I'm Almost Back

I smiled this last week. And then I laughed. Not just a giggle, which is nice, but some good 'ol , gut- busting belly laughing. I don't think I've laughed like that in eons.

Oh alright, not eons, but a long time. And let me tell you, I needed it. Sometimes I think laughter really can be the best medicine. It sure gave me the shot in the arm that I've been needing. I think Monk would concur.

We were privileged last week to have attended the wedding of some good friends. The wedding was a few hours away in Austin. Monk, Hope and myself loaded up in Phil the Suburban on Wednesday and headed off for a much needed 3 day sabbatical.

(The other kiddos stayed behind with a reasonable amount of adult supervision. Nothing caught fire, nothing broke, no bones were broken, no stitches were needed and 911 was not summoned even one time.)

I liked to call our 3 day getaway, "The Last Fling". It was our last trip before The Corn Nut is born and we officially have 6 children. Yes, we had the 14 month old with us, but 1 child, as opposed to 5, still constitutes as almost being alone. At least to us. Plus, we kinda like her 'cause we think she's cute and all.

Anyway, we had a great time together and with our friends. Friends that can make you belly laugh are good friends, indeed. And, when you have a hubby that can make you belly laugh till you nearly pee yourself (which honestly isn't hard these days), then it's purely gravy.

(And yes, I do believe laughing until you pee is a totally viable way of determining a good relationship. And for those of you who cannot appreciate all of my references to urine, I sincerely apologize. Just keepin' it real people, keepin' it real.)

And the wedding? Oh my, the wedding. In a word....beautiful. It was unconventional, non-traditional and probably the single most beautiful wedding I've ever been privileged to attend. It wasn't only about the couple, but it was about God and worshiping Him and giving Him the glory.

Let me tell you, there were a few times that I wanted to collapse into a full blown Ugly Cry. But I remained composed and only a few tears fell with a reasonable amount of sniffling. Not bad for a large, hormonal pregnant woman.

It was good stuff. With good people.

I'm hoping that it was enough of a reality break to pull me out of the funk I've been in. One day I might even tell y'all a little about the "funk" and what it involves, but for now it needs to remain just that....the "funk".

I'm finding my happy place again and starting to feel as if I might be able to write a decent blog post or two. Heck, if I'm feeling real excited I might just write 3 this week! But if you're counting on a Devil Yoga post? Don't. I do believe that ship has sailed.

So, hello again everyone, it's nice to be back.

(So that means everyone that has been harassing me to post again can now stop. You know who you are. Bunch of dang stalkers.)

Things Rarely Change Around Here

Well, for those of you keeping track, it's been nearly a week since I last posted.

For those of you NOT keeping track...it's been nearly a week since I last posted.

So what's changed? Nothing really.

-Still pregnant, as evidenced by my protruding belly.

-Still have a small large mountain of dirty laundry.

-Still have more messy rooms in the house than clean ones. Okay, so maybe there are NO actual clean rooms in this house, but who's counting?

-Still trying to scrub unknown sticky substance off of kitchen table. However, said substance could quite possibly be the only thing holding the table together. I'm just sayin'.

-Still trying to convince the 100 lb. beast of a dog to NOT eat the children's toys outside. Wishful thinking.

-Still wishing Ed McMahon would show up at my door with some balloons and a large check. Does he still do that?

-Still desiring large quantities of DingDongs to cope. Don't tell my midwife. I didn't say eating, I said desiring...big difference....but still, don't tell her.

And what's new?

-The children have apparently dropped some sort of sticky substance, liken to that which is upon the kitchen table, into the computer keyboard, making it very difficult to push the "k" key and "m" key. So please refrain from asking me to spell words like monkey, marker or kimono.....it's not pleasant.

Still taking a small bloggy sabbatical, just checking in to let you all know I'm still here. The creative juices are still dry as a bone and my brain is ball of mush liken to the Cream of Wheat I ate as a child, but y'all will be the first to know when they are functioning properly again.

Now, off to find the DingDongs.

I'm Coming Out of Hiding Purely For Comfort

Time goes way too fast. I'm a firm believer in that these days.

Once I hit 35, somebody put my life on fast forward. And I don't like it one, stinkin', little bit.

The reason for my rant?

My boy. My only son (so far). He turned 17 years old today. (whimper..whimper)

Seventeen years ago at 6:32 a.m. he made his 8lbs. 1oz. appearance into this world. I was a mere 22 years old. Wow, I'm feelin' a little old right now.

He was an active child from the start. That is putting it mildly. The boy ran me (and everyone else) plumb CRAZY on some days. He was into E-V-E-R-Y-T-H-I-N-G! All. The. Time.

He had 3, yes 3, sets of stitches by the time he was 3 years old.

- 1 st set in his lip. He wasn't listening about sitting down and fell out of a chair at my sister's house. He hit his lip on the bottom of the chair, putting his tooth through the lip.

- 2nd set in his hairline above his forehead. He wasn't listening about jumping off an outside toy. He fell and hit his head on the cement.

- 3rd set in his belly. He wasn't listening about climbing into the cupboards at my mom's house. He slipped off of the stool and IMPALED himself on the cabinet handle. He was literally stuck. I had to lift him OFF of the handle to get him down. They had to do an x-ray on that one to make sure he hadn't hit his spleen.

Does anyone notice the pattern here?

He survived childhood though. Barely. He did have one more set of stitches in the side of his head where he was bit by a dog. Another really gross story that I won't go into.

They told me he was ADHD in first grade. I told them to get over it, he was a rambunctious, little boy. And he got over it. For the most part.

He inherited his mother's math gene. Although he managed to pass his Geometry class. Barely, but I couldn't even manage a "barely".

He started playing football in 4th grade and hasn't stopped since. He now plays varsity football and will get his letter jacket next week.

And now, all of a sudden, he's 17 and a junior in highschool. He has muscles and leg hair! My little boy!!!

So, forgive me if I'm a little sentimental today. Honestly, I really miss him being little sometimes. He has always kept life a little more interesting.

But I'm proud of him and the man he's becoming. He has a lot of kinks he still needs to work out, but he's getting there. He funny and sincere and for the most part, genuinely nice. He has a killer smile and can most efficiently schmooze his way out of any sort of trouble, with most females, upon flashing his grin. It doesn't work on me anymore. Sort of.

Anyway, I just wanted to say Happy Birthday Isaac! I love you, my son!













He'll always be a Momma's Boy.

Not Much to Say. Really.

Maybe it's Hurricane Ike. Maybe it's because I broke my little toe on my left foot today (which REALLY hurts, by the way!). Maybe it's the fact that I failed Mr. Zeeman's 2nd semester Geometry class my junior year in high school.

Or.

Maybe it's that I have pregnancy hormones raging through my body right now that is liken to the alien that pops out of Sigourney Weaver's stomach in one of the Alien movies. Unfortunately, I couldn't find a picture or YouTube clip to share with you. Trust your imaginations.

Nevertheless, I'm in a funk. I'm in such a mood swinging funk that I'm not in the mood to blog.

So, for the time being I'm going on a bloggy break. (Is that cheering that I hear?) I may be out of my funk after the weekend and back with a vengence by Monday. (I am, after all, going to a women's conference tomorrow and Saturday.)

Or not.

I just don't know. I just know that I need a little break.

So, I'll see y'all around. Hopefully soon.

Y'all have a great weekend!

Never Forget

Some would rather forget these images. I see that as dangerous. We must always remember what happened to us that day, never forgetting the innocent lives lost and the sacrifices that were made for others.

We mustn't forget the continual sacrifices that are being made for our freedom daily. The sacrifices we may not see and sometimes choose not to see. Never take for granted that we live in a free country.

One day, those freedoms may be in jeopardy. Maybe not in our lifetime, but perhaps in our children's our grandchildren's lifetimes. That's why we must remember and we must share with our children, the sacrifices made and the lives lost to live in this free nation.

And it's not only about 9/11. There is over 200 years of rich history that tells the tales of sacrifices made by patriots willing to lay down their lives for the freedoms we enjoy today.

If you don't know them, learn them. Teach your children. Tell your grandchildren.

And never forget.

The Devil Yoga Update - Week 5

So I succumbed and went back to yoga last night.

I paid for 7 classes and 7 classes I shall complete. But not nary a one after 7. No way.

Somebody needs to give me some props for going to class in a torrential downpour as well. I debated turning around several times just because of the rain and traffic, but it was y'all that kept me going. Why in the world you people like the yoga updates is beyond me.

Apparently, y'all like stories of my personal embarrassment and torture. Go figure.

In spite of the rain, I wasn't late this time. The teacher was actually a little behind and so I had myself plopped propped in a yoga prone position, looking very yoga-ish if I do say so myself, by the time class started.

The teacher couldn't get the music to work properly, so we had to just go without the ethereal yoga tunes. This is where we all sigh a collective, "awwwwww". Or if your me, you whoop and holler while doin' the Cabbage Patch. Silently in my head, of course. I did, however, offer to chant and hum for the class, but the yoga teacher declined for some reason. Hmpf.

She also couldn't find her little tinkling bells. I was highly amused by this. I'm not sure what roll the little tinkling bells actually play, but all I can think of when she pulls them out is kindergarten. When my teacher Mrs. Parrot, with the bright red lipstick, would have music time we would all practically kill to be the one to play the little tinkling bells. He who tinkled the bells ruled. But the yoga bells - not so much.

Interestingly enough, the yoga bells aren't the only thing tinkling during class.

I'm just sayin'.

She immediately started class with the breathing. The breathing doesn't bother me that much anymore because now I just, you know.... breath. I mean really, how can you mess up breathing? And then she continued with the whole "find your cool breath" thing again. This is usually puzzling to me and frankly, quite annoying. How does one make their breath cool?

However, I got one over on her this week. I sucked on a mint right before class, so my breath was nice and cool. Oh yeah. And ever so pepperminty too! Finding your cool breath is never more than a peppermint away, y'all. Just so you know.

And really. When I'm in labor, do y'all really think I'm gonna get all worked up about finding my cool breath? I can see it now. Me throwing myself from the birth ball onto the bed and bellowing to my midwife, "I can't transition now, I haven't found my cool breath yet!".

Um, no.

I didn't balk at closing my eyes this week either. Mostly because I am so stinkin' tired that it actually felt good to close my eyes. And I didn't automatically start thinking about food or if I looked fat. I did, however, keep yawning, which was probably indicative of my boredom as well as my exhaustion. I tried to stop, but no amount of oxygen to my brain or cool breath was going to stop the yawn. Remember, I've already hit The Wall.

As we came to a standing position, she informed us that we would be going into that wretched Goddess pose. She looked at me, the one with the weak "pelvic floor", and informed me that I could just go and do the sitting position against the wall.

I was not to be undone, however.

Come pee or high water, I was going to do that dang Goddess pose just like the rest of the class! And I did! Of course, I felt as if the baby would surely fall out onto my maroon yoga mat no sooner than we had finished, but by golly, I was not the class weakling.

She then said we were going to squat.

At that point I admitted I was the class weakling and chose to sit against the wall in the butterfly position.

Choose your battles people, choose your battles.

I would be remiss if I didn't mention the fact that on Sunday I made a Sausage, Bean and Sauerkraut dish. I ate 3 bowls. Beans and sauerkraut are two things one should really never eat before a yoga class that involves pelvic tilts and squatting. Don't tell me I have a weak pelvic floor! Ahem.

When all was said and done, I survived another class. I didn't take things quite so seriously this week. After all, there are no winners in yoga. Maybe a few losers, but definitely no winners. I wasn't nearly as self conscious this week as in previous weeks and that was because there was only one uber fit pregnant girl in the class this time.

I chose to go to my happy place and ignore her.

And that's it. That concludes the Devil Yoga Update for week 5.

What ever will I write about when I finish these classes? Five weeks down and two more torturous classes to go.

But who's counting.

Just Hitting The Wall

My third trimester is quickly approaching and I have to admit, things are not too bad. My all-day sickness is waning (I think) and I am slowly (very slowly) trying to wean myself off of the Zofran. I've done only a half a dose every night for the last 3 nights and so far so good. Woo-hoo! My lower back and hips aren't giving me near the trouble they did with Hope and I can still walk and get off the couch relatively easy these days (mostly thanks to my once a week chiro appointments - have I said I love my chiros?). For what it's worth, I feel pretty doggone good.

But, let me tell you, while I'm doing really well in most areas, there is one problematic area.

The Wall. I've hit it.

I'm exhausted.

It stinks.

I didn't used to like admitting that I was getting older, but as I was telling a friend the other day...
I'm old and pregnant. Yes, I said it. I'm admitting my limitations (and my age) and realizing that the get up and go I had in my twenties has frankly, got up and went.

The forty five pounds I lost after Hope was born has been a tremendous advantage in this pregnancy. And truthfully, I've felt better in this pregnancy than I have in the last three. But let's face it, I haven't chased a 14 month old around AND been pregnant since I was 24.

In case you need the math...that was 15 years ago.

I am a much more patient mother now than I was then and I don't nearly get so wrapped up in the little things (like perfectly coiffed baby girl hair with giant bows) like I used to. My zest for life and a good laugh is still as nutty as it ever was. There's only one really distinct difference now.

I'm tired. This would be The Wall.

And that's the bare bones truth about it. I can't deny it any longer. If I don't sleep well at night, and I don't sleep well at night, I don't do well the following morning, afternoon day. I no longer have that bounce. (You know the one. ..when you're younger and can survive for a few days on no sleep and a little Mountain Dew and it doesn't phase you) When 2:00 in the afternoon rolls around, all I want is my couch and my eyes in the shut position. And some chocolate.

And that's another thing (the chocolate, that is). I'm finding that as my energy wanes, my desire to consume junk increases. My cravings for chocolate and the occasional Coke are ferocious these days and I know it's because I need a quick boost. I also know those quick boosts give way to extreme crashes later. There's really no excuse for eating junk really~ other than the fact that a good, old fashioned Ding Dong just sounds good sometimes. But for the sake of The Corn Nut and my own health, I really do need to refrain.

My cooking is starting to suffer as well. Or maybe I should say, the lack thereof. Dinners have to be simple and my go-to dinner lately is french toast and bacon. Hey, it works. I'm buying more convenience foods right now and my while my desire to feed my family healthier, natural foods is still as strong as it ever was, my desire to shove some frozen, hydrogenated concoction into the oven and go lay on the couch is stronger.

Just trying to be real here, people.

I'm really trying to cut myself some slack because after all, I am in fact, pregnant (and old). I realize that things aren't going to be the same for a long while (even after The Corn Nut arrives) and practically speaking, that should be okay. But for some reason mommas are the hardest on themselves when it comes to cutting somebody some slack.

So, what do I do?

Well, since I've already hit The Wall and I'm already laying here on my back, dazed and a little confused, I think I'll just stay here.

Yep. I'll stay here and not mind the house being a little messier (not a lot, just a little).

I'll enjoy feeling the miraculous bumps and kicks inside of me that make me fiercly love this baby already.

I'll watch and enjoy the sweet antics of my adorable Hope as she goes from babyhood into toddlerhood.

I'll laugh as Liv says or does something that is SO TOTALLY her.

I'll let Sis be the huge help that she is and praise her for folding clothes or washing dishes and watch her grin with accomplishment.

I'll cave as Madgirl begs me to help straighten her hair or watch a movie with her.

I'll enjoy going to The Boy's varsity football games and tell him that yes, he is an AWESOME deep snapper.

And I'll sit on the couch, next to my sweet hubby, watching college football, while he pats my fat belly trying to feel a kick or two.

Actually, The Wall might not be so bad after all.

Could somebody pass me a Ding Dong?

Because I Thirst for Knowledge. And a Good Laugh.

While at Barnes and Noble on Monday, I decided that I should do a little bit of light reading myself. So, with Monk at my side, I sought out some interesting reading material.

Actually, I just told him to bring the camera.

I found my book of choice and perched myself precariously in a nice, open spot.

Wanna see what I picked?





















And for those who need a close-up.




















Oh yes, we are a wickedly funny duo sometimes.

Worms In Their Natural Habitat

Bookworms, that is.

During one of our little expeditions on Labor Day, we stopped by the local Barnes and Noble bookstore. If you know US, then you know our children follow closely in our footsteps when it comes to books. We LOVE to read.

Monk and I could spend HOURS in a bookstore just perusing the books and yet never buying any. While we would love to buy more books, we have these things called c-h-i-l-d-r-e-n that need to be fed occasionally and therefore, we refrain from buying.

But on Monday, it was the girls day to look. We went to the children's section and camped out for a good hour. What joy filled their little hearts!

Okay well, except for her little heart. She was apparently crying over the stupid expression on my face.















Olivia still. It's a good thing.



















So many books, so little time.



















No stupid expressions here. Just matching bellies!



















Sheer joy for a mother's heart.














Mr. Clean has a way with babies.



















We walked away from our adventure relatively cheap. A new book for each of our little bookworms and an afternoon of great fun.

Oh, but wait.

You'll need to come back tomorrow. That's when I'll show you what I was reading.

Mmmm...Mmmm...Blech!

I am the first to say that I have the single most forbearing husband that I know. I have many sins idiosyncrasies that he puts up with on a regular basis.

He is especially gracious to me when I'm expecting. In the early months when I am so, so sick, he does everything in his power to find foods I can eat and make sure I'm comfortable (too bad he can't vomit for me, eh?).

In the latter months, such as now, he runs errands, cleans up, takes extra children with him when he can and caters to my cravings on a regular basis.

Yesterday was no different.

I usually don't keep ice cream in the house as certain members of our family have no self-control, but yesterday ice cream just sounded SO GOOD! I just wanted something gooey, with lots of chocolate and nuts and all other manner of goodness. I mentioned this to Monk in passing while making a grocery list, but didn't put it on the list.

Because I'm health conscious and all.

Anyway, Monk gets back from the store and beckons me into the kitchen. He begins telling me that he knows I didn't put ice cream on the list, but as he walked past the ice cream aisle he saw something that stood out and he just had to get it for me.

I was all ears.

He waxed on about this ice cream for a good 3 minutes until my salivary glands were in overload and my tongue was hanging from my mouth. I just knew he found some chocolatey, nutty, gooey concoction that would make all of my ice cream dreams come true.

This is what he pulls from the bag.

Blech!

He knew immediately when the smile fell from my face that he had bombed in the ice cream department. The girls then saw what he bought and they both made the same face I did. They had a one word response too.

Blech!

His head fell to his chest and I comforted him by saying,

"Don't worry champ, I'll take it back and get something that's actually...um...GOOD!".

And then I laughed maniacally and told him he had opened himself up for major blog fodder.

So later that evening I took the Cantaloupe 'n Cream (sheesh, it even sounds disgusting) back to the local Wal-Mart and promptly bought me a 1/2 gallon of something called...

Candy Bar.

Oh yes, my friends. Frozen serendipity.

26 Weeks...Almost

One of our Labor Day adventures was a trip to the mall. Apparently I was feeling a little adventurous because I don't like the mall very much on slow days, much less on horribly packed holidays. I digress.

So while standing in the Family Bathroom waiting for the littles to finish their "business", I took a cue from this blog. I laughed when I saw Brittany do this and as I stood in the bathroom looking at this huge mirror I thought, "why not?".

And so, courtesy of the Family Bathroom at our local mall....I give you my Almost 26 Weeks Bump picture.




















It's okay to gasp. I know I'm huge. I don't get those nice, compact, cute little bumps. Nope. Never have. Not even with the first, almost 17 years ago, when I was about 40 pounds lighter.

I get the all-over-certainly-this-woman-must-be-carrying-twins-to-be-that-huge bump. That, plus I'm a little fat, you know.

It's okay. It's all good.

Becuz We Wunted Free Chikun'

So, like I said here, Chick-Fil-A was running a special promotion for FREE 3 piece chicken strips if you wore your favorite football team attire on Labor Day. It could be pro, college, high school or whatever your heart desired. As long as it was football.

Most of our clan (that means the little ones who aren't too embarrassed to be seen with us), donned our attire and headed over to our local Chick-Fil-A for FREE Chikun.

Let me just say it's very rare for us to go anywhere with ALL 6 children at one time these days. But even with just the 3 little ones and me expecting, we get plenty of "looks". You know the kind. You can hear the people thinking, "do they know what causes that?". Today was pretty much more of the same. But we grinned and beared it. Anything for FREE chikun!

Daddy with his girl, upon our arrival, in their Michigan attire













Two of the chikun lovin'est girls you will ever meet. Sis wore her Longhorn jersey and Liv wore her Martin Warriors (The Boy's high school -he plays varsity) t-shirt.















Me and the Monk (photo courtesy of: Sis)













Only the cutest little Michigan Wolverine ever! This outfit is 13 years old and has been worn by ALL FOUR of my girls. But that is a whole 'nother blog post.



















Since all 5 of us wore Football attire, we received a total of 15 chicken strips for FREE! We shared fries and drinks and ate for around 10 bucks! G'head, tell me I'm good.

And just so you know:

Texas 52 Florida Atlantic 10 Give me a big Hook'em Horns for that one!

Utah 25 Michigan 23 Better luck next time y'all. Tell the quarterback it helps when he can make the passes.

Yes, I know. I'm brutal. Even with the ones I love.

I Think My Funnybone Is Broken

Or maybe just sick.

Have you ever been in that funk? Where you couldn't produce something funny if your life depended on it?

I'm there.

I laugh. I say witty things to my husband and children. Yet, I get on my blog, with lots of great ideas, and just stare at the blinking cursor. Duuuuh.... Not that I have to be funny. I don't. I just like looking at things from a humorous perspective. And now I'm not able to.

My superpower is gone.

It's not as if I don't have funny things to write about. I have a husband of whom some would consider certifiable , I have 5 children (can we say Liv + handcuffs = blog fodder?), 2 cats, 2 dogs (one of which is like having a 6 foot, 200lb toddler with ADHD) and yet....nothing.

This is a matter of great concern to me.

It may require the consumption of great quantities of chocolate. And perhaps a tall Chai Tea Frappucino. Or two.

And now, a poem. By me.

Funny bone, funny bone, wherever you are,
Where have you gone? I hope it's not far.

The blogs running dry And I'm running amok,
Telling dull tales, filled with general bad luck.

Come back to me friend, Come back to me soon,
I'm writing bad poetry, Which is most certain my doom.

And so is the end, of my ominous, sad rhyme,
If you're still reading... then you must be pretty hard up.

See. Wha'd I tell ya? It's broke.