It's ALIVE!

This morning, Matt and I had the overwhelming privilege of getting to see our baby for the first time.

Yes, folks, I'm at the halfway point now.

People kept asking us whether we had any preferences as to boy/girl, or gut instincts, etc. Matt might be able to honestly tell you that he didn't. I can't lie to my friends that way. Even before this baby was conceived, I had a very clear picture in my mind. I knew. So, I'm not sure if my leanings were colored by preference or gut, but they were there, nonetheless.

I do need to mention, however, that I am overjoyed with a baby of either variety and that my concerns this morning weren't over the sex of the child. I have some overwhelming issues called paranoia and pessimism. I always assume that if something can go wrong, it will. So, this morning I was more excited than anything else to see a healthy baby.

As the ultrasound tech starting poking at our baby's crotch with her magic wand, Matt calls out, "I think it's a boy." I paused. Looked at the screen for about 2 seconds and laughed. WRONG.

Definitely little girly parts. You'd think after 5 kids (and a wife of 9+ years) he'd know what he was looking at!



It's a girl!

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Things you can't take back.

Back when my sweet husband and I had only been married a couple of months, he brought me home some flowers for Mother's Day (or some other holiday I can't readily remember). They were, bless his heart, from the grocery store and well, honestly, kind of ugly. I dutifully placed them in a vase and hoped for the best. They lasted perhaps 2 days before they were wilted and dead. Depressing, really.

I informed my dear spouse that I really didn't feel the need for him to EVER buy me flowers again. At least, not cut flowers. Of course, we've never lived anywhere long enough (till now) that we can enjoy actual flowers that you actually plant in the ground. And I'm not really a very girly person. I don't find flowers gorgeous, beautiful or amazing. To me, they're mostly just flowers, I'd be just as happy with a new slotted spoon or pair of shoes.

Occasionally, however, I'll see some flowers that just make my soul SO happy. Such was the story the other day when I was shopping at Sam's Club. And I did the unthinkable. I bought MYSELF flowers. And while I don't actually find them gorgeous, beautiful or amazing, I do find my heart lifted and my home happier because of them.

Have I changed my mind about letting my husband buy me flowers? Nah. I'll stick to getting what I know I like. Kinda like my bras.

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The rest of them.

When I did my recent Better School Pictures photo shoot, I had Matt bring the kids to where I was shooting so I could get some pictures of them, too. Rather than blather on about each of them individually, let me just say that I have a pretty great group of kids. They're largely well-behaved and they keep me laughing.

Without further ado, my kids (minus Miles whose pictures were in the last post, sorry).

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1-2-3-4!

My baby had a birthday. No, not the baby growing (and leeching my will to live) within me. And no, not Lucas (who, consequently is also leeching my will to live - but that's another blog post entirely).

I mean my Miles. He believes that he's now a big boy, but I've made him promise over and over to be my baby forever. I've confessed my undying love and affection for this kid before, and friends who know him personally just can't help but feel the same way about him. He's intelligent, thoughtful, polite, and hysterical. Every day after Matt leaves for work, Miles will cuddle up to me and tell me in his most important voice, "Don't worry mom, I'm the man of the house now."

Happy Birthday, big man!

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Shame on me.

I think it's obvious that I've been in quite the blog funk lately. I apologize, but don't actually feel badly about it. It's not as though my blog is wildly popular with people chomping at the bit to read my entries, so the entries will continue to come as I feel like it. So there!

Anyway! I had a birthday. It's official. I've reached the dark ages middle ages. I'm 30. And while I'm okay with that in theory, I certainly don't feel 30. I don't even really feel 20. Alas, the calendar tells the truth.

I had Matt snap some pictures of me on my birthday. And I had delusions of grandeur about showing you pictures of me from 25 and 20 and maybe even 15. But again, lazy.


My skin doesn't actually look all mottled as it appears in this picture. At least, I don't THINK it does. I'm often wrong.

Matt told me to be sexy. If this is my sexy face, I'm scared for him.

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A cautionary tale

Let me preface this story with an apology. We've been to the beach 6ish times this summer and this was the first (and last time we'll probably go this year) time I took the camera. You're not missing much. Sand. Water. Sun. You get the picture, right?

So, on to the story.
My sister, Rachel was in town and so we decided to head to the beach. It's the free-est thing we can take out-of-towners to do. And it's fun. Unless you're anal retentive about getting sand on you/in your car like a certain someone I'm married to. I digress.

The kids are actually really great at the beach. They play in the waves. They play in the sand. We have a couple of kid-sized boogie boards, so we feel they're relatively safe. They eat a lot of snacks and if you're Lucas, some sand too.

The kid is slightly obsessed with the sand. Slightly.

He likes to play with it, and has been known to attempt to eat entire fistfuls. Must be the salty grittiness he's in love with.

He spends his entire time at the beach bouncing between playing in the sand/shallow water and eating snacks from the cooler. What you see above is a combination of sand, Cheetos, and snot. Delightful, eh?

He also likes to pretend he can do headstands. Or something. We're not sure why he started doing this. But needless to say, his head gets quite uh... sandy.

Toward the end of our beach visit, I managed to get all the kids together-ish for a picture.

And Lucas threw sand at everyone. Abbie's expression sorta says it all, doesn't it?
Then Lucas proceeded to do his "headstand." Please make note of impending wave.

Yeah, those waves. They're merciless.

And really, nothing stings more than salt water and sand in your eyes.

Moral of this story:
a. no headstands on the beach
2. throwing sand will come back to bite you in the butt.
c. i have the cutest kids

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I won't lie.

I'm a cold-hearted mother. And not actually all that sentimental.
Monday was our first day back to school, and Anna's first day in Kindergarten. Now, most mothers would drive their kids to school on the first day, walk them to their classroom and take a million pictures and get a little teary and watch as their children waved goodbye and then go home and have a good cry.

I am not THAT mother.

My kids took the bus to school. I did not meet them at the school and walk them to their classrooms. I did not get even a little bit teary. I just felt relieved.

I did however, take pictures.

Headed off to Kindergarten. Couldn't be more excited. She came home and told me all about her new friends.

Off to second grade. Wow. I have a second grader. I distinctly remember that second grade was the very first time I received a "Will you go out with me? Circle Yes or No." I am certainly not prepared for that. Especially since Abbie already has a best guy friend. Abbie came home and told me she was bored. She's ready to jump in there with both feet and this first couple days of school bit is BORING!

They both jumped on the bus without looking back and I couldn't have been more thrilled. BYE Kids! See you in 7 hours! Thank you public school!
And in the meantime, I get to spend some "quality" which feels like "quantity" time with my boys.

But really, can you complain about this?

Or this? I didn't think so.
Will I cry when ALL of my children head of to school? Possibly. But they'll likely be tears of JOY!

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