael, while Tracy, Craig, and Ian (my brother-in-law) ran out and got food for all of us from the Shake Shack.  Heaven (both the food and the sitting down).

Once we were done eating, it was apparent that the most important thing to do was to put our exhausted children to bed.  We left them at Tracy's and let her do most of the work there, and went and saw Inflation Eve, just the two of us.  That was a good decision, because it was PACKED and I was still pretty tired, too.  If we would have been pushing strollers, I think Craig would have had a mutiny on his hands.  As it was, we enjoyed seeing the balloons, and I took breaks sitting on park benches while Craig obsessively documented the whole thing.

After seeing most of the balloons, we headed to Fiorello's, where we'd heard that they served amazing chocolate mousse.  It was as good as everyone had told us, and I also drank about ten glasses of water while we were there (I guess I'd forgotten to stay hydrated, what with everything going on).  Then we took the subway (now empty, and now stroller free) to Rachael and Ian's place, where we stayed up way too late talking with them before finally going to bed.  (Why are all my sisters so fun to talk to???  It's impossible to ever go to bed at a decent hour when they're around!)

Craig and Ian got up at 4:45 the next morning and headed back towards Tracy's place, where they saved us all space to watch the parade.  Rachael and I slept a tiny bit later, and then went to Tracy's and helped her get the kids all dressed and fed before the parade.  When we found Craig and Ian, we discovered that they had done an AMAZING job of picking out a parade-watching spot for us.  There was plenty of room to sit, we were super close, and to top it all off, the weather was even pretty warm!  We only had a short wait before the fun began!

Notice that Ryder is wearing Daddy's gloves.  His hands aren't actually that big...

Most of the gang.  Rachael (and I) got chairs to sit on, and the rest were on a blanket.  Not bad, not bad...!

If you're six and four, you really can't get a better spot than this!

As Rachael snapped this picture, she commented, "Ah, yes, the two turkeys with the turkey."  Can't argue with that.

Tracy, Ian and Rachael

Kermit blocks out the sun for a moment

I know, I already posted this picture.  But it's worth repeating!

A rare smile from Bentley

Ryder enjoys hitting Daddy...

I have NO IDEA what we were talking about here.  But apparently we had strong feelings about it!

The whole family

Love Kendra's face in this shot...

... And in this one, too!

Right at the end, Ryder got bored and dumped an entire bag of goldfish crackers onto the sidewalk.  Then he proceeded to put them all back in the bag and dump them again.  I'm pretty sure he never ate any of them.  ...I hope.

And Santa!  Wow, that man was jolly!  I don't know how he had so much energy, but he was great!

So the parade was a raging success!  We had great seats, we didn't have to stand outside freezing for hours.  In fact, we weren't even freezing at all.  And we all had a great time.  And I have to give full credit for that to Craig and Ian, who were willing to get there early and save us seats and make it all happen.  Left to my own devices, I would never even have attempted such a thing!

There was one minor mishap afterwards.  Going back to Leah and Brian's, we (just my little family, not Tracy, Rachael or Ian) managed to get on the wrong train.  And the train we grabbed was a non-stop train to Connecticut.  Oops.  So we had to stand there for 45 minutes knowing we were going to the completely wrong state.  That was lame.  But it was also pretty hilarious.  Here we are in Stamford:

Craig said I looked sort of like one of the Beastie Boys.  Maybe if they were pregnant.  But that comment made me love this picture.

The parade had gone so well that all I could do was laugh about winding up in Connecticut.  The train that took us to the right stop came ten minutes later, and we ended up only being delayed by about twenty minutes in all.  So it wasn't a big deal-- mostly it's just something we can laugh about for the rest of our lives.

I'm glad I married someone so fun!

Lessons in Biology... And a Few Good Names.

Ryder woke up from his nap in a snuggly mood, so we spent quite a bit of time wrapped up in the electric blanket together while he sucked his thumb and I chatted with my friend.  It was a nice and cozy way to spend a very cold afternoon. 

At one point the subject of tummies came up, so he was pointing out both his tummy and mine.  I've been trying to get him to understand this whole baby-on-the-way thing, so I pointed to my tummy and asked, "Do you know why mommy's tummy is so big?" hoping I could get him to say "Baby"  (or, as he pronounces it, "Beebee").

Instead, he looked at me, smiled, and said triumphantly, "Daddy!"

Well, yes, I guess we could definitely blame Daddy for the current state of my tummy.  I think Ryder's a little young for that lesson just yet, though.

*     *     *     *     *

And I'll stop keeping you in suspense about names.  The name we've liked best for several months now (although we always point out that until he's born and we've seen him, we can change our minds at any time!) is...   Colton.

I like that name a lot.  I like how it sounds with Smith.  I like that it's not super common (any common name instantly becomes boring when you pair it with Smith), but I don't think it's weird, either.  And I like how it fits with our other kids' names.  ("Kyson" got bumped because it seemed too much like some hybrid of Ryder and Kendra; all names ending in "-ley" get bumped because they share too much in common with Bentley's name, etc, etc.  These things get so complicated!)

So that's our main bet for now-- Colton Smith.

It has a ring to it, right?*

We're not even close to deciding on a middle name yet, although ones we've been considering include Paul, Grant, William, and Wesley...  And Kendra has made the following suggestions: Strump, Looploop, and Glublub.  (She's had a few other doozies as well, but those are the only ones I remember.  I already feel bad for her future children.)




*Okay, okay, if you hate it, you can tell me.  I may or may not agree with you, but I suppose it's better to hear what I haven't thought of now, rather than after he's stuck with it...!

The Name Game

With this poor fourth child, I'm having a harder time taking the naming game seriously.  Craig and I spent weeks trying to justify why we could give him the middle name of "Danger."  (Don't worry, we finally decided that we couldn't.)  And now, my favorite-- it occurred to me that, since we already have a kid named Ryder, it would be hilarious to name this one...  are you ready?... Walker!

But we won't do that either.

But I am awfully tempted.  Walker Danger Smith.  It has a ring to it, don't you think?



And the real question.  You wanna know what we are considering?

Teach Ye the Children

Recently I keep stumbling across blog posts and conference talks addressing the issue of teaching our children the gospel.  I have to admit that it's not something I focus on very much (other than all the daily life stuff that is part of being Mormon).  And while I'm not one to feel overly guilty about my parenting (or much of anything, truth be told), I did fall asleep last night wondering if I should be doing more in this department.

And then reality smacked me upside the face this morning, as I spent ten minutes arguing with Bentley about why he needed to put on clean underwear.  (This has been our standard policy since FOREVER, by the way.  It's not like this was a new thing!)  This was followed by another ten minutes of Bentley complaining because he's not a robot.  Mind you, this wasn't about him wanting to wear a robot costume or something.  He wants to actually BE a robot.  And the fact that he can't be one (or, as he perceives it, that I won't let him), makes him angry. 

And nothing I said seemed to convince him that a) this isn't possible and b) even if it was, it would still be a terrible idea.

So that's where we are right now.  I'm busy just trying to instill a sense of hygiene and how to be a humanoid.  Hopefully teaching my children to be Christlike can be next on the agenda...

Idiosyncracies

You know how we all have those things that we do without even noticing that we do them?  Until someone points it out to you, that is, and then it makes you all self-conscious and you wish they had just left you alone with your weirdness.

I have a bunch, apparently.  It wasn't until I was in middle school and people made fun of me that I realized that I never walked.  Instead, my modus operandi was to skip.  EVERYWHERE.  It was like I was incapable of walking!  And if you're an avid skipper, trying to learn to walk like a normal human being when you're in the throes of middle school and hip development and all that fun stuff.  It's really difficult.  Everyone goes through an awkward phase, but I'm pretty sure that mine was even made even more awkward than most as I tried to keep my pace to an even shuffle without bursting out into my usual joyous (but shameful) skipping.  {Shudder.}


It took a mission companion (who didn't particularly like me) asking me accusingly if I "always made noise" every time I swallowed before I realized that I did indeed do just that!  I guess that could be kind of annoying, especially during companionship prayer time.  But in this case, I don't seem to have any control over it, so I refuse to apologize.  There aren't any other ways to swallow, are there???  I blame my overly large tonsils.  And then hope no one else is being grossed out by me.

Some guy once pointed out that when I eat ice cream, I stick my tongue out.  Who knew?  I never paid any attention.  He thought it was sexy, though, so I never bothered to try and break myself of that habit.  (I've also never asked Craig what he thought of it, mostly because if he did think it was creepy, I'd have a whole new thing to try to not do, and who needs that kind of stress when you're simply trying to enjoy a bowl of ice cream???)

Anyway, with this sore ankle, I've noticed yet another one: apparently, whenever I sit down, I do so by tucking one foot (almost always my right foot) under me and then sitting on that foot.  I have no idea why I do this, or when it started.  I hope it doesn't look as weird as it sounds, now that I'm describing it.  (And does it look even worse when I'm at church in a dress??  Yeeks!)

But I can tell you, that when you sit down on a wooden chair onto your sore ankle, IT REALLY HURTS.  And when you do it several times in one day, you begin to question your own intelligence in a big way.

Apparently, it has taken a sprained ankle for me to see how weird I am.



So what weird thing do you do?  I can't be the only one...   Can I?

But other than that, it was a good day...

99% of Saturday was a really good day.

I got a good night's rest and the kids let us sleep until a decent hour.  I got to go to my friend's daughter's baptism and then met Craig and all the kids at the pool* where they'd just begun swimming lessons (well, just Bentley and Kendra, not Ryder).  And then I worked on cutting out fabric for this project (my job is to cut the fabric, all the rest will be left to more capable hands, lest you wonder whose blog you're reading!) while Craig worked on putting our downstairs back together. 

I should explain about the downstairs: After getting the TV, Craig decided it needed to be mounted on the wall.  This made sense, since sitting on that flimsy plastic stand it came with seemed like an invitation to the kids to just knock it down and break it.  But since we were doing that, it also made sense to just get rid of the TV stand we had-- it was just a cheap thing we'd bought at Wal-Mart and it was already missing one cupboard door and looked pretty shabby.  So the domino effect here also meant we needed to find new places for all the stuff that had been stored in the old TV stand.  Craig got to be in charge of all of that, and he did a great job.  The TV is now mounted on the wall, complete with Craig's old stereo speakers, all our DVDs have been moved to the book shelf next to the TV, all CD cases are in storage.  And while he was at it, he moved the couch back to its proper place (it had been shoved aside to make room for the Christmas tree), vacuumed everywhere, and patched and repainted the holes in the wall from the first attempt at mounting the TV. 

So he worked hard.  While I measured and cut fabric.  And then watched him work hard.  And pointed out pine needles that the vacuum had missed.  (I'm helpful like that!)

Then it was dinner, get the kids to bed, and all that usual stuff.

And then it was time to sit and enjoy our TV!  And as Craig put in a DVD (Moneyball-- I like that movie), I came down the stairs, thinking about being helpful by moving the love sac.  And as I looked at it wondering if it was too heavy for me to move, I completely missed the bottom step, and came crashing down on my foot which twisted to one side making a horrid POP-ping noise.  And I crash-landed on my hands and knees.

And then I burst into tears because my ankle hurt so bad.

(And just for the record, I didn't cry AT ALL when Kendra and Ryder were born, so this isn't just me being a wimp.)

I sat sobbing while Craig got me some frozen peas for it, and then cried a few more tears while he got a bucket of ice water ready.

Lots of icing and elevating and wrapping ensued, while we watched Moneyball.  And I learned that if you're going to sprain your ankle, you should probably not drink an entire bottle of water first, because standing up numerous times to get to the bathroom kind of sucks.  I woke up the next morning, realized that it hurt to sit with my foot resting on the floor, and decided there was no way I could make it to church.  So I spent the entire day in bed or on the couch while Craig did everything for me and the kids.  He was so nice about it, too-- he suggested we should do this once a month so everyone would appreciate how hard I work normally.

And apparently all that rest WORKED!  Because my ankle is doing MUCH better already today.  It's still sore and swollen, but I can hobble around without too much difficulty, and sitting upright is just fine now.  I think it will only take a few more days of babying it before I'm back to good again.

So in the scheme of things, I lucked out-- it can't be a bad sprain if it's healing this fast, and I'm mostly thankful that I didn't land on my stomach and hurt the baby or something.

So overall I'm thankful.  But feel free to wish me a speedy recovery anyway!




*6+ years of living here, and that was the FIRST time I'd made it to the Freedom Aquatics Center!  How did I miss out all these years?

Ah ha!

SPAM! 

I did everything Jen suggested, and tried leaving comments and they still weren't getting to me.  I even added Craig's email address to the list, and HE would get my practice comments, but I wouldn't!  We finally figured out that they were all getting sent straight to spam!  Apparently I never check my spam box-- there were so many non-spam items in there!  People I'd friended on facebook who I figured they'd just ignored me, ALL of your comments, and so much more!  Reading through it, I felt so loved! 

And I also felt bad that I'd been ignoring so many people!  Stupid spam filter.  I don't even know how I did that or if gmail was just being overly helpful.  (Makes me think of this video, actually...)

So, yeah, I think I'm back to getting comments again.  But just in case, I'll keep having them sent to Craig also-- he's very good about forwarding them back to me (although he said his job is to also protect me from any mean comments, so I guess you'd better stay nice!).

Whew.  I'm glad to have that taken care of.  It was driving me nuts.

User Error

All right, apparently I suck at this. 

I'm STILL not getting emails notifying me when you leave comments!!!

I just figured no one was bothering to comment at all, and sort of kicking myself for changing things around.  And then I was messing with the settings on my blog, and noticed the tab for comments "awaiting moderation" and realized there were about six comments just sitting there waiting for me to notice them!

How am I this dumb?  And why is it that I still cannot for the life of me figure out how to make it so that I get that stupid email notification!?!?!?

Who knows how to fix this?  Please tell me!  You just want to email me or call me, though, since comments seem to not be my thing...

Love at Home

I'm going to brag for just a bit.

My kids were SO GOOD yesterday!  I think a lot of it was the switch to morning church (hallelujah!!!), but they all sat quietly through sacrament meeting.  Even Ryder didn't have to be taken out!  And this with us not providing snacks for them!  (That was on purpose, actually-- I'd warned them that with morning church I no longer felt that they would need snacks, so they'd better eat a good breakfast.  And they did!)  After church, we ate lunch together (um, except Craig, the lone person fasting), and then Ryder and I took naps while Craig played with Bentley and Kendra.  And he reported that they had an absolutely delightful time, playing Go Fish, having a talent show, and playing pictionary!

Seriously, it was like roses were blooming beneath our feet or something!

We certainly have good times in our home, but entire days like this are a bit on the rare side, so I want to document that they are possible!  Even for us.  Especially for us, I guess.

I wish I could put my finger on what it was that made this happen so then I could keep repeating it.  I doubt it's any one thing or that it's that simple.  But gosh darn it, I'll keep trying to recreate this bliss for the rest of my life, if I have to!

We really can have a happy home!

Christmas Surprises

Christmas was wonderful.  Singing Christmas songs continually brought tears to my eyes and I enjoyed a wonderful spirit the entire season (blame it on the hormones, but in this case, they were nice tears).  But I'm not going to bore you with all the spiritual stuff because I want to tell you about a couple of the super great presents we got!!!  I'm shallow like that.

Some weeks ago, my Mom and Craig got to talking and decided to get my blog posts all bound up in a book for me.  It was a perfect project for the two of them: Craig did all the work, and my Mom paid for it all and they were both very happy.  Unfortunately, when the finished product came, I saw that we had a box addressed to Craig with no indication of who it was from, and figured it was probably a present FOR Craig and opened it up, intending to wrap it for him and put it under the tree.  In my defense, I told this plan to Craig and he agreed it was a good idea, so it's not like I was being devious or anything.  If Craig would have looked more closely at the box, he would have seen the return address and realized what it was and stopped me.  But he didn't.  And I ended up opening my big surprise about 6 days before Christmas.

Craig was so unhappy!  He'd worked so hard and was so sad that my big surprise was ruined.  The second I had the box opened, he realized his mistake and snatched it out of my hands.  He wouldn't tell me anything about it and hid it away, threatening that I would never see it again.  He had a few days to stew over it all, so that was when he came up with his revenge. He was bound and determined to surprise me one way or another!

He was sneaky about it, too.  He put a present under the tree with this adorable tag:

To: Alanna
From:
Director, Patrice Bentley
Executive Producer, Rex Bentley
Artistic Direction, Craig Smith
 and
Award Winning Author, Alanna Smith

But inside, rather than my blog book, was some book about spies (this was not a coincidence, Craig pointed out) along with a sonnet he'd written (I love sonnets, and he'd put it in iambic pentameter and everything!) about how because I'd ruined my surprise by peaking, I would have to work to get my book.  Then it suggested that I check out the filing cabinet drawers. 

In the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet, I found a present, but this one was way too small to be my book.  As I unwrapped it, I quickly discovered that it had been wrapped several times.  Actually, probably at least twenty times.  Most of those layers were done with wrapping paper, but occasionally he'd gotten creative and used yarn, A/C unit tape, cloth & safety pins, and even a plastic bag.  It took me forever to finally get down to the folded up note which contained my next clue: this time I had to go to the crawl space.

Inside the crawl space was a huge box.  Which contained a smaller box.  And then several more smaller boxes (I think 5 or 6, all told).  And then another 20 or so layers of wrapping.  It took me so long to unwrap all these that I had to go to the bathroom before I was done!  The next clue was a bit more obtuse: it informed me that my present was NOT in Craig's car.  I wasn't sure what do with that information.  I tried looking in my car, and got nothing.  So I opened up the trunk of Craig's car and found a present with the words, "This is not your book.  Surprise!"

Upon opening this gift (only one layer of wrapping paper), I discovered a framed portrait from our wedding!  We'd been talking about getting one ever since the big day seven-and-a-half years ago and just never gotten around to it, so this made me burst into happy tears.  What a lovely thing to finally own!  There was also a note that told me to look in Craig's dresser, which was where my book was hiding.

So I ended up being surprised after all.  AND I have a big fat book of all my blog posts from 2011 and 2012.  This probably makes me the biggest narcissist in the world, but I really do enjoy reading my old blog posts, so I'm excited to have them in a more tangible format.  Just those two years took up 300 pages, so I guess that even after five years of blogging, I still have a lot to say!  And Craig promises that we can get the other years published some other day.  (Birthday present for me, Mom?)

So those were my two big presents.  We also got an awesome TV finally (flat-screen, HD, all that stuff)-- we'd never actually bought a TV, but had been on our 5th free one, so this was a big deal for us.  (Lots of thanks to my wonderful in-laws for their generosity!!!)  But this was definitely more of a present for Craig, the film snob, than for me, who is still quite happy watching movies on VHS. 

In any case, we were both very happy with our Christmas presents.

And now, I can start deleting pictures off the blog posts and making room for new ones!  So if you want to take one last look at all the pictures from 2011 and 2012 (but honestly, you probably don't), get cracking because they're disappearing soon!  And be prepared for an onslaught of new pictures!!!

Small Change

Hey, all!  So I just wanted to explain one minor change I've made to this blog.  A while ago when (I think?) google bought out blogger, it somehow changed so that I didn't get any email notification when people left comments!  This means that I have, occasionally, been known to sit reloading my own blog in case there were comments that I wasn't seeing.  Which is a little on the pathetic side, I have to admit. 

So in order to not do that, I've given myself the power to moderate comments.  Which is totally unnecessary, because none of you has ever left comments that needed any censoring on my part.  You guys are great commenters! 

But hopefully this way I can get back to receiving an email if someone leaves a comment, rather than having to hit the re-load button.  Then I won't have to feel so lame, which would be nice.



Soon up-- the full report on Christmas!

Someone is Lying to Me

You know how those parenting magazines are always telling you to let your toddler help you out around the house?  "Little kids love to help out!" they'll gush, followed up by some testimonial of how some parent rewards their child for doing these chores and everyone is just so happy and pleased with the whole situation.

It's not that they're wrong-- Ryder LOVES to help me fold laundry.  If your definition of "help me fold" is "jump on everything and/or throw it on the floor."  He also loves to help me empty the dishwasher.  This usually just means he hands everything to me.  That wouldn't be too much of a problem except the first thing he grabs are usually the knives.  Or anything made of glass.  So it makes emptying the dishwasher feel like an Olympic race against disaster.  On the plus side, I can get the dishwasher emptied in about three minutes flat.  Possibly less, if I washed a lot of knives that time around.

That isn't the real problem, though.  The real problem is Ryder's perpetually snotty nose.  Which was rounded off nicely this week with a nasty cough.  And since toddlers pretty much love nothing more than rubbing at their snotty noses with their hands (and then wiping those hands anywhere that suits their fancy), the absolute last thing I want is him touching my clean dishes!

So I tend to not be very good about letting Ryder help me.

One of my many failings as a parent for which I am unapologetic. 

And now, I need to go try and wash snot off my throw pillows.