3 in 3

Claire's almost 4. Besides her going off to 4K (sniff, sniff), I will have stop saying my "I have three kids three & under" tagline, or will I?





At church this week a grandmotherly woman told me she had "6 kids in 6 years". Touche, old lady you have doubled me. I was thinking, I could start saying I had three kids in three years. Nice ring to it. I am not sure what this will get me, a medal, or say, a job when Piper's off to school? Probably not.

It got me thinking that mommy bragging seems to have no expiration date. I can't decide if it's really annoying (more likely), or if these bragging rights are justified. When I was in labor with Piper the woman admitting me told me she had some 4, 5, 6 children all natural births without meds. I didn't have much to respond because I wasn't really in the chatty mood and was about to have my third child sans epidural on her chair. (She was darn fast, though.) But after the fact I wondered if her colleagues in admission get sick of her telling every laboring woman that. I liked the you can do it attitude, but are her co-workers like, "your kids are 40, shut up!"

So in the spirit of bragging, I found a different yogurt recipe, and I rocked it. My kids love it more than Stonyfield (probably because they get to add honey...) Well, the recipe is from my friend Amy who pretty much has my family plus twins. So, maybe my fear with bragging should also be, there always some woman with more kids doing more!

Unless the girls turn out to be doctors like they say, then I will brag. But, I might be getting ahead of myself since Claire might be a farmer, life guard or a doctor.

Boo-hoo Cry Pants

Apparently, my body has not got the memo that I am not pregnant. Seems odd it wouldn't remember pushing out a 9 lb 3 ounce baby about 3 months ago....

But, my body insists on storing fat, especially in the front, and I have been crying over some dumb things (you know, occasions where only overly-emotional or pregnant women would tear up). At church on Sunday I was tearing up during confirmation. You know, the long church service where most non-hormonal people would be checking their watches annoyed at the extended service. I didn't know the name of a single kid up there, but I was wiping tears out of my eyes. Look them, all grown up, getting confirmed.

Yesterday, Claire started summer school. Open the floodgates.

At naptime, Macy was taking off her sandals to get into her bed. I was holding Piper above her. Piper puked on her hair and arm. I thought it was hilarious. I bust into Claire's room to tell Bob about it. He said it was not funny but rather gross. Apparently, I am a stark raving mad lunatic because I am laughing like a hyena. Bob is looking at me like I am certifiable for interrupting his story for that nugget.

Seriously, this can not be the new me. This emotional crap should wear off after 3 months, though, right?

Dashed hopes

Today I got excited that my post-pregnancy belly had quickly diminished over the few days since I had worn my maternity jeans because they were so baggy in the front. Turns out, I just had my pants on backwards...

You're not that bad, Dr. D-Bag

This pregnancy I had really wanted to use a midwife. I had selected one (of the two practices in our area), and we even had an appointment with her. But, our insurance wouldn't cover a birth outside a hospital. We just couldn't justify paying entirely out of pocket for the birth versus nothing for a hospital birth. I like the family practice doctor who delivered the older girls, but she wasn't delivering anymore. She has been my doctor since I was a kid. A nurse at the hospital even lamented they missed having her deliver. The nurse said, "everyone likes her. She's kinda midwifey." I know! That's why I liked her! So, I ended up going with another family practice doctor in her practice since he said he likes to interfere as little as possible and just catch babies. And in the end, that's just what he did. But, I think I held it against him the entire time that he wasn't at all midwifey. I didn't like his shiny ties. I laughed when my husband would inquire about his curly locks and how well coiffed they were when I came back from appointments. I complained about his penchants for shaking my hand at the beginning AND the end of my appointments. I was mortified when he told me what "most women want". I even nicknamed him Dr. Douchebag because he seemed so stereotypical young doctor. I bet he golfs. I think I was a little hard on the old (frat) boy... By those weekly appointments he remembered I was his patient who had no interest in being induced. He did operate with that trust in your body midwifey mantra. He didn't have some number of contractions per number of time rule for me, he said, "you've done this before, when you know it's real, go then." When Piper threw us the curve ball of pooping up the amniotic sac, he knew that would mix up the delayed cord cutting and immediately handing her to me. He prepped me for it & made his case for letting the peds guy check her out, and he still gave her to me for a minute before Bob went with her to be examined by the pediatrician. He didn't do anything he said he wouldn't. He didn't interfere, he just caught a baby. And, he really did haul it to the hospital. He complained I made an old guy run. I think he & I are the same age. He even helped me carry stuff when I bumped into him in the waiting room to see my family doctor. He is a nice guy! I guess, I really shouldn't call him a D-bag. Upon realizing this, I told my husband our insurance guy is probably more of a douchebag than the doctor. Bob said, "yeah, who cares? I just need him to sell me insurance!" He is right. I daresay, despite the handshaking and talking in thirdperson, I would even recommend my doctor for someone looking for a doctor. He's no midwife, but he's no douchebag either...

My garbage man is infallible, the stork not so much

There are a handful of things that should have me worked up this week. For example:

• The state governor's "budget repair" bill besides sucking is not great news for teacher-is-the sole-breadwinner-in-our-family situation.
• Said teacher already has his layoff notice for technical education.
• Said teacher's special education seniority and license is pretty sure, but there is not contract in his hot little hands until May.
• Said special education teacher's student has scabies. Ewwwwwww. I am already pregnant and itchy, and I had to deal with a couple days worth of paranoid itchiness, too.
• The baby like to take long naps in the morning where you feel no baby movement for 3 hour spells. I went to the hospital for a non-stress test earlier this week. My discharge papers said to contact them if I didn't feel 10 movements an hour. Ha! I'd be there every morning.
• There is some jackass running for City Council in Appleton who is a part of some Preserving White Heritage and White Vision group. What a gem!

However, most of these things haven't really phased me. I have been able to say to myself, "we're having a baby, all is good." Maybe they are all out of my control, and there is no one person (besides Scott Walker) to blame. BUT. SOMEONE. HAS. MY. WRATH. I hope my garbage man likes mommy blogs and stumbles upon this. He is a jack ass.

We only have monthly recycling pick-up. With the composting and the cloth diapers, we really have very little garbage. My garbage is usually less than half full. However, my recycling container is packed to the gills. I don't know why we have so much recycling - Bob's 2L of Diet coke, whiskey bottles and milk gallons? But, we often have too much for the container. A couple months ago I found out the correct process for additional recycling. I had the requisite container and went to the City garage to pick up the requisite stickers. The first month, they picked it up. The second month, I didn't have a need for overflow. This month, I put it out half full, and they didn't pick it up. So, I called them to make sure I didn't make some mistake or this wasn't some new cost savings plan. I feel like my work experience in local government probably made me more eager to follow their rules than most residents.

I assured the woman on the phone the bucket was less than half full. No, it wasn't plum full of papers. It wasn't too heavy. It was mixed. Yes, it has the stickers - on both sides! My husband put it out before he went to work, probably around 6 AM. She places me on hold to call the driver with my address. When she gets back on the phone she tells me that the driver doesn't believe me that my bin was out there.

Yes, it's a scam. I have so much to gain by this scam. I am 39 1/2 weeks pregnant, and I find this to be a good use of my time, pulling one over on the man.

What kind of crap customer service from both of them?! I can't believe she didn't cover for the driver. Maybe it's the pregnancy hormones, but I was irate. It doesn't cost them anything to have good customer service. They could have even been sly and said, "Oh, something must have been missed." I would have even held onto it for a month, but by then I was just mad. Sure, yeah, you better make another run and get it.

I have been composing letters in my head to the Director of Public Works. "I didn't realize that these fine public servants are perfect. Give them a raise! They never make mistakes?!?"

Next pick-up date should I stand outside with my "shame" posters?

Even typing it, I feel a bit ridiculous.

So, yeah, don't be jealous, my followers, but the dude who picks up my garbage is in-fucking-fallible.

But, you know who you can't trust? My doctor. He told me he was pretty sure I would have this baby before my next appointment. Well, appointment is 4:15 on Monday and I don't see any baby. Just sayin'.

I should have had babies a decade ago...

My mom seems to have all these expectations of me doing things with the girls. Maybe she just thinks I am fairly active at getting them out of the house (basically trying to tire them out or have other people entertain them) and is trying to be supportive, but I feel like she has some super mom expectations at times.

Earlier this week she called while the girls were napping to tell Claire it was perfect snowman making weather. All sorts of excuses came to my mind... I am 38 1/2 weeks pregnant, it's so annoying putting on snowpants, mittens, hats, boots, and coats on kids (and on a 38 1/2 week pregnant woman!), it's a weekday, etc.

BUT, I did it. I bundled up Claire, and we made a snowman. The snow was heavy, but the ball making was pretty easy. I had to get the neighbor over to help me lift the midsection up. The first thing he said to me was, "You're as big as a house." Wow, and he has a doctorate in psychology...

I decided either time has dulled my mom's memory OR having kids in your early 20's, like my mom did, is a heck of a lot easier than in your earlier 30s.

Hey, cow!

We're in the home stretch

I never understood the hubbub about stretch marks. I thought it was more of a physical testimony to how much weight you lost. Like bulking up before you are a candidate on Biggest Loser so you can boast how much weight you shed and win the weigh-in. It seems better than the alternative of being as big as you once were! Granted, I already have bowed out of the midriff-bearing at about age 18. So, it wasn't like anyone would get to see any stretch marks anyway. Even when my husband informed me I had stretch marks under my belly that I couldn't see the first pregnancy it didn't really phase me. I was more surprised, you sneaky marks, I couldn't even see you there under my big belly.

But seriously, does each daughter need to make her own mark? Couldn't they just go in the stretched out section that Claire already carved out for them? I think this baby is starting to make stretch marks above the belly button. This is odd since she is so low compared to her sisters. Now I am like, wow, this is disgusting. No wonder all those skinny bitches complained about them, they are gross!

Guess I will have to take down the full-length mirror above our bed, ha!