Toddler Taxis, Third Trimester and other thoughts

*linking up here

1.  Sometimes I think that I need a large sticker on my back window that says "Toddler on Board." This might explain certain changes in acceleration, tiny swerves, etc. I'm not sure if it's just my kid, but Lillian enters full on Tiny Tyrant mode every single time she is in the car for the entirety of the ride. We recently turned her around just because it is so much easier, and likely safer, for me to fulfill her endless needs
The demands are constant: more snacks, milk, water, pouch, shoes, nakey.
 The complaints are plentiful: "Tight! Bright (usually accompanied with a request for my "gasses" or a hat)! Hot! Cold!
The requests are unending: music (often a particular track on the ONE CD SHE WILL LISTEN TO IN THE CAR), book, toy, etc. Today she was mimicking what we do when we blow out a candle, so before she hyperventilated, I was able to ascertain that she wanted the library book we got that has a candle on one page.
She has great taste in music at home--translation: she will happily listen to whatever we want--but in the car it is one CD and one CD only. Occasionally I will attempt to sneak in a different CD or (gasp) the radio, but she screams bloody murder and I chicken out. Suffice it to say, we never just pop into the car for a joy ride or a relaxing little road trip. The only purpose of a car ride is to get somewhere fun, and it's worth it. But phew. I think the worst job in the world would be a toddler taxi driver.

2. Well, we have made it to Trimester #3. Today I am 28 weeks and 1 day. Baby Boy is over 2 pounds and 14 inches long, aka he is constantly kicking my ribs, punching my bladder and sometimes attempting to burst through my bellybutton. I love it! And the belly has definitely grown to prove it. I am being approached by newborn photographers in the grocery store; being told by a neighborhood 9 year-old how big my belly is; and have outgrown the majority of my regular shirts.
Preparations have shifted from dreamily discussing names and buying tiny striped outfits (can't get enough of the stripey baby boy clothes) to "what in the world are we going to name this kid" and "should we buy a double stroller now" and "what kind of video monitor should we get." In other words, it's getting real. And we are excited! Lillian daily gives my  belly knuckles and high fives, plus the occasional hug and kiss. Obviously she has no clue what is about to happen to her (bless her little heart) but it's fun to see her try and comprehend what we are telling her.

3. Speaking of baby, some wonderful friends from community group are throwing a triple "sprinkle" on Sunday for us and two other couples that we are doing life with (aka got married the same year, had baby girls the same summer, etc.)  The "Baby Que" will basically be a giant pool party and cookout with some of our favorite people and we are really looking forward to it.
I am pumped about the hostess gifts, one of which is not a surprise and therefore bloggable. We bought each hostess a print from this cute shop.They came in the mail today (THANK GOODNESS) and I think they turned out great.

4. I have been on a historical kick recently and have been reading lots of biographies and biographical novels (all links from Amazon). Some people tell me they don't have time to read, but I maintain that you have time for what you truly want to do. And if I don't read regularly, I go crazy.

5. And, just because she is cute:

Two of L's wonderful grandparents recently gifted us with a wagon and after working out a few kinks (aka they had to send us another axle b/c the first one was too small so the wagon lived in the family room as a "boat" for several weeks), we are tearing up the neighborhood.

And this is how we roll

This girl is 100% mess. And I (mostly) love it! Note: hair is standing up because of various foods that have been "shampooed" in.

Just so I don't forget

Last night at dinner, in the middle of the meal, Lillian stopped eating, reached out a hand to each of us and said "PWAY PWAY."
T said, "okay, kiddo, what do you want to pray for?"
L thought for a second and then shouted: "BABYYYYY! BABYYYY!" and poked in the vague direction of my belly (not hard to do these days since I am large and in charge).



Now, I know she doesn't have any idea what prayer is or what the reality of the baby growing is going to do to her little world, but GOOD GRIEF it was adorable.

I'm going to savor this moment so that in a few months, when she wants to give the baby back or throw him out the window, I have this memory to call upon.

A couple of Thursday things

I have officially written more blog posts this year than any year since I started. HUZZAH!

And here are a couple of pictures from strawberry picking last weekend. L continued to excel at eating strawberries and playing in the dirt. And, being the genius parents we are, we took her to the fields in a white dress.

Love those dusty Keens!

Action shot! The beautiful dress is from a Cuba trip my in laws took last year.

(Almost) Wordless Wednesday

And then she tried to put it back on. Story of the summer, thus far. 

Lesson learned

A few weeks ago I came across a delicious (flour free) peanut butter cookie recipe, and we spent the week enjoying fresh cookies.
Yesterday I remade the same recipe, except that this time the cookies turned out more like lumpy blobs of peanut butter in a vague cookie shape and texture. One bite of one calls for a glass of water. They're not inedible, they're just....not good.

Ingredients for the cookies:
1 c. peanut butter
3/4 c. sugar
1 T baking soda
1/2 tsp vanilla
1 egg

Any guesses as to which ingredient I left out?


I'll give you a hint: it's not peanut butter, sugar, baking soda or vanilla.
DOH. Apparently eggs are, in fact, an important ingredient in cooking.

A Little Lillian Update

Six Things I love about Lillian at 20.5 months that I don't want to forget

1. Every night when I rock her, she runs through a roster of people. The list, which varies in order, always includes Daddy, Sullivan, and all four grandparents ("Baps," "Go-gah," Mimi and "Baba/Papa"). If we saw friends that day, they make the list too (Ga-chen, A-Gace, JOOOOOd, Koh and Zeus from down the street).

2. Going along with #1, I love that she is learning the names of her friends and remembering them. We have prayed over her since she was in utero that she would love people well, and it seems like remembering their names is a good first step. :)

3. She is obsessed with the song "She Loves You" by the Beatles. We listen to it at least 20 times a day since it's only 2:30 min. long. Then she shouts her favorite part--"yeah YEAH YEAH"--over and over until we play it again. T is our resident Beatles fanatic and particularly enjoys this. We've also showed her recordings of the Beatles' first appearance on the Ed Sullivan show in 1964, which were very well received by her, especially all the screaming/fainting girls.

4. My favorite sentence she says right now is "I see you______." I particularly love it when she says "I see you Ruff" and then gives Sullivan an exuberant hug.

5. She likes to give her baby brother in Mama's belly hugs, kisses, knuckles and lots of bellybutton pokes. While I know the reality of having a baby in the house will be completely different, it is sweet to see the very beginnings of their relationship. We have been praying that their relationship would be a special one since December--something that will be a lifelong prayer request, I imagine.

6. She has absolutely zero interest in learning letters, despite my best efforts with magnets, foam letters, crayons, etc., and only slightly more interest in numbers. This stresses me out a little even though I know it shouldn't. She loves to take things apart and put them back together and has even learned to play independently for short periods. In fact, I am typing this blog post WHILE SHE IS AWAKE. It's a blogging miracle.

One of my new favorite pictures from Mother's Day. Girl loves her daddy!

The story of Tuesday

Some weeks just scream "I need to be blogged about" from a neon marquee sign. Or from the variety of strange and wonderful and semi-tragic things that happen. For instance, I was going to blog about this yesterday morning when I had a rare hour to myself, but it turns out that our printer picked THAT HOUR to not work (at 10 a.m., before my 11 o'clock science class) so I had to drive 20 minutes to my parents' house to print all the student papers I needed and then haul it to class (v. thankful that my parents live that close and that they don't mind bailing me out). I don't know if that qualifies now as strange, wonderful or semi-tragic, but it certainly felt like the world was dumping on me at the time. And it was 100%, par for the course, for my week.

Let me explain...

Tuesday morning dawned full of splendor and promise. We had a playdate planned with friends to pick strawberries and have lunch. In other words, a proverbial romp through the wildflowers. Everything was going great until I went into the closet to put on my rings and GASP only one (of three) was there. Lillian had, naturally, dragged a stool into the closet and had spent my showertime rummaging through my jewelry. I dropped to the carpet and managed to find my engagement ring stuffed into the tongue of a running shoe. This is when panic set in. L likes to play with my rings but has never a) separated them before or b)failed to bring them to me as soon as she was done playing. (sidenote: Thomas is not a big fan of this behavior and has gently cautioned me more than once to be more careful with my stuff. Duly noted, babe.) I spent the next 30 minutes tearing the closet apart, looking in every shoe, every stack of clothing, etc. No wedding band. The strawberry picking show must go on, however, so I tear out of the house, L in tow, with soaking wet hair and wearing who knows what. I didn't want to tell T, for obvious reasons, so I called my mom and begged her to come help me search in the afternoon. Being the fantastic lady that she is, she was willing to help. PHEW. Crisis postponed.
Strawberry picking was delightful. Lillian and her sweet friend Gretchen romped up and down the rows. L picked about 10 berries before she decided that the tractor ("chactow") and the copious amounts of dirt everywhere were way more interesting. "We" picked about 3 pounds of strawberries altogether and have been enjoying them all week.
Then we headed to lunch at Boone Hall to meet up with another friend and her baby boy. If L likes her baby brother half as much as she likes Jude, then we will be good to go in August. Lunch was great--kiddos ate and some amount of conversation was achieved (if I can string together 3 thoughts while handling L ate mealtime, then I feel I have achieved a great victory). So we're buckling up to go home when disaster strikes. I buckle L in, throw my keys in the front seat as I've done one million times before, shut the door and move to open my door.  
It's locked. I immediately realized that I have managed to lock my sweet baby in the hot car with my keys and phone. Panic ensues.
I rush over to Meghan and start babbling about the hot car and LOCKED IN and no phone and who knows what else. She grabs Gretchen and her phone and calls highway patrol (no answer, so helpful) and then 911. Police are on their way. Some old people come stand by my car and "helpfully" explain why I should have OnStar and poke at my windows to see if we can jimmy them. Um, no. L, meanwhile, is chilling in the car seat, drinking milk and pointing at me when I poke my sweaty, growing more panicky by the minute, head in to look at her. I cannot explain how horrifying it is to be trapped on the other side of glass from your child, unable to do a dang thing or explain what is happening. HORRIBLE. L, however, is holding it together much better than I am. Agonizing minutes pass and Katie goes in to look for a hammer after attempting to console me with a distracting story (which was an excellent idea but I was just too far gone).
Then an enormous red fire truck rolls in, sirens blaring, and people start to come out of the store/restaurant to ascertain what is happening. Two very kind crew cuts ask me what's going on, look in at L (who is now pouring sweat) and tell me that they don't have tools but the police car who is on his way does. I attempt to calm down and give them my address and phone number--can't wait to see the charge for this one--and tell them to break the window. Fortunately the police showed up and one fancy door jimmying kit later, and L is free. She didn't cry until the last minute or so, unlike me, which I was so grateful for. I don't think I could have made it otherwise. We went in and got a cup of ice to cool her warm little body down and then headed home for a cool bath and some much-needed rest. I played her favorite song the whole way. She was completely fine. I was still a basket case and had to tell T over Gmail chat because I was too teary to do anything else. Pathetic!
Then mom came over to help look for the ring, which had not magically turned up. Boo. We spent two hours combing every square inch of the closet and bedroom. While we were at it, I came up with a bag of clothes to donate and an embarrassing amount of trash (seriously, if you need a humbling experience, just ask someone to come over and help you clean out a small messy space). No ring. Not anywhere. BUT we did have 2 hours of great conversation and she helped me calm down since I was pretty much still vibrating after the events of the early afternoon. She headed home, and then Thomas arrived home. L woke up just as he walked in the door, still unscathed from her unfortunate incarceration and raring to go.
Thomas' first move was to ask her, "Lillian, where did you put Mommy's ring?" She got a thoughtful look on her face, grabbed his hand, walked into the closet, and went to my shoe rack. Stuffing her little chubby fist under it, she immediately PULLS OUT THE RING and hands it to Thomas. Keep in mind that shoe rack had been taken apart and searched thoroughly. Oh, and L hadn't been in the closet for about eight hours. Oh, and she's 1. This kid has the memory of an elephant. Heaven help us. And Thomas was just a little pleased with himself for coming up with the solution. :)

To sum up: here are the lessons I learned on Tuesday:
1. Store expensive rings in jewelry box away from toddler (all of you are saying DUH in your heads right now and rightfully so).
2. When things go missing, ask the 1 year old first.
3. Never ever ever ever ever close all the doors when your child is in the car, even if you've done it millions of times.
4. In fact, put the keys in the ignition first.
5. Repeat #3.
6. Thank God for good friends who stand in hot parking lots with you and moms who help clean closets.
7. Remember that Wednesday is another day and smile gratefully at the Lord's provision.

Top Ten Things about being due in the summer

In "honor" of the number of comments I have received lately about our "terrible timing" and "wow you're going to be hot," I am presenting ten great things about being pregnant (think third trimester) in the summer. Having done this once before (L's bday is 8.31.11), I feel pretty qualified to make this list. And when I am grousing about being hot and uncomfortable later this summer, I will be sure to refer back to it!

1. Kiddos are a gift at any time. We "intended" for both of our babies to be born in the spring so that we didn't have to worry about holding them back or sending them early to school, and both times we had to wait on the Lord's timing. And both times we will have to make big decisions about whether to make them the oldest or youngest kids in their class. Oof. God's timing is perfect, though. Thomas also loves that his birthday season is entirely his own, unlike mine (see #8).

2. CLOTHES. Being pregnant in the summer is so easy clothes-wise! A few high-waisted dresses, a couple of elastic band skirts, a few pairs of drawstring shorts and some size-up shirts, and summer preggos are good to go. I love not having to rely on maternity stores for my clothes because a) they are expensive and b) the selection is much more limited.

3. The pool. When you are carrying a couple of extra pounds and are achy and uncomfortable, few things feel better than a good soak in the pool. Summertime is obviously the easiest way to accommodate this.

4. It's hot anyway. Whether you are pregnant, or not, Charleston is hot during the summer. Crazily enough, this will be my seventh summer here and my second pregnant summer, and honestly, there isn't much difference. For this Colorado girl, miserable levels of heat and humidity are rough regardless of some extra weight.

5. Frozen treats. So, we've established that summers here are on the warm side. So popsicles, ice cream, smoothies, milkshakes (I could go on) are a welcome addition to any day. And when you're pregnant, it's okay to have a few extra treats each week. In fact, the baby probably needs them. :)

6. Holidays. Nope, I'm not referring to 4th of July, Memorial Day or Labor Day. If you count backwards nine-ish months from August, you can expertly deduce that both of our babies were conceived during the glorious Thanksgiving-Christmas holiday season. With Lillian, we found out on December 23 that she was on the way, and with NamelessBabyBoy, we found out on December 11th. We were able to tell both sets of parents at EXACTLY THE SAME MOMENT (v. important) on Christmas Eve in 2010 and 2012, making Christmas all the more special each time.

7. While making decisions about when to start them in school is already stressful, the teacher in me loves the symmetry of beginning a new school year and beginning a new life.

8. My family's birthdays are heavily concentrated in August/September, so what's a few more? No, seriously, let me explain: my birthday is August 21, NamelessBabyBoy's due date is August 22, my grandmother's birthday is August 26, Lillian's birthday is August 31, my sister's birthday is September 5, and my mom's birthday is September 8. Crazytown, right? I sortof break out in a cold sweat just reading this list. It is a really fun few weeks though, and I am excited about adding a boy birthday to this conglomerative celebration of Important Females in my Life. Plus, for a momma who isn't a gifted party planner, can you say joint birthday parties?

9. Late summer babies are really fun the next summer at the pool and other summer activities. At the beginning of last year's pool season, Lillian was sitting really well and crawling/pulling up. And by the end of it, she was running all around the pool and the park. It was so much fun to watch her put her new skills in action in the water, at the splash pad, etc.

10. While any newborn comes with worries about health and safety, we don't have to worry (as much) about things like flu season and nasty wintertime germs when the babies are itty bitty.

So there you have it: going through your third trimester in the summer does have its advantages. To quote the Dowager Countess, "stick that in your pipe and smoke it," all you comment-makers!

 Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and comes down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow of turning. James 1:17

September 2, 2011 (first day home!)

Linking up with Carissa:

5 Things on Thursday

Thursday Thoughts (catchy, right?)

1. My husband just informed me that we're getting an H & M downtown and I am excited! Shopping there always reminds me of my semester abroad--in Vienna, you say "Ha und M."

2. I just ate a snack of chocolate ice cream and carrots. The energy it takes to chew carrots cancels out the ice cream carton dregs, right?

3. Nicole Kidman was on a Sesame Street episode that L and I watched this week, which immediately drove me into the arms of the Moulin Rouge soundtrack. I went through a *bit* of an obsession with this movie in high school, and my sister and I listened to the soundtrack nonstop in the car. I am pretty excited about seeing Baz Lurhmann's latest and have dropped major hints about this for our next date night. Wouldn't seeing Gatsby be a great theme date with some fun 1920s cocktails? Well, no cocktails for me, but someone else should do it!

4. Switching gears to a more serious topic, the Ohio case with Ariel Castro and his three victims almost made me throw up this morning. The thought of something like this happening to someone I love--particularly my sweet and innocent daughter--is beyond horrifying. Now, depending on your worldview, you can respond to this case in one of two ways: one, how could God allow something like this to happen and how can people be so evil? Or two: this world is sick and people are in desperate need of a Savior--anyone of us has the capacity to do something like this. And before you get defensive and say that you could never do something like that to another person, I'll say that I agree with you--I don't think that I could given my circumstances and situation. BUT the moment we start thinking that we don't have the capacity for x sin or y depraved thing is the moment we forget about grace and Jesus' blood and the moment we start thinking that we aren't really so bad after all. And then pride takes a foothold and Jesus slips away and boom, we are somewhere we don't want to be. All that to say, pray for those poor women. Pray for their families. Pray that justice would be done and that healing would come in torrents. We serve a big God. And then check out organizations like the A21 Campaign and IJM.

5. Okay, #5 was going to be a blurb about homeschooling, but the blurb was quickly becoming a novel so I'm going to save this one for another post. So I'll leave you with a Lillian story instead. If you've been reading my blog for a few months, then you know that L is a tornado. Not particularly interested in toys, very interested in wreaking havoc and strewing any and all household items around. Her latest favorite is the back of my bathroom cabinet, aka the storage place of all things "female" that I currently don't need, if you catch my drift. This means that our bathroom is strewn with dissected tampons, pantyliner "stickers" ("Mama! 'tick! 'tick!") and wrappers of all kinds. Poor T hates these items with a passion and spends his time grumbling and stepping around them like they're little bombs, even though they are perfectly clean. (love you babe!).

What happens when May 1 is chilly and wet

"Mom, I don't understand why I can't squeeze the paint out myself."

Punk is not dead. Who needs paper when you have hair?

When things started to spiral out of control...

"Let's make some handprints" quickly turned into a brown smeary mess.

An aerial view of the artiste at work...on the bannister...

A pretty vital step of this project.

It was a bona fide toddler activity--in other words, it took more time to clean up than to actually do the activity. Still fun though!