I was so nervous I wouldn't be. I was afraid I wouldn't like this little miss very much. I remembered how hard brand new babies are, and I was scared.
But: I am In Love.
She is so laid back and easy, if she cries there is a reason. She sleeps like a champ, eats predictably, and is about the sweetest thing I've seen in at least 4 years.
I love her blond but long eyelashes, her tiny toe nails, the wrinkle around her wrists, her double dimpled cheeks, the way she bops herself in the nose when she sneezes, her cry that sounds like an 'h', the tai chi she performs when she has a full tummy and is checking the world out, her friar tuck hairstyle, the puppy noises she makes when she's sleeping.
It's almost not fair how much I get to love her.
Monday, December 26, 2011
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Little Miss
Little Miss M made her grand entrance at 8am. She is perfectly lovely. She looks almost exactly like E. She is feeding well, and content most of the time. We are so blessed to have her in our family.
Will post a picture eventually, still getting into the swing of things.
Will post a picture eventually, still getting into the swing of things.
Friday, November 18, 2011
Honestly
Ask some of my oldest and dearest friends what one of my character traits is and one of the top will more than likely be my honesty. If you ask my opinion, or for help on something or for advice, I will always give you my honest thoughts. If you are one of my close friends, sometimes the thoughts may seem harsh, but I never give them in a mean spirited way. I expect that if you ask me, it's because you really want to know, so I will tell you. Of course I strive to give it as tactfully as possible and with as much cushioning as possible, but it will be the truth, you are guaranteed that. This is always done with love and I know that the understanding between us will make the truth palatable. I would expect nothing less from my friends. If I ask it, I don't want to be lied to, I want to know. I rarely take offense and assume that others are the same (maybe this isn't such a super assumption, but hey, I'm being honest here). My good friends love me because of (or maybe in spite of) this. I have a hard time with people who ask loaded questions then get their feelings hurt because they didn't hear the answer they had been hoping for. Often times when a question is asked and I'm not sure how the truth will be received I will ask, "Do you want the truth or an easier answer?" I will never offer my opinion or advice that might seem unkind without being asked. Simply: if you don't want to know, don't ask. If I have never complimented your shoes, and it will make you cry to know that I think they are hideous, don't ask. If I have never said your baby is cute, go ahead and assume that I think he is, but don't ask, because I just may not think that Jr. is adorable. And on the flip side, I don't give compliments or praise that I am not sincere about. I won't tell you that you look like you've lost weight or that your new haircut is super cute, if I don't honestly believe it.
Another of my traits that my close friends know about is that I have an exceptional aversion to strangers. I have a hard time chatting with people who I don't know well, have little in common with, will probably never/have no desire to ever see again.
And lastly, another aspect of my personality: I am not a toucher. I find almost all kinds of touch to be very intimate, and only appropriate in certain conditions: being physical with my husband, snuggling my big and little babies, a hug and kiss for my dad, a hug for a friend in need (a touch I use only when I feel 100% it is needed), a pat on the back for a friend who has done well, a handshake with a member of the ward. I am frequently astounded at the casualness with which some people use these kinds of touch. The 60 year old man (who I have on good authority talks about his appreciation or disapproval of the physiques of ladies in the ward) who will rub my back as I pass by, the overly friendly bagger at the grocery store who strokes the hair of my children, or tickles them on the back, the complete stranger (or even casual acquaintance) who assumes because I'm pregnant that I will appreciate a hand on my belly. I don't get it and I certainly don't welcome it.
Here's the problem: Why can't I use my honesty to tell these people to stop, that I would prefer to not be touched, or stroked, or manhandled in anyway. Why am I so up front with those I love and so scared of hurting the feelings of these people who I have no connection with? Do I care more about these strangers taking offense than those who really matter? Is the fear of confrontation so ingrained in me that I sit back and let people do what they want for fear of their backlash? Why do I care?! I don't know. Honestly, I don't.
Another of my traits that my close friends know about is that I have an exceptional aversion to strangers. I have a hard time chatting with people who I don't know well, have little in common with, will probably never/have no desire to ever see again.
And lastly, another aspect of my personality: I am not a toucher. I find almost all kinds of touch to be very intimate, and only appropriate in certain conditions: being physical with my husband, snuggling my big and little babies, a hug and kiss for my dad, a hug for a friend in need (a touch I use only when I feel 100% it is needed), a pat on the back for a friend who has done well, a handshake with a member of the ward. I am frequently astounded at the casualness with which some people use these kinds of touch. The 60 year old man (who I have on good authority talks about his appreciation or disapproval of the physiques of ladies in the ward) who will rub my back as I pass by, the overly friendly bagger at the grocery store who strokes the hair of my children, or tickles them on the back, the complete stranger (or even casual acquaintance) who assumes because I'm pregnant that I will appreciate a hand on my belly. I don't get it and I certainly don't welcome it.
Here's the problem: Why can't I use my honesty to tell these people to stop, that I would prefer to not be touched, or stroked, or manhandled in anyway. Why am I so up front with those I love and so scared of hurting the feelings of these people who I have no connection with? Do I care more about these strangers taking offense than those who really matter? Is the fear of confrontation so ingrained in me that I sit back and let people do what they want for fear of their backlash? Why do I care?! I don't know. Honestly, I don't.
$1,000,000 Question by M
M: Mom, if you put your finger in your booger hole will you be able to touch your brain?
Me: No, you won't be able to touch your brain.
M: (With a sigh of disappointment) Oh, okay.
Me: No, you won't be able to touch your brain.
M: (With a sigh of disappointment) Oh, okay.
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Guess What is NOT Fun
Termites
Yes, friend, we have the joy of being in the company of dry wood termites here at the Gilbert House. These little lovelies are making a meal out of our kitchen cabinets, and during the warm weather love to swarm out of the kitchen cabinets into my kitchen, and love to push their 'droppings' out onto my kitchen counter. Truly a Joy.
This weekend we're being tented and fumigated to get rid of our interlopers. We get to spend the next couple of days packing up every bit of food we have so it doesn't get contaminted when our house is flooded with poisonous gases. Then we get to go into exile for the weekend and let strangers have free reign of our house. I'm not at all excited about the idea of people rummaging around my house (which they will to make sure there isn't any unpacked food or suicidal people hiding in closets, under sinks, in car trunks waiting to be gassed themselves). And although they say the gas doesn't cling to clothing, bedding, dishes, etc., I am not sure I trust their word all the way. Here's putting faith in the EPA and the State of California, that we will not all die after the house has been sufficiently aired out. And one of the advantages I was looking forward to in all of this -- the death of spiders -- turns out to not be happening. Apparently, spiders shut down their systems, so they don't breath the fumes, and just wait it out, little tricky-tricksters.
Yes, friend, we have the joy of being in the company of dry wood termites here at the Gilbert House. These little lovelies are making a meal out of our kitchen cabinets, and during the warm weather love to swarm out of the kitchen cabinets into my kitchen, and love to push their 'droppings' out onto my kitchen counter. Truly a Joy.
This weekend we're being tented and fumigated to get rid of our interlopers. We get to spend the next couple of days packing up every bit of food we have so it doesn't get contaminted when our house is flooded with poisonous gases. Then we get to go into exile for the weekend and let strangers have free reign of our house. I'm not at all excited about the idea of people rummaging around my house (which they will to make sure there isn't any unpacked food or suicidal people hiding in closets, under sinks, in car trunks waiting to be gassed themselves). And although they say the gas doesn't cling to clothing, bedding, dishes, etc., I am not sure I trust their word all the way. Here's putting faith in the EPA and the State of California, that we will not all die after the house has been sufficiently aired out. And one of the advantages I was looking forward to in all of this -- the death of spiders -- turns out to not be happening. Apparently, spiders shut down their systems, so they don't breath the fumes, and just wait it out, little tricky-tricksters.
Monday, October 10, 2011
This post is NOT for the squeamish, it may seem inappropriately personal, but they are true thoughts and will be funny to moms.
I try desperately hard to not complain about the different inconveniences of pregnancy, as I'm lucky to be here in the first place. However, I am getting REALLY tired of going to the bathroom All.The.Time. (This is not an exaggeration folks). This baby is so low that I find myself in desperate need of relief just about every 45 minutes, which makes most of life very hard. And when I do go, it's frustrating because the need to go is so strong and the outcome of that urgency seems hardly worth the money I spent on the toilet paper. With both my previous pregnancies I tried to ignore it as much as possible, with bad results. I had UTI's both times, with E it landed me in the hospital with preterm labor. So now I'm too scared to just hold it. I wake up at least every two hours, which I'm sure is just a mean way to prepare my body for needing to wake up with a new baby after she's born. Then one day I was getting exicted thinking about the baby and how fun it will be to see her face and hold her, when suddenly the heavens parted and I saw the answer to my frustrations: The Catheter. I have c-sections and thus get to have a catheter for the first 24 hours after delivery, that means no need to get up out of bed to take care of the problem, and ahhh, I'm so excited. Gross, I know, but the it is the truth. I am so excited!
Sweet Relief.
Sweet Relief.
Saturday, September 24, 2011
E's Big 8
My biggest little boy turned the big eight! I can't believe that he is old enough to be this big.
We held his baptism on his birthday, and he was so excited I don't think he slept much the night before. He was also confirmed a member of the church and was given the gift of the Holy Ghost.
We also had his birthday party the same day which was a little much I think. Next time with M we'll have the party on a different day.
It was a lot of fun though, our home was filled with family and friends and it truly was a joyous day.
Seeing your baby get baptized is very emotional, I don't know how much of it has to do with hormones, but I got pretty choked up. I'm so proud of him to make such a grown up decision.
In the weeks leading up to the main event there were several moments when Lamaze breathing was needed; I was overwhelmed with wondering if he was truly ready, if he was as prepared as he could be to accept the responsibilities of being eight years old, if his father and I had done everything we could to teach him everything he needs to know, and it was very nerve wracking! But ultimately, I realized that Heavenly Father knows what He is doing when He says that eight is the age of accountability, and it's the small and simple things that lead to being prepared to enter the Kingdom, not the deep mind boggling mysteries of God, those don't need to be figured out now.
It was a day when my heart fully felt a shout of joy! Look at this face, I don't know that it gets much sweeter than that:
We held his baptism on his birthday, and he was so excited I don't think he slept much the night before. He was also confirmed a member of the church and was given the gift of the Holy Ghost.
We also had his birthday party the same day which was a little much I think. Next time with M we'll have the party on a different day.
It was a lot of fun though, our home was filled with family and friends and it truly was a joyous day.
Seeing your baby get baptized is very emotional, I don't know how much of it has to do with hormones, but I got pretty choked up. I'm so proud of him to make such a grown up decision.
In the weeks leading up to the main event there were several moments when Lamaze breathing was needed; I was overwhelmed with wondering if he was truly ready, if he was as prepared as he could be to accept the responsibilities of being eight years old, if his father and I had done everything we could to teach him everything he needs to know, and it was very nerve wracking! But ultimately, I realized that Heavenly Father knows what He is doing when He says that eight is the age of accountability, and it's the small and simple things that lead to being prepared to enter the Kingdom, not the deep mind boggling mysteries of God, those don't need to be figured out now.
It was a day when my heart fully felt a shout of joy! Look at this face, I don't know that it gets much sweeter than that:
Monday, September 19, 2011
I Don't Understand
Why does the crossing guard push the crosswalk button 18 times consecutively so the 'bee-beep' repeats over and over again? (This is not an exageration, I counted today).
Why don't maternity pants have pockets? Just because I'm rotund doesn't mean I couldn't use a handy place to stow my keys now and then.
Why do some car tire rims look like they're going backward when the wheels are really going forward?
Why do some flies come into my house and just fly around in circles? Couldn't they just do the same pointless activity outside?
Why is it acceptable to leave a shopping cart directly behind someone else's car, so they have to move it before they can leave the parking lot?
Why does bacon taste so good?
Why do little boy dimples melt my resolve?
Why do we still observe daylight savings?
Why am I always the one cleaning around the toilet when I am not the culprit of the messes? I make my target 100% of the time.
Why are there multiple 'Real House Wives of...' shows on TV, isn't one set of trashy rich people enough?
Why are my children so enamored of the Power Rangers?
Why don't maternity pants have pockets? Just because I'm rotund doesn't mean I couldn't use a handy place to stow my keys now and then.
Why do some car tire rims look like they're going backward when the wheels are really going forward?
Why do some flies come into my house and just fly around in circles? Couldn't they just do the same pointless activity outside?
Why is it acceptable to leave a shopping cart directly behind someone else's car, so they have to move it before they can leave the parking lot?
Why does bacon taste so good?
Why do little boy dimples melt my resolve?
Why do we still observe daylight savings?
Why am I always the one cleaning around the toilet when I am not the culprit of the messes? I make my target 100% of the time.
Why are there multiple 'Real House Wives of...' shows on TV, isn't one set of trashy rich people enough?
Why are my children so enamored of the Power Rangers?
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Quirky Me
Everyone has things that they are particular about that are a little bit quirky to others. Here are my quirks:
If I'm drinking soda from a can I will never finish the entire drink, however, if I pour the same amount of soda in a cup, I will probably drink the whole thing.
When making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, I always spread the peanut butter first, then the jelly. The reasoning behind this: I will eat peanut butter in other situations and thus don't want my pb contaminated with the jelly, I rarely eat jelly in any other form than pb&j, so a little pb in the jar is not that big of a deal. Also, my ratio of pb to j is very high, I really love the stuff.
Everytime I drive through a small town (population less than 1,000) I think to myself 'Where do these people get their ice cream that they can bring it home before it melts?'
I can not stand blankets and pillows on the floor. Even if the floor is covered with other sundry items, the blanekts and pillows must be cleaned up first. Then the mess is much more manageable.
I prefer pencils over pens, I like the scratchy feeling that comes with a pencil as I write.
Three things I will not share with anyone, including my husband: cups, towels, and my sleeping pillow. They are the only things I'm territorial over.
If I'm drinking soda from a can I will never finish the entire drink, however, if I pour the same amount of soda in a cup, I will probably drink the whole thing.
When making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, I always spread the peanut butter first, then the jelly. The reasoning behind this: I will eat peanut butter in other situations and thus don't want my pb contaminated with the jelly, I rarely eat jelly in any other form than pb&j, so a little pb in the jar is not that big of a deal. Also, my ratio of pb to j is very high, I really love the stuff.
Everytime I drive through a small town (population less than 1,000) I think to myself 'Where do these people get their ice cream that they can bring it home before it melts?'
I can not stand blankets and pillows on the floor. Even if the floor is covered with other sundry items, the blanekts and pillows must be cleaned up first. Then the mess is much more manageable.
I prefer pencils over pens, I like the scratchy feeling that comes with a pencil as I write.
Three things I will not share with anyone, including my husband: cups, towels, and my sleeping pillow. They are the only things I'm territorial over.
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