Update

If you look back to my "Poor Pinterest Projects" post from last March, you'll see I made some homemade laundry soap. It cost about twenty bucks to make it. I used the last scoop in a load tonight. Talk about a frugal option!

On a less positive note, we had an accident in the bath tonight. The girls like to bathe in our tub because it has jacuzzi jets. After we finish washing, I let them turn on the jets for five minutes for a "bubble bath." On the wall behind the tub, hang two small shelves. One has a jar with sand in it, and the other has a jar with sea green beads in It. Tonight, the glass jar with the beads fell as we were finishing up bubble time. It shattered everywhere and some shards made small cuts across Baby R's back. I felt horrible. S was crying because she was scared of sissy being hurt. They're both fine, but I should have thought about the possibility that those could fall. Thankful it wasn't worse.

Dream A Little Dream

I had my first pregnancy dream last night. I can't remember how it started, but I ended up delivering the baby this Friday. A girl I work with is pregnant and due in two weeks. We have a pool at the office to see who can most closely guess when she'll deliver. I guessed this Friday, and another girl guessed today because it's a full moon. I'm sure much of the dream was related to that.

I was on a gurney in the hospital hallway. There weren't any rooms available because a bunch of women had gone into labor. DH wasn't there yet; he was on his way. I think it was my sister who had brought me? Anyway, there was a mirror in the hallway, and I could see some of the other women in their rooms. My labor was progressing rapidly, and I knew I couldn't keep the baby from being born any longer, and I was worried because I knew there was no way a C-section could happen. (Having had two previously, I'm at too great a risk for a VBAC now.) I could see the baby crowning in the mirror and yelled out for help. A nurse swooped in, caught the infant and placed it in my arms before rushing off to help another woman delivering nearby. It was full-term, beautiful. I realized she hadn't told me the sex. I lifted it up and saw it was a boy.

As much as my husband would like to believe my dream was psychic, I think it's also related to the girl at work. She and her husband had the sonographer write the baby's sex on a piece of paper and then took it to Party City and told them they wanted pink or blue balloons put in a box for when they came back to pick it up. Then they opened it later when they were at dinner with their families and were all surprised at the same time. The balloons were pink.

In the last week or so, several old wives tales have popped up, along with comments from other people that indicate the baby is a boy. She's started to question everything since they never saw the sono showing the baby's genitals. She said it will probably be born on April Fool's Day and be a boy. Ha! That would be funny.

Anyway, I'm not putting too much credence in my dream. But it will be fun to find out how things turn out for my friend, and for us.

Hellllllllooooooo??? Is Anybody There????

Wow. Three months. Where has the time gone? So many funny kid stories to share. I've been scribbling them on notes scattered around the house, and dictating them into my voice memos on my phone. No promises, but I'll try to transcribe them soon.

For now, the latest news with us combines, per the new norm, great highs and great lows. First, the bad news. Our house is sinking. My BIL is a structural engineer and came by last night to take a look. (Super fun way to celebrate DH's and my 8th annivesary.) He told us what we already knew. We have to get it piered to save it. DH wants to sell it and run. I don't think we can without fixing it. Which we're guessing will cost around $40k. Will get some estimates, and then decide if we can patch it a little and get out of here breaking even, or if we'd be upside down and have to suck it up and stay. I don't want to move. For the first time in my life, I love our house. But it's just a building. I can give it up. What I don't want to give up is the backyard and our neighborhood. But I just need to let it go and remember that God will provide.

Speaking of which, our latest blessing is that we're expecting again! DH had this awesome suggestion for announcing our news:

The girls can't wait. S wants a brother and Baby R wants a sister. She wants to name it Pineapple. I told her we'd talk about it. For now, that makes a good name to use instead of "it," though. So far, I'm feeling well. No nausea, but I do tend to have a sour stomach frequently. I wasn't sure if I was eating something that disagreed with me or if it was some kind of morning sickness. My doc said she had that with one of her pregnancies, too. Kooky.

More news to come sooner rather than later, I hope!

New Year

I feel badly that I didn't post much in December, especially with the Sandy Hook tragedy, and Christmas in St. Louis with my side of the family since my sis was uber preggo. My nephew was born a week ago today and is a tiny version of my BIL. So excited to go meet him tomorrow! Just a quick note to say hi, and will post again when I can. Working on a set of letters for my nephew tonight.

Out of Nowhere

A couple of days ago, I went to read to S's kindergarten class. I was really excited about it; the teacher had asked for volunteers a few weeks ago. It was set up as a surprise, and I was the first of the readers to participate.

Colds have been running through our house the last few weeks as their wont to do this time of year, but nothing serious since the crazy strep throat incident awhile ago. Of course, the sniffly noses and coughs seem to last forever. S was playing outside in the leaves on Monday as it was 70 degrees out (not bad for December 3rd in the midwest), so she was coughing a lot more that night. So much that it kept us both up even after a does of Robitussin and a Halls cough drop.

Tuesday morning, she didn't want to go to school. I didn't want to tell her why she needed to go and ruin the surprise, so I tried to encourage her in other ways. She wasn't terribly sick, but she hadn't slept much and she was still coughing so much that it really was a major distraction. I told her I couldn't stay home from work, she'd have to go to daycare if she didn't go to school. That's usually enough to convince her to go; she really likes school. But it didn't do the trick. I told her she would be upset if she missed that day because there was a surprise mystery reader coming to her class. I put off telling her it was me until we were halfway to daycare, hoping she'd change her mind, but it didn't happen. Then when I told her it was me, she just said, "Oh." Like it was no big deal. I was disappointed. In a big way.

It's not her fault. I thought she would be really excited about it, and I'm sure if she had gone to school like usual, and I had showed up, she would have loved it. But it didn't happen that way. I still went. I read "What's Wrong Little Pookie?" by Sandra Boynton. The kids really enjoyed it. They asked me to read it again. It was fun, but I was really sad that S wasn't there for it.

On my way to work that morning, the DJ was talking about how they had taken a photo of her 3-month-old in her Christmas stocking which was their traditional first Christmas photo with the babies in their family. I thought, "We should be doing that. A first Christmas photo this year. But we're not." And the tears came.

The one day I wore mascara to work (since I had to read later, I had put makeup on and tried to look nice), and I was crying. Part of it was due to the lack of sleep. Part of it was due to the disappointment with S. And part of it was missing my baby. Weird to think it's been almost a year since I wrapped up the little stick and left it on DH's pillow for Christmas. It feels like eons ago.

Dance, Dance, Dance

Friday night was S's first (and likely, last) dance recital. She took a combo class this fall at the community center. Her teacher was my first dance teacher, Miss N. Miss N is old school - literally. Her techniques are strict and disciplined - only pink tights and black leotards - no colors, no tutus - hair pulled back. She has to be 90 years old (she was at least 50 when I started taking from her in 1980), but commands respect and obedience from toddlers better than I do. One day when I dropped S off, I told her to have fun. Miss N said, "We don't have fun. We learn, and we enjoy it, but we're not here to have fun."

S started out in the 3-4 year old class since she'd never danced before, but moved up to the 5-6 year olds after a couple of weeks. In the first class, the tap dance they learned was to "Ellie the Elf." When she moved up, she learned "Spunky the Monkey." I was excited because that was a number my sister did when we were little. Not that she remembers it since she's blocked our entire childhood out of her head - our 72-year-old dad remembers it, but not her.

Anyway, a few weeks ago, I told her she could either do dance lessons again after the session ended or do something else. She said, "M (a boy in her kindergarten class) plays football, baseball and basketball. Why can't I do all of those?" I said, "You can, baby, but football season's almost over, and baseball won't start til next spring. You can play basketball if you'd like, or soccer or karate or dance. We just can't afford for you to do more than one right now." She decided to sign up for soccer. I asked her if she was sure she didn't want to do dance again. She said, "No, that's ok. I already know how. I don't need to take classes anymore." Glad to hear you've mastered it in 12 weeks, babe. I'll wait for Joffrey to call...

Of course, I didn't explain that soccer wouldn't start right away, so that Saturday when I told her it was time to get ready for dance class, she said she didn't have it since she was going to start soccer. I told her she still had a couple of weeks left as well as her recital. She said she didn't want to go anymore. I told her she didn't have to take dance again, but she did have to finish the session and do the show since Miss N. had already gotten her a costume. She still didn't want to go. I told her we finish what we start, and if she didn't, she wouldn't get to do soccer or any other activities. She finally got ready and went to class. And enjoyed it. Then she said she wanted to do dance for the next session instead. Sigh...

Anyway, Friday night, we hurried home, ate some pizza and headed to the community center. I asked her if she was nervous. She said she was, and I told her that was normal, but everything would be ok. She was excited, too, and couldn't wait to get there. On the way, she said her stomach hurt. She thought she'd eaten too fast. Crap. We got there and got her dressed in her white turtleneck and gold lame, sequin-lined skirt. I put a bit of blush on her cheeks and a dab of lipstick on her mouth and pinned the gold sequin headband in her hair. It was very surreal to be the mom instead of the child. I had flashbacks of my mom putting makeup on me, curling my hair, heading backstage. I hated the primping but loved the dancing, and she was so patient with me.

My parents and DH's dad joined us in the third row. I said to my dad, "Too bad Tippin's isn't around anymore." Almost every year after my dance recital, we went to Tippin's with at least one other family from the dance studio.

I thought S's class was going to be the third number, but they were the third from last. Luckily, they went on just as I thought I was going to lose Baby R to the inevitable boredom and have to remove her from the area.

When they first went on stage. S looked terrified. My poor baby had stage fright! No wonder her tummy hurt. After the first line of the song, she saw us, smiled and waved. Then she was ok. Afterwards, she told me she was scared, but once she saw daddy, she was ok. I told her she was very brave and did a great job.

We may not have had Tippin's that night, but we did celebrate by going to get yogurt. It was lots of fun, and I hope she remembers it fondly.

Happy 3rd Birthday, Baby R!

I feel like I need to change Baby R's pseudonym since she's not a baby anymore (sniff!). She had an extended birthday since Mommy had a major brain lapse and accidentally scheduled Bunko on her bday. So we had birthday dinner and cake on Monday and presents on Tuesday.

Her party was today. Contrary to the Halloween costume vascillation, the birthday party theme has been fairly constant since we first started discussing it - Minnie Mouse. She's added other ideas at times - and Thomas the Train, and... - but Minnie's been at the top of the list from day one. Thank goodness.

We were able to reserve the gym at our church for forty bucks, which was the same price as renting the park shelter for S's party this summer. The only problem was I bought tablecloths without thinking about the tables they were going on, but I pretended that the white was supposed to show on purpose.

Since last weekend was spent re-admitting Dad to the hospital, and Mom stayed with us through Wednesday, and I hosted Bunko Tuesday night, I didn't get any party prepping done until the very last minute. Like, less than 24 hours before the party. I was frantically trying to decide if I should just by pre-made cupcakes or try to find a way to bake and frost the cupcakes last night when I had an epiphany. If I made brownies and cut out Mickey shapes, I could stick a bow on them and call them Minnies. Luckily, the awesome Baker's Rack shop by our house had a Mickey cookie cutter.

I had a really cute Pinterest idea for favors, but zero time to implement them, so I went simple and just put M&Ms in cellophane bags tied with curling ribbon and a little tag that matched her invitation (mockup shown below).

An open gym with some balls was all the entertainment the kiddos needed, but I did have one game planned - Pin the Bow on Minnie.

Overall, I think it was a success. Now we turn our attention to Thanksgiving and a baby shower for my sister next weekend.