False Alarm

After two nights of no sleep because of sporadic contractions and unbearable pressure, I packed my bag and we headed to the hospital this morning.  And three hours later, we pulled back in our driveway. My contractions are still too sporadic and I had not dilated any further and my doctor didn't want to push things since we are on schedule for an induction on Wednesday.  I moaned, I begged, I pleaded, but he still said no.  My loving husband didn't help either.  He spoke up and said that he sure doesn't like it when one of his cows "goes early" and he thinks cows and babies are pretty much the same, so we should just wait.  So as I lay in a flimsy little hospital gown on a very uncomfortable table, feeling like an elephant is napping on my bladder, and beginning to sweat, my husband and favorite doctor begin an in depth conversation about cattle.  I should note here that I threatened Jody's life a few days ago and told him in the sweetest way I knew how that if he dared to compare me to one of his pregnant cows again, I would likely hurt him.  Hurt him really, really bad.  I have been told that I appear to be "bagging up"  and "springing" more times than I care to remember, all while being reminded that cattle give birth outdoors in the freezing cold with no help and no medication.  So imagine my joy when I had to endure listening to a very, very long conversation between my husband and my doctor about birthing cattle.  They discussed how the calf comes out (Jody demonstrated this), how they nurse, what to do in the event of twins and just how much cows cost these days.  And I laid there, with my hand draped across my sweaty forehead wondering if I had entered the twilight zone.  At some point I spoke up and said something about breaking my own water which apparently startled my doctor because he quickly told me I could damage one of the babies eyes if I tried that.  The poor man thought I was serious.  I assured him I was only kidding and then rolled over to get more comfortable as I continued to listen to my husband teach my doctor about birthing calves.  After a short discussion on birthing pigs and the value of veterinarians, I was unhooked from the monitors and sent home.  Jody grinned on the ride home as he said, "See, I told you.  I know what I'm talking about.  Calves and babies are the same.  You just don't push things."  I bit my tongue.  Nearly in two.

So I continue to wait, knowing that Wednesday will be here soon. Rebecca came over tonight to rub pressure points on my foot that are supposed to make you go into labor.  And sweet little Landry has rubbed nearly an entire bottle of lotion on my belly, while saying, "Okay Will, pop out.  Pop out!"   Oh, if it were only that easy.

Around Here

What's been going on around here....

Sam continues to be obsessed with animals and informs me regularly that he desperately needs a yak, lynx, okapi, bobcat and water buffalo to complete his animal collection.  And for his birthday he really, really wants a black bear standing up, looking through a garbage can, just like he saw on a bear special on Animal Planet.  Needless to say, I haven't had much luck finding that request.  Jack has begun calling me "Do Do God." Terrible, I know.  I have no clue what it means, where it comes from, or why he chooses to say it all the time.  The past couple of days he has added a twist and I am now "Apple Do Do God."  My goodness. Landry stayed with us the other morning while Allyson was at Bible study.  She is a sweetie but I found myself breaking up more than my share of fights between her and Jack.  She takes zero junk off him and he loves to aggravate her.  She belts out a deafening scream and they lock up.  I think Jack should take a look at the chick's calf muscles and reconsider making her mad.  I'm not into reality television, but the Bachelor has me extremely stressed out.  I've never really watched this show before and I can't peel myself away from the television on Monday nights.  If he chooses Vienna, I'll probably go into labor.  I am pimping the mini van with great pride.  My boys and Ally's kids act like they are getting on Space Mountain when I pop the doors open.  Forget Disney World, we spin the seats around, roll the windows down and ride to Target.  Sam was showing me how he "exercises" yesterday and I told him he should try a push-up.  I explained to him how to do it and he tried his best.  After almost doing it, he proudly yelled, "Hey, Mama!  Did you see it?  Did you see it?  I did a popsicle!"  The bunk beds are being slept in every night.  Sam and Jody man the bottom bunk every night and Jack still sleeps on top of my head in the king size bed.  And I'm not the least bit bitter that I gave Allyson my beautiful, fluffy, soft, Pottery Barn duvet and ordered a quilt for our bed because Jody had begged for one for over a year and he has yet to pull the flat, itchy thing over his sleeping body.  Enough on that.  I am scheduled to be induced on the third.  I went for my final doctor's visit today and I am dilated two centimeters.  And I think everyone should have the experience of taking two boys, age three and two, to your final appointment.  You know, where you have to undress from the waist down and be examined.  With those two boys sitting in the chair for thirty minutes while you sit on the table, half covered by a thin sheet of paper as your youngest continually yells in his deepest voice, "Mama took her pants off.  Mama took her pants off!"  And every woman should then have that same youngest boy crawl up in her lap, using the stirrups for leverage, and rip your thin sheet in half so that you are now naked from the waist down and uncovered.  And every woman should then have to send her oldest son into the small dressing room to retrieve his humiliated Mama a new sheet.  To pass the time in the examining room, we talked about Sam's birthday party...the theme, what he wanted to eat and who we should invite.  The doctor came in before we finished the guest list.  So after my exam, as we walked through the very crowded nurses area to the check out, I resumed the conversation, asking Sam if there was anyone else he wanted to invite to his party.  He quickly and very, very loudly yelled, "Yeah, Mama.  How about Michael Jackson?"  I felt all eyes in the room piercing the back of my head and the receptionist nicely said, "Well, okay then."  Yes he did.  Wow.  Michael Jackson.  Really, Sam?  Life around here.  Boy do I love it.

Corny

Okay, I have been called out on my "corniness." Allyson told me my last post title "Gettin' Piggy With It" was by far the corniest title ever. I should defend myself a little by saying that I ran the title by Jody, who swiftly rolled his eyes and told me to go with it, saying that people would chalk my bad humor up to my hormones. I, as sad as it is, thought it was clever and it made me chuckle. Maybe it is my hormones, or my lack of sleep, or it could be my lack of adult conversation during the day. I mean, really, if all you heard all day was Moose A. Moose, you might find yourself lacking an adult sense of humor too. But I'm not changing the title, I still chuckle when I read it. Yes I do.

Gettin' Piggy With It

One of Jody's pigs had babies last week. Eleven of them. But, unfortunately, she hasn't been a good mama. She has actually killed seven of her babies by rolling over on them or stepping on them. Sam has been especially concerned as to why a Mama would be mean to her babies. I tried my best to explain to him that, sadly, there are some mothers out there who just aren't good Mommies. Thankfully, she seems to have taken to her last four babies and appears to be caring for them. And if she doesn't love them enough, I know someone who does. My boys. They adore these cute little piggies. Jody got them out on Saturday and let the boys play with them while they were down at the barn. Jack fell in love with a black and pink one, one with a distinct black dot on his back. It is "his baby pig" and he had the snubs when we had to take the baby back to his Mama. Yesterday Jody brought a couple to the house for the boys and their cousins to play with. Landry was thrilled since pigs are her very favorite animal and Cade and Cannon enjoyed holding them too. Sam just loves cuddling them in his lap and even knows how to carry them around the proper way, by the back legs. I cringe every time I see him toting one around that way, but it is the only way to carry them where they don't squirm and squeal. Both boys would really love to bring them in the house and bottle feed them, but I've reminded them that we have a new baby coming in just a few days that we'll all need to take care of. If they love their brother half as much as they do those baby pigs, everything will be okay.

Sunshine

You are my sunshine...

my only sunshine.

You make me happy...

when skies are grey.

You'll never know dear...

how much I love you.

Please don't take...

my sunshine away.

Big Babies

I got out the car seat, swing and bouncy seats for Will.  I cleaned them up and placed them by the door so I could sit them in the office until he arrives.  I walked in after baths and found my two big boys testing the bouncy seats out.  I'm pretty sure Sam bent the frame with his fifty pound body.  And yes, Jack  is using the seat to get comfy and check out his favorite body part.  Lovely.

Sweet Dreams

Jody was sleeping with Sam on the bottom bunk the other night. In the middle of the night, Sam woke up and said, "Dada, I'm all done dreaming about Yellowstone Park. What should I dream about now?" To which Jody made up a dream about Africa and leopards for my sweet boy to go back to sleep and dream about. Pure sweetness...even in the middle of the night.

Not Good

While sitting at my computer, Sam sprinted past me.  "What's wrong, Buddy?"  "Nothing, Mama.  I've gotta stinky."  Two minutes later...

"Mama!  I'm done!"

And before I can say, "Okay, I'm coming to wipe you," I hear Jack, in his deepest Daddy voice say, "Okay, Sam. It's okay.  I'll wipe you.  Okay."

Cue my screaming, "No, no, no, Jack!  Stop!  No, I'll wipe him."  I round the corner and see I'm too late.  There is my oldest, completely nude and bent over with his bottom stuck high up in the air.  And there stands Jack, who is now naked too, doing his best heini cleaning routine.  And he was thoroughly enjoying himself.  And so was Sam.  Not good.  

Seven Steps

How to Brush Your Teeth...by Jack Standley:

1.  Squeeze nearly half the contents of the toothpaste container onto your legs.

2.  Dip your toothbrush into the pile of paste on your leg.

3.  Brush, brush brush.

4.  Reload your tooth brush by dipping into the paste that is caked on your other leg.

5.  Brush, brush brush.

6.  Wash your hand thoroughly.  Attempt to wash the pile of paste off your legs.  

7.  Yell for your Mama to come dry your legs and remove you from the sink.

Feel the Love

Some of us understood that Valentine's Day is about being happy, sweet and loving...

Some of us didn't...

My little Valentines...one happy, one grumpy..both the loves of my life.

One Month

My due date is officially one month away. One month. Wow. I am still scared to death and have yet to overcome the shock of being pregnant, even after eight months. I cannot wrap my brain around how crazy things will surely be and I pray I can handle it. It doesn't help when everyone, and I mean everyone, reminds me, "Oh, you think you're busy now. You have no idea." Or, "You better rest now." Or, "Life as you know it is over." If people only knew that their light-hearted comments and warnings have kept me awake at night and caused me an immense amount of worry. But I'm trying to stay positive and hopeful that I can do this. Yes, I can mother three boys just as well as I mother the two I currently adore.

Nearly everything is done. The nursery is ready. Will's clothes have been washed. Sam and Jack's bunk beds are up and I get better each day at making them. I seriously wanted to send them back when I saw just how hard it was to make one. It is torture for someone with slight OCD tendencies, someone who refuses to "just pull the covers up and don't worry about it." I'm working on mastering the bed bunk making and am sure it will be much easier when I'm not afraid my stomach may pop if I bump the ladder.

I still need to pack my bag and get the car seat and baby swing out. The final things on my to do list. Oh, and I am the proud new owner of a mini van. Yes, a mini van. I swore I would never, ever, ever drive one. I've heard people compare making the switch from SUV to minivan to that of a dog being neutered. But I gave in to my pride and embraced the convenience of it. The dual dvd players and swiveling seats had me salivating and you throw in the pop up table and remote start and I was begging Jody to go buy one. Sam was happiest about the back up camera and didn't hesitate to say to me, "That's good, Mama. Now you won't run over anymore of our tractors or riding toys." On a side note, I must mention that we have a very big paved driveway. And a very long paved path. And lots of yard. Plenty of place to peddle yourself silly without risking bumping into anything. Jack has always driven like a mad man but has never hit one of our vehicles. Never. Yet, today, the first day the boys have been outside playing since we got the new van, he managed to plow into it not once, but twice, with his red tractor. I have a lovely red mark down the side of my new Mama Mobile. I guess he's getting me back. It was always his riding toys that I plowed over. Lesson learned Jack. Now watch where you're going mister.

Six

You are...smart, quiet, kind, a great big brother, soft spoken, creative, sensitive, handsome, gentle, focused, protective, imaginative, determined, an admired cousin, athletic, inquisitive.

You can...read, write, spell, draw, remember everything, run fast, recite facts, master anything you try.

You will... always be the first little boy who stole my heart.

You are...six and I love you so.

Future Aspirations

My boys are obsessed with body parts.  Boy body parts.  And while they occasionally talk about their own parts (and sometimes insist on showing them off), they really love analyzing and discussing animal parts.  Especially Sam.  Jack likes pointing out the male parts of the animals too, although he isn't quite as knowledgeable as Sam.  I'm still trying to make Jack realize that the parts hanging down on his toy milk cows are udders, not balls.  Sam is very concerned with the toy makers of the world and why they can't seem to get the animal parts right.  For those of you who don't have a huge assortment of plastic animals around your house, I'll explain.  Some of our animals are anatomically correct. In other words, if it is a male animal it has all the necessary male parts. However, many of our animals are not anatomically correct.  And it presents a huge problem around here.  It worries the life out of Sam.  It consumes him.  He spends hours working with his animals, creating elaborate displays of Africa, Alaska and Yellowstone Park.  And he spends much of that time stressing over his animals that "aren't made right."  I knew raising boys would include dealing with a lot talk about body parts and bodily functions.  I didn't, however, imagine so much of my time would be spent analyzing and discussing the body parts of small, plastic animals.  I have heard this hundreds of times...

"Mama, you see this lion?"

"Yes, Sam."

"Well, you see he has all this hair around his head?"

"Yes, Sam."

"Well, that's his mane and that means he's a boy.  But look, Mama, look (as he turns the lion upside down and shoves it in front of my eyes).  He don't have no nuts.  The man who made this lion messed up, Mama."

"Uh, huh.  I see that Sam.  That man really did mess up, honey."

"Mama, you see these gorillas?"

"Yes."

"Well, this one is smaller than that one and that means she's a girl gorilla.  And this one is the biggest and that means he's a boy gorilla."

"Yes, son."

"But Mama, look.  This taller one, you know the one that is the boy, he don't have any balls."

"I'm sorry about that, son."

"Why doesn't those men who made these gorillas do it the right way?"

"I don't know, honey."

"Hey, Mama.  Just look at this."

"You see these elephants.  Look at how big this elephant is.  He's a whole lot taller than this elephant.  Look at how long his tusks are.  He's a boy elephant, Mama."

"Really?"

"Yes, but those men messed up again.  They forgot to give him balls."

"Oh, man, Sam.  That's too bad."

After hundreds of these conversations, I told Sam that maybe when he grows up he could make toys and he could be sure all the boy animals have the right parts.  The idea of that thrilled him.  Forget being a vet or a zoologist or a cowboy, Sam Standley is going to be a toy maker.  Now our conversations sound like this...

"Mama, look at this bull.  You see how big he is and how long his horns are?"

"Yes."

"Well, look Mama, look.  He don't have no nuts and he is a boy."

"Hmmm, what are we going to do about that Sam?"

"Well, when I grow up and make toys, I'm going to be sure to put the balls on all the bulls I make."

"Excellent, son.  You are going to be the best toy maker ever."

"I know, Mama.  "'Cause I know who needs nuts and who doesn't and I won't forget to put them on."

"Exactly, Sam, exactly."

So there you have it.  My boy's aspirations for his future.  He wants to be a ground breaking, innovative toy maker.  One who puts all the correct parts on all the male animals.  I am so proud.

The Price of Beauty

Those eyes.  Oh, how I love them.  I marvel over them.  I stare at them.  I admire the length  of those lashes.  I gaze at them when his eyes are shut, as he dreams of animals and adventures.  

They are just beautiful.  Just plain beautiful.  And we discovered today that those long, beautiful lashes can be a curse too.  And they can create a whole lot of drama.  Especially for a little boy who doesn't care one tiny bit about having such amazing lashes.  He's a boy, for heaven's sake.

Today Sam began having a minor breakdown and saying his eye hurt.  Within minutes we were up to our elbows in screaming, tears and flailing body parts.  We thought he had dirt or a lash in his eye that was bothering him.  We held him down, trying desperately to find the foreign object in his eye.  Nothing.  So off he went, still rubbing his eye and whining.  I told Jody there was something in there and we had to get it out.  

A flashlight, a warm washcloth and one screaming three year later, we saw the problem. A small group of his upper lashes had curled inward instead of out and were resting on his eye.  The washcloth didn't work so Jody had the idea to use a q-tip (probably from experience because Jody's lashes give him problems too) to gently wipe the lashes away. More screaming and flailing limbs and finally Jody swiped the lashes out of his eye and redirected them outward.  Sam was immediately grateful and giggling.

He asked me, "Mama, why did my eyelashes do that?  Why did they hurt me?"  "Because, honey, your lashes are so long and a couple were accidentally poking in  your eye.  That's the price you pay for having those eyes, buddy."  He walked away unamused.

Elephants

Because pizza just isn't as good if you don't surround your plate with a few friends...

And bath time isn't complete without those same friends lined up to watch you splash around...

Is there any doubt what Jack's favorite animal is?

Clown

Sam went back to the dentist today to have his small cavity filled. He did an amazing job, no tears, lots of laughter and he followed directions so well. He was unbelievably brave and I fully expected a few breakdowns, but they never came. He was thrilled to receive a clown nose before he climbed into the chair and even insisted on bringing one home for Jack. My little clown, he made me proud today.

February

February is here.  The love month.  And speaking of love, I sure love and adore this little boy.  Every sweet inch of him.

His free spirit.  His animated facial expressions.  The way he talks with his eyebrows.  The way he really enjoys every second of farm life.  The way he gives him self new names.  Like "Jack Santa Claus" and "Jack Dora Ball."  The way he feels so wonderful and warm after his bath.  The way he wakes up smiling every single morning.

The way he yells at the top of his lungs when he thinks Jody is going to turn Dora off.  The way he says hippopotamus.  The way he dresses himself.  His big brown eyes.  His tender heart.  His laugh.  His amazing ability to always make me smile.

My beautiful little boy.  Oh, how I love him.  Every thing about him.  From the top of his head, to his bright red shoes.  I adore him.