Wednesday, March 23, 2016

Motherhood: it's a hoot.

 36 weeks but who's counting! Baby boy seems to be running out of room but he is not giving an inch without a fight. He slides his hands across my ribs with almost scientific interest before bracing one, maybe two feet against them for a good shove. Like an engineer testing for give. "Could this be a possible exit from this place?" he seems to ask. "If I apply enough pressure to point A, will she straighten up and increase my square footage? No? Hm...let's try...POINT B." He lives a very busy life in there. As uncomfortable as it sounds, I am always happy to "hear" from him, and it always feels like a miracle.

During the day he is not as active as night. I suppose my activities keep him entertained (Riley and Joe's chatter, my moving around, flavors from the food I eat, sounds, shifting light), or maybe it lulls him to sleep. But every night about five minutes after lights out, that's his time. "Hey! Hey you guys! Why'd you stop? Whatcha doing?" He's moving and kicking for an hour or so. Also, I sometimes get woken up by a body-jarring push, at 2, 3am.

Now, contractions will still him momentarily but that is not exactly sleepy time for me. "Ooh", I think, as my belly gets tight and hard like a basketball, "What if this is it?" But of course it is not. Braxton Hicks. And as soon as those subside, he's back at it, the little stinker. I suspect I know what his sleep cycle will be like on this side of the belly too. It's ok buddy - brother and sister were the same way.

Anywho, if one is going to be kept awake for such shinanigans, one might as well document. 

If I shined the light too directly on him he would cease immediately. Like this:

Watching a belly wobble about might not be the most riveting of material, I admit. I could document all the clumsy moments lately: spilling stuff and breaking stuff. Ooh - or the time I went to pass the sour cream and instead flung it all over Suzette's face and hair.

For a really exciting depiction of pregnancy this week, I could put a camera on the stairs 24/7 and you could just watch as I skid/fall down on my bum again and again. Bom-bom-bom-bom! Twice in 10 days this has happened. Dave suggested we install an elevator, or perhaps that I get socks with the rubber grippies on them (adult socks being beyond me now). The first time I thudded down the stairs, I peed my pants a little. The second time I upended a plate of avocado slices, shattering the plate across the floor and sliding through the avocado by the seat of my pants. It's ok - I noticed the avocado bum oh...three hours later. It is almost certain no one noticed shiny green/brown streaks on my derriere, right?

Meh - I have no shame. We're all adults here. Except in the matter of socks.

Might as well share week 35 video too. I really tried to catch the baby acrobatics with decent light to send to Dave, but the google tips for getting baby to move were a bust. The internet tells you:
  1. Exercise √
  2. Drink orange juice √
  3. Lay on my left side√
  4. Ice √
  5. Sugar √
  6. Dance √
  7. Loud music √
The internet is full of it.

Anyway here it is, in all it's stretch-marked, outie bellybutton glory. If any of that makes you uncomfortable feel free to shut your rat face , I mean, er, skip this one.

Trying to get a baby that doesn't want to move to move.

Favorite part: "Atta boy, baby." You know what all that sugar did get me? Heart burn. Talking triple tums twice in one night. Bah. Stupid google.

Riley and Joe keep us laughing, that's for sure. Even on days that are nuts - like today: crepe paper explosion all over their room, three potty accidents, random fight break-out on the stairs like a couple of lumberjacks and me wading in sputtering things like, "what the heck is this? Wa, why? What is going on??" (Apparently Joe repeated himself and Riley didn't like it? I'm still confused.) Yet I go to bed smiling at their sweet sleeping faces and giggling over something they said or did. Which is how we will put this post to bed. Take us out, Riley and Joe!

  • Me: Where'd you put your socks? We need to find them!
  • Joe: They're camouflaged. I don't think we'll ever find them.
    The "baby shower" Riley and Joe surprised me with. They decorated. And made me a garden. And tried to have a dance party.

    • Joe: Wiley, I need a screw driver - Mom locked the bathroom door again! [pause] I SAID I NEED A SCREWDRIVER!

    • Riley: I'm a scientist and I know lots of things. Chocolate comes from coco beans. And the scriptures make us happy.

    They thought they needed Easter hats. Like, a lot of them.

    • Joe: I can't sleep with all this PINK!
    Joe cried for half an hour till I found his neck pillow. Guess he needed the hood to block out all that pink coming from Riley's rose-covered lamp shade.

    • Riley: What do you call a 3-humped camel? A 3-humped camel walking around! hahahaha
    • Joe: *Sighs and looks out window* Mom, I wish I had a hump on my nose.

    • Me: You want a taste of my frozen yogurt?
    • Riley: *Laughs* Um, no. That looks like a breakfast. 

    • Me: Joe, you have got to listen to Mommy and stop doing dangerous things that get you hurt like you've been doing all day!
    • Joe: It's ok, Mom. Tomorrow is a new day. 

    That's right folks, tomorrow is a new day. Sleep tight! 

    Our First Surgery. Da-da-duh...

    As in, the Munion family's first. As parents and what not. Riley was the star, poor thing. It all started a couple months ago when we decided to get her into speech therapy. She has always had this adorable lisp but well, school is coming and we wanted her to be able to communicate effectively. So there is a battery of tests through the district to get her into therapy at the school by our house. She killed the tests for the most part. Articulation, not so much (duh). And they noticed it was due to a forward tongue thrust, all thanks to her big ole tonsils. "Whoppers," the ENT called them.

    They had to go, but man, it's scary to put your kid into surgery. Not just because of the pain ahead. Little ones are all innocence and faith and knowing they don't fully comprehend what's ahead of them, you worry about how the tough stuff will effect that innocence, faith. These were my thoughts as I watched my little girl walk away from me down the surgery wing with a nurse. She looked so small. I'm tearing up just thinking about it. Boo hoo! Thankfully, the surgery was quick and easy (20 minutes, actually), she came out of anesthesia fairly well, a few confused tears at first but mostly alert after half an hour. Signed some papers, took her home and rested for a bit, then got some ice cream at the pharmacy where we went to get her throat-numbing suckers!

     Here are the pictures I sent to Dave throughout the process - I know it was hard for him not to be there, but as you can see, she really did quite well.

    The two days after were pretty easy, and then her throat started to hurt and for the next seven days or so we were dosing with tylenol or ibuprofin every three hours. Night and day. She hated to be woken up at night like that (I didn't love it either) but if she went more than 3.5 hours, she woke up herself too sore to swallow and we had to work up to it with ice and the suckers. As long as she was medicated though, she did alright - didn't really even have to modify her diet. But it was not fun and I am glad that part is over.

    Now we get by on the occasional dose of tylenol and we are go to speech therapy once a week. One session and a week of homework and she is already pronouncing some sounds better! I'm so glad we got this in now instead of after baby comes and school starts, etc. People don't know this but you can actually get speech therapy if your kid qualifies through the school district as early as 3 years old. It's not widely known, so spread the word. I assume the earlier you get them in the better. Same goes for tonsillectomy - I've heard this procedure is way worse as an adult.

    Wednesday, March 2, 2016

    Happy Birthday Dear Daviiiiiid...

    Happy Birthday to youuuu!

    Another year and you just keep getting more and more handsome. Know what I have to show for this year? Stretchmarks. But this is not about me! We are so blessed to have you in our lives and I'm so glad I could spend these years with you. Not the actual day, alas, but in my heart, I'm with you (seems to be the way I do birthdays lately...).

    Let me speak for everyone and just say we are all lucky to have you. First, your family. I didn't know I was winning the lottery when we got married - I knew you were awesome and I was head over heels so no problem there. But since then, you've grown on me even more. You are kind and devoted and the best man to have in a bind - no one has such a can-do, patient outlook on problems like you do. You can still make my heart race and you are still my best friend. I appreciate you so much. Riley and Joe adore you - you make fatherhood look easy and more fun than anything, presumably because for you it is. All your other family loves spending time with you and are strengthened by your example and love. Friends - you are no extrovert but somehow attract the most wonderful friends and quality people. Birds of a feather. Strangers. How many strangers have you served over the years? I'd guess the numbers are way up there - it is one of the first things I noticed about you, how generous you are with your time and resources to people, whether you know their story or not.

    God bless Dave.

    We love you, adorable man.
    Never change. Or do, if you want. I'm not the boss of you.