Sitcom Perfect

     There was water on baby girls floor and it wasn't pee, thank goodness. And here is how I know:

You're so funny Mom.

     First of all, because I had been with her all morning, and second of all, because it was up against the wall which is a really hard place to have an accident.
     I could also tell you the smell and temperature were wrong but that might be TMI.
     So I checked the utility closet next to her room and found the pan under the water heater was over flowing. (It turned out that it had to do with condensation from the AC but that is only marginally relevant.)
Which is why at 3:00 pm a very nice plumber shows up at my house to fix the problem. This is the most amazing thing my baby girl has ever seen in her life so I spend the next hour and a half trying to keep her from sitting next to this strange man, touching his tools, and asking a steady stream of questions while he tries to work in the tiny cramped hall way where the utility closet is.
     I am also trying to get the toys out from under his feet, keep up with the little prince who wants to play in the wet carpet, and get things ready for dinner in the messy kitchen.
     I finally give them both a snack and thus wrangle a full five minutes of time to clear the counters and set out suppers ingredients.
     By this time it is 4:15 or so. You know what that means. Nothing good happens at that time of day. Nothing!

What are they feeding you?

     So I've been hearing some… shall we say straining noises... from the prince so I figure he is done and I'll go change him before I actually start cooking.
     I pick him up, walk to the changing table, lie him down and feel some thing strange on my arm. I look down and see that the diaper has leaked, to put it kindly, all over my shirt and I just put my arm in it.  We are talking a blob of ick... smeared. I look at the baby and can't tell where the ick coming from so...
    When you are unable to asses the extremeness of the fecal situation your best move is to take it all to the tub to try to contain... or, moderate... or at least have a smooth, non-absorptive surface and access to water.
     So, I dangle the baby by the underarms, not wanting to smish him back into the smear and head for the bathroom... and then change course for the other bathroom.
     Dangling baby can't be cleaned off in the bathroom that the plumbers using to empty his shop vac and poop smeared Momma really can't strip in a room with no access to clean clothes... so the other bathroom it is...
     ...where there is no tub... where the is only one towel.... in what amounts to a 4x4 room... where the hot water takes a good 5 minutes to arrive since its on the other side of the house. Yep. Trying to clean poop shrapnel in there? Not ideal… to say the least.
     So we get showered off and I wrap the prince in the towel.
     From my room, where I am frantically trying to get dressed, I hear the continual chatter that has become the hallmark of my little girl getting closer and closer to my door. And then, knock, knock, yes... there is a plumber knocking at my door, while I'm naked, after being covered in poop, and then, of course the three year old opens to door, telling the man, "My Mommy's in here." as I yell "Just a minute!"
I manage to slam the door in her poor little face, throw on some clothes, and have a reasonable conversation with the plumber, while holding a baby wrapped in a towel, after a brief apology and an attempt at an explanation.
You can't make this stuff up.
Moral of the story... there is no moral... unless it's that plumbers and babies don't mix.

How Kids Are Like Heroin

     Kids are heroin. They are destructive to your physical, mental and societal well being, and you keep coming back for more, you just can't resist.

Your first pregnancy, the one where you took naps without the risk of waking up to wanton destruction, and subsequent child lure you in with the false high of their first smiles, the adorable babbling, and the tiny clothes.
So you think... "Let's have another. We can handle this."

Then there is two of them...
Here is where you start to feel the pain... the lack of sleep, money, and time, not to mention no cuddles with the hubby (unless you are forming a two year old sandwich).
But, somehow, it getting harder is a challenge, as if you are waving red in front of a bull.
People say three is so hard. But you can do it. The oldest can be so much help now. You are ready for this! You got it!
So you pep talk your self into having a third...

This is when you realize where your addiction has left you...
Broke. Tired. Bruised. Sore.

How likely is she to sit on
the baby if I go potty?

...and the high from those little booties and the tiny giggles just doesn't quite break through the fog that your sleep deprived zombie brain lives in. You stare at the third, loving them more than anything in the world, trying to formulate coherent sentences but only gibberish comes out.

Here is your life on three kids...
You dress thinking things like...
     How much spit up will this shirt hide?
     If a child hangs on my pocket will these pants end up around my ankles in the middle of a Walmart parking lot like last time?
     Can you really even see that hole?

There really is no reason to spend time thinking about what actually looks good on your body because your body has been so stretched by pregnancy, sleeplessness, stress, and a deep craving for chocolate ice cream that even when your blessedly wonderful husband extols the beauty of your form you stare at him wondering if photoshop has somehow been installed directly into his brain.

Of course the baby needs to
wear the choking hazard
wings, Mom.

You can no longer carry on a conversation.
Instead you have disjointed half finished bits of information exchange floating around, each sentence puntuated by "No, no, no!", "Get that out of your mouth!" and "We don't hit our friends." until most of the meaning is lost and never mind there being a point.

You long for escape
 Then they leave...
 Kindergarten, summer camp, or weekend with the grandparents...
 And all you can do is talk about the kids, what are they doing, what are we going to do when they get back, what they did last week.
And worse than that you worry, worry, worry...
Every night that they are gone you lie awake very aware of the fact that you didn't check to see if they were breathing and sniffling about the fact that when you dropped them off they didn't even look at you, just mumbled "Bye mom" and took off running.

Selfie of a six year old.

You rush back to pick them up envisioning running towards one another with open arms and instead you find that the joyful energetic child you dropped off has used up all their good behavior points while gone and you get the leftover troll points instead.
Within an hour you're ready to send them back so that you can miss them again.

But then your baby, the third, the one who didn't get a nursery, who ate off the floor, didn't have a changing table, and developed an early and uncanny ability to pull full glasses of liquid into your lap, learns to walk.
...

Your heart starts beating fast, your palms get sweaty...
You don't have a baby, you have a toddler!

Your mind starts to wander towards the inevitable place... but your push the thought aside and sleep though the night for the third time in a row.
But it keeps popping up...
Finally you hold someones newborn.
You really should have known better.
And then the last straw.
The moment when you cross the line and there is no turning back.
You really just can't help yourself...

You smell it!

That is when those sneaky addiction thoughts slip in and the what if's start...
     What if we have one more?
     What is the big deal about adding another?
     Four isn't that many more than three in the grand scheme of things.
     You've done it before and it worked out just fine.
     Just one more...
     Just one last time...
   
See...

Heroin

Triple the Children, Triple the Gear?

     I made a registry for this baby. It sounds greedy and like I am expecting something to even say it. It was not because I expect a shower, or for anyone to ever even look at it. It was purely an exercise designed to organize my thoughts on what we really "need" (this is a strong word for our position on baby things) and to remind myself what we already have from our previous children.
     So here is the thing about the baby things on my "need" list. I have had a child in the last two years so I should have all the normal things you use day to day for a baby. Right? But there are two catches to that way of thinking as I see it:
          1. I had a girl, and while I kept it neutral some things like the clothes, pacifiers, and blankets really don't translate well if they survive at all. To put it bluntly, I don't want my baby boy in a pink a blanket, wearing a purple onsie, sucking on a pink pacifier, and under a pink floral nursing cover. I know it is shocking and sometimes it makes me feel so wasteful and spoiled, but its true. More practically, as far as her sheets and stuff that were neutral go, she is still using it!
          2. "Ah, but you did have a boy before that girl!" you might say, and that would be true, but that was SIX YEARS ago. It freaks me out to realize this, my sweet boy is about to be six years old. His crib, car seat, diaper bags, monitor and bedding, to name a few things off the top of my head, are all either worn to pieces, expired or recalled. And since he was born we have moved twice, one of those times to a different town entirely, so I only kept what I was sure I would use later.
     So I conclude that I "need" some baby stuff. As I see it there are three main categories for the things on the registry. Will need soon, need, and would be really nice.
     The will need soon things straddle the line between need and "need" because they will eventually graduate from one to the other as the child gets older. For instance, I can easily get an infant carrier that will last about the first year but baby girl will not be out of her car seat by then and that leaves us one short. Now that is not a pressing concern at this moment due to the deadline for dealing with that being about a year away. So it is a "Will need soon".
     Some of the things we must get are non-negotiable for example the fact that our car will not even hold three children safely is a big deal. That is something that we realized early on and have a plan for, not to mention you can't put cars on a registry. Also in this category, clothing. Leaving your child naked for all occasions is frowned upon, even if they are a summer baby, and I have no boy or girl clothing in sizes smaller than 12 months. I am pretty sure that he won't be that big when he is born, though I do have nightmares like that. These are really the true "needs".
     Other things, and in reality, the majority, are sheer luxury like a double stroller, or crib sheets, or a new diaper bag. I could do more laundry and not really need extra sheets and blankets beyond what we already have. I don't have to be able to strap my two year old down, load the immeasurable amounts of things we carry with us everywhere, and not destroy what is left of my spine when we go places, but it would sure take a lot of the stress off to have that option. We don't have to have a monitor in the older children's room, but it sure makes it easier to figure out if someone in there is truly dying, puking, or jumping on the others head in the middle of the night to be able to check that from our room.  I don't really need a new large, handy, put all the kids items in one place, not too girly for my husband to carry diaper bag but getting three wiggling, shoe removing after you put them on, whining, maybe even crying, escaping children in and out of the house, or any other place, would be so much simpler if I had one.
     So many wants, for that is what they really are when I put the correct label on them. And as I look over my list I am struck by how amazingly blessed we are to already have so much, to truly need so little, and to have access to things that are here purely to make life simpler or more convenient. And in those moments I feel so content and humbled by what God has given us.
     Those are beautiful, happy, golden moments in the sunshine when my children are either playing quietly or sleeping peacefully. I set aside my list, my worries, my fears and face the future at peace with my ability to make do with the plethora of things I already have.
     But then, as someone snatches a toy, falls in the mud, or leaps from the arm of the sofa, or, perhaps, as I step on a lego, carry a screaming child out of a store, or haul our belongings into the house from the car, I realize that I am adding a child to our lives. This is not a different song, same tune, repeat as necessary situation. I will have THREE children and one of them will be a no sleep, can't nap because of the older kids, pooping, spitting up, double the laundry alone, can't put me down, newborn...
Maybe some luxuries are a good idea.

Crazy Dreams Betray Your Worries

So last night between the tossing, turning and trips to the bathroom I had one of those dreams that lets you know that you have been worrying about somethings even if you didn't know it.
In my dream I had gone in to deliver and when the baby was born they said told me it was a boy, and that the little girl we had been seeing on the sonograms hadn't dropped yet and we would have to stay there and wait in the hospital until she was ready to be delivered. So I am nine months pregnant, in the hospital with an infant who they are telling me that I am not allowed to feed because it could induce labor of the second child. I go back and look at some early sonograms that the hospital has that I didn't get and find out that Dr. Weigman (the one who delivered Nathan in Arlington, no idea why his name showed up here) had known that there were twins but hadn't said anything because that early, the sonogram was from about four weeks, and because of the position on the babies, there was not a good chance that both would survive. At the hospital they are keeping me on bed rest, hardly letting me see my child, and new people keep coming by to congratulate me but I keep having to explain the whole situation over and over to my confused visitors. After about two days in the hospital I decide that this second baby needs to come and I should be able to feed my baby if I want to, and since feeding is likely to induce labor I start trying to figure out how to breastfeed my new little boy, and about that time I woke up.
Analyze that if you dare!

Crazy Times: The count down truly begins.

Welcome to week 32! There are less than 8 weeks 'til my due date and I am starting to feel the pressure. Mental lists of all the things I need to get done before my sweet girl makes her arrival run through my head, not the least of which is to pick a name.
I get that question more than any other, and with those close to me it has become a big joke. The suggestions range from Kimmy to Jezebel and everything in between. And some I like, some aren't my cup of tea but how do you tell someone who's serious, as some of them are, that you really hate that name and wouldn't do that to your child?
Names seem to be such a determining factor in a childs life so there is a lot of pressure not to screw it up. If I name my child Sapphira am I condemning her to a life of doubt due to the only biblical mention of this name being in the context of disobedience and punishment by God? Or if I name her Sophia or Emily, top names in 2011, will she feel lost in the crowd?
So you want unique, but not crazy, meaningful, but not too weighty, it can't clash with the last name, and then you have a middle name too, check that the initials aren't a negative combination... and ta-da... you have a name for your baby, right?
Maybe I should go back to picking out curtains or something less important to my child's whole future and revisit this later?