Preparing

This marks the 36th week of pregnancy with baby Noah.

Oh yes-in case I never made it official on here, his name is going to be Noah Michael. Noah, because we both finally agreed on the name. And Michael, because that is my dad's middle name. That way both boys will have their grandfathers' middle names.

Naming him is about all I feel I have accomplished when it comes to preparing for this little one. The crib is still not put together in the garage. I have a pile of baby clothes to wash in the special detergent. His dresser is sitting in a box, not put together because I do not even have a room to put the dresser in.

The poor third child.

We are still deciding between dry-walling our loft to make a fourth bedroom or just putting Abby and Caleb together for a short time while Noah still gets up all night. Either way, a decision needs to be made and time is rapidly flying by.

Yet, here I sit, not panicking. Is my lack of preparing based on my complete exhaustion from the first two? Or is it because I know everything will eventually work out? My sweet friend across the street, due the day before me (with her first) has the nursery ready and everything bought in preparation for their little boy.

Let me stress again-crib in the garage, clothes not washed, dresser in box, no bedroom.

If it helps, little Noah, you are constantly on my mind. Not just because you keep me up all night with trips to the bathroom and heartburn. And not just because you have a way of kicking me really hard in the ribs. But, because I have been waiting for you for a long time and I am anxious to meet you. Your room and clothes may not be ready quite yet, but my heart is.

Accidents

I am waiting for the moment when our school calls Social Services on us. Seriously, my children are not making us look too good.

The day that Caleb had his bloody nose (see post below), he just happened to have a new cut on his forehead. It happened when he went to wake up his dad that morning, right as Nick was moving his arm over. His fingernail scratched Caleb's forehead, leaving a lovely little red mark (that is still healing). Apparently, when Caleb was with the school nurse for his sudden nose bleed, he said, "See my boo-boo? My daddy did that to me."

Just perfect.

Miss Abigail, my almost six-year old who has been potty trained since age two and a half, peed her pants at school yesterday. It has been years since she has had an accident and suddenly, she has had issues three times in a row. She had one at home two days ago, her incident at school at the playground, and last night in the middle of the night. Each time she says she did not feel like she had to go, so I am not sure what is suddenly going on. Regardless, my "reading chapter books, loving the social life of school" daughter just wet her pants at kindergarten.

Oh, and Caleb keeps falling out of bed in the middle of the night.

What is going on with my family? Add on a newborn in a few weeks and you might as well officially call our house a circus.

Nose Bleeds

We made it through one full week of school before getting a call from the school nurse. Impressive, right?

I was just getting ready to leave to pick up Caleb from preschool, when my phone rang. Caleb had a bad nose bleed and they just wondered if that was normal for him. As I drove to pick him up, I had to question the urgency to which they called-after all, kids get nose bleeds just from picking their noses. I will admit, my son is guilty of that.

When I saw him, I changed my mind on their decision to call.

You would think that being that bandaged up over a nose bleed would scare him, but no-he was calmly sitting there, chatting with the nurse and another ill student. He looked up at me and said, "Hey mom!"

That afternoon, while "taking a nap" (i.e. goofing off in his room), he suddenly ran out, face full of blood, and said, "It's bleeding again!" A few big spots fell onto the carpet (glad I did not have the carpet cleaners come out last week like I wanted), but thankfully most of the mess made it to the bathroom sink.

That poor little guy had to stand there for twenty minutes while I pinched his nose and let him spit out blood. It was everywhere. I have never seen a nose gush like that and it got kind of scary.

We had relief for a couple of days, until he had another episode in the middle of the night. Again, thankfully, he made it to the bathroom instead of all over his room. After asking some advice from others (and ruling out the "stop giving him cocaine" advice from a dear friend who will remain nameless-oh okay, I'll just use the initial "J"), I realized it probably was the dry weather.

Thanks to a new humidifier and some vapor rub for his latest cough, the nose bleeds seem to have stopped. However, every time the kid gets the slightest booger in his nose, he runs to me and asks, "Is it bleeding again?"

Well, at least it is not as bad as getting hit in the nose with a softball bat-oh wait, that was last year.

Humility

I thought about avoiding this whole topic and pretending this never happened. But, if I can tell stories about my husband and children, then I suppose I have to be willing to share my own tales.

Last week, Nick mentioned that he had a service at school that would require him to be wearing his gown (as in the faculty gown that he wears for graduation every spring). I shelved that detail in the back of my mind, never to be thought of again. This past Saturday, he mentioned it again to which I swear it was the first time he had told me about it. I figured I would take care of it on Sunday before he left for the service. After all, I had all day to pull it out of the closet and iron it.

Came home from church, plugged in the iron, and went to the closet to retrieve the gown. The problem was, it was no longer there. I usually keep it in the same basket so that every May, I know exactly where it is. However, in the midst of my nesting/making our house look show worthy, I had moved that basket to another place for a more practical purpose.

"No problem," I reassured Nick, "It has to be in an easy place to find." I checked the obvious places like the rest of the closet, the linen closet, even the kids' closets. Then I bent down (not easy at eight months pregnant) to look under the bed. I even ventured into the garage, thinking it might have been moved out with some of the boxes labled, "Nick's stuff." Nope. No gown anywhere.

Now, if you do not know us well, I must explain our personalities. I am a very organized person who likes everything in its place. It doesn't always look like that in our house since I live with three other people who do not share my obsession, but I do my best. Nick, on the other hand, has piles. There is a pile on the kitchen counter of "things to go through that are important so do not throw them out." There is a pile under the bed of similar things. There are boxes in the garage filled with memories and trophies. And there is his car, which I do not even go near.

Can you understand why my searching felt in vain? I kept looking in the most absurd places for this precious gown, all the while thinking, "I know he left it at school or in his car and it has never been brought to me. Otherwise, it would be in a practical place in this house."

Nick was having similar thoughts. Accept his were in anger that I could misplace something so important.

You can see why our Sunday was not the best of days.

He eventually found an extra gown at the school moments before the service. I received an apologetic text, claiming his error in anger and how it was probably his fault anyway. I appreciated him finally realizing the truth and owning up to his disorganization. After all, it could never be my fault when I am so on top of things.

Well, I began cleaning out the garage today. I had a few boxes to move around to make room for our new freezer and as I was moving one particular bin, I opened it up to remind myself what was in it.

Yep. There it was.

My first reaction was to throw it out and pretend I never saw it. Nick could go on thinking he lost it, eventually get a replacement, and no one would be any the wiser.

Then, as I realized he would see it in the garbage while taking it out tomorrow, I tried to think of how I could sneak it into his car or somewhere at school so that he would find it and realize he had been the one to misplace it. (Friends fans, think of the episode where they are up all night and Rachel puts the forms back into Tag's desk-that is exactly where my mind was.)

As I realized I do not live in a sitcom and instead of being funny, it would be pretty wrong of me, I picked up my phone and sent the text that I never thought I would send. I told my loving husband what I had found.

Thankfully, he was sweet about and did not gloat too much. Maybe he is saving it for when he gets home. I even asked him not to tell anyone it was my fault, but here I am, finally feeling guilty enough to confess on my own.

Ah, humility. We can talk about how we want to be humble, but when it actually happens, it is not a pretty thing. I could just blame all of this on pregnancy brain (which I swear really exists), but in this case, I just have to suck it up and admit my fault.

Have to get back to cleaning out that garage-should be fun to see what else I find.

First Week Of School

Well, it is official. My babies are both in school and I have my mornings free-how did that happen? I feel like I was just at the hospital giving birth to them. For the last six years I have never had a day at home where I did not have someone following me around.

You want to know what I have done the past few mornings? Anything I want.

I have cleaned out the van without constantly turning around to see which child is running into the street. I have taken showers without having anyone sneak in with a complaint. I have even dried my hair without having to turn off my hair dryer to break up a fight.

I have been able to eat bagels in the mid-morning without hearing, "Can I have a bite?" I have turned on the television (but, not a lot out of fear of not moving from my relaxation) and watched anything that was not on Noggin, Nick Jr. or PBS Kids. I enjoyed a walk without a stroller or without anyone on a scooter saying, "I'm tired and I don't want to walk anymore." I have started laundry and finished it, instead of having to use the dewrinkle cycle hours later.

My favorite thing to look forward to? Grocery day tomorrow. I will have three hours by myself to get my groceries. Go ahead moms of younger children-go ahead and cry with jealousy.

Okay, back to reality. Yes, I know I have a newborn quickly making his way here in seven weeks. In the meantime, I am going to enjoy this new found freedom and not take it for granted.

As for the kids (who I actually do miss during the morning), they are both loving school. Abby's first comment about kindergarten was "It's exhausting!" For the girl who still takes naps for me, this all day thing is a new experience. However, she reassured me she would survive-"Don't worry, Mom, I just have to get used to it and then I'll be fine." Her favorite part of school so far? Lunch. That's my girl.

Caleb is really enjoying preschool so far. Okay, so maybe I have to drag his butt out of bed every morning and constantly urge him along to get ready in time, but eventually he will get the hang of going to sleep on time and will have the energy to bound out of bed every morning like his sister.

Or, he might really be just like his dad and I am in for a long road of battles every morning.

Regardless, he really has been great with this whole new part of life. He happily goes into his classroom and yells, "Bye!" as he heads for the car section (shocking, I know). He is gradually remembering his new friends' names. He never remembers what he learned each day, but I do get to hear the specifics on what the snack was and what he did a recess.

I keep thinking how strange this would feel if I did not have another child on the way. My babies would be in school, I would be working somewhere in the mornings and our lives would suddenly be looking very different. It is odd to be starting all over again, four years later. Financially, we are crazy. But, I prefer the word blessed.

My Baby Boy

What would I do without Caleb and his thoughts?

-The other day, I noticed that he was farting a lot, but not taking the initiative to use the bathroom. I told him to go and he said he did not have to. It was almost bedtime and trying to avoid him coming out of his room in the evening with the bathroom excuse, I said, "Caleb, if you go poop right now I will give you a cookie."

His response? "Oh yes! I do want a cookie!" in his squeaky voice as he ran to the bathroom. Bribery? Sure. So hilarious that Nick and I had tears in our eyes while laughing-you betcha. And, most importantly, it worked.

(Okay, so it backfired when he expected candy the next day for the same task, but oh well.)

Usually during bedtime or mealtime prayers, Caleb says the same thing. It is a run-on sentence of thanking God for his cousins, parents, grandparents, cows, and sometimes his baby brother (never his sister-hmm). Last night, he said an actual prayer, where he paused and thought about his words. It was so precious and surprised us all. The new prayer included...

"Dear God, thank you for giving me to Daddy. And thank you for all of my friends at school."

It was simple, but because it was so thoughtful and not just the same routine, it meant the world to us.

As my little man prepares for his first week at preschool, I am amazed at how old he suddenly seems. What happened to my baby? As he informs me when I am cuddling with him and calling him my baby, "Mom, you're so silly. I'm not a baby-I'm a boy!"

Getaway

I took a little vacation with Nick and my inspiring thoughts did as well. Perhaps that is because I left my inspiration with my parents for a few days-I am sure they are full of fun stories and thought provoking lessons.

I know of one my dad would love to share. Caleb clogged his toilet again. For my faithful readers, you might remember this happening awhile back when he was going through his "fearful of the toilet phase" and held it in so long that when he finally went, he broke the toilet. Well, no fear this time-probably just too many days of "Can I eat that Grammy, please?"

Apparently, this particular movement clogged it enough that my dad had to take the toilet apart (again) and powerwash the substance out. Yep-that is my son. I do appreciate the helpful solution that my dad observed-"They could have stopped that oil leak in the gulf by just having Caleb take a crap in it."

You may laugh (I know I did), but I seriously might have to suggest that to the government if that happens again.

As for my getaway from the kids, it was lovely. Nick and I spent three and a half days in Denver, CO. He spent his days at a conference (where he learned a lot about teaching English as a second language) and I spent mine doing whatever I wanted...it was glorious. I was able to shop at the mall-alone. I spent time at the hotel pool-alone. I watched tv, did puzzles and read-alone.

I forgot that it was possible to have thoughts about subjects other than breaking up fights, potty training, back-to-school shopping, and Nick Jr.

I got to spend one day with a dear, old friend (we have known each other since we were ten years old), Krista, who lives there. She took me to some beautiful sights in the mountains. It would have been nice to hike places, but out of fear of a preterm delivery, she drove me everywhere. I had absolutely no problem with that, since I was out of breath every time I walked more than ten minutes.

Nick and I got to enjoy evenings out without kids (we love you, Abby and Caleb, but someday you will understand). Went out with Nick's lifelong friend, Chris, who also lives there. Went to a movie and had an afternoon/evening of just driving around and looking at sights. Could have done without the red-eye flight home, but that just adds to the fun of traveling. Sticking out my pregnant belly as far as possible, I managed to score us some extra leg room seats on three out of the four flights, so I cannot complain.

Now it is back to the routine of parenthood. This week has been full of kindergarten parties, soccer practice, doctor appointments, softball games, preschool parties and birthday parties. While I miss having the chance to just sit and be alone, I look around and cannot imagine life looking any different.