Pandora's Box

It is with great trepidation I put this out there, but as we are approaching a deadline with no solid ideas, I think it couldn't hurt.

We have yet to come up with a name for this new, male offspring. So now is your one and only chance to give your two cents. (After the child is officially born and named, please feel free to keep your two cents.)

Our current guidelines automatically reject anything that
1)starts with a "J"
2) ends with a "d"
3) is androgynous

Come on all you lurkers, give us some ideas. I just know you're itching to.

New Years Resolutions

Aren't you proud of me? It's the end of January, and I still remember them!

As an update, I made a resolution to try to complain as little as possible this pregnancy, regardless of how much it sucked. That is probably why I have done so little blogging...

Anyhow, I decided to make realistic, achievable goals for myself this year. I came up with 3. All of which I thought I could for sure accomplish by the end of March.

1. Get un-pregnant.
2. Lose 20 lbs.
3. Take down my Christmas decorations

I'm not so sure number 3 is going to make my deadline. I'll keep you posted as to the rest.

Approximately 3 weeks to go for the big day! (More or less, don't hold me to a date or I may get REALLY crabby)

Living Happily Ever After

16 years ago after my husband and I were recently engaged. As most of you know, the vast majority of our courtship/enagement was long distance. One evening he called me per our usual routine, and he was especially effusive in his devotion to me.

He had been relaying to me that earlier that evening he had done dishes for his family after dinner, and explained how much he hated doing dishes. But it had put him to thinking. He loved me soooooo much, that he promised that after we were married, he would see to it that I would NEVER have to wash another dish again. Ever. He didn't want his beloved to ever endure the agonies of dishwashing.

Thankfully, I had enough sense to get a really good laugh out of that. I gratefully explained that although very sweet, it was highly unrealistic, and that as much as I appreciated the sentiment, I thought it was important we not start off by making promises we would not be able to keep. He insisted he would do it.

It lasted 2 days.

However, I bore him no ill will, I knew it was inevitable. Sweet, but inevitable.

But this story does have a happy ending after all. You see, although he was not able to carry out that particular act of kindness, he is still the same selfless, wildly-in-love-with-me man I married. (Still not entirely sure why, I try not to ask)

Here I am, 35 weeks into gestating our sixth child, and pretty much an invalid. My major accomplishment of the day is getting my kids to school (not necessarily on time), maybe getting a shower, and possibly throwing a load of laundry in the wash. The rest of the time I'm in between bed and the lazy boy chair.

So how is he handling all this? Far better than I would.

The last couple of weeks he has amazed me with his generosity and kindness regarding my condition. That same selfless young man I married is out in full force.

It would be too long of a list to make, but a sampling of his kindnesses to me recently include:
*Pouring me a hot bath first thing in the morning to ease my aching muscles
*Making me breakfast in bed
*Staying up much later than he would have liked to fold and put away the mountain of laundry I could only manage to get washed and dried.
*Getting all 5 children dressed and ready for church so I only had to focus on dressing myself
*Making every meal all weekend long, doing all the accompanying dishes, and even making cupcakes with Olivia.
*Bringing me home sugar-free, carbonated, icy cold caffeine
*Surprising me with a painting project I've wanted to do for 6 months (the loft looks so awesome honey, thanks!)
*Giving up his "electronic gadget" slush fund so I could buy the aptly named lazy-boy recliner

Not sure how I managed to get so lucky.

I love you, honey!!!!!

"Like Normal People"

I have long struggled to keep my home to the cleaning standards that were my mothers. I have gone over, around, and through why I can't seem to maintain the same degree of excellence. I have told myself there were weekly housekeepers (2 actually) who worked alongside her, a and guy to do the yard. Her greatest hobby was "organizing", and I don't ever remember her sitting to watch TV or a movie without the ironing board set up in front of her. I don't remember her doing anything leisurely at all, in fact. She was always cleaning, organizing, or decluttering something.

Fast forward to me. While I was never slovenly, and loved the order around me, I was personally responsible for a very small portion of it. Too small I realized, and decided that my children would share in some of the responsibility for their benefit as well as mine. Hence, for the last 12 years, I have tried again and again to train them how to do what needs to be done to attain the same order. I have failed to achieve consistent results. I do accept the blame for this one, as I can't seem to figure out who else's fault it is. I am still trying to accept the fact that it is okay that I am not willing (apparently) to do what it would take to make my house constantly spotless for whatever reasons, despite the fact that it torments me.

Fast forward to yesterday.

My eldest child, who shall remain nameless, was loading the dishes into the dishwasher. (SEE! I am getting them to help some!) said to me, "I have made a New Year's Resolution for our family."
I said, "Really? What do you think it should be?"
"I think we should try to keep our house clean

like normal people,

like you know the ______'s or the ________'s."

Poor child. He should never have said this to a woman who is 8 months pregnant with her 6th baby.

I said, "So, (nameless child), if you want a clean house like normal people, you can start by putting your dirty clothes in the laundry like I'm always asking, or clearing your own dishes, or putting your shoes away, or taking out the garbage when it's your chore and not accidentally 'forgetting' half the cans in the house, or stuffing candy wrappers into the couch cushions, or etc, etc, etc." (You get the idea)

That phrase tormented me (and resulted in me tormenting everyone else) for the rest of the evening. But guess what?

When I got up this morning, I found that the nameless child had made his bed, all on his own, for the first time in recent memory.

I think there may just be a glimmer of hope in my future.

Counting on a Saturday

ONE Trip to Costco
TWO Full carts later
THREE Hours to put it away
FOUR Friends over for playdates
FIVE The time they all finally left, and the high temperature of the day.
SIX Mouths to feed
SEVEN More weeks to go
EIGHT Things to iron for church
NINE Fights over video games broken up
TEN Seconds before I fall asleep...