My Beautiful Children

Uh, yeah, it's even harder to get a good picture with three kids.

She definitely takes after her brothers.

I think my dream of beautiful, magazine-worthy portraits on the wall has died.

Part Two - The Best Surprise

So, where were we?

Ah...a girl or a boy? That was the question.


You've heard me bitch talk about it several times and that morning was no different. Everyone wanted to know what we were having from the lady who took my pre-op blood to the nurses and passersby, anesthesiologists and doctors. No one could believe that in this age of technological breakthroughs we would decline the early knowledge of baby three's gender. So, when the doctor came in scrubbed and ready, he leaned down over my numb body and asked "the question." When I told him I didn't know he told me that he could not remember how long ago it was that he had been to a "surprise" birth and how excited he was that we were going to all be surprised that day. He asked my thoughts and I told him I thought it was a boy and he asked why. I explained that, aside from the obvious other two boys, that my favorite after-school television show was My Three Sons. The doctor seemed surprised that I even knew that show existed so we had a mini quiz-and-answer where I answered even the tough ones with ease. The doctor then pronounced that I was fated to have three sons and I agreed, although my anesthesiologist friends were split and the PA and nurse felt I needed a girl "for balance". It was actually quite fun and Elizabeth put in her two cents by flopping all over and impressing the crew with her acrobatics. I had been really nervous to find out the gender after all that waiting and I wondered what my reaction would be to either announcement. Part of me wanted a girl, being my last baby and all, and another part wanted a boy, because I just love my little boys so, but by the time they began the surgery I was ready. My husband was ready. People I had just met were ready. It took the doctor much longer to get to the baby this time, scar tissue and all, so the wait was a bit nerve wracking. He also took a long pause when he was ready to retrieve her to tell us this was it and she was on her way. I could feel them pulling her out and kept listening and he finally said "We have hair, lots of hair" I about jumped out of my skin because I was expecting boy or girl definitely NOT hair, so I proceeded to get excited about a hairy baby, having had only bald babies in the past, and almost missed the official verdict. In fact, I think I did miss it as the anesthesiologists and my husband practically pushed each other out of the way as she was being born to see for themselves when everyone started cheering and clapping...THEN I heard him say "It looks like a girl" and I broke down and bawled like a newborn baby myself. Apparently I wanted a girl more than I realized or maybe the excitement was just too much for me but, thank goodness, I wasn't strapped down because I truly needed tissues at that point.

What happened next, though, truly surprised me. I looked over to find my husband crying just as much, if not more, than I was. I was stunned. It never really dawned on me that he could have been wanting a daughter, but apparently he was. Like the Grinch, my heart grew three sizes for him at that moment and I, naturally, bawled some more. Then I looked around and saw that the women were crying too. Once the husband took the baby out to meet the family (which I am sad I missed those excited brothers), the doctor told me that ours was the best delivery he had done in a very long time and that he rarely sees that pure emotion from the excitement of the surprise since most people don't wait anymore, and that my husband made his day over his uninhibited joy to have a daughter.

I am so glad we waited for the surprise. We had tons of fun throughout the pregnancy wondering who would be joining us. I know the husband wanted to know ahead of time and maybe that would have made us a little more prepared room wise, clothing wise, and name wise, but that fleeting moment when we met her AND found out what she was, was one of the best of my life. The last real surprise in life they say and for us it really was.

Part One

How can it be that my daughter is a week old already?



I guess I better get busy collecting my thoughts before they are distant memories in my mind.





It was a dark and stormy night......



Not really, but it was extremely early, 5 a.m., and dark.



I couldn't imagine why we needed to be there so early, figured we would have all kinds of time to kill, but they had scheduled the surgery for 7:30 (unbeknownst to me) and after filling out the papers (for the third time) and answering the same questions (Do you have a ride home?) and getting geared up, it was time to go. My mom barely had time to make it there with the boys, whom I deperately wanted to see as I was sure I would die and never be able to kiss them goodbye, but she did make it. Amazingly, I did allright being wheeled to my demise, accepted my fate I guess, but thanks to the wonderfully nice, well rested at the beginning of her shift nurse, I was able to remain calm.

So the husband had to dress in his alien suit and wait through all the surgery preparations. They set me up on the table to get the spinal and I started to freak. It was at this point last time that things began going horribly wrong, but my PA was there and explained that they were doing things a lot differently, new policies and all, and that I would not need an oxygen mask OR to be strapped down and that I would be getting the spinal versus the epidural and by then I had almost missed the numbing needle and my legs were going dead. OK, one obstacle down.

I have to say I loved my anesthesiologists. One was a lady with a Natasha from Bullwinkle accent and the other was her young, very young, intern. They were just so.....chipper. They were truly excited to be doing a c-section, not because they had never done one before (thank goodness) but because they loved being present at a new person's birth. Here I was, kind of feeling like been there, done that, and they were absolutely giddy about meeting my child. We talked like we were old friends and I felt when I was wheeled out almost like I should have gotten their phone numbers and met them for drinks after the whole breastfe*ding thing was over with. Anyway, things progressed quickly from there.....I was numb and draped and the husband was brought in as the doctor was beginning the surgery. I can't tell you how absolutely awesome it was to NOT have the oxygen mask and NOT be strapped down. It was actually rather pleasant, as far as major surgeries go, and I started getting a bit giddy waiting to hear the big gender announcement.........which totally deserves it's own post so I will get to that next time.

Day Two of Captivity

Well, we are still getting adjusted. It's going better than I had anticipated, but the sleep deprivation is already packing a wallop even though it's only been two nights. Apparently Elizabeth has her days and nights mixed up, but we're working on that.



I have tons of things I want to blog about last week, yet I don't have quite the time or free arms to do it all at once. I intend to plug it all out in installments, kind of the "As Our World Turns (into a chaotic freak show)" kind of thing so stay tuned.....Episode One:The Birth is coming soon, but until the day my medicine buzz allows me to have a clear coherent thought....pictures for you. Keep in mind that we are not photographers.

Short and Sweet....

Elizabeth Rachel

6 pounds, 9.5 ounces

19 inches

April 19 - 8:46 a.m.

Needless to say we were really surprised to hear the doctor say it was a girl, but maybe even more surprised to see that she has hair......black hair.

Our biggest thing now is trying to remember to call her she and her and find another nickname other than dude.

Baby is here

The new baby is here and it is...........................................................................................a girl! Born 8:46 AM, 6 lbs 9.5 oz. Mom and baby are healthy and Andria will post soon.

Can I Stay Pregnant Forever?

OK....

I have less then twenty four hours until I evict this baby.

I am freaking out.

I mean, I could die tomorrow! I am having a major surgery you know. Staph infections run rampant in hospitals and my husband has a killer case of athlete's foot that I am afraid to have near my gaping abdomen.....think I should make him wait out in the hall?



I had to go to the hospital this afternoon to sign all the same papers I signed at the "pre-registration" six weeks ago. They rid me of some blood, slapped some paper bracelets on me, and demanded payment. Everything is a go for 5:30 tomorrow morning. I think I might puke.



Breathe in.......breathe out



I really do need a drink.



But for now, this will have to do.

Update

Just wanted to let you know that I was still hanging in. I have officially hit that point where I am completely miserable 24 hours a day. This is new for me, I have never made it to the end before so I missed all this loveliness the last two times. I am plagued with restless legs at night so I can't sleep and I am barely moving during the day, I just hurt too bad. I had a doctor's appointment this afternoon and had to endure the "check" which pretty much let me know I wasn't going anywhere until Thursday......6 AM Thursday to be exact. Unbelievable.

So, if I don't update before then, be patient. I will have husband bring the laptop to the hospital once I am moved to a room and hopefully I will be able to steal some access from the college next door. If not, MAYBE I will let husband into the inner workings of the blog to pass along the vitals and maybe a picture or two.

Last chance to guess what three is. Husband and I have a hunch and, amazingly, it's the same one this time so I'm ready to see if we're right, scared to death to parent three kids, but ready to meet our last child. Bring it on.

The Question

I'm still here...hanging on for dear life. Baby already screwing with our traditions, we were really wanting another Sunday baby, we don't have much to talk about at parties and saying all our kids were born on Sunday was kind of cool while it lasted.


But how about some more hormonal bitchiness?.....



One thing I will be glad to be rid of after this pregnancy ends is the people who constantly ask "Is it a boy or a girl?" Why does this fact matter to so many people?

I find it strange that Hilda at the grocery store asks me every week and I know she remembers me because I gave her a green bean recipe that she thanks me for every time. I go to my MOPS group every other week and those girls STILL ask me if I have found out yet, like I have 24 hour access to an ultrasound machine. I have explained, patiently, that we really did want to be surprised and they just don't get it.

What I like even less is comments such as:

Are you going to try for a girl if this one is a boy?
Don't you want to be prepared to be disappointed in case it's a boy?
I will die if you have another boy!
It will be so sad if you don't have a girl!
I'll feel so sorry for you if it's a boy.
I am so lucky to have one of each, I wish you could experience that.

Do people even realize how that comes across?

A mother of one of Jacob's classmates approached me the other day to let me know that she was pregnant as well and, of course, asked the "What is it?" question, to which I replied, "a baby, that's all we know." and she went on for twenty minutes about how she was expecting a girl after having two "wild" boys and how she would have keeled over dead if she were having another boy and won't it be horrible for me to find out at the birth that it's a boy? Yada, yada, yada...she is so lucky to be having a girl she must have done something right to be rewarded that way. Since she had her ultrasound at 16 weeks, I am secretly hoping that girl sprouts a pe*is, but what? I seriously don't think she is a malicious person and maybe I took all of that completely wrong, but I found the whole conversation unsettling....like, I don't want to show up at the kindergarten graduation with a third boy for fear of looking like the poor, poor woman with the three boys...let us pray for her.

Sometimes, now, when people pose the question to me, I have started saying "It's a boy" or "It's a girl" just to gauge the reactions. If I am alone and say it's a boy or a girl, the asker is pretty ambivalent, if I have even just one boy with me and say it's a boy, I usually get some head shaking, or tsking, or the inevitable, "you can always try again". If I say it's a girl they are practically throwing confetti at me. Saying you are having a girl always makes everyone happy. Why is that?

I know, I shouldn't take this personally, but I kind of do. I mean, this is my kid we're talking about. I created it, gestated it, gave up blue cheese for it. It's a part of our family no matter what parts it possesses. Why do people want to make me feel badly for not conforming to society's idea of a perfect family? Maybe I do want a girl. Maybe I don't. Either way, it just makes me feel bad like I'm disappointing everyone and purposely going against the norm.

My new answer: It's a baby. Period. It will be loved by it's family and protected by it's brothers. It might wear dresses or it's brother's overalls, either way it's ours, it belongs to us and we are happy about it.

One day I'll quit being hormonal...menopause is right around the corner isn't it?




Don't you feel so sorry for me?

The Home Stretch

If history repeats itself, I should have a baby tonight. Jacob and Adam were both born on Sunday mornings after having gone into labor on a Saturday night. This is my last weekend as a mother of two so this is our last chance. I wouldn't be against it, the labor ward is empty on Sundays, but I don't feel anything and I haven't dropped yet, so I think three is staying put. But just in case I don't have the opportunity again, here are my thoughts on the past nine months.....

Honestly, I still can't believe we are having a third baby. It just seems weird still. There was a time, eight years ago, when we thought we wouldn't have one baby let alone three. My first two pregnancies were hard. There was the every other day blood testing, hormone supplementations, and the biweekly miscarriage scares and dead baby checks. I didn't have any of that this time. My doctor says my body must have finally just "got it". Gee, would have been nice if it could have gotten it the first time, but I digress. Anyway, aside from the twenty weeks of morning sickness, this pregnancy has been absolutely uneventful. No emergency room visits, no preterm labor, nothing. You know, I have only been to my doctor's office for scheduled appointments, no "something's wrong" fit ins this time. It almost makes me want to have another just because now I know THIS is what it's supposed to be like and it's really not that bad...but not too much.

I still feel unsure about adding another baby to the family. I just don't feel like a mom to three, two fits me like a glove, but we'll manage. I do feel blessed to have been given this opportunity to have an easy pregnancy and a surprise baby, it's like a gift, really....a nine month long gift, but a gift nonetheless. In less than a week (or tomorrow) I will find out who we have been waiting for all this time, our little surprise who just had to come live with us..... poor thing, doesn't know what it's in for.

Blah...

I really don't have any relevant thoughts these days. But for what it's worth.....

Jacob finished up his evaluations yesterday. Now the husband and I go next Wednesday to rehash the results. I am nervous, yet not, because she scheduled it the DAY BEFORE I am going to have a baby. The fear of dying is trumping the fear of asbergers at this point.

We scrapped both baby names. They just weren't doing it for us. We were going to name Adam, Paul. I look back on that now and think, geez louise, is he in NO WAY a Paul. I need something great for this kid so I don't regret it later down the line, like I sometimes do Jacob since every single boy in the nation seems to be named that. The one name I really do like happens to be Adam's middle name. We loved both names so much and couldn't decide so we gave him both. That, in hindsight, was really dumb. The husband says we should just use it anyway, but I think that is a tad over the line and just plain weird. I am open to suggestions. Right now our plan is to wait until it's born and see what it looks like. Really. I didn't say it was a good plan.

Is anyone watching Desperate Housewives this season? I haven't seen any of them yet, they are all stored on my tivo, but the tivo is filling up and I need to make some room for all the things I will miss while birthing a baby and doing the newborn thing. I haven't heard much buzz about it this year so I am wondering if it is even worth it to keep them there. Should I just delete them and rent season two (or is it three?) one adventurous evening? Or should I just let it fall off my list of shows all together? I finally gave up on Lost and started watching again last night. I am six episodes behind. Can someone fill me in?

I am still dying for a banana snapple and apparently so are many other people because I get at least one hit a day from it.

When the doctor scheduled my section for the 19th, in my mind I kept thinking the 12th, like, the 12th was going to be the day. Doesn't look like that is going to happen, but I am really hoping it doesn't decide to come tomorrow....Friday the 13th. I would freak out.

I am addicted to soda again and this time I can't blame it on my mom because she gave it up and now drinks only water, ugh! I was sucked in at the grocery store picking up some diet coke for the husband that was almost five bucks a twelve pack BUT I could pay two bucks a twelve pack if I bought five of them. So of course, I bought five of them. That's sixty sodas. Now, I don't drink diet EVER, so the smart thing would have been to stock up on husband's soda, but no, only one twelve pack for him, I have a variety and have been scarfing on them ever since,then I wonder why the reflux is hitting me so badly every night. I never said I was smart. How have I lived this long without the black cherry vanilla cokes? Is there a quit patch for soda?

You gotta try this!

It didn't completely melt away my stress, I mean, it didn't make my whiny children and messy house disappear, but it was definitely a mood lifter.


And my top searches this week.......

weekend with the kids driving me crazy
Houston police calling and asking for money
she sits and smothers him
vidodin and staidol
her tatas move with each push (did I ever type tatas?)
and, of course, banana snapple

I'll Take Some Cheese With my Whine

In nine more days I will have a baby.

I should be excited about that. I am not really that excited about that.

I am worried and stressed and fearful, but excited, no.


First of all, I am scared to death of another c-section. My first one went allright, aside from the six weeks it took me to recover from it, but the last one was just horrifying. It started badly and went from there. The nurse struggled to place an iv for what seemed like forever and I still have scars on my arms and hands from it. I think she stuck me about twelve different places. They didn't want to epidural me too early and, God forbid, my doctor come in and deliver my baby before morning so they gave me a dose of staidol they said would wear off in two hours. Try ten hours. It screwed with me. Fast forward to the OR and the epidural dude couldn't get the needle in my back, he kept hitting a nerve making me jump, totally involuntary I assure you, but it didn't stop that bitchy nurse from screaming at me to stop one inch from my nose...yeah, it's nice when the nurses have some people skills. By that time I was in a complete panic attack with the highly competent nurse screaming at me to stop panicking (ever had a panic attack? yeah, can't turn those on and off) and then she pretty much threw me onto the table and strapped me down with all the force she could muster. I know I pissed her off by showing up that night because I heard her tell the nurse at the desk that "damn, now I have to work" but, come on. So, I'm laying there in a full panic attack with my mind still blowing in and out from the drugs when the drug guy behind me thought it best to give me an oxygen mask. Did I ever mention that I don't do things on my face? There is no Pin the Tail on the Donkey for me, no pinata time, no snorkeling on our Bahamian vacation. The face, off limits, don't know why, just is. So when drug guy put that mask on me and I couldn't free my hands to pull it off, let's just say it wasn't pretty. Really pissed off monster nurse. They finally freed me from the facial prison in time for my husband to show up and get started. The birth itself went allright, we were shown the baby, they cleaned him up and Dad took off for the nursery with him leaving me sprawled out on that table again. By this time, drug dude had given me "something to calm me" at the request of my doctor so I was doing better, although I still had that weird staidol hangover interfering with my calm off and on. After a while I start to realizing that it was taking a much longer time to stitch me up compared to last time and so I started paying some attention to the conversation in the room. Drug dude asked if my uterus could be saved, OB said he was working on it, Nurse Monster asked if more blood was needed, OB gave her my blood type and sent her on, Someone asked "what do we do now?" and I started to freak again. WTF??? It didn't help that the nice drug guy who had been talking to me and soothing me was starting to freak out as well. I just knew I was going to die there. I didn't ask what was going on because, frankly, I didn't really want to know, but eventually different nurse came over, explained that my bladder had ruptured while pulling the baby out due to adhesions from the previous section and my mind went back to the moment an hour before when I was signing all the waivers and being told that I had a 2% chance of adhesions and a 3% chance of death, at which point OB looked over the curtain and said he had repaired everything, no big deal, but I would have to stay in the hospital a while longer and get a few extra days of morphine (Hallelujah)....then he asked if I was having anymore kids because he really wanted to tie my tubes because he didn't really want to have to perform another c-section on me again. He even had monster nurse go fetch the papers, which you are to sign BEFORE surgery. He seemed okay when I told him I really didn't want to have to do that and I never thought much about that conversation again, having tried to forget every detail of that hour, until the past few months. I have this horrible feeling that we will be repeating the same procedure all over again. My doctor hasn't said a word about being worried this time, but what can he say? It has to be done, I can't stay pregnant forever. So, sometimes I think, what if I die during this c-section? What would happen to my kids? I have mentioned that I fear death right? Not so much the dying itself, but the leaving my kids and family and missing out on so much.

So, that dampers my excitement a bit.....

Also, what in the world am I supposed to do with this baby? We tried to put a car seat in my car and there was no way Jacob could strap in with it. If I ever want to go somewhere, I will only be able to take two kids. Or buy a new car. But my car is paid for and a new car would require another payment blowing out of the pocket book every month. Essentially, if we have to purchase a new vehicle, Jacob is going to public school and I do think he would get beaten up every day there what with his weirdness, ADD, and the fact that we live in a pretty rough neighborhood and he doesn't know when to keep his mouth shut. There is also no closet space, no drawer space, and although this baby has a crib, Adam is now out one room and I have no idea where he will end up.

Plus, I have been trying to cram in all kinds of one-on-one time with each of my kids to the point of exhaustion. Jacob and I went strawberry picking with some of his friends this afternoon...at a farm with lots of mud. We are doing a wildlife park later this week and I have promised Adam a whole morning at that wretched mouse place one day. I really feel I need to do this because I know my time will be limited very soon, but it's taking a toll. I hurt and I'm tired and trying not to let that make me cranky with my kids because, you know, if I die and everything I don't want them to remember bitchy mommy, nice and loving mommy would go over so much better.

This really turned into a complete whine fest, sorry about that. I am 37 weeks pregnant and highly hormonal, shoot, I am surprised I didn't cry while typing this. I guess one thing to be excited about getting this over with is the fact that I will go home with a scrip for vicodin (helps me sleep, really), the hospital has awesome food (and you can wheel it right up to your chin while you lay in bed!), oh, and that baby everyone is so ready to see. It won't be long now.

Happy Easter...it is Easter?

Here are my kids in their Easter outfits.....aren't they cute?

But, they never got to wear those Easter outfits as it was 38 degrees this morning. In Texas. In April. ????? Instead.......

Yo G....we busta move over all that tasty candy even if it is freezing outside!

Or better still.....yesterday's spring time Easter egg hunt....in Christmas duds...indoors.



What day is this? Is Santa coming tomorrow? Why am I holding this bucket? I'm so cold.




Ho! Ho! Ho! Nothing like a chocolate egg breakfast in your warm reindeer Christmas jammies.

Thanks Easter Bunny! Or Santa...whoever.

What About Adam?

Adam is my baby.

I cannot fathom a time when he will not be the baby.

I am sad knowing he can keep that title for only twelve more days.


Adam is my baby. He is my Mama's boy. He has been completely attached to me since the moment we met, to him my arms belong to him, ready to scoop him up at each beck and call, always there for him. How is he going to understand when a tiny baby is filling them great portions of the day? How do you explain this to a two year old?

Each morning after we take Jacob to school, Adam climbs into the recliner with me and we sit. Sometimes we watch tv (God bless him, he likes the Today show), sometimes I knit, most of the time we talk to Gammy on the phone, but daily we sit. Once I came home and started to get busy on housework right away and he took my hand and the remote and led me to the chair. That's when I realized that it was important to him, it was his routine. I never meant to start that with him, but he expects it and that's what we do. I love our time in the chair. Even though he doesn't speak, we have "conversations" and most of time I know what he's talking about. He rubs my hair and gives me kisses. He loves to see the big Smuckers jar on the tv when they are celebrating the birthdays. He is happy. I am happy. We are happy doing nothing, be it ten minutes or forty minutes. I keep thinking ahead and wondering how I will fit chair time into our day with our little stranger. I am not ready to give that up AND I am not ready to share it yet. Only twelve more days of undivided chair time.

About two weeks before Jacob was born, I sobbed one entire evening because I was not ready for his only-childedness to end. I just knew we were ruining his life by bringing in this new creature who would require time and energy and send Jacob clinging to the sidelines of the family like our poor animals had done four years before. I knew I could not love another child as fiercely and pure as I did my first born...how was that even possible? What had we done to our family?

I feel like that again. I want more baby time with Adam. I feel robbed of his littleness because I know how big he will become between the time they wheel me back to the OR and after I return from recovery. I know I will love this baby, but I don't feel it right now, instead I am filled with dread over losing my second baby. I'm not ready to share our chair.

It's a Soap Opera

Well, the teacher conference didn't go as well as I had hoped. It went about how I expected, but I was really hoping she would say that Jacob has matured immensely and is just the best all around kid that ever lived, I'm a dreamer that way, but no. It pretty much went down as I figured.

The teacher is still recommending transitional kindergarten emphatically. Of course, in the end it is our decision since academically she has no basis to hold him back, but really, I wish someone had just said HEY, this is the way it's going to be, deal with it. I am not a good decision maker. I mean, my newest kid is two weeks away from arrival and still doesn't have a name or a car seat, I'm supposed to carve my kid's future in a couple weeks?

We still haven't heard anything back from the psychologist who is doing the evaluations. In fact, she left a message pushing back the last part of the testing another day which has highly ticked off the dad. We wanted that information and advice before we had to decide what to do, like next week. I am pretty confident he will be diagnosed with ADD. The teacher still thinks he has Aspergers based on somebody's adopted Russian kid she met once, but given the scale I was given on both, I don't think that will be an issue. Here is where I am at with it: If he does prove to have ADD and need medication or even alternative coping skills would it be better to hold him back that year and deal with those issues while the work is still somewhat familiar to him and he's not dealing with the challenge that is first grade? OR, do we go ahead with first grade because, obviously, he can do the work and work with these behavior issues along with the newness of all day school and more seat work? Would that be too much for him? It's all lose-lose to me at this point. Hold him back, he's graduating high school at 19, seeing his classmates go on to the next grade, and not getting any more actual learning time. Send him on and his behavior could continue to be an issue, he may never catch up socially and lag behind his peers forever....but he might learn more math skills. OR, I could always home school him, but how is that helping him learn social skills? Dilemma......

I went up to the school this morning to attend chapel and when I found that they had cancelled chapel (thanks for telling me) went out and observed Jacob on the playground with the rest of the kindergarten kids. The teacher is right. He's a follower and less mature than the other kids. I knew that already, but it was interesting to witness what she sees everyday. In my experience as a teacher, you can learn a lot about a kid on the playground.

Now, this situation isn't a hopeless one. I know so many other parents deal with so much more than a little immaturity, but I think every parent just goes into it thinking their child will be the most popular, well-adjusted, intelligent human being ever to grace the earth, so it's hard to hear that some people think your child is kind of weird. The fact remains though.....he is a little weird. I love him, but God bless him, he's weird. So, for that, I am beginning to lean toward the transitional class. My husband, on the other hand, is not. We shall see how it turns out soon.....these, I am afraid, are the days of our lives.

Tuesday Tidbits

Am I a horrible person because I find a little humor on Deal or No Deal when the contestant pushes it until all the big amounts are gone and he gets an offer of, like, $900? I've got to figure it cost him more than that to get there. I'm the one shouting DEAL all the time. I know if I were looking at $200,000 versus the close to zero I have on hand now, I would go for the that and be happy about it.

I have figured out unborn baby's deal. It's trying to stretch out. HELLO! You can't do that. There's no room. Curl back up into your ball and go to sleep. Mommy has had enough, thank you.

Two more weeks. So far to prepare I have pulled the bre*st pump out of the closet (still haven't washed the parts yet), bought a size one pacifier, and had the husband move the crib mattress up (but it still has dirty sheets on it). I am on a roll, no? I am assuming I am nowhere near labor as there is not one iota of nesting instinct in my bones at this point. Now, I am a complete neat freak. A messy home just makes me physically sick and I am usually on top of things but now, well, I cannot do laundry as my belly is too big to get to the wet clothes. I cannot fold the laundry that does get done until my husband gets home to plop it onto the bed for me as I cannot bend down to dig the things from the basket and usually by then I am in no mood for folding. Dusting, too much reaching and sneezing. Vacuuming, too heavy. Mopping, forget about it, just the thought of busting my nine month pregnant ass on that wet floor causes me to sweat. I HATE a filthy house!

Jacob's school held an auction this weekend, fundraiser type thing ya know. I was under the impression that we were pretty much required to be there, you know those nudge, nudge kind of things, better donate our share as if the tuition wasn't enough of a kick in the checkbook each month. Of the sixteen families in Jacob's class only four of us showed up, the four poorest of us I might add, at least based on my impressions regarding cars, clothing, and bling-bling. I am hoping they just wrote a nice check and went out for a nice expensive dinner instead as we are now $75 more dollars in the hole "doing our part". It was tons of fun, though, I got ten hours of day care for five bucks....FIVE BUCKS! Oh, and two nights of pet sitting for twenty five! We might actually be able to go somewhere one weekend! Look out world, here we come! Anyway, it was might interesting to witness the live auction, where we actually thought we might have a chance bidding on the chance to name a new street in town or a week at a Galveston beach house. My goodness....the hummer drivers took all those good things. A pair of Texans tickets for ONE game went for 3,000 bucks and two families had a friendly bidding war over a sitting at a photographer and a few pictures and they were up to 3,000 on that when we left. Would somebody like to bid on our mortgage payment? I worry when I buy steaks.

We are meeting with Jacob's teacher in half an hour. He has had a bad two weeks at school. Anger issues and laziness which isn't the norm for him. We are at our wit's end, he's kind of driving us nuts. Now, common sense tells us that he is anxious about the upcoming change in our family, but all I get from him on that front is that he is really excited to meet the new baby and help out and for it to get big enough to play with him. I am hoping this is short lived because I really would like to nip this in the bud before I am preoccupied with number three so many hours a day.

Please people, do not vote for Sanjaya tonight.