This afternoon after we finished lunch, the kids were playing with Play-Doh on the kitchen floor while I was making a batch of banana bread. As is typical for our days (at least when we're spending most of the day at home), we generally eat lunch, then the kids play for about an hour until Quiet Time (Natalie) / Nap Time (Ethan). I knew naptime was closing in for Ethan when he started breaking down about the play-doh getting in little pieces all over the floor. (Unlike Natalie, who at 2 never did need a nap and still went to bed pretty late, yet hardly ever got the typical kid-crankies; Ethan on the other hand is pretty tight-scheduled.) So while I finished getting the play-doh cleaned up, Natalie and Ethan went about their routine of picking out three books to read. (We read five at bedtime. At naptime, it's three books: one longer "Natalie" book, and two shorter board books. See, life really has gotten different with the addition of Kid #2. I never would have thought my life would be so regulated when it was just free-wheelin' Natalie and me...) They brought their three books over to me and we sat down to read, then right to respective bedrooms. I take Ethan to his room and put him in bed, covering him up with the green blankie (and always making sure the satiny edge is against his chin). Natalie has to go to her room and shut the door, and play quietly. At least for about 10 or 15 minutes, until Ethan is asleep. (Then she comes out and either plays or reads quietly downstairs, or I put in a video for her. That's where we are now.) Anyway, so the routine was going as usual. Suddenly Ethan started a screaming fit, refusing to lay down. He kept saying over and over, "DAT! DAT! DAAAAAAAA!!!! DAAAAAAA! DAT!" And so on and so on. I had no idea what he was saying. Was he calling for Daddy? That's not normal because Daddy never puts him down for a nap except for on the weekends, and even then I usually have to do it since he's used to me. What compounded my inability to know what he was saying was the fact that it was screamed along with great floods of tears and anguish. Several times I just tried to lay him back down and sit with him, but nothing would calm him. At one point I asked him, "Stop crying, Ethan, and tell me what you want. I don't understand you!" He just kept screaming "DAT!" and pointing out the door. What? That? Down? What??? Finally I gave up and told him I'd get him out of bed so he could show me what he wanted, but then he had to go right back to bed. Great thinking -- it took long enough for me to think of the obvious! I put him on the floor and he went out to the landing of the basement stairs, and pointed down there and said once again, "Dat!" Then it just hit me, DUH. Ethan's cat. His froggy is number one on his list, but the little orange and yellow striped cat is right up there too. And it's getting more and more frequent that he needs both to go to sleep. I carried him downstairs, all almost-30 pounds of him (yeah, I know, I shouldn't be hauling around 30 pounds these days), picked up his cat from where he had been playing with it this morning, and brought him back up to bed. As I laid him down he cried once for "boggy" and I showed him it was right next to him. He took cat ("dat") in one hand and froggy ("boggy") in the other, and he fell right asleep. As if he hadn't spent the last 15 minutes in anguish and tears at all. 

Of course this little beanie bag stuffed cat is also, like the frog, not your standard-issue Ty Beanie Baby. Of course not. It's some garage sale beanie toy knock-off, that we'd never be able to find a duplicate for if we had to. Why couldn't this kid be more like me (like he is in just about every other way, it seems) and attach himself to one of the nice Grammy-homemade blankets that line his bed? This may just be a passing phase, but while Natalie has had several favorite toys, none have ever really been like this. I just have visions of my cousin Stevi stuck in my head. She's a few years out of college and still has her stuffed "lambie".  It's quite worn, quite well-loved, and has been through at least a couple reconstructive surgeries. I think it also might have only one eye. 

July 18, 2006
We're halfway there already! Well, according to due dates. In my reality, where I tend to a quick gestation, we're a few weeks past that. I've been feeling a little better the past week or so. Braxton-Hicks's are getting more bothersome and painful, but not any more frequent. I haven't had the weekly headache, and I feel SOME amount of energy returning. Of course, then I try to do too much with that burst of energy and end up wiping myself out. On Monday I stormed through the house, first cleaning all three bathrooms, then doing dishes, then dusting and vacuuming the entire downstairs (which included organizing the kids' playroom and my mess of an office area), then dusting and vacuuming the entire upstairs, then finishing up the last of the week's laundry (actually getting it done in less than 24 hours instead of letting it languish all week!). The only thing I didn't get to that I wanted to do is mop the floors. I felt like such the domestic queen...until about 30 minutes later when I noticed how the only thing that still remained that showed for my day of labor were a few remaining freshly vacuumed lines in the carpet. Dishes began piling up again, dollops of too much hand soap and toothpaste encrusted the freshly-cleaned sink, more laundry got thrown on the floors and downstairs, and of course toys and papers and crayons were scattered throughout the house. Almost makes you think - just WHAT is the point? But then I think how gross everything got when I wasn't even able to do seemingly futile cleaning during April and May. So my house at least isn't gross. Frustratingly messy, but not dirty. (So remember that if you come to visit and see chaos everywhere.)

I really was surprised I had that much energy on Monday, since I had a wedding this weekend. And this one took top prize for, at least so far, the most substantial wedding weekend mishap. Every wedding has SOMETHING that happens, but hopefully I won't ever have another wedding top this one in something this traumatic. Fortunately this one had nothing to do with my planning (or lack thereof). After the rehearsal dinner, everyone went home very confident that we had everything set for the next day. Lots of nerves were calmed (as is one of my biggest goals when running rehearsals) and everyone was just excited to get to the next day. I went home and crashed pretty hard, as I had been on my feet half the day (for decor, set-up, and then the rehearsal) -- something I hadn't yet experienced in this pregnancy. I was woken on Saturday morning with a phone call from the mother of the bride. Apparently late that night, the bride went with her maid of honor over to her fiancé's apartment, to pick up a few last-minute items of clothing (since she had moved all her stuff over there last week). As they were walking out of their car, a guy pulled a gun on her (the bride), put it to her chest, and demanded both of the girls to give them their purses. They of course gave him what they had and then he told them to run away. They ran and hid in some bushes, until they suspected that he was gone. Amazingly he didn't get her engagement ring (that was Phil's first question when I told him what happened), but he did make off with all of their money, ID's, and the bride's birth control. Apparently she handled it all very well, but she didn't get to bed until about 2:30 in the morning because of filing police reports, canceling credit cards, and so forth. So on the morning of her wedding, instead of going through the planned preparations for the day, she was getting a new ID so that she could go on her honeymoon, and getting everything else she needed. When I saw her, she was amazingly calm about the whole thing. I've known many other brides who wouldn't have begun to have handled such a thing on the night before their wedding. It just put a whole different feel on the wedding day. Instead of focusing on minor details, there was just a general sense of relief and thankfulness to God just for us all being there.

In other news, Natalie had her second speech therapy session this afternoon. She's already doing so remarkably well with it. She's a smart cookie and a fast learner. Over the last couple weeks (when we didn't have what will now be our weekly session, because of vacation and the Fourth holiday) Natalie had been working hard on her "homework" sheets, which we put on the fridge. They were all "f" words, and she has now just about mastered the sound. (At least at the beginning of words - when the "f" sound is in the middle of a word, she's still tripped up.) But she's not substituting a "b" or a "p" sound for "f" anymore. When she went through her list of words today with her therapist, she got every word correct. Bonnie (her therapist) told me after the session that she had planned on working a lot more with the same words today, but she didn't need to. So now we're still working on the "f" sound, but we're adding another word before it (like "my fish" instead of just saying "fish"), and starting with the "f" sound in the middle of words. She also started Natalie on the "K" sound - as in, "cup", and the "sp" sound, as in "spin". I think Natalie is going to make quick progress with this. She's so eager to learn, and she LOVES to practice her words. When we got home tonight she made sure to put her new homework sheets on the fridge. 

Yesterday afternoon Ethan had his first missing-favorite item meltdown. It was getting close to naptime and we couldn't find his frog anywhere. I tried substituting one of the other two green frogs that he has in his room. No way. He wanted HIS "boggy". The green and black one, that we were given out of a free box at a garage sale. (So, it's unfortunately not one that I can just go out buy a duplicate of.) We searched for it in his room, on his bed, in my room, on my bed, under crumpled covers, in every other room upstairs, as well as downstairs. No froggy. I even called up Phil (who I knew was probably - and he was - in the middle of the church staff meeting) because the situation was so desperate. I thought, if it hadn't been seen since the night before, there was a chance it was out in the van. I asked him if Ethan had had his froggy at bedtime the night before. He had, and Phil was also sure he had seen it in our bed that morning before he left. So I looked closer around our bed, and there was Ethan's frog, on the floor behind our bed, right in the middle of the bed where it's hardest to reach down to the floor. But being a good mommy (and one that didn't want to hear anymore wails of "BOG!! BOG! BOOGGGYYY!!!"), I plopped myself over the head of the bed, belly-side down and all, and reached down all the way through the headboard rails and retrieved the beloved toy. I was able to reach it just with the tips of my fingers. (Yes our bed is pretty high up off the floor.) Natalie told Ethan that mommy was a hero. The tears stopped instantly and he was ready to go read books for naptime. Crisis averted, at least this time. And to think I tried for three years for Natalie to adopt a comfort object, to no avail. Ethan picked this one out all on his own. I'm trying to keep the frog from ever leaving the house, because if it's lost, I don't think I'll be able to find another one like it.

Both of my kids have started, without prompting, calling my baby belly by a certain name. And both kids - even Ethan - say it with such clarity it's like they've been saying the name all their lives. I'm not going to mention it yet because we in no way have decided on it being the baby's name at all - it was just one of the many ideas that have come through our conversations. But for whatever reason, it's stuck in both of their minds. Natalie named Ethan - so now doesn't this sound familiar? I would have thought that Phil and I get some say in this decision too...

July 11, 2006
Natalie was right all along! Several months ago when I was talking with my doctor about scheduling surgery, Natalie was telling me that God was going to give her a baby sister. I told her that I didn't think we were going to have any more babies. Then when we unexpectedly became expectant, Natalie said she was going to have a baby sister. I tried to gently remind her that we didn't know if God was going to give us a girl baby or a boy baby. She was insistent.  Remember not too long ago, she told me that we didn't need a baby brother, because "we already have Ethan". Well, she was right - a little girl is on her way!

I really feel like I would have been just has happy either way, but last night I had a dream where I was at the ultrasound and it was a boy -- and I felt disappointed! In the dream I went downstairs and got out all my old girl clothes to give away to my sister, and it made me really sad not to be able to use the girl clothes anymore. When I woke up I felt a little upset at my subconscious, because I just adore my little boy beyond words and I felt bad for feeling, in my dream, disappointed that it was another boy. But I guess on some level, I really did want another girl. It's been hard these past few months, when people ask me "what I'm hoping for", because how can you say you're hoping for one or the other, when, first of all, it's already decided and if you're wrong you will be offending the future child of the other gender, and second, when you already have one of each and you adore them both so much? I am completely happy that Natalie is a girl and not a boy - and I'm also glad that I have my little guy Ethan. So how can I come right out and say that I wanted a girl OR a boy? Since having sisters is all I know, I'm very glad that Natalie is going to have her sister. I also remember always being a little jealous, growing up, of my friends who had big brothers. So yes, I'm very happy that we're having a girl. Though I know nothing about the bond of brothers, either. Not that it matters - unless God intervenes somehow, this is our last kid!

I'll have the ultrasound photos posted tomorrow, hopefully. We got a whole bunch. They used a brand new machine today that, while not a 3D picture, was VERY clear for a 2D. First we saw her heartbeat, which looks perfect, and her head, which is nice and round. (She's measuring right at 19 weeks, so apparently my due date is correct! I've now had two ultrasounds AND the AFP test, and everything points to a correct EDD.) We got a couple pictures of her face, and her profile, and at one point she was sucking her thumb. Then we looked at her belly, arms, legs, and feet. Everything looks completely perfect. When we looked at her bottom, Dr. Kelley pointed out the three parallel lines, and asked if we remembered what that meant - "it's a girl!" I said. (And yes, we are very sure - the ultrasound was very clear and she wasn't hiding anything!) I told Natalie, "you got your special order - we're having a baby sister!" (Now if she will just remember this when she is 12 and her baby sister is 7 and annoying her like crazy.)

I also found out that the placenta is high up and toward the front - pretty much the same place it was for Ethan. Which again reinforces my theory of why you carry babies differently-- having nothing to do with the sex. So far my bump looks almost exactly the same as when I was pregnant with Ethan. Unlike Natalie, where I was all spread out around, looking big from every angle instead of a basketball tummy. Natalie's placenta was off to one side. 

He also checked the size of my cervix, to make sure it was holding up good. I've been a little worried, with my history and with the Braxton-Hicks contractions I started having three weeks ago, that there was a problem with my cervix. So far, everything looks good. When I come back in four weeks, they are going to do another ultrasound to check for any change, and they'll do my first (of what is likely to be more than one) of the fetal fibronectin test. At this point I'm not at all concerned about it coming back positive, but with both Natalie and Ethan it was positive (I can't remember exactly how far along I was with them, but I'm thinking it was about 30 weeks.)

The baby measured in at 11 ounces today, and her heart beat was about 160 bpm. Everything looked really good.  It all feels a little more real to me now. (Not that three months of nausea didn't feel real, either, but this is in a good way!) And no, we don't have any ideas for names yet. At least we can focus our search a little more! And speaking of searches, I can now look at baby clothes at garage sales! Yes we do have boxes of girl clothes already, but she needs some of her own things, too. And besides, a majority of the newborn to 6 month old outfits we have from Natalie -at least the ones we liked enough for her to wear more than a couple times - have brown spit-up stains all over the front! The poor kid - she had it really rough her first few months! 

July 7, 2006
We had Ethan's latest, hopefully LAST, pulmonary clinic visit this week. He's now been officially discharged-- he doesn't have to come back unless he has any reoccurrences. We're still supposed to keep the medications on hand, just in case, but it's been about a year since we've had to use any of it. That was really good news! The doctor told me that what Ethan had was likely Reactive Airway Disease, which babies often grow out of when they get bigger and their airways get bigger. And he's definitely bigger, these days! He weighed in at 29.5 pounds, and just an inch under three feet. I know I haven't been good at keeping track of this for him like I was for Natalie, but he's now wearing 2T to 3T clothes, depending on the clothes. Just like Natalie he's got a long torso and shorter legs (very unlike me!) so he can still wear some smaller pants, but he's almost entirely in 3T for the tops. I can't believe he's going to be two in just over a month. And he's acting very two lately. I really don't mean that in a bad way - I think two is a much more pleasant age than three (at least it was with Natalie). He's just so cute these days. He's very opinionated about what he wants, and he tries to say everything. When people ask me what words he's saying, I can't think of anything in particular, because there's very little he doesn't at least attempt to say. Wherever he goes these days, he doesn't walk anymore - he wants to run! And he's also really beginning to stand up for himself, so much so that I often feel more like a referee and not a mom. The two of them are continuously fighting over the same games, toys, books, my lap, who will feed the fish first, and on and on it goes.  

Ethan is really good at sharing, though. (He just sometimes needs a reminder about it first.) If I ask him to share with his sister, or if that fails, threat to either "play nicely and share or I'll take the (whatever) away and neither of you will have it" he usually responds pretty quickly by giving it to Natalie. Boy, I sound so much like my mom! Back when I was a kid I never thought I'd so often resort to putting fought-over items out of kid reach. My favorite place so far is on top of the fridge. Many things end up there. Natalie doesn't reciprocate the sharing so easily, especially when we're in the car. She knows when I can't reach back and take things away from her. (Especially with my increasingly limited range of motion.) Phil and I actually resorted to "pulling the car over" the other day to put an end to Natalie's whine session. Yesterday she even responded to Phil with "that's not FAIR". I haven't heard anyone say that around her, but it seems to be one of those phrases that kids learn instinctively.

Even though the whininess and kid fighting have reached new levels lately, overall I know I have really good kids. And all it takes is hanging around a big group of other kids for awhile for me to get some perspective. I took the kids to a play area the other day, and Natalie was helping Ethan up the big steps, helping him down the slide, and making sure he was always right with her. When some other kids came around and started playing roughly, both my kids played nicely with them and didn't act crazy and wild, or pushing other kids out of their way, like it seems most kids do. They may fight with each other seemingly all the time (and Ethan is big enough now to hold his own - he just plows right into his sister) but they also play and help each other a lot too.

Right now they are both watching a new Wiggles video together, dancing and singing along to all the songs. It's really cute. We got tickets for The Wiggles, which are coming to town two days after Ethan's birthday. I've been wanting to go for a couple years, but we couldn't afford it. This year I sold some old clothes and made just enough for the tickets! I really wanted to go this year, because I have a feeling that by next summer Natalie won't be as into the Wiggles as she still is now. I'm sure she'll still be watching it, especially with two little siblings, but I think this is probably the peak of when she'll actually really be excited about going to see them.

I got sick again this weekend, and I'm beginning to think that these second-trimester nausea and vomiting bouts are related more to what I'm eating. I felt fine all day Saturday, and just suddenly got sick again right before bed. Just like the last time I ended up throwing up a few weeks ago, I realized that I had again eaten a lot of junk all day. In particular, movie theater popcorn. We took the kids to see Cars in the afternoon. (Which was really good, by the way!)  We all shared a big bucket of popcorn, but it was sitting primarily in my lap, so I'm sure I ate more than I should have. Plus we had donuts for breakfast (and I really doubt they use good oil to fry those) and Taco Bell for lunch. GREAT nutrition that day! Maybe since I've gotten so many hydrogenated oils (otherwise known as "ossi-naked oils") out of my diet, that when I go overboard on them, my body just rebelled. It's hard to not crave popcorn, though. I just have to start making it myself more often. It would be hard to sneak homemade popcorn into movie theaters when it's summer time, though! We've always like going to drive-ins with the kids for that reason in particular, but our last experience at it was really bad. The kids used to just fall asleep on the way there or during the movie, but these days they are in a pretty good bedtime routine, and since the first movie doesn't start until around 9:30, it's just a disaster waiting to happen.

I think I've finally started feeling lots of baby movement again. I felt the baby move a lot a few weeks ago, the early flutters, but then lately, pretty much nothing. Last night I was sitting on the couch with Phil, and I had my arm over my tummy. Maybe I was squashing the baby too much, because I got a big kick right on my arm. It shocked me since I hadn't been feeling anything for awhile. Then all day today there's been a lot of squirming and dancing going on. Maybe the baby is just dancing to the Wiggles too.

This coming Tuesday is Ultrasound Day!