Sick week...

The day following our lovely apple adventures, Anni started dripping snot and then, just to keep us on our toes, spiked a fever.  Luckily, the fever passed quickly, but she and I spent the rest of the weeking fighting colds.  Her, with her ever-present cough that drops by to say hello anytime her nose drips, and me, well, let's just say colds and pregnancy don't mix and I got to welcome my dear friend nausea back with more frequency than I would hope.

We made the best of the week; though.  We read books, watched far too much Dinosaur Train, drew on steamy bathroom mirrors and tried our darndest to get well enough for a sweet friend's birthday party.

Saturday morning we dropped Daddy off at the airport.  We're daddy-less for four days and I am disproportionately sad and missing him.  (Seriously, to my family and friends who are missing their hubbies almost more often than not, you are tough. and amazing!)  

However; we did make it to that birthday party!  We double checked with our favorite health professional (you know who you are) on the contagion factor, wrapped up our present and headed out for happy festivities.  I, of course, ended up sneezing every 30 seconds (maybe I'm allergic to adorable decorations... or sunshine?), which made me just feel a little silly (and sorry for anyone around me... even though I was pretty sure I wasn't contagious, I tried to touch people as little as possible)!    

 

We were pretty happy to have an adorable one-year-old (and amazing food, and friends) to take our mind off Daddy being gone... it was a good way to start off the next week! 

  Here's hoping for a less-sick, equally fun week ahead!  (20 week ultrasound on Thursday!!)

Fall joy: Apple pickin'

I love fall, and just about everything about it.  I love that it's nice and cool, that things are crisp, that the rush of the summer is over and the delectable smell of baking apple and pumpkin-ey goods, soup, and bread.  This year I'm determined to live this sweet little season to it's fullest.  I'm not always good at getting my homebody self out of the house, especially when pregnant, so it takes a concerted effort to make sure we take advantage of the fall loveliness before it's too late.

Luckily, when wonderful friends and crisp apples beckon... it's pretty easy to say, "Yes, please!"

We managed to squeeze in on the very last day of apple picking (it didn't even cross my radar until last weekend that it was a possibility!) at a little organic farm hemmed in by mountains and tended by Farmer Ralph.  Farmer Ralph made the experience worth it, no matter what.

Oh, and then there were these sweethearts.  Anni took the apples pretty seriously and Miss Lucy thought that the whole process was pretty hilarious.  I would bet their favorite parts were wagon riding and chowing down.

Because there were so few good apples left, the daddies had to work pretty hard to fill up our little wagon.  Luckily, they were up for the job and managed to net us a pretty good amount (the girls certainly thought they were tasty)! 

We mamas sorted apples and played with our sweet apple-lovin' girls.  (See, even Lil' Bit is there!  After being told by random people all weekend that I don't 'look' pregnant', I suppose I'll just have to make do with looking chubby and trying to point out that there really is a baby in there!  In fact... we're nearly half way there!)

I loved that farm was organic: when the girls just wanted to bite right into their goodies, we didn't have to worry all that much about it.  We made sure to count cores when we payed for our treats at the end.

It was good, really good, to do something just for fun, family and friends.  After an insanely busy weekend and a long day of wedding shooting that left me pretty worn out, apple picking was just perfect.

We're already planning our corn maze outing and I'm planning chili, soup and pumpkin bread into our upcoming menu.

Oh, fall, we love you.

 

 

Oh, just a Monday

Weekends are good around here... especially the slow ones where we don't really have to do much.  This weekend I worked, and Daniel and Anni went on library and swimming adventures.  We went to a sweet baby boy's baptism and ate cake and chatted with other families.   

The hard thing is, after a nice, slow, weekend filled with lot's of Daddy... comes Monday.  Today was one of those Mondays.  Anni slept in, which usually heralds a bright, chirpy morning filled with happiness and maybe some baking, because mommy will feel bright and chirpy, too.

Well, nope.  Not this time.  I went in to announce the day, open the curtains and offer yogurt (with the special treat of a few chocolate chips in it!) to the sweetheart.  She looked at me and immediately asked for daddy.  I explained Daddy had had to go to work already, but that he'd be home that night.  We repeated that line of questioning a few times.  We headed out to get the yogurt, at least marginally cheerful, it seemed.  Let's just cut straight to the point: the next several hours were filled with sobbing two-year old screaming, "No, mommy!", especially if I offered her something she usually enjoys.  Occasionally, she threw in a "Need Daddy!"  for good measure. 

She did show her sweet side again as I bent over the toilet to, erm, empty the morning's attempt at nutrition.  "You sick mommy?  It okay.  Here a towel," she patted my back and hugged me, proving that her case of the Mondays hadn't banished every bit of my loving girl.  The truth is, by about two we had had fits, sickness and bone-crushing tiredness that led me to let her watch waaaay more Dinosaur Train than is probably advisable to for a little two-year old. 

I eventually found the energy to be remotely ashamed of my filthy house and the fact that we had done nothing and we attempted to redeem our afternoon with laundry, vacuuming and taking "Baby" on a long walk to and from each room and favorite locations.  Oh, plus Daddy ordered pizza, and I'm not ashamed to admit it was awful for us and quite yummy.  Tomorrow will be better, I'm sure of it... right?

[PS I actually believe it will be.]

Taking notice...

Hi, world.  Hi.

I've been trying to take notice of things lately.  You know, the little things that are going to change before I take note of them if I'm not careful?  Those.  There are a lot of them, and each time I notice a new one, I store it away in my little treasure chest with the rest of those little jewels. 

Like the way Anni begins (and sometimes ends) her stories with, "And sometimes..."

 and that she likes to request the "Cack, cack, cack song," (Five little ducks by Raffi) followed immediately by "Ducks like Rain".

...that we have to ration her stickers because she is ob. sessed.  Today, she covered my belly with them while I rested on the bed, doing my best not to vomit everywhere, telling me "for Yi' Bit, mommy!"

...that "Yi Bit yives in mommy's tummy.  I a big sister!  I a wonderful big sister!"

...that pinecones come from the "pinecone forest", but some of them are a little "pokey."

...that both her reflection and shadow are "Gaga", a dearly beloved friend that should not be left behind if at all possible.

...that she will set up her tea set and invite me by saying, "Mommy want cakes?"

...that flowers make her dance in happy circles

...that Daddy coming home is always, always, a running, happy dance, smothering Daddy in kisses occasion.  Okay, except for that once when she thought it was the people who had been fixing the roof all day.  That was a screeching, "I SCARED!" occasion.  Luckily, it was just Daddy.

Oh, and that nose wrinkle.  I love it.  I love her, and the fact that every single one of these little moments just expands my heart a little more.  And when she swings her skinny little arm over my neck to give me a sideways hug?  Well, then my heart just melts into a big ole puddle. 

What are your favorite little moments?

Potty training and pregnancy

I've had this blog open for the last two days just trying to get the energy and moment to write it.  I feel like I haven't taken a breath since the summer started.  Luckily, I know there's a light at the end of the tunnel, I just have to finish digging the tunnel.

A few weeks ago, Anni told me she wanted to wear panties now.  So... we began the potty training journey.

Let's just say, five days later, we ended the potty training journey.  She was willing, but her body was not (really, how do you explain how to "let go" to a 2 year old, no matter how relaxed she is?).  Anyway, it was an adventure, with only one mildly successful day.  The day after we called a time-out, it was obvious we had made the right decision.  Her body was happier, she was happier.  Apparently, we are not a "potty train in one day" family.

I'm okay with that.

I mean, we play guitars with daddies and papas and dip broccoli in yogurt.

Things can't be all that bad, right?

 Some days (okay, most days), we're lucky if we both get dressed... and if we get out of the house?  Well, my dears, that's pretty exciting. 

This pregnancy really has been very different.  I've been my fair share of sick - Anni refers to it as "coughing" and rubs my back while I, erm, hang out over the toilet.  She also likes to ask me questions like, "Can I have a cookie, Mommy?" while I get sick, though my favorite was definitely the song she made up to the tune of "Are you sleeping, Brother John?"  going something like this, "Mommy's coughing, here's the door, here's the door!"  However; it has been nothing like my pregnancy with Anni.  Then, I was sick multiple times a day and the only reason I got out of bed was to be sick.  I was miserable and, having just moved a few months prior when we got married, knew no one in the area.  The truth is, though we knew we wanted to add to our little family, pregnancy terrified me.

Now, I'm lucky enough to have a doctor who remembers my name (and tries his darnedest to remember Anni's) and is truly committed to both myself and our Lil' Bit as his patients.  (Actually, the wonderful thing is, not only is he my OB, my Creighton trained, NFP lovin', Catholic and proud of it doctor, but he also does family practice and so also our awesome family doc.)  Within days of me finding out we were expecting our second little one, he sat down with me and discussed the progesterone protocol for women who have had premature deliveries.  Dude.  My last doctor didn't even attempt to find out why Anni came early.  She was, I'm sure, a generally competent doctor, and I honestly did like her, but having a doctor who really truly listens after asking the "How are you?" question, makes a big difference (especially when that leads to anti-nausea meds that make getting *anything* done possible).  The funny thing is, I spend a heckuva lot of time at our doctor's office.  Because we decided to move forward with the progesterone protocol (my dear, sweet husband has mastered the art of preparing and administering those little beauties), I not only have the once-a-month prenatal visits, but blood tests every other week and phone calls to tell me what those results mean moving forward.  Seriously?  I don't mind - knowing that we're doing our best to help this baby arrive full-term and keeping both of us healthy in the meantime is an amazing feeling.  I can do this... the pregnancy thing, of course, not the potty-training apparently (though I can sing and sign any one of the songs off of "It's Potty Time" like a pro).

PS If I didn't mention that my husband has been amazing and supportive throughout my inability to finish basic tasks like, oh, dinner, laundry, our newsletter... let this be that mention.  Husband, I love you.  You are amazing!