I can take a hint

I'm the first to admit that I don't exactly dress to impress around the house. In fact, since I became a stay at home mom, "getting dressed" has taken on a whole new meaning. Perhaps it can be excused when the boys and I are hanging around the house, but there are occasions I expose the general public to my dowdy appearance!

Pre-kids, if someone had predicted that one day I would leave my house wearing what I slept in the night before, have no makeup on, and would often realize while out that I hadn't brushed my hair (or sometimes, my teeth), I'd have scoffed and deemed it a gross exaggeration. When really, it's just gross.

But honestly? I kind of stopped caring how I look a long time ago. And something else I realized just yesterday? I feel like having kids justifies my appearance. Yesterday morning, I made a quick run to Target. No shower, no makeup, stretch pants and a t-shirt with a certain baby boy's milky saliva marks along my left shoulder. Since almost none of my outings are made alone, I feel like if people notice my disheveled, could-not-care-less-about-my-outfit state, when they see the boys in tow, they'll think, "Oh, she's a busy mom! She didn't have the time to make herself look nice." But when I'm by myself? Yikes. In Target yesterday, I was feeling so self-conscious without my little "wardrobe excuses" with me. I realize that it's completely ridiculous because there are plenty of moms who manage to care for their kids and make time for themselves. Or at least make time for a shower & clean clothes.
I know it's my fault. It's because of my lack of caring, and the fact that I care way more about how the boys are dressed. And somewhere along the line (maybe when I was pregnant with Jacob), it became way more fun to buy clothes for little boys!

These days, 5 weeks post-baby, too big for my regular clothes, and too small for maternity clothes, you can bet I'm not making any fashion statements. This weekend, I finally decided I needed to invest in at least one pair of shorts that fit. Not even for the sake of vanity- but mainly because I'm just tired of sweating outside in one of the 2 pairs of stretch pants that fit me. So during the aforementioned trip to Target, I broke down and bought a pair of shorts. Not maternity shorts. But regular shorts that are 3 sizes bigger than what I usually wear. I even splurged and bought a top to match.

And now to the point of this rambling post...I never thought my clothes were something the boys noticed. But I suppose sometimes I forget how old Jacob is- and how observant.
After getting dressed in my new outfit, Jacob looked at me and said,

"Mommy, I like your outfit. I didn't even recognize you because you look nice and have style."

At the time, I laughed. And I still find it funny today, but I'm also thinking that maybe I should take a hint. Certainly my appearance should not be (and isn't) at the top of my list of priorities, but perhaps it should at least be on the list. Even if it's down at the bottom. I don't want the boys to wonder why their friends' mothers "have style" while their mommy is still sporting Daddy's old Hard Rock Cafe t-shirt.
I'll give myself a pass until I can finish losing baby weight and fit into my normal clothes because after all, I can't afford a wardrobe shopping spree. It will be my New Year's resolution...just 5 months late.

It's inevitable that I'll embarrass the boys one day (and probably many times) with something I do or say, but I'd rather not embarrass them with my appearance. And anyway, I'm sure I'll think of other more fun ways to embarrass my kids.

Say What?

From the mind and mouth of a soon to be 5-year old...


Jacob: "Mommy? Why did God make alligators? I really don't want them on this planet because they bite."

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The other day, I noticed Jacob was taking quite a long time in the bathroom. The toilet had already been flushed, and I heard no water running to indicate one of his marathon hand washing sessions.

Me: "Jacob, what are you doing in there?"

Jacob: "I'm practicin' my smiles in the mirror."

Me: (pause to let this response sink in. And of course I had to walk in the bathroom to witness this.) "Why??"

Jacob: "To see which one is my favorite."

He smiles at himself, then turns to me and says,

"I think this one's the cutest." And grins.

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Jacob: "I love you, Mommy."

Me: "I love you too, bud."

Jacob: "And Jesus loves me?"

Me: "Yes, He does."

Jacob: "When is he gonna come see us?"

Me: "Hmm, I don't know."

Jacob: "Well, does He have our phone number?"

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This evening, Jacob approached me with a Magna-Doodle, holding the pen on the board, poised to write. I had unknowingly entered his restaurant.

Jacob: "And what would you like?"

Me: "Mmm, I think I would like there to be no more whining from little boys ever again."

And without a moment of hesitation, he responds,

"Nope, sorry. We only serve food here."

Will I Am

Why, hello there. I am Will. William Jeffrey.


I'm new here and thought it was about time to make an introduction. Hmm, what should I tell you about myself?


I have strawberry blonde hair that looks even redder in the right lighting. See it? And see my impressive muscle control?

My mommy and daddy love the color and hope it stays that way. However, I've been assured that if it all falls out and grows in as a different color, they'll love me just as much. And I'm holding them to that.

I have dark blue eyes. We'll have to wait and see what shade of blue they end up staying. I can hardly stand the suspense!

I am cute.

I'm a pretty decent sleeper. Right now, I spend most of my nights in a bassinet right next to Mommy's side of the bed. A few times, I've even slept almost 5 hours straight! Not too shabby for a one month old, right? But sometimes, I just need my Mommy and like for her to hold me against her chest while I sleep at night. And sometimes I need her so much that I wake up to visit with her every couple of hours.

I turned exactly one month old on May 23rd. I overheard my biggest brother ask Mommy why I wasn't having a birthday party. No party for me just yet, but I did get to visit the pediatrician and hear about how perfect I look.
Like my brothers, I am tall. I'm in the 95th percentile for height!
When I was born at 8 lbs, 5 oz., my weight was in the 75th percentile. And I'm still in the 75th percentile, weighing a healthy 10 lbs, 9 oz. at a month old. Just like my brothers when they were babies, I sure do love my Mommy's milk!

My, I have gained weight, haven't I? Look at my chunk! I must say that I look adorable!


I despise baths. I'm told that one of these days, I'll absolutely love them, but right now I have a hard time imagining that.
For the first minute or so, I'm able to exercise some self-control and calm.

But then I really let my emotions run wild. I can tell Mommy is hurrying to finish bathing me, but I figure I should continue to scream and cry until I turn maroon just in case I'm not expressing my dislike clearly enough. I'm a firm believer in communicating my feelings.


This is me, post-bath. Real tears and everything.


I'm also not a fan of diaper changes, although I give myself credit for improving in this area. Sometimes I don't even cry at all when Mommy's changing me!

I love hanging out in just a diaper. I fit in perfectly with my underwear model brothers. They hardly ever wear clothes!


I've really begun paying attention to people when they talk to me. I love to gaze at their faces, and more often now, I'm rewarding them with my smiles. I can tell Mommy just melts when I do that. Note to future self: try smiling at Mommy when I want to get my way. Another note to future self: the bottom lip I mastered my first day out of Mommy's belly may also help get me out of trouble.


In my first month at home, I've learned it's LOUD in this house. And sometimes Mommy has to be extra patient and persistent while she waits for me to fall (and stay) asleep in a house with two older brothers & a barking dog.


Speaking of my older brothers, I am fascinated by them and I can tell they're crazy about me.
I love when they play with me,


and when they give me kisses, be it for comfort


or just for no reason at all.


I love when they hold me, talk to me, and sing to me.



And this is me talking back to them.


I have the best big brothers. In this house, boys rule!


I love my family and they love me. It's good to be Baby Will.

Spanglish

After they pee on the potty, brush their teeth, and get pj's on (which, for Jacob, and lately Alex too, means stripping down to underwear only), they each choose one book for Jeff to read to them before bed (and before it's time to ask for sips of water and give goodnight hugs).
One night, Jacob selected Guess How Much I Love You (one of our favorites), following up with the random request of, "Daddy, read it in Spanish!"

That was a new one.

And both Jacob & Alex began giggling (even though I'm fairly certain Alex had no idea what Spanish meant), as if they already knew just how bad this would be.

Up for the challenge (and the humor), Jeff gave it a go.

We were then treated to a brilliant reading of the book in what some might call Spanglish. Or a really bad impression of Antonio Banderas. Or what I would call 5% actual Spanish, 5% incorrect Spanish, and 90% English spoken in a Spanish accent (that sometimes sounded suspiciously more Italian, complete with exaggerated hand gestures).
But you can't fault Jeff. He took German in high school- I took Spanish. (Well, you can fault him for the bad accent. I mean, it was bad. Sometimes there even seemed to be a hint of Chinese thrown in there.) He gave it his best shot, though, and the boys LOVED it. Both were laughing hysterically- especially Jacob. And I loved laughing at Señor Jeff, in between the moments I had to correct his translations.

"No, Jeff, Little Nutbrown Hare is not 'Polka Nutbrown Hare'...I think you mean, 'poco'."

Or

"Big Nutbrown Hare is not 'Mucho Nutbrown Hare'. Think Starbucks- it's 'Grande Nutbrown Hare'."

We worked as a team to get through the book, and inadvertently added another part to the bedtime routine. Every time the characters in the book said, "I love you", Jeff would replace it with "Té amo" (thanks to me for the translation). And at the end of the sweet book, "Poco" Nutbrown Hare tells his daddy, "Grande" Nutbrown Hare, "I love you all the way to the moon." In Spanglish, this translates to, "Té amo all the way to the luna."

Since then, as the boys are saying their goodnights to us, the "I love you's" have changed. Now, Jeff and I stand at their bedroom door, with each of us saying "Té amo" to each other like bilingual impostors.

And Alex, who could not be more in love with his little brother, constantly approaching him to bestow a kiss or gentle head rub, now has a favorite verbal expression of his devotion when it comes to Will. Multiple times a day now, he'll tell us:

"I love Baby Will so much on the luna."

Yea, he's saying "on" (instead of "to") the moon. But we know what he means, thanks to our stellar Spanish vocabulary.

And he pronounces luna, "nuna", making his declaration even more adorable and endearing.

It goes without saying that we think our chico es muy, muy sweet.

Interviews with an almost 5-year old

It's interesting to hear things about yourself from the perspective of your child. Thanks to Jacob's preschool class, both Jeff & I were able to learn a little bit about how Jacob perceives us.

Jacob's preschool class held a "Donuts with Dad" one morning. Jacob was so excited for this day to arrive- and not only because of the donuts (because, like his mommy, deep fried dough brushed with a fattening, sugary glaze is one of his true loves), but also for the opportunity to spend time with Jeff. Any day that doesn't involve Jeff going to work evokes cheers from the boys. On this particular day, they ate 1 glazed donut (who only eats 1 donut??), and proceeded to do a craft together (complete with Jeff's craft archenemy: glitter). Jeff was also given a paper filled with answers to questions the teachers asked Jacob about his dad.

Earlier this month, I was invited to the Mother's Day lunch Jacob's class was hosting. His class sang songs for us, we ate lunch, got to do a craft (no glitter for me- we beaded a cool keychain instead), and received a sweet card and little gift. It was wonderful to see Jacob's face light up when I walked into his classroom. He had the biggest grin on his face and being the sappy and emotional (and currently very hormonal) person that I am, I immediately teared up.
I also received the written answers Jacob gave to his teachers about me. Same questions as Jeff's, but different answers. Let's take a look.

1) My Dad's name is: JEFF. He is 18 years old.
My Mom's name is: LAUREN. She is 45 years old. (45. Awesome. Why am I 45 and Jeff is only 18? Jacob must perceive me as the mature one. That's probably it.)

2) My dad has: blue eyes, black hair, wears black pants, and he is tall.
My mom has: long brown hair, blue eyes, blue pants, and a rainbow shirt. (I'm really unsure what outfit he is referring to, but it sounds nicer than most of my daily attire.)

3) My dad's favorite color is: green.
My mom's favorite color is: blue. (Hey, he got it right!)

4) My dad likes to eat: apples. (Interesting choice...I'm not sure in the 16 years I've known Jeff that I've ever seen him eat one.)
My mom likes to eat: a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. (I sure do! And I just so happened to pack that in my lunch that day!)

5) My dad's favorite thing to do is: play cars with me and Alex.
My mom's favorite thing to do is: clean up toys. (If by "favorite thing to do", you mean, "does it all the time", then yes.)

6) My dad is so strong, he can: exercise and do push ups.
My mom is so smart, she can: do magic tricks. (I don't like to brag, but yes, I'm pretty great at finding quarters in kids' ears.)

7) If I could give my dad anything, I would give him: a beard because he likes it.

(We realized later that Jacob meant a "beer", but he pronounces it with a "d" on the end. Probably a good thing not to tell his teachers at a church preschool that he'd buy his daddy alcohol since he LOVES it so much.)

If I could give my mom anything, I would give her: a cup. (Really? I mean, sure, I'd take a cup and I'd love it since Jacob gave it to me. Maybe I could pour some beard in it.)

We were also given illustrations of ourselves.

My hair and outfit are rockin' in this picture. I love it!


After seeing his drawing of Daddy, I told Jacob, "What a good picture! You did a great job!"
His response was, "Thanks. But his face kinda looks like a frog."


Frog face?


OK, maybe a little. But still adorable.

Because he's so sweet, told us he loves us, gave us big hugs, and was thrilled we visited him at school, I think we can forgive Jacob for thinking his 45-year old mother married a frog.

Bad Hair Day

Sometimes plain ol' blonde hair can be boring. And you have to mix it up a little bit.



Sometimes you see your big brother do something that looks way too fun to pass up.


And sometimes your mommy plops a way too big wig on top of your beautiful strawberry blonde hair, just for laughs. And for a photo op.

Welcoming Will

Lauren, if you're going to have a blog, then WRITE in it, for crying out loud.

This enters my mind at least once a day. Seriously. But in my own defense (I'm defending myself from...myself?), I have been slightly occupied being pregnant, experiencing physical pain, discomfort, and exhaustion (and I'm not even referring to labor & childbirth yet), and enduring a nesting phase that even caused my neat freak husband to ask me repeatedly, "Why are you cleaning that? It'll just get messy again."

And after I crossed those things off my to do list, I went to the Dr., was informed that Will was measuring quite large (8 lbs, 6 oz during a 37 week ultrasound), and they recommended I be induced at 39 weeks. As you can imagine, the next 2 weeks were a frenzy of activity in our house as we busied ourselves preparing for Baby Will's arrival. And at 39 weeks, the night before my scheduled induction, I skipped into the hospital, donned my gorgeous hospital gown, started Cervadil to "ripen" my cervix (raise your hand if you want to hear more about my cervix!), starved until 10:30 p.m. when I was allowed to eat dinner, and then waited for the fun to begin.
And fun it was! Even before the Pitocin (the good stuff that brings about steady & more intense contractions) began first thing in the morning, I was having fairly regular (but not yet painful) contractions. Things were starting to get a little more uncomfortable before they broke my water, and then, the fun I thought I was having before became even more...FUN. The cervical checks hurt since my Cervix of Steel was in a posterior position (meaning, back behind Will's head, so the Dr. had quite a reach, if you know what I mean). The breaking of my water hurt. And all of the contractions after that really hurt.

I think it was sometime in the early afternoon that I asked for an epidural. I couldn't take the excruciatingly painful contractions that were happening about every 2 minutes any longer. And ahh, what sweet relief that epidural was (not including the scary episodes of my blood pressure dropping, but thankfully, they got that resolved pretty quickly). I could finally smile and carry on conversations with visitors again!

I made comments to several family members and nursing staff about what an awesome epidural I'd gotten. I even stroked the ego of the anesthesiologist, telling him, "That was the best epi I've ever had." I'm pretty sure he blushed. And for a while, it really was great (note the emphasis on "was"...foreshadowing, anyone?). I couldn't feel my contractions, but was still able to move my feet and legs. That meant I garnered cheers from my nurse since I was successful at peeing in a bed pan (twice! And who doesn't love to do that?! But hey, it was better than a catheter!), and have some mobility in bed instead of feeling completely numb.

Sweet, naive, unsuspecting Lauren.

It was a perfect epidural for a while, but when it came time to push, the epidural was only working on my stomach. And no longer working AT ALL down there.

When I began pushing while pregnant with Jacob, I couldn't feel a thing.

Numbness = Fantastic! And only 30 minutes of pushing.

With Alex, my epidural was only working on half of my stomach.

Partial numbness = Not too shabby! And only 10 minutes of pushing.

And this time with Will?

No numbness = A dramatic childbirth scene from a movie, complete with the star screaming, "Owwww!!! Help me! Get him out!" and yelling my very first curse word during any of my labors & childbirths (I chose the "S" word, an exclamation I apologized to the Dr. and nurse for later.).

And naturally, my hardest childbirth without a working epidural would include a baby who was "sunny side up", meaning his head was facing up, instead of to the back. This can (and did) make it more difficult to push a baby out of the birth canal.

No numbness = Dramatic scene + upside down baby + 45 minutes of pushing.

But oh, when he was finally out...I didn't care about any of the pain I'd experienced and I just cried happy tears when they handed him to me. My precious and adorable new son is named William Jeffrey. He was born at 4:13 p.m. on April 23, 2010. And I couldn't be more in love with my third little boy. He was (and is) just perfect.


Oh, and the little butterball they had me convinced I'd give birth to? Pssh. He was a mere 8 lbs, 5 oz. and 21 inches long. (And thank goodness I didn't have to push anything larger out of an area that was quite the opposite of numb.)

His big brothers are thrilled that he's finally out of Mommy's belly (and so am I).


On our way home from the hospital...


After we arrived home from the hospital, the boys were very eager to hold their new little brother. The immediate love & fascination goes both ways. Will stops whatever he's doing to pay attention when Jacob & Alex are talking. He listens intently to everything they're doing. Clearly, he's already taking notes to help him keep up with his 2 older brothers later.



"So you're the Mommy, huh?"


"And I have two older brothers? Hmm...it should be interesting to see what kind of fun and chaos we'll bring you, Mommy."


"Don't worry, Mommy. I've heard that having 3 kids aged 5 and under is a breeze. Ha- sorry, even I couldn't keep a straight face during that one."


These last 3 weeks since Will's arrival have been quite an adjustment period. Things should be interesting around this house, that's for sure!