My Three Pound Bowling Ball.

We went to the doc yesterday. I told Joey in the purple examining room before she came in that I hoped today she would tell me she had made a big mistake, and I am already showing signs of labor and will probably have this baby within three days or so.
Instead, she said I am growing very normal, and she doesn't think this baby will be very big. In fact, she said as she squeezed my belly a little, she thinks this baby is only about three pounds right now.
Three pounds.
Are you freaken kidding me?
Three pounds, and my hips feel like baby rattles? Three pounds, and I can barely, I mean barely, turn myself over in bed at night? Three pounds, and I have people ask me everyday when I am due, in a tone that may as well be asking, So, are you like due, tomorrow?
I want to lie, but I get embarrassed instead and tell them the hard truth: September. I don't say when in September; maybe they'll think September first. Ha.
I was disappointed as we went down in the elevator, letting the fact sink in that this baby is growing normally, that I don't have a ten pounder on the way. Not that I wanted one of those, but I've been telling myself over the last couple of weeks the reason I am so darn uncomfortable, lazy, and tired is because I am growing a king size kid in there.
No royalty for me, and no more pity parties either.
I almost put my Y membership on hold because I have no motivation to go there, but the lady told me on the phone that I must come in and sign papers to do it. But after the doctor's appointment I put my exercise clothes on (ohh the last eight weeks of pregnancy, where my butt seems to grow at the same pace as my belly--O wait--that is happening my whole pregnancy), but instead of a nice smooth round shape its squishy and dimply--especially noticeable in my exercise pants--and grabbed my water and was on my way.
It felt good. I need those endorphins. They help me counter-act my dimply butt.
Joey has been going on crazy runs lately, in the middle of the day in a hundred degrees. He comes home, dripping sweat like he just ran through the sprinklers, and I can barely look at him I am so jealous. I am usually sitting at the table on the computer, or in the recliner waking up from a nap, and seeing him and all that sweat, his chest heaving up and down makes me feel like an ever growing invalid.
I miss runs, I miss kickboxing, I miss sweating.

Feather River Resort, 2009.

I woke up to the scritch scritch scritch of the tiny toenails of mice, working hard finding whatever it is mice want to find at ten-thirty at night. It sounded like they were in the walls, right behind my head. Back and forth they came, their toes so close I could feel them as they walked, not to fast, not to slow. I woke Joey up and told them I was listening to mice in the walls and he rolled over and went back to sleep.
I couldn't sleep, so I laid there with the sheet up to my chin, expecting at any moment the ceiling to drop with the whole colony of nasty critters sitting on our legs.
I could not sleep listening to them work, so I just laid there, tense and scared, waiting to find one crawling up my bedspread.
Then, around midnight, I noticed a fluttering shadow like a fat butterfly, only louder, flying from one corner of our room to the other. I could feel the wind swish past my cheeks on each swoop. The sound of its wings was like vibrating rubber. That's how I knew it was not just a humongous moth, magnified and blurry because I had my contacts out.
This cannot be happening is all I kept saying to myself. I held it together pretty well until I noticed my fingers were cramping from holding the sheet so tightly. I wanted to jump up on the bed and scream and shake all these disgusting, critterly feelings from skin. I wanted to jump in a nice, clean, pool.
Instead, I woke Joey up again.
Joey! There's a bat in here! I expected him to wake up and tell me that it wasn't a bat. Just the biggest butterfly you have ever seen, or heard. But he didn't. He was quiet, and then he said, "How'd they get in here?"
They?
They??????????
They only thing I was wrong about was there was not one bat. There were two.

After crawling on the floor army-crawl-style to the bathroom to turn on the light, making the bats go even more nuts, running into the walls like we locked them in our bedroom on purpose, Joey crawled back to bed and told me there was no other option but to go back to sleep.
No other options? I think this is when I laughed. A delirious, out of body, crazy laugh.
And then, I curled up under my sheet and shut my eyes and fell asleep to the sound of the bats rubbery, furry little wings and the mice's too-long toenails scratching the wall behind my head.
I still, to this day, cannot believe I did this, and believe deep, deep within my soul I should receive a very special award or pin.
We had the maintenance men ( I overheard them making fun of us on their walkie talkies-what is this? Some kind of resort joke? Are the bats their pet bats?) fill in the holes in the rafters and bring in more mouse traps (we caught three hard working little friends).
The mice, at least in the walls, and the bats, never came back.
The rest of the vacation was spent at the pool, or lakes nearby. The boys played golf two times a day, something that put Joey in the best mood he's been in since I can't remember when. Liana cooed and smiled and giggled in her sleep.
Ethan and Andrew loved being together, but they fought like monkeys. My dad at one point wondered out loud if over this year while Andrew is here if it is better to hang out with them them together or separately. I told him that depends on if he wants to spend his time with his grandsons breaking up boxing matches (with both) or playing peacefully at the park (with one at a time).

The annual family pic, minus Liana (sleeping) and Andrew (sleeping).

Liana and Daelynn

Isn't Liana just the most darling thing? Daelynn came into town early, and it's been great to be with her again, great to see her as a mommy. She came over last night and we watched a fire burn down the mountain near our house as we drank Almond Biscotti tea. It was a little bitter, she told me to let the water cool just a bit from boiling before pouring it over the tea. We talked a bit about husbands and marriage post baby, but then Ethan had to pee. I could have stayed up there on that patio in the dusk light forever. I love my sister.

Summer Will Return; He Will Not.

These summer days have been long, slow. I am blessed to be at home. Every morning I get to drink my tea as slow as I want, refilling my cup two, three, four times. I have time to read and pray and write, and I am not having to get up at some awful hour to do it.
Ethan is getting up early because of the light, but he goes in his room and plays with his trains. He goes potty on his own, gets his yogurt out of the fridge on his own, his spoon. He is becoming quite self sufficient. These little acts make my life a bizzilion trillion million times easier.
Noah will come at the end of these long summer days. Craziness, sleep deprive-ness, round-the-clock care wrapped in a thin blanket. And I can't wait.
Second babies are so different than firsts. If not a complete idiot, I was at least naive to the way Ethan would change everything, knock me on my back like a backhoe loader ramming me at full force, completely leveling my universe (he'd appreciate the metaphor).
But I know Noah is going to do this. And I am already preparing to lay down so it won't hurt as bad.
With this baby I am going to go slow. I am going to hold him as much as I want, thank you very much any book that tells me otherwise. I am not going to resent the time I spend in the back bedrooms of friend's houses nursing while everyone else continues to socialize at dinners and holidays. I am going to hold him as much as I want. I am going to revel in the cuteness of putting him in the tiniest little man clothes. I am going to have his picture taken, by a professional. I am going to take him out, show him off. And I am going to hold him as much as I want.
The long summer days will be gone for a season, but I will have a little, teeny baby, for just a little, teeny while.

I just LOVE these boys!

Deana and Simon are Back!

I cannot believe they are here! For a year! As soon as nap time is over we are headed over to their new house. I can't wait!

That high, itty bitty voice of his.

Today has been a great day except now it's 3:23 and I have lost all motivation to do anything, let alone wash my sleeping bags which still have pee on them from camping two weeks ago.
I got up this morning and for the third day in a row and took my Bible, journal, and green tea up to the top patio and read and wrote and drank (tea). It was lovely, as usual. I entertain Ethan for this thirty minutes of peace with a movie or kid CD (the kind you can stand to listen to for about four and a half minutes before you want to rip your head off).
Then we went to Kmart because I thought they were going out of business (the cashier said they weren't--no duh, nothing was more than 10% off) and I bought Ethan a fat red plastic bat and white ball and blue L.A. gel for his hair. Makes him look tough. He needs a little toughness to balance out that voice of his.
Which holy smokes he would not stop talking the entire time we were in Costco. Talking, singing, whining, asking questions, talking. I honestly had to ask him to talk in a lower voice or mommy's head is going to explode, right into the white peaches.
"How's this mommy?" (talks in a lower voice, but not really any significant change.)
"That's great honey. That's great." And on we go. It's useless really, but you feel like you have to at least ask. At least try.
We bought the most awesome pool, I can't wait to set it up for Andrew and him to play in together. I can't wait to sit in it too.
He's up now.
"Mama! I want some orange juice mama. And I want you to pull up my pants too." I am ignoring him. "Mom? Mom? MOOOOOOOOOM?"
That means I better go. Tchau.

It Will Catch Up to You, Mama.

We went to Wild Waters today and instead of just peeing in the pool like the normal kids Ethan got out and pulled down his pants and peed outside the pool.
On the lifeguard's sandals.
And water jug.
She was not a happy bean.
A month ago as Ethan was peeing in Tahoe in this same way and I was just tickled at how cute it was, Joey said something about it eventually catching up to me.
I guess today it did.

Noah.

I decided this morning to write in my journal our top names for this little guy and then write their meanings to try and help the right name fall into place; for a name to feel right and natural and chosen. We have been so indecisive on choosing a name for this little guy, it was really starting to cause some anxiety, at least on my part. Joey--poor Joey--has had to suffer with me bringing up the name topic whenever there is a free and quiet moment. "So, have you thought of any names?" Like guys really spend their free time surfing the hundreds of "baby names" websites.
This is what I wrote:
Noah: peaceful, comforter, wanderer
Patrick: noble
Lucas/Luke: bringer of light, morning, physician
Thomas: twin, doubter and zealous faith
I liked Noah right after I wrote it. It's a new addition to our top three names, only added a couple of days ago after we saw it written on a sippy cup at Baby's R Us and both said, yeah, that's a good name. After seeing the meaning for the first time, I liked it even better. Peaceful. Comforter. Both words were like water to my soul.
OK, so then get this--I looked away for like a second, and when I looked again there was a freaken rainbow on my journal. A rainbow!! And that made me remember God's promises, a theme that I have been praying over my life and my family's life and my friends' lives for a while now: to live and breath in God's promises, no matter what is going on. What joy and peace this has brought me very recently, and God literally flung a rainbow across my journal to remind me, and in my opinion, to gently confirm, his name is Noah.
I mean, isn't that crazy? And wonderful? It's perfect. It suits his soul, as my friend put it. I literally can feel that it fits him.
Now, to convince Daddy...