Nesting Like Crazy

     It has taken me over two weeks to write this simple blog. Why? Because I'm nesting like a pregnant lady who has finally realized that in two short months that OMG---I'm having a BABY. I'm not just pregnant...I'm going to be a Mom of a newborn.
     Diapers. 3am feedings. (This time of night I can almost guarantee because already Baby Blueberry is waking me up at almost exactly 3am every night with her powerful kicks and sliding motions in my uterus.)
    More diapers. More feedings.
    Lots of coos and the sweetest baby smell.

    So instead of writing, I've been nesting. Especially since a few weeks ago my doctor released me from my modified bed rest. What wonderful news it was too. I had an ultrasound, hopefully the last one, and the tech had to search forever to even find where the bleeding and clot had occurred. Like the doctor said, had they not been looking for the traces of the problem; nothing on the ultrasound would have caught their attention.
     Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
     Was the refrain going through my head on the drive home. I had to tell Hero Hottie right away and we grabbed lunch together to celebrate our news before we picked up the older girls from Grandma's house.
    
    And being a woman who has watched her house get messier and messier and unable to prepare for baby, what is the first thing I do over the next three days?
    It's not as Hero Hottie was hoping, resuming a little activity in the bedroom since we were given the green light on that again...
   No, it's clean the house. Top to bottom. Dust. Vacuum. Scrub.
   (Then my thoughts found themselves right there with Hero Hottie's.)
    But I'm a pregnant woman who has been denied her nesting urges for three long months.
    Silly hormones.

    I have less than two months before she arrives. I'm clumsy, waddling, and hungry all the time. I'm starting to remember the little things from my last pregnancies that I had forgotten.
   Like...
       Once the belly gets big, putting underwear on is a feat in balance and coordination that a pregnant lady is not gifted with.  Hero Hottie can stop laughing now, it's not that funny looking, me trying to balance on one foot while I can barely bend down enough to pull the darn things up.
      
      Shaving the legs is interesting. Today Hero Hottie is looking at the back of my thighs. "You know you need to shave back there, right? It's really hairy."
      "No, I don't know. I can not twist around to see the back of my thighs, (which might be a blessing) and so I don't know if they need shaved."
     "They do."
     "Thanks honey."

     Being hungry in the middle of the night. My first pregnancy, I dealt with this as many first time Moms do. I ate entire bowls of mac and cheese and pints of Ben and Jerry's. Thank you Mr. Ben and Jerry, but I put on an extra twenty pounds because of your delicious concoctions of brownies and ice cream in just the right portions for a pregnant lady.
   This time I knew better. I've been snacking on healthier snacks...raisins, carrot sticks, hummus, and just a few pieces of chocolate at a time. They're small. I can eat a few a day. A hormonal gal has to have chocolate. Ask Hero Hottie.
   

      I know it may seem like I'm picking on Hero Hottie but I'm not. Alright, perhaps just a touch. But only because he called me the 'Waddler'. Luckily I was in a good mood at the time and started to laugh. Being pregnant; I could have cried. The poor guy has been an unwilling rider on my roller coaster of mood swings. Then if you add an incredibly hormonal preteen in the mix and I have to feel sorry for the guy.
   But he's extremely excited for our surprise addition to the family and when it comes time to be in the delivery room and welcoming her into the world; I know I will be able to depend on Hero Hottie.
  
   So I tried to write about zombies, and I tried to write about losing our television and how the older girls were going nuts without the Disney channel but...
   my mind is on babies.
   Well, a certain little sweetie anyway. Baby Blueberry. Who happens to kick when anyone calls her that. The poor gal is going to think her name is Baby Blueberry. What a nickname to be stuck with. :)
 
   In the next two months I will try not to be too baby brain but I can't guarantee anything. It's the hormones.
   They make us pregnant ladies baby obsessive.
   And it's just the way nature intended. 

I've Survived 5th Grade...Is there a manual for Middle School?

  

 

       Last week Bean sat in one of those folding chairs made out of metal, the kind that are always cold when you sit down...with the entire fifth grade and had a small graduation ceremony. The red caps were cute, made from paper and full of candy. The 'diplomas' were rolls of Mentos, tied with ribbon.
      I'm not sure why they were rewarded with candy for completing their Elementary years but I suppose it makes sense; since it seems like completing anything in school nowadays is rewarded with candy. I wish I got candy every time I finished the dishes or the laundry.
     But candy aside, the ceremony was sweet. They had a slide show with photos of the entire year played to some sappy song that of course made me cry. (But then again, I am pregnant and allowed to cry at anything without question. It has nothing to do with my oldest growing up.)
     And all the kids had dressed up for their graduation. They looked stunning but no longer little kids anymore. A lot of the boys had suits and ties on, glimpses of the young men they would soon be turning into. And the girls wore dresses not of ruffles and prints and durable kid material but of soft, flowing fabric and laces and solid colors. Some had high heels and most had just a touch of make up on. Some had obviously spent an hour on their hair and they all looked way too grown up for us parents. Where had our babies gone? Wasn't it just yesterday that we walked them into school for their very first day of Kindergarten, either wearing a t-shirt with a cartoon character on it or a dress with a pound of ruffles on it? With backpacks on their tiny backs that were bigger than they were? With nervous smiles and excited faces and just a bit of fear as they entered the world of the big kid?

     And now they stand almost eye to eye with us, full of spunk and knowing it all already. They rarely play with toys and they giggle about the opposite sex. They have opinions about everything, 
even things they don't have any experience with.  They have hormones and are talking about or experiencing puberty.
      They're glad you came to the ceremony but rather giggle and laugh and have photos taken with their friends. But don't go too far away because underneath that grown up kid is still that little boy or girl that had to be held every time they skinned their knee or they saw a shadow in their room.
     Their expressions say, "Let me fly but be close by because I don't really want to go too far on my own. Not yet."
     But that's how it starts. Little bits of independence. Here and there. As parents that's what we want them to grow up into. Adults that are capable and kind and not afraid of the world.
     It's difficult though. Sometimes we want to hold them back...just a bit. Whisper to them that they can be little a bit longer. They don't have to grow so quickly.
     But they do grow quickly, some days waking up and in one night their pants are an entire inch shorter than just the day before.
    One moment they think boys have cooties and girls talk too much. And the next moment...well, hormones have kicked in.

     I'm so proud of Bean. We had a rough year and for a while it didn't look like we would arrive at this point with her class. The Mean Girl never did stop being mean to everyone. She still got in trouble after the principal had spoken to her about her treatment of Bean. But the attitude of the other girls changed. No longer would they listen to, or give the Mean Girl the attention she kept trying to steal from every one around her.
    We can't change the people around us but we change ourselves and how we deal with things. Which sometimes means standing up for the right thing. Demanding change of a bad situation.
      And I think that is what Bean learned most of all from being bullied. She couldn't change the Mean Girl.  Because the Mean Girl never did learn or grow or change her behavior. Her behavior was more subdued because she knew if she was caught than there would be trouble but she never had some life altering epiphany like they do in the movies. Maybe someday.
    But Bean didn't care anymore. None of the girls did. What the Mean Girl had to say didn't carry any weight anymore.
    And I'm so proud of Bean for standing up to this girl, for demanding a change in the situation, to cast a light on what was going on...because she helped the other girls realize what was going on and they could also put an end to how it was affecting them.

    So in the last few months of school Bean had friends. Lots of friends. A social group. And we finished fifth grade on a happy note. Her goal at the beginning of the year was to have more friends, to push herself socially, to introduce herself and put herself out there and risk being hurt by way of rejection. A fear she has always had, which made it difficult for her to make more than a best friend through her other years of elementary school.
     Not only did she succeed, she pushed past some of the worse hurt and came out ahead. Stronger. More self assured.
    She could just have easily shut down and never tried to make friends again.
     I just have to say good job, kid. Good job.

    So I hug Bean after the ceremony and try not to cry until I get home. We survived fifth grade. She survived fifth grade...
    now I just have to start worrying about Middle School.
    Oh, boy.
    Are should I say BOYS!!!?

A Houseful of Hormonal Females

     "Mom, we had a talk at school today with our teacher." Bean said, an awkward mix of the little kid she still reminds me of sometimes and the young lady she was too quickly becoming. How could they grow up so fast? Wasn't it just yesterday that she was just a toddler and fixated on being 'Ella?

     (Cinderella. It was her favorite princess. Her Halloween costume was 'Ella, her toys were all 'Ella and it was her most watched movie. It was cute and adorable. But I'm glad she has since learned to be way more independent than the Disney Cinderella character ever was. She's more like the Drew Barrymore's Cinderella character off of 'Ever After'. Sassy, independent, tries to do the right thing and doesn't let a boy give her flack.)

      But back to our story...I could tell by the way she brought up the conversation that this wasn't a conversation on math problems or the upcoming testing. This was something else. Something that was making her giggly.
      "What was the talk?" I sat down to listen to her.
      She giggled. "She said that now we're fifth graders we have hormones developing. Hormones. Like we might be outside and playing and all a sudden start crying. Just start crying for no reason but then we might just start laughing like it's something funny."
      "Oh, hormones. I know all about those." I hid a smile. I had tried to explain hormones to her. Pointing out her different mood swings as these hormones just seem to take over my normal kid, trying to help her understand her crazy, roller coasting body, but I usually was met with sullen silence or angry retorts. I was Mom, I didn't understand hormones.
      "And boys. We might cry over boys. Because they don't like us. I'm not going to cry over a boy. I'll punch them first." Oh, if only you would never cry over a boy. 
      "Can you imagine, hiding behind the shed on the playground and just crying for no reason? And some of my friends are like that already. They cry all the time because some boy doesn't like them. We used to have fun on recess, not talk about boys the whole time."
      "And you hate talking about boys and crushes." I smiled, because I knew she was starting to notice boys. Perhaps, and thankfully not as much, as the other girls. But boys used to have cooties and now they would make her giggle and blush.
      "Mom, I don't have any crushes." But she's giggling because she would like one. I inwardly sigh, wondering if I could lock her in her room for the next seven or eight years. Would that be so wrong?
     
      And then I start crying because she's growing up...and I'm pregnant...and I'm hormonal.
     "Mom? Are you okay? You're crying again." She frowns, not sure what to do with this new Mom who seems to suddenly start crying all the time for no reason.
     "Hormones." I say between sniffles, and watch her roll her eyes and then run outside to play, like a kid. She had obviously had enough talk about hormones and crying for no reason. Playing pretend with the younger kids seemed like a whole lot more fun than growing up right now.
     Our poor household though. Not only was Bean hitting some preteen puberty stuff but I was pregnant and extremely hormonal. Do you know how emotionally chaotic it is around here lately with two females completely and totally crying at any moment for no reason?
      That talk her teacher gave could have been for me.
    
     Hormones:
     1. You might start crying at any moment for no reason at all. Yes, that's me. I'm even crying over a Pampers diaper commercial. Seriously. It has newborn babies and newly made Moms on there and the softest, sweet music with sounds of heartbeats and it makes me bawl. For thirty seconds I'm tearing up watching a television commercial. What is wrong with me?
    2. You might start laughing for no reason. I haven't started laughing for no reason but sometimes I'm in a wonderfully, silly mood for no reason at all. Yes, I'm always relieved when I can cross off things on my To Do list but really, I shouldn't be deliriously happy over it.
    3. You might cry over boys. Yes, Hero Hottie has made me cry. Oh, not intentionally at all. But sometimes the wrong joke, something I would have laughed with him before, now has me in absolute tears. So I'm crying and he's bewildered, wondering why something he has said before is now met with huge tears.
       Of course, he's been through two other pregnancies with me, he should know better than making jokes about how big I'm going to get. I can say something about how chubby I was when I was pregnant with Bean---he can't. Unfair I know, but I'm pregnant and I'm allowed.

      So in our tiny house we have a tween and a pregnant woman. Some days we are clashing horribly and then both crying. And poor Hero Hottie, if it's not a pregnant wife being completely hormonal---it's Bean riding a roller coaster of mood swings. One second she reminds us of the little kid she was just a year ago and the next minute she's angry and crying.
     He's surrounded by hormonal females and he doesn't even have a Man Cave to escape to. He's vastly outnumbered, the poor guy. I'm really hoping for a baby boy. Because between Bean and Abu and nieces, CT and Bug; we are surrounded by girls. A little boy would be awesome.

    If not...that's okay too. She'll fit right in.
    But we might just have to build Hero Hottie a Man Cave.
    With a sign that says, "No girls allowed."