Comforting Things Medical Professionals Say

(As heard by me)

• "I've never seen anything like this before."
• "Ohh! That is bad! You are so swollen!"
• "Most people recover in 4-6 weeks. I'm not sure why you're not getting better."
• "Well that's strange. Your foot isn't supposed to do that."
• "Well, if it doesn't go away after the pregnancy I'll have to send you to a specialist." 

My favorite medical quote that Mike and I frequently laugh about is, "The good news is you're going to have a disease named after you."   While I haven't had a disease named after me yet, this pregnancy my veins are getting so large I'm naming them after major roadways. I've already got Route 66 (it's full of kicks), The DC Beltway (major congestion here), and a charming little one I like to call Broadway (if nothing, it's entertaining).

Insert bad-a-bing drum here. 

The pregnancy fairy has taken everything I've felt self-pride in and wiped it away with a swipe of her magic wand. Ability to hold it? Gone. Nice legs? Mapped with veins now.Chest that stayed in place? Nope. Lost that too.

Each pregnancy has gifted me with a new particular medical problem that I thought only happened to old people.  Oh, well I guess I am old now. I'm 31!

It was a marvelous birthday, thanks for asking.
 Insert cheesy fairytale music here

Mike took the day off and he and the girls made me the sweetest card, brought me balloons and flowers and I got a new coat! A coat that doesn't require zipping and unzipping a liner into. A coat that isn't bulky, but is warm and makes me feel like an outdoorsy chick. I lurv it. Thanks Mike! As much as I love my new coat, the fact that Mike took the day off was the best part of my birthday.
cheesy music leads to a huge crescendo, culminating with a large, yet romantic cymbal crash as the last paragraph ends.

Now for some pictures

Here is how I look at 31. Notice how the part of my body that is growing large is conveniently blacked out by a thumb over the flash. Good work Mike!

 

The flowers and balloons.

 

Out to dinner at Applebees. That Chinese Chicken Salad is my favorite. 

 

Opening the new coat at my mom's. She watched the girls for us while we went out. My parents gave me some new maternity clothes. I love getting new maternity clothes. Especially ones that cover my belly.  My in-laws gave me a gift card to Olive Garden. I get to go out wearing new clothes! Hooray!

 

The day ended with this ice cream pie, made by my mom. Fudge, whip cream, ice cream and Oreos are involved. How could any birthday that ends with this not be perfect? This ice cream pie makes getting older worth it. 

It's a girl! No, it's a boy! Not really. It's a girl.

We have one tiny, itty bitty little bathroom. (Which we just repainted and spiffed up in October last year. Good job Mike). When we learned that really it was a girl (they think, maybe, but they could be wrong), this was Mike's reaction:
"I could tell." 
My reaction:
"We're going to need at least 5 bathrooms." 

Although I have popped right out and look very pregnant, it's taken me quite a while to be able to feel this little munchkin. At my ultrasound (the one where they moved my due date back TWO WEEKS), the technician said it's because my placenta is right up next to my stomach. The last couple weeks I've finally felt definitive about the fact that there is a child knock-knock-knocking on my uterus's door.

Everything I feel is really low, so low that only Mike is authorized to feel the baby. One night as we lay in bed, I said to Mike, "I've finally felt her. Sherrie (Mike's sister, due the day before me) has been feeling hers forever."

"That's alright," he said. "Can I feel her?"

"Sure," I said and placed his hand on my lower abdomen. Right when he put his hand on my belly she gave the biggest kick I have felt yet.

"That was the strongest kick I have felt," I told Mike.

"Awww. She recognized me," said Mike.

Letters to my two-year-old

Dear Hannah-
When I say "no" it does not mean drop onto the floor kicking and screaming. Nor does it mean wait until I am not looking and do it anyway. It means no. Don't do it. Ever. Especially if it involves playing in the bathroom and eating vaseline.
Love,
Mom

Dear Hannah-
Skirts are not an appropriate winter item. Neither are dresses. And you do not have to wear one EVERY DAY. In fact, skirts and dresses are fun, but only if you have the right shoes and really you can't do much in them except look good.
Love,
Mom
P.S. You may not wear your cupcake dress 24/7. It needs to be washed. And it's getting too small.

           Hannah in her princess dress at Disney On Ice 2009

Dear Hannah-
The cat does not enjoy being shut into your drawer, various cupboards around the house, and/or small tupperware containers meant for toys. She doesn't really enjoy being thrown from the balcony either. Please refrain from grabbing her tail as well. The cat will not scratch you so much if you mostly just leave her alone.
Love,
Mom

                    Hannah with her mischievous face on vacation at Sequoia National Park Oct 2009

Dear Hannah-
Although I have discovered that rice krispies lightly soaked in milk are a wonderful adhesive, I would appreciate it if you could stop flinging your eating utensils about and move them in a predictable pattern from bowl to mouth, bowl to mouth, etc. Also, I would appreciate it if you would stop throwing your bowl across the table and yelling, "I DON'T WANT IT!"
Love,
Mom
P.S. We cannot have cold cereal for breakfast every morning.

 

Hannah enjoying a S'more at the family reunion July 2009

Dear Hannah-
Markers and crayons are for drawing on paper. Paper. Not kitchen cabinets, not tables, not cookie cutters, not the cat. Paper.
Love,
Mom

Dear Hannah-
It seems a little sneaky of you to grab a package of rice cakes to eat in your room while I cook breakfast. Please leave all food in the kitchen. And no snacks before breakfast.
Love,
Mom

                     Hannah loves ice cream and messes. Jan. 2010

Dear Hannah-
Perhaps it would be best if you stayed in bed once we put you in it. Your father and I get a little testy when you come out for the fifth time to tell us that your leg hurts, or that you need a drink of water, or that the balloons on the floor are bothering you. JUST GO TO SLEEP.
Love,
Mom

Dear Hannah-
Lip gloss is best used in small quantities, once or twice a day, not continuously until it is so thick that it smears off onto everything you walk by.
Love,
Mom

Dear Hannah-
Naps are lovely for the soul. Are you sure you don't want to take one anymore? Also, have you considered sleeping in when you don't go to sleep until 11:00 p.m.? It might help your disposition. It would certainly help mine.
Love,
Mom

   Hannah and Kenzie on the kid swings at Lagoon 2009

Dear Hannah-
Let me tell you a little story, a story about the boy who cried wolf. The boy cried wolf so many times and the townspeople ran to help him each time, until finally they stopped believing him. Then when he had a real emergency no one came. And the wolf ate him. (Okay maybe the wolf didn't eat him, just the sheep, but still.) So, you might want to tone down your use of the Emergency-tense. Maybe then when you really are going to pee on the floor because you can't get your pants off, I will believe you.
Love,
Mom

Dear Hannah-
I love you. I love it when you pat me. I love when we kneel down for prayers and you wrap one arm around me. I love in the morning how you stay in bed until I come and then you grin and hide your face. I love how you put a box in front of your face and say, "You can't see me. You can't see me." I love your happy giggle of delight when you are playing. I love how you say to Kenzie, especially when she has saved you a treat, "Kenzie, I love you."  I love how you make us laugh with your silly faces and words. I love how you say, resignedly, "Okay," after you have already thrown a major fit. I love how you ask me to hold you in the mornings. I love how much you love going to "school" until you get there and then you get all scared and clingy until I promise to come back. I love how when you see your cousin Gracie, your face lights up and you run to her yelling, "Grace!" I love how you get a worried look on your face and say, "But who am I going to marry?" (Don't worry, you'll find someone after college :) I love how much you love Spaghetti-Os and cheese, and I love how you try to sneak food into your room, but tell me all about how I can't go in there because that's where your treats are. I love when you say, "I love you," to me or Dad. I love our bed making ritual, where I ask you, "where is the sheet Hannah? What did you do with it?" and you grin and find it for me and help me pull it up.  I love how you don't like kisses but love hugs. I love how every night you ask for us to sing, "I am Like a Star Shining Brightly," and then pretend you are falling asleep when we tuck you in. I love how independent you are, forming your own opinions and doing your own thing, not just copying. Dear Hannah, I just love you.
Love,
Mom

Hard Lessons in Money for a Preschooler

It can be so hard to sit back and let your children learn hard lessons. Yesterday, we had a harsh lesson in economics. Kenzie cried and I wanted so badly to step in and "fix it." But the wiser course of action was to sit back and let the lesson unfurl. (I think. Who knows? This mothering thing is so iffy sometimes.)

We started doing a chore chart back in December. It's evolving as we learn, but basically it includes four chores for each girl. "Get ready" (which includes get dressed, comb hair, brush teeth), "Make Bed" "Clean Room" and "Chore." Every day I decide on a new chore and we do it together. Hannah is expected to do a little less work than Kenzie, but everyone is expected to help.

For each of their chores done they get to put a sticker on their chart. When the sticker chart is full (the first time I made a six week sticker chart. Waaaaaaaaayy too long. Now it's two weeks), I give them a nickel for each sticker. But if a square on the chart is blank, I take away a nickel. (I figure if they didn't do it, I had to do it for them, so they should pay me.)

Last week, I divvied out the nickels, had the girls place their money in three separate banks (tithing, savings, spending) and told them we could go to the store to spend their spending money.

Kenzie had $.73 to spend and told me, "Mom, I want to buy that pink bear. And some flowers for Daddy."

A couple weeks before when we were at the store she and Hannah had spotted some little stuffed bears and begged me to buy them. I casually mentioned that maybe when they added up their chore chart money they could come back and buy them. Then I forgot about it.

"You might not have enough money for the pink bear. And they might not still have them," I said, racking my brain for what store she was talking about. "We'll have to see when we get there." I also told her I would help her buy the flowers (so sweet!) with my money. Hannah wanted a pink bear too. They kept talking about the pink bears.

"Now girls, you can't cry if you can't afford the bears. Afford means have enough money. But no crying. You just have to save money from our next chore chart," I said. "Besides I can't even remember what bears you are talking about."

"I'm so excited for the pink bears, Mommy," said Kenzie. "They're at the store we always go to."

That night we loaded up for the grocery store, as Kenzie assured me that that's where the coveted bears were.

Since I honestly had no idea what bears she was talking about we wandered about aimlessly until Kenzie exited the cart and told us she knew where the bears were. She swung her purse of money happily as she led us to a rack of stuffed pink bears.

I read the sign on the top, $3.99. I watched her cute face shine with excitement until Mike and I explained what the numbers meant. We explained that $3.99 is almost 400 pennies, she had 73. She crumbled. Hannah just yelled, "I WANT A PINK BEAR." She was easily distracted with a promise of piece of gum on the way home. Kenzie cried.

I thought about the story that's used to illustrate the Atonement-- you know the one about the little girl who saved and saved all her money to buy a bike, but didn't have quite enough, so her dad paid the rest. And I felt like the worst mother in the history of the world. Because I had seen how happy she was thinking about buying a bear and I wasn't going to use this as an Atonement lesson. It was a cold, hard money lesson.

So I didn't break out my credit card and just buy the pink bear for her. I gave her a hug and said, "I know it's hard. I'm sorry." And I wiped her tears and tried not to cry myself.

A few minutes later she spotted the flowers, and smiling ran over to choose a bouquet for her dad. As we walked toward Mike with her chosen pink and red carnations, she said, "That's okay. I can save my money and get a pink bear next time."

The Curse of cursing

I don't drop the f-bomb, but under my breath sometimes my oh-so-adorable children can cause some, how shall we say?, uncouth language.
Read about it on Mormon Mommy Blogs "Closet Cursing."