Where are My Bon Bons?

First a quick recap of the first T-ball game. I'd like to say we have pictures to share but we forgot the camera. We were doing good just to make it to the ball park with both kids. Because there are no outs, no runs, and no score (everyone's a winner in T-ball...isn't that wonderful?) I can say that William's team won. But that's just my opinion. He did great, that is as long as he was facing forward rather than backwards when he was in the field. Score 1 for Catherine when she took off and ran into the game and crossed home plate. It's going to be a long 6 weeks!

But to my real point today. I remember when I left work to stay at home, one not so well meaning lawyer friend (2 guesses as to whether male or female) said "Well now you'll be lying around all day watching Oprah and eating bon bons." Here's a recap of my day today to give you a glimpse into my life now, and you be the judge as to how many bon bons I've consumed.

Woke up at 6 am. Proud of self for waking before the kids and showering AND washing/drying hair and getting ready before they awoke. Not only managed own personal hygiene, but also made bed, put in load of clothes, unloaded dishwasher, clipped coupons and made grocery list before first young'un woke up. Got William breakfast, went in to get Catherine only to be greeted by worst explosive diaper this side of freedom. Took few moments to compose self and proceeded to get crying toddler cleaned up, strip crib bedding, get toddler dressed and put soiled clothes and bedding in to bleach and wash.

Fed Catherine while calling for William every 2.3 seconds to get dressed and ready for school. When he refused, carried him kicking and screaming into room, to have him go completely wet noodle and have massive meltdown, all the while trying to no avail to just get his shirt over his head. I'll spare the rest of the ugly details, but suffice it to say that with threat of not going to school and staying in room all day long he finally cooperated and got dressed. At this point we're running 10 minutes late and in danger of missing drop off as I corral everyone out of the door and into the car, and try to corral Psycho dog back into house, only to discover as I'm putting Catherine in that she's just had the second worst diaper this side of freedom. Ran back inside to change her and tossed her into car and took off for school. All of this before 9 am.

Dropped William off and headed to post office to mail overdue packages. Waited in ungodly long line and considered faking labor just to move ahead. Finally got packages mailed and headed to grocery store. Haven't been in 2 weeks so had major shopping to do. Got Catherine settled into seat in cart and started shopping, only to have her start screaming and carrying on, trying to flip out of seat and grab everything within reach. The crying made her nose run even more, and at one point I looked at her wondering where she found a walrus mask only to realize that the "tusks" were two huge green snot wads hanging out of each nostril. Dug in diaper bag to find kleenex which only made her madder. Started grabbing essentials just hoping to make it out of store before having to call in an exorcist. Got home, unloaded groceries, unloaded possessed child and put up groceries while Sybil watched Wiggles (calm for the first time in 2 hours). With just a few minutes to spare, managed to run vacuum cleaner, dust furniture and clean glass doors and windows before heading back to school to get William. All of this before 12:00 noon.

Fed kids lunch, cleaned up kitchen, started dinner and put kids down for nap by 1:30. At that point I started looking for my *@@&*# bon bons to prop my feet up and watch Oprah. But then the 3 year old woke up and I've stopped typing this post 5 times already to herd him back into room.

Now that I think about it....what the hockey is a bon bon anyway?

Thumbs Up

Three year olds crack me up. At least mine does. Last night William was eating his dinner...well actually he was having breakfast for dinner...we all were. The result of my total exhaustion these days and complete inability to make decisions or plan anything in advance. Namely dinner. So breakfast it was. Which suited William just fine because one of his favorite meals is cheesey eggs and bacon. So I sat his plate in front of him and he said "Mmmmmm...looks good." Then I watched him take a big bite and say "mmmm...Tasty!" And each bite that followed concluded with that proclamation. "mmmmm....Tasty!" I have to say that the first time or two it was charming. Then it became somewhat annoying. But in a sweet way.

Today he's been less verbal but still made me laugh. Earlier he was eating his sandwich and I said "wow you're eating like such a big boy....must be tasty." He didn't say a word but gave me a big thumbs up. It just looked so funny to me because I can't tell you the last time I've given or received a thumbs up!

Here's something that I might have to give at least one maybe two thumbs up to though....I have to share about an amazing find I ran across in Target the other day. As I was doing what I fear these days may be last minute shopping...you know, stockpiling the toothpaste, toilet paper and deodorant before the baby comes...in other words nesting....I found something that may be the secret to bliss and happiness. "Well Being Socks." Socks that are infused with aromotherapy. Socks that will make you happy and give you a peaceful feeling all over. I never dreamed that all I needed was a pair of socks of all things. So of course I bought them. And they are already packed in my bag ready to go to the hospital. As soon as the contractions start I plan to tear open my happy new socks and put them on so I'll be blissful and happy happy happy while I'm in labor! Makes me want to break into song just thinking about it.

Zipidee Do Dah!

The Great American Pastime

So William's first T-ball game is tomorrow night. He has cleats. He has a ball glove. He has a pack of Big League Chew. But is he ready to play ball? His team has had one practice. They first practiced rounding the bases, which went ok until one of his teammates picked up second base, put it on his head and went running off into the outfield. Then they practiced hitting the ball. When it was William's turn at bat he took a few practice swings until I think the air generated from one of the swings blew the ball off the T, and instead of running to first base he ran after the ball along with everyone else. Once he made it on base, I thought he was going to make it home until he started running for third base only to run to third base at the next field over. Can't wait to report on the first game. I only hope there are no injuries to report, which is more than I can say for his poor old (and I emphasize old) Dad.

Andy has been playing for the church softball team and had a double header last night. He came limping in around 10:00, announcing that he had pulled a hamstring and he needed help taking off his shoes and socks. I looked around for a volunteer but saw no takers so I heaved myself out of bed and out of the goodness of my heart helped the poor guy out. Then he said that our friend Kerry ( a physical therapist) said that he needed to put ice on it, take some Aleve, and "have Julie massage it until you fall asleep." Kerry is no longer my friend.

I told Andy he was finished. Washed up. Kiss it goodbye. No more softball. I need him with all his appendages to help me out here in a few weeks. Guess he was in so much pain that he agreed. After showering he limped upstairs to fix himself something to eat and returned with a big brand new bag of frozen green beans to put on his sore leg. I looked over at him settling into bed with his veggie pack and suggested that, um, perhaps an ice pack would be a slightly better idea so we wouldn't be waking up in the morning next to a green bean casserole. Besides, those beans were to be his dinner the next night.

Will give a full recap after the big opening game tomorrow night. If William can just stay on the correct field I'll be so proud!

Another Sure Thing

After today need to add one more to the list:

(d) Don't get too excited that you have been given antibiotics to fight the ear infection thinking that the wonder drug will cure all because you will look at the seat of your child's pants wondering when she sat on a Hershey Bar and realize that said wonder drug has now brought on a rip roaring case of diarrhea.

No further commentary necessary.

The Way It Is

Spent all weekend inside with poor little Catherine who got sick Saturday morning and just kept getting sicker and sicker. There are few things I know for sure, but here are a couple of things that you can bet the ranch on....cash in the mortgage and put it all on red....these are SURE things I tell you. Here goes:

(a) Your infant/toddler/child will ALWAYS get sick just after the doctor's office has closed up shop for the day and all the doctors have left the building. In fact, you will be on the phone trying to get them and they can probably hear the phone ringing as they laugh and lock the door.

(b) Your infant/toddler/child's temperature will never be higher than it is at 4:30 am and they will also always wait until said time to throw up/choke up/ spin head 180 degrees and spit up peas. You will then be forced to decide whether to join all the drug deal gone bad shooting victims at the hospital emergency room or wait another 3 1/2 hours to call the pediatrician.

(c) You will call the Dr. and they will want you to come in. You will drag your sick child and your cross-eyed self out the door without a shower, hoping that you managed to at least brush your teeth, only to realize that you didn't so the smashed piece of gum in the bottom of your purse will just have to do. You will tell the Dr. all of the horrible symptoms and frighteningly high fever your child has had for 24 hours, only to have them look at your child now doing cartwheels and singing Miss Pattycake songs and then check her temperature to find it's 98.6. They will look at the child's ears/throat/nose as you're secretly hoping (and this is warped I know) that they will find SOMETHING to prove you are not a delusional liar. In other words, once you are at the Dr.'s office the child will be have been cured. It's a miracle.

Turns out that Catherine does have an ear infection, but I'm not kidding when I say that for 24 hours she had a 103-104 degree temperature, but once I met the Dr. at his office at 2:00 on a Sunday afternoon, it was perfectly normal. Crazy.

I managed to get a good laugh out of it all though. They wanted to do a chest x-ray on her, so I carried her into the room and the nurse says, "Any chance you may be pregnant, Mom?"

Are you kidding me?

"MmmHmmm....pretty good chance, I think." She then sees that I look like I'm about to give birth any moment to a hippo and we both start laughing.

It was the only thing that was funny all weekend.

Thanks a Lot

Some of you may or may not know that up until about 5 weeks ago I was walking 4 mornings a week, 4.7 miles, at 5:30 am. Me and the girls. We met every morning to walk and talk. I did that for about 3 months and only stopped when Number 3 decided to take a nosedive and land in a most unfortunate position pressing on a nerve. Number 3 is not the only one of my children on my nerves, but the only one that is keeping me from walking at this point.

Before that I was getting up several mornings a week at 4:45 am and going to the Wellness Center at the hospital and working out. I started that back in June after meeting with a personal trainer and getting a plan of action to lose all my baby weight and get back to fighting form (whatever that was - been so long I don't remember). I picked June because that was when I stopped nursing Catherine and reclaimed my body. I had my body to myself though for only a few months because all was shot to hoo-hoo when I came up pregnant again and spent 16 weeks puking 24/7. ALL OF THAT TO SAY....I really do want to have some kind of fitness regime but would really like it if I could do it during daylight.

So the other day, after stopping in at the local YMCA, a very nice facility I might add, and seeing that they have a CHILDCARE center and tons of activities for kids, I had an idea. Maybe after Number 3 gets here and we get settled in to our new routines, maybe we can join the Y. Something for the kids, something for me. So I brought it up to Andy the other night and said "Hey...have you ever been to that YMCA? It's really nice."

And before I can get anything else out of my mouth he quips "I don't know why you're talking about the Y. You don't use the Wellness Center...why would you go somewhere else????"

Trying to stay calm and cool I say, "Well, the Y has childcare and the Wellness Center doesn't and that seems to be just a teensy tiny problem for me since right now I can only go work out when everyone else is asleep!"

And he says....and this is really really good.... "I don't know what you're talking about. You can go work out anytime you want to."

Really? Can I really? Great! What about my lunch hour? Oh yeah, I don't get a lunch hour. What about while the kids are napping? I could run up there and work out and leave Psycho Dog in charge of them. I'll just teach her how to dial 911 with her nose.

See, it sounds like a nice thing to say but in reality it's very cruel. It's akin to telling a blind person they are welcome to drive your car anytime they want. It might make you feel good making such a generous offer, but in reality, it JUST AINT GONNA HAPPEN! Thanks a lot for the suggestion though.

But who am I kidding here. Even when Number 3 arrives, I'll be in such a sleep deprived hormonal state lugging around a couple of milk jugs on my chest that I doubt I'll be pining away for an hour long spin class anytime soon. However, now that I think about it, there are showers at the Y and dropping the kids off at childcare just to wash my hair and shave my legs might be worth $50 a month. Hmmmm. I may be on to something.

Conversations Part II

This is a follow-up to yesterday's post. This is an excerpt from an actual exchange with William on the way to school this morning. Let me set the scene. We had been going through some clothes in his room earlier and he found a little bib smocked with spiders and spiderwebs that used to be on a little jon-jon that he would have worn at Halloween had he not looked so ridiculous in it. But that's another blog entry altogether.

Anyway...he was carrying around that bib all morning and on the way out the door for school I told him to go put it back in his room. He said...."Well...I think I'll take it with me but I'll just leave it in the car so the other kids won't take it." I don't think you have to worry about that, I thought, but sounds like a plan.

So he's looking at the bib as we're pulling out of the driveway and here's how it goes:

"Mama, did you know that spiders drink blood?"

"Wow. I didn't know that."

"Yes they do. I don't like blood."

"No?"

"No. I like apple juice."

"That's nice."

"Do you like blood Mama?"

"Not so much."

"Well what do you like?"

"I like Diet Coke, Water, and Ruby Red Grapefruit Juice." (Sometimes with a little sompin sompin mixed in....but I decided not to go there).

"Does Daddy like blood?"

"Not so much either."

"Oh. Not so much. Not so much. Not so much...not so much...hmmmm. Well....Can I listen to Ring of Fire?"

Nothing like a little Johnny Cash to lighten the mood.

Thursdays With William

It's so funny to me that you spend the first couple of years of your child's life trying to get him to talk, and once he really starts talking you start wondering why you ever encouraged him to speak. William has now entered the "why" zone. Every sentence seems to start with "why?" Here's an example:

"Why are you driving the car?"

"Because someone has to. Since Daddy isn't here, guess that leaves me. Is that ok with you?"

"Why do you say 'cause someone has to?"

"Just because....it seemed like the right thing to say."

"Why do you have on that brown shirt?"

"Just because....it's what I wanted to wear."

"But WHY did you want to wear it?"

"Just because. It's what I thought I should wear if I was going to be the one driving."

"Why do you say 'just because'?"

"Well, again, it seemed like the thing to say."

"Oh."

Then in a few minutes:

"Why do I have to sit in my booster seat?"

"Because the police will get you if you don't."

"Why would the police get me?"

"Because if you don't sit in your seat you'll get in trouble and they will take you to jail and you'll have to eat broccoli at every meal and take three baths a day and pick up everyone else's toys in jail and go to bed early every night."

"They have toys in jail?"

Sigh. And so it goes. From sun up to sun down. The "conversations" are endless. But then....out of nowhere....and completely unsolicited.....that little voice says "Mama, I love you." And my heart melts. And the chatter becomes music to my ears. And I wonder why I didn't encourage him to speak sooner.

And I hope he never stops.

Swing Low, Sweet Chariot, la la la la la la la la

Went strawberry picking yesterday. It was hard work but our labor paid off with one large bucket of delicious sweet berries. In case you're wondering what one wears to go strawberry pickin', you've come to the right place.

As William is showing us, our ability to accesorize is what separates us from the animals. Notice the camoflouged binoculars, red sunglasses and spiderman light up tennis shoes inappropriately on the wrong feet. The binoculars allowed him to scope out the most ripe berries and aforementioned sunglasses kept the sun out of his eyes as he swooped in to pluck the best ones.

Our next fashion statement from Catherine is the ultimately appropriate strawberry capri outfit and Nellie Olsen matching hairbow. Attitude can sometimes be your most dramatic accessory as Catherine shows us here.

When Catherine announced it was quittin' time we headed home to enjoy the fruits of our labor (get it??) with one homemade pound cake topped with lots of real whipped cream. Yes I made the pound cake myself. From scratch. It was a good thing!

Left Behind

So of course I didn't sleep again last night. I was up at 1 am eating a piece of pound cake and watching infomercials. I came * this close to buying an automatic toothbrush that doubles as an answering machine. For some reason at 1 am these are the kind of things you think you can't live without.

Anyway....about an hour into my infomercial marathon I heard Catherine coughing something terrible. William, Catherine and I all have this annoying cough (although only one of us pees our pants when we cough and it's not either of the two you would think) that is probably due to the pollen. And our strawberry picking outing yesterday didn't help our allergies. It's like someone dropped a pollen bomb on this place. SO.....I go in to see about her and once I picked her up she wouldn't let me put her down. So I decided that we should just both try to go back to sleep together in the guest room.

As I schlep into the guest room carrying Catherine, Number 3 (always), Catherine's blanket, doll, Elmo, paci, sippy cup, 3 pillows for me and my own cup of water I see a big black spot in the middle of the bed. It took me a minute to recognize that it was Annabelle, crazy neurotic psycho dog. I manage to get Catherine in the bed, all the pillows in place, all the friends in place, cups of water on the bedside table, and slide into my side of the bed without disturbing Psycho. Just as I get settled, I have to get up and pee. And so it goes. All night long. What night was left at that point.

To say I was not quite myself when the sun finally came peeping through the blinds and woke us up would be an understatement. So Catherine and I wander into the den and I realize how quiet it is. And there is no movement from the other side of the house where Andy should be showering and getting ready for work. About that time the phone rings and it's my friend Molly calling from Atlanta.

I guess I sounded frazzled and she said "oh is it too early to call?"

I said..."No, I was just standing here wondering if the rapture had come and we were left behind. I'm frankly thrilled that it's you on the phone because if you're calling me then I know it's not the case."

As it turns out we weren't left out of the Heavenly rapture but were left behind on Andy's trip to Birmingham. Right about now he's probably feasting on candy samples at Priester's. Now that I think of it, grazing on brownies and lemon delicious really IS my idea of Heaven these days. Dang.

Miss Disagreeable 2007

You can't tell it from these pictures but don't be fooled...Catherine is now known as the reigning Queen of Disagreement. Her evil twin has shown up and introduced herself just this past week and I'm ready to send her packing. Our generally happy, content, and overall pleasant little girl has been abducted. A typical day now in the life of Catherine:

"Good morning Sunshine, how are you this morning?"

Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

"What would you like for breakfast, oatmeal or eggs?"

Grrrrrrr. Wahhhhhhhhhhhh.

"Come on Catherine, time to get dressed."

AAAAAAAAAAHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Grrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

"Time for bed, Catherine. Nighty night." (at 2 p.m.).

I'm ready to post an amber alert to get my daughter back. If you see her let us know. And again...DO NOT BE FOOLED by these pictures ~ These were taken before the abduction!

My Thoughts Exactly

Got this in an email and I couldn't have responded to these questions any better myself. Enjoy!

Pregnancy Q &A &more!

Q: Should I have a baby after 35?
A: No, 35 children is enough.

Q: I'm two months pregnant now. When will my baby move?
A: With any luck, right after he finishes college.

Q: What is the most reliable method to determine a baby's sex?
A: Childbirth.

Q: My wife is five months pregnant and so moody that sometimes she's borderline irrational.
A: So what's your question?

Q: My childbirth instructor says it's not pain I'll feel during labor, but pressure. Is she right?
A: Yes, in the same way that a tornado might be called an air current.

Q: When is the best time to get an epidural?
A: Right after you find out you're pregnant.

Q: Is there any reason I have to be in the delivery room while my wife is in labor?
A: Not unless the word "alimony" means anything to you.

Q: Is there anything I should avoid while recovering from childbirth?
A: Yes, pregnancy.

Q: Do I have to have a baby shower?
A: Not if you change the baby's diaper very quickly.

Q: Our baby was born last week. When will my wife begin to feel and act normal again?
A: When the kids are in college.

Mmmm Mmmmm Good

For some reason each time I've been pregnant I've had dangerous obsessions with milkshakes. The obsession has produced some violent tendencies in fact, of which I'm not particularly proud. When I was pregnant with William, Sonic had just come out with the cream pie shakes. Then with Catherine Hardees and Steak-n-Shake had the hand mixed shakes. This time Chik-Fil-A has been my demise.

Once, I went through the drive-thru at Steak-n-Shake and ordered a "regular" size (be warned: this is code for KID sized!). When I pulled up to the window and she handed me a thimble with two drops of milkshake in it, I started crying. I told her it just wasn't big enough. I think I just started repeating it over and over... it's just not big enough....not big enough at all. Fearing the crazy, bawling pregnant woman in front of her window, the sweet little server left and immediately returned with a much larger, very full milkshake and told me to take it and don't worry about the difference in price. Code for "get out of my drive-thru nutjob!"

A few weeks ago Andy and I had been out to dinner and then shopping. He bought a few new shirts and a pair of pants. He asked me if I needed anything and did I want to do some shopping. I said yes, I need a milkshake and would like to go shopping at Chik-Fil-A. So we left the store and drove over to the best little chikin place ever and pulled up in the drive-thru. Andy ordered ONE shake. I said "Aren't you going to get one?" He said...."no, I'll just have some of yours."
Oh no he di-n't.
I said, "Well maybe you should get your own because I'm not sure I'll be in a position to share." That's code for "keep your stinkin' hands off my milkshake!"

So then just a few nights ago Andy and William were going out to run some errands and Andy told William they could go by Sonic and get milkshakes. I told them to bring me back one of those new Banana Pudding Shakes. And I gave specific instructions. DO NOT get a regular, small, or anything considered less than large. I'm a large girl right now and I need a large shake. And DO NOT get just one and expect me to share. I'm sharing a body right now with another human being and should not be expected to share my milkshake. Get your own if you want one!

He comes back and hands me a nice tall milkshake and I am so excited....I can almost taste it before I've even had a sip. Until I look inside and realize it's only half full. I went crazy y'all!. I yelled at him...I TOLD you to get your own! He said..."well, the way I see it, I got you an extra large so now you have a plain old large."

"Well the way I see it," I said, "I now have a DIXIE CUP!" It was just not acceptable.

So I'm happy to say that yesterday afternoon I went to Chik-Fil-A by myself, and ordered the new mint cookies and cream milkshake, size LARGE, and enjoyed it down to the last drop. Mmmmm, Mmmmm, good.

Remember, Confucious say, Man who take milkshake from pregnant lady take life in own hands. Or something like that.

Surrounded by the Stepfords

Have just returned home from storytime at the library and a quick trip to the local playground. William woke up this morning and the first thing out of his mouth was "Mama, what are we doing today???" Well, (I wanted to say), Mama is going to lie on the sofa with her feet propped up all day and watch soap operas and eat bon bons (isn't that what stay at home moms are supposed to do?) while the maid does 43 loads of laundry, removes the multi family dwelling of dust bunnies over there in corner and fixes us all a nice homecooked meal and a big chocolate cake for dessert! Popping back into reality though, I said...hmmm...let's see....if I can heave my gargantuan self out of this chair we'll maybe go to the new library. I remembered that Tuesdays are storytime and I've been wanting to check it out.

Storytime was fun...and somewhat uneventful until Catherine decided to run up on stage and pull Brown Bear off the storyboard while the audience had the pleasure of surveying my extra wide load as I waddled up there to retrieve her and rescue Bear. Then we went to playground. Somehow though I managed to leave feeling just slightly more inadequate than I did when I arrived.

It all started when I was chatting with this tiny, cute and oh so fashionable expectant Mom. I was thinking to myself....well of course she looks so cute and stylish...she can't be more than a few months pregnant. So she says to me...when are you due? Oh....I've got about 6-7 weeks to go. And you? Expecting her to say...6 or 7 MONTHS....she says....a couple of weeks. A COUPLE OF WEEKS? Are you giving birth to a gerbil? AARRGGHHH!!!!!! Suddenly regretting all those Chik-Fil-A runs and M&M binges I've indulged in, I set off to find William.

Before I can locate William though I run into Perfect Mom. I see her everywhere. The last time I saw her we were all at the local pizza joint and as her three small children sat perfectly still, napkins in lap, eating pizza with a fork, William was rolling around under the table pitching a fit while Catherine smeared pizza sauce all over her face. Today....those same three children were lined up on a park bench, sitting perfectly still, napkins in laps (I'm not kidding), eating homemade lunches and waiting on Mom to tell them when they could go play. I gotta get out of here I thought, before I feel completely and totally inadequate. So I call for William and then I see him. One shoe missing, handfuls of rocks he's trying to stuff into his pockets, and I look over at Catherine, eating stale goldfish she's dug out of the bottom of my bag and pulling her shirt up to show off her belly. And I just want to laugh.

Come on, William, we need to go home and eat lunch I say. And then loud enough for hopefully everyone to hear...."That pot roast Sudie Pearl made us is getting cold....and you're going to be late for your French lessons!"

Spring Has Sprung!

The Melting Pot

My girlfriends took me out to dinner last night...sort of a friendly little baby shower....send off to never never land....possibly last big night out before I am hurled back into the familiar world of milk production, sleep deprivation, and general insanity.

We decided to fondue it, so we drove to Pensacola to eat at the Melting Pot. None of us had ever been there, although I've been to similar restaurants. Very interesting. They bring you platters of raw food that you cook yourself at your table. Well, you actually start out with a big bowl of melted cheese that you sop up with chunks of bread, apples and vegetables. Then they bring you a big pot of oil and, like I said, RAW meat, that you spear with a tiny fork and cook in said oil. They give you all these instructions about cooking times, etc. and they make a point to tell you to alert them if any of the raw meat touches your dinner plate so they can bring you a new one.

I couldn't help but think about the strangeness of this whole concept. This place was not cheap....so you pay a small fortune for a table full of potential e coli and salmonella....not to mention that your night off from kitchen duty results in you cooking your own food? In a tiny pot of boiling oil that you share with a table full of hungry people who are only getting to take one small bite of food every 3-4 minutes? It's an ingenius concept though....because if you don't like the way your food is cooked there aint no one to complain to except your evil twin.

It really was a fun time. And, thanks to myself, the cook, the food was delicious. My friend Amy gave me and Baby #3 a copy of Pat the Bunny. Amy was appalled a few weeks ago to discover that William and Catherine never had Pat the Bunny. I didn't know I should be ashamed that I had never introduced my children to Paul and Judy and Daddy's scratchy beard. At least #3 will have at least one up on the other two.

Guess I'm supposed to be back on kitchen duty tonight but I'm so exhausted from slaving over a pot of hot oil last night that Andy and the kids may get a peanut butter and jelly sampler platter. The cook needs a break!

It's Been a Hard Day's Night

I can't believe I did what I did. And I can't believe now I'm admitting it and putting it in writing where it will live forever.

Yesterday afternoon William got to make his weekly pilgrimage to the "movie store" to pick out a new movie to watch over the weekend. It's a big deal around here. I made the mistake though of going just after lunch and before nap time so when we returned he was so excited that he begged and pleaded when it was time for his nap to be able to lie down in his sleeping bag and watch his new movie on his movie player. I gave in. Mistake number one. Needless to say, he didn't sleep. Just stayed in his room watching his movie for 2 hours and came out and announced he was "ready to get up now." Right.

So then I let him go to the little neighbor boy's house to play just before dinner. Mistake number 2. When Andy brought/dragged/hauled him home kicking and screaming for dinner, he was in such a tirade that we sent him to his room to calm down. All was quiet so the 3 of us enjoyed a pleasant dinner until we realized that it was dark and William was sound asleep. At 5:45 pm.

We kept daring each other to go in and wake him up. Not me I said. I'm not waking the beast. I like my life too much. Besides I'm pregnant (my excuse for everything). You do it. Not me Andy said....I made that mistake once before and almost lost an ear. We did rock paper scissors. Still no one was brave enough. So we bathed Catherine and put her to bed and we watched a movie. After the movie we knew we had to do something. So we went in his room and tried to wake him just to eat something since he'd not had anything to eat since lunch. He growled at us so we got some juice and a nutrigrain bar and slid it over to him and left. This was at 9:30 pm.

At 2:41 am he woke up crying. I ran in there and found him sitting up in bed, crying, saying over and over...."I want to watch a movie...I want to watch a movie." Trying to get my bearings I walked over to him and said...Oh sweetie, it's the middle of the night, you need to go back to sleep. The crying turned to a mild wail and he starts saying "But I LIKE movies....I want to watch a movie." I made a decision in a split second and still can't believe I did what I always said I would NEVER do....I gave in to a 3 year old!!! Ok Ok Ok....what do you want to watch? (I can't believe this is coming out of my mouth at 2:44 am.) He says Charlotte's Web. So I stumble into the den, find it, put in his movie player and turn it on.

The thing is....had I NOT turned it on and simply made my pronouncement that it was the middle of the night and he needed to go to sleep, he would have gone batty and pitched a little tantrum, which normally I could care less how hard or how long he pitches a fit because I don't give in. But at that ungodly hour of the morning, Catherine would have woken up and started crying, then Andy would have woken up and started crying, and I can't bear to see a grown man cry. So I became a world class SUCKER in the middle of the night and ran around like a little rat looking for cheese trying to round up the movie, movie player and get it plugged in. ARGH!

I'm pregnant. That's my excuse.