eight, nine, ten.

Elliott was 15 days early and weighed in at 7 lbs 12 oz.  By the time he left the hospital 10 days after birth he weighed 8 lbs 5 oz.  One of the many reasons he was born so early was that the last couple ultrasounds I had, the technicians had him tipping the scale at 10 pounds.

We've always rounded up his weight to 8 lbs.

Wyatt was 5 days early.  He tipped the scales at birth at 8 lbs 15 oz.  We have always rounded up to 9 lbs because what's an ounce, right?  Though he was never as chubby as an infant as his brother, he's always managed to tip the scales ahead of his peers.

Yesterday I had my monthly ob appointment.  Right now, at 27 weeks, I'm measuring 3 weeks ahead.  My doctor and I have a pretty good re pore and he asked me if I was okay with a 10 pounder because he thinks that's where I'm headed, especially because the goal is to keep this kid inside cooking as long as possible.  I told him that my husband would love a ten pound baby - that he'd think it was the coolest.

My doctor laughed and told me about the baby girl of a diabetic he delivered early last week.  A couple weeks early, the baby girl weighed in just under 11 pounds.  He said it was one of the ugliest baby's he's ever seen - that her face was cute enough but that she had the body of an overweight linebacker and it was just icky.  He then, told me about the mother.  She is a naughty diabetic who rather than modify her diet to meet the needs of her diabetes, she just manipulates her insulin to eat whatever she wants.  And, after every appointment she told him that she went to the Iceberg to get a large over the top shake...monthly, bi-weekly, weekly.

And, her baby showed the consequences of such behavior.  In his own strange way, he was complimenting my diabetic control.  Right now, I've got the best numbers I've had in years and am doing really well.  I may still end up with a 10 pound baby, but not because I'm a terrible diabetic....just because that's what my giant genes want to send my way.

Good thing I've only bought a few 3 month undershirts.......

Just in case.

in a nutshell....

Last week, with help of course, I took the little monsters to the zoo. We had a grand time. Thank you, helpers.

Though during the week they seem to be okay, the last couple of weekends have been spent with terribly swollen ankles. Ankles so swollen that my feet tingle and send sharp pains up my legs. Welcome to my least favorite part of this whole, waiting for a baby experience.

She'll get her own blog post soon, by my amazing and beautiful cousin Meranda (also MK also Rwanda) is leaving in two weeks on an LDS mission to Paraguay. The boys and I love her so very much and will miss her. I made 6 batches of NY style crumb cake for the open house. It was yummy but so much work.

What else?????

Snuggles with baby Jack, lost teeth, lots of mom school, and the start of swimming lessons. This summer is getting off to a great and busy start.

Too fast!

I can remember certain events from the day he was born like it was yesterday.  Though it was literally years ago, I still remember changing his diapers, teaching him to walk, to feed himself, to ride his scooter.  I still give and receive hugs and kisses, but he's too big to rock to sleep at night.

I used to read him books.  Now he reads me books.

Time moves so quickly.

Nearly two weeks ago, he told me that his tooth was loose.  I did not believe him.  The next morning, his dad said to me, "did you know his tooth was loose?"  I shrugged.

After weeks of wiggling, and tugging by dad, the loose tooth fell out this afternoon.  With no cajoling by anyone, but by a wheat thin.

My 5 year old loosing his first tooth is a big deal.  He's too young, and it makes him look suddenly too old.  Like, bring on the armpit hair and the body odor and the crackly Peter Brady voice.

How did he suddenly go from my baby to my big kid.

Phew!

Now, if only we hadn't have lost the tooth.

Mom duty...

...It's sort of like jury duty, but way different.

My 5 year old.  He is so smart and funny.  He's been really good this week and I am so grateful.  He is helpful and kind (mostly) and just really wants to be a good boy.  My mom says that I micromanage him, which I do (I cannot help it) but right at this very minute, I am not micromanaging him at all.  He is next door with his best good friend jumping on the trampoline.  I love him very much.  I am envious of his energy and enthusiasm.  There is a lot to be learned from this boy.

My 3 year old.  He is sweet and sensitive, a venus fly trap disguising itself as a delicate flower.  He is also sick.  He is having a rough week, still suffering the effects of dog exposure from 5 days ago.  I feel bad for him and his lungs.  He loves stickers and art projects and when we watch Peter Pan, he just cuddles up and snuggles on my lap like a little puppy.  With his little puppy.

*******

This afternoon, I was trying to talk to my husband on the phone.  I sent the boys away so that my burned out brain could finish a sentence.  Things got quiet.  Too quiet.  I assumed trouble but hoped for the best.  When I got off the phone and walked towards the deafening silence, muffled giggles filled my ears.  Those boys of mine - those brothers in crime - were hiding under my bed, having secret conversations about sea creatures, starfish in particular.  I startled both of them by lifting up the bed skirt and we all three had a good laugh...until the Chick tried to stand up under the bed and whacked his head on the frame.

*******

I've been thinking a lot lately about my role as a mother.  What it really means to be "the mom".  It is nothing that I ever expected it to be but it is such a valuable use of my time; not sure what else I would ever be or ever do that is as important.  Sure, I get frustrated and exhausted like every other mom out there, and I of course do my fair share of complaining but I really don't know what I would do without my kids.

Years ago, I used to think that I'd be a working mom.  That I would be able to balance family and work and church and everything else like my mom does and like my sister does.  But that isn't me.  I really enjoy being home, being causal, and hanging out with my kids.  What other job in the world lets me be a coach, a pitcher, a photographer, a teacher, a chef (and a short order cook), a crafter, a decorator and interior designer, a domestic servant, a nurse, a champion baby rocker, an occasional nap taker, an historian, a list maker, an organizer and planner, a fount of knowledge, a motivational speaker, a tickler and laughter, a punisher, an errand runner and Target shopper (and much more!) all at the same time. I get to go to the zoo and natural history museum by day, and watch House Hunters International by night.

Lately, I've been frustrated.  A little bummed out.  It could be the swollen ankles and the interior belly jabs bringing me down (and at least for the kicks, making me smile, too). Mostly because the joy in my journey has been a little lost on me.  Life just feels hard right now.  Like the bottom might fall out at any second.

Except the bottom is no where near falling out.

I'm just dramatic!

Spending countless hours a day as a "poop coach" - trying to convince my three year old to let it out instead of hold it in for days (and days and days) isn't such a glamorous or rewarding thing.  But, compared to a lot of other things I could be doing with my time these days, I suppose that I'll take sitting on the red stool in the bathroom shouting words of encouragement and giving high fives for bathroom success.

Busy, busy...

Some weekends are busier than others.  This was one of those weekends.  It was good and fun, but exhausting all the same.

This weekend marks the start of "Annie has really swollen pregnant ankles".  Yeah!  I love having my feet hurt so bad I can hardly walk.  It's so awesome.

The boys played in the sprinklers. I blew bubbles and was the dj. Elliott told me that it was the best party we'd ever had at our new house. I am awesome.

I did however, forget to turn the hose off. For two days. My neighbors weren't so happy to go out and try and mow their lawn on Saturday morning and find a pond. Pregnancy brain? Maybe. I thought Ross had turned it off and totally forgot about it. I am making them cookies today.

Friday night we opened Shavy Jones Shave Ice for the season. Getting ready for the opening has cluttered our lives, but we are cleaned up now. The health department changed the rules, rather spontaneously, and said no more ice cream. Bummer for us. Bummer for our customers. Not a bummer however for the shaved ice shacks around the neighborhood who are not following the rules and are serving ice cream. My husband? Preparing for war against the health department.

Regardless, we have a new ice system this year and the ice is literally snow. Absolute heaven.

On Saturday, we went to the baptism of my cousin's little girl.  My cousin and her family live in the basement of her parents (my aunt and uncle's) home.  Three dogs reside in the home and Wyatt is allergic to all three of them.  He made it about 15 minutes before he started coughing and itching and his eyes getting all puffy.  The food and company was good, but we had to leave.

We did however leave to go and scrub down to visit little Jack.  I dare say that my eldest is going to be such a good big brother to kiddo #3.  As my mom says, he has so much love to give, and he was absolutely smitten with his new little cousin.  He couldn't stop rubbing his head and saying, "I love you little jack".  It was totally heart melt worthy.

And, what weekend would be complete without a little terror and destruction from the little evil 3 year old that lives in my house.  On Saturday night, he pushed the back door open as hard as he could and replaced the hole he'd punched in the wall with the door knob a year ago.  Thanks, Wyatt.

Then, after using the bathroom before getting into the bathtub he flushed so hard that the toilet flusher fell off, flew into the toilet, and went down the porcelain throne, never to be seen again.  Because it was  late on a Saturday night, we of course had to improvise and not only are their now rules about what goes in the toilet (If you know what I mean) but the lid is off and we are flushing manually until we find the time to get to home depot.

Awesome.

And just to top it off, that particular three year old puked 4 times yesterday night and into the early hours of the morning - a direct result of the allergic reaction to the dogs on Saturday - all giant phlegm balls in the middle of the night.

What better way to start a new week than at the doctors office, right?