Before I REALLY Don't Have Time...

Baby/Daughter/Blessing #3's coming in less than 3 days. I just realized there are still no postings regarding last Christmas or even the girls' birthdays. That's just sad.

So here's the drive-by (and highly photographed) version. Try to keep up.

Cecily turns 3!

The birthday girl

The birthday decor

The birthday aftermath/loot

CC approves the cake...

As does Malia...

As does Daddy

A little post-birthday celebration Wii

And finish off the hard-core partying with a thumb

Disneyland Trip Sandwiched In-Between Birthdays

As always, visit Tinkerbell, first and foremost

A drinking fountain for everyone

Splurge (and I mean SPLURGE!) on a face painting...

... times 2.

Get extra birthday attention from a real live princess...

... and then Mommy gets sad because both her camera and her phone die. But, trust me... we had a good (expensive) time. (Our passes expired the day after this) :(


Malia turns 6!

Squeeze presents in before dance class

This is the part that's impressive: I had been promising Malia a birthday party all year. But December got really overwhelming and I broke that promise. When I asked her what she'd like to do instead, she said, "Bowling." (No clue why). We took her to this immaculate location near where we were planning on having dinner, and they were closed for some private party (this place wouldn't take reservations when I had asked a week or two before). And Malia didn't shed a single tear! She just accepted it! It was awesome. So, we just headed early to our reservations at "Goofy's Kitchen."

Goofy's Kitchen: Totally overpriced but the girls LOVED all the characters and Dave was pleasantly surprised that everything he ate he thought was delicious. Minnie Mouse even came over to give them a special cupcake and sing "Happy Birthday."

"I'm 6!"

Pre-Christmas Christmas

Opening presents from family the night before leaving for WA so we don't have to pack them

"Daddy? Can you help me open this?"

"You're taking too long - I need to entertain myself...".

Malia made this for her parents for Christmas

Christmas In Issaquah

I try to get the girls outside at least 30 minutes a day - a lot harder in a wet, cold place. Thank goodness Grandma's house had a trampoline.

And thank goodness Daddy was willing to jump, since Preg-o Mommy couldn't

"Jump higher, Daddy!"

Trying to make up for the birthday-bowling-mishap

Even CC tried.... once.

Grandma April was good about assisting Malia since Mommy pulled a ligament picking up a ridiculously-too-heavy-for-a-pregnant-woman bowling ball

CC decided keeping score was more fun than playing

The air hockey table looked exciting (for about 1 minute)

Christmas Day

The girls were actually pretty good sports about having to open presents AFTER going to Church

CC spends a lot of time on getting each toy out of their boxes after they've been unwrapped

Some of the bigger toys are gifts to them both

Spend oodles of cash on gifts for children - child latches on to Slinky worth $1.

CC lost interest in toys and just wanted food - typical

New Year's

Last year we went to the beach on New Year's Day, which is something I hope to make a tradition as long as we live near the ocean. However, January 1st fell on the Sabbath this year, so we went to the beach on New Year's Eve.

What is it with kids and chasing birds?

Defiant CC

Compliant CC

Pretty girls

That night, we took the girls out on a NYE "date" to Olive Garden where we all got dressed in our Sunday best. Then we came home and had a small party before getting the girls to bed on time (our new Church time slot the next morning was going to be 9:00 - no need to make it any harder than it was already going to be).

Our party attire

CC eating white chocolate popcorn

CC eating more popcorn

"Happy New Year!" (at 7:45 PM PST)

The aftermath

"Are You Ready?"

I hear that question about 2 or 3 times a day as soon as people are done gawking at my gargantuan belly and I then inform them that I'll be having this baby in a week and a 1/2.

"Are you ready?" they ask.

If you mean, Do I have a crib and a car seat and diapers and clothes and burp cloths and a breast pump and all of the necessary physical amenities to satiate an infant's temporal needs? Then, yes.

If you mean, "Are you ready?" Then, no.

Confession: I don't do newborns.

Don't get me wrong. I see newborns and I think they're beautiful and miraculous and amazing and precious...

I want to hold them. Kiss their heads. Smell them. Love them.

I miss my girls as newborns.

But I also couple the thought of that tiny time in both of their lives with a living nightmare. Not gonna' lie.

This was my beautiful Malia - all of the time. Not from 5-10 PM; not every couple of hours; not when she was tired or hungry; not after shots... nope.

All. Of. The. Time.

For 5 months.

Oh, sure. There were happy moments - I have pictures of those, too. In fact, I kept a camera on my hip at all times to be sure to capture those moments whenever they did, in deed, happen. But the above face was seen more often than not. Count your blessings that's not a video with sound up there, yo.


This is my hand.

These are bite marks that were put there by me - a grown, intelligent, capable woman - who couldn't deal with the anxiety and the rising blood pressure that I experienced and later came to be diagnosed as a result of post-partum depression. Why do I have a picture, you may wonder? Because I looked at my hand one day and realized I needed help. I took a picture to remind myself to not let it get to that point again.

This is what I would do to my hand when Cecily would cry... like all babies do... simply to communicate. The sound made me feel like I was failing as a mother and that colic was knocking at my door yet again. And then my nervous system would go crazy (pun intended) and I had to lash out. So I would bite my hand. I have a scar on my lip from when Malia was little and her crying became so much I'd bite down. With Cecily? It became my hand. As long as it wasn't on the baby was all that mattered to me.

But I have issues, ok? Real, therapy-needed, diagnosable issues. I've talked to my doctor already. He's fully prepared to drug me up if that is the necessary case (last-ditch resort, mind you). And I have a chiropractor friend who treated Cecily when she was 2 weeks old and who I fully intend to visit ASAP with this next one. I went to a therapist for 4 months after CC was born to help me find tactics and tools to get through those moments when I felt like someone else was at the wheel.

I have to remind myself that I have raised two beautiful, healthy, fairly-well-behaved girls up to this point. I'm not terrible at it. I'm not a champ, by any means, but I figure it out as I go by. If child-rearing were an Olympic sport, I wouldn't medal, but I think I'd at least qualify.

Okay, ladies. Honesty time (when isn't it honesty time in my world...?). I have a lot of pregnant friends right now. It seems last summer was a fertile time in my social circles. And I want this baby. I mean, I was willing to completely forgo even having a period after last spring's miscarriage in order to test out the rumor that women are very fertile after a miscarriage - a theory that proved true for us. For that reason, I've technically been pregnant for a little over a year. I know that we are meant to be a "minimum-of-3-kids family." I am excited for this baby girl. I love my children. The fear I had when I was pregnant with Cecily that I couldn't possibly love her like I love Malia is non-existent this time around, because I have now experienced the unconditional and infinite love a mother can feel for more than one child. THAT is totally in baby #3's favor.

But the thought of knowing what's to come has me terrified. And I'm having a hard time biting my tongue as my multiple pregnant girlfriends post on their FB statuses(ii?) about how excited they are and all the plans they have for themselves and their impending wee one (and yes - I admit I'm judging many of them like the mean girl I am because, for a good majority of them, this is their first). I don't want to be the storm cloud that rains on the parade with comments like: Just you wait until it's 3 AM and little Junior is showing no signs of slumber or HA! You think you're uncomfortable now?! Ever heard of mastitis?! or I'm glad you love making all those baby purchases. But in 3 months you'll feel like you're tossing bricks of gold into that diaper genie (all of which I've literally typed out and deleted and replaced with a simple click of the "Like" button on their status).

But that's what I do when I'm scared - I assume everyone else in the world is dumb. And the (possibly [probably] conceived by me) "cluelessness" (or maybe it's precious optimism and I'm just a sad, bitter old curmudgeon) of my other pregnant Mommy friends only seems to rub salt in the wound that is my self-doubt. I've done this twice. But I'm really scared to do it a 3rd time. I'm scared of the sleep-deprivation and the crying and the first few days of struggling to breast feed and the first few months of clinging desperately to any control I thought I once had in my life. And the biggest part of my fear is the fact that I have two living/breathing children who will still need me to be functioning; and I'm concerned about my ability to function.

Please tell me I'm not the only one who goes through this thought process before a baby's born. Please tell me that it's not supposed to be all about the itty-bitty booties and hand-stitched bibs and smiling wistfully at the fluffy, new crib bedding. Please tell me that women are allowed to think this realistically without being judged or ridiculed or reminded about that superhumanity of all the perfect moms who came before them....

So, maybe all of this begs a new question: "Then why are you doing it again?"

This is why.

And this is why.

And this is why.

And this is definitely why.

Let's just hope I make it through the "Why ME?!"s better than I have before so I can get to the "Why"s much sooner... for everyone's sake.

My 6-year-old (as of 12/10/11)

My sweet LiliBug:

Let's be honest. There's so much I can say about you re: the seemingly short amount of time you've lived on this planet. But you've accomplished so much in your little life that I am in awe of you every single day. You're an expert at this whole "life" thing, and I'm not sure when exactly it happened that you became the teacher and I the pupil... probably somewhere around the time you started screaming bloody, piercing murder at about 3 weeks old. Lesson #1 - Humility/Patience.


You are my little rule-follower. It is very important to you that things are done the right way. I'm not sure if that's just who you are or if it's coupled with you being the oldest child or if I'm to blame because I am constantly taking advantage of the fact that you feel the need to obey at all times. Probably a lovely balance of the three. The other day, you were playing a board game with your little sister as I was making dinner, and I could hear you getting increasingly frustrated as she commenced making chaos out of said game. I could hear the tears building up in between every, "CC, no! That's not how you play!" I called you over to me, unsure of exactly what to say. I appreciate your desire to do things "right." But your sister is 3. And she does things with 3-year-old rules. And the anxiety you were developing at that moment was just too much for someone of your petite stature. I tried to explain to you an appreciation for your desire to always follow the rules and do things as you see they should be, but then I mentioned that there are some things in life we have to let slide. We have to learn to loosen up a little - give up some of the control - especially when we are commingling with toddlers. You seemed to understand. But who had learned the lesson, really? Again - me.


You are an incredibly smart girl. At the recent kindergarten awards' assembly, there were 6 awards given out, of which you received 5 (the one you didn't get was "knows how to tie shoes." Let's be honest - is that really something they need an award for? I'm to blame. Your shoes have been Velcro-only for years). I admit feeling a great source of pride every time your name was called. I don't take the credit, though. You're just smart. I haven't done anything extreme or intense to aide you in your learning other than read to you, try not to ignore your questions, and the occasional moment where I forget you're a child and talk to you like a full-on adult. There were definitely some beaming moments for me the next few days at school drop-off when other parents approached me with, "Is there any award your daughter didn't get?" at which I would "humbly" reply: "She can't tie her shoes." [insert feigned-complacency shrug here] Your homework yesterday was a reading assignment. You blazed through the fact that "Nan and Pat ran and ran." Of course you did, seeing as how, the night before, you sounded out the words "enormous" and "generosity" without a hitch at bedtime. C'mon, now.


They'll be testing you next month for the GATE program. I'm not worried. In fact, I haven't even told you. I'll just let you think it's another one of those random state tests they make you take every couple of months. I'm glad you're so smart. I prided myself on that, admittedly, when I was growing up and not feeling up to par in the looks' department (which is not your problem in the least). But I worry about the pressure you already place on yourself. When you do well, I praise you. When you don't (which rarely, if ever, happens) I try to make as little of it as possible. Besides, I have bigger things to worry about with you...

... like the fact that I have had 4 mothers in the last 2 weeks tell me that their sons mention you at home as their favorite girl at school. You are in KINDERGARTEN, for crying out loud! Boys should not already be "mentioning" you. And definitely not FOUR boys! You are beautiful, I know this. You are beautiful and friendly and funny and... goshdanggit!... how do I rein all of this in?! I, of course, would hate to stifle any of it. But at the same time, I am not prepared for the whirlwind that the force you are will stir. I thank God every day for the amazing little human and package that you are. And I pray to God every day that you will survive what this ill-intentioned world thinks it wants to do with that. I will have to do everything in my power to instill in you a drive to please God that will match no other so that you will be able to "overcome" these strengths and be someone who, despite being so blessed, knows who she is and where all those blessings come from.


You are so amazing with your little sister. And you are so excited for the coming of another. I have anxiety, admittedly, about adding a third child to this crazy family, but, believe it or not, one of the only things that brings me peace of mind is your existence. Ironically, it was your colic that was the cause of my PTSD, which was also a huge contributing factor to my PPD after Cecily was born. But now that I know all of this, you will also be my biggest help. You are always so willing to do as I ask and you are amazing with babies and you are so patient with that little in-house tornado we call CCLemon. I'll do my best to remember that you are only 6, and try not to ask too much of you.


There are multiple times I have to say to you, "Malia? Don't boss your sister!" and then I have to stop myself as I realize it's my fault you do so. I am constantly asking you to get things for her and do things for her, and I even occasionally ask you to tell her what not to do. And then there are those moments you take initiative and I lecture you for it. Talk about mixed signals! I'll work on asking less of you. It's just so hard when, despite your <25th percentile stature, you are such a capable child. You are teeny-tiny in size, but you are ginormous in accomplishment, capability, and most importantly, love. I have yet to come across a more forgiving child than you.


I love you, Malia Renee. And even though there are days that the smallest upheaval brings you to, what can seem like unnecessary and, inconsolable tears, you are pure peace of mind for me. Peace of mind because, despite my many flaws, and despite your being the oldest child on whom I make the most mistakes, you are growing up to be so amazing.

And that's reassuring.

Love, Mommy

CC Turned 3! (on 12/8/2011)

Dear CCLemon -

I've been anticipating this transition with admitted anxiety because, as easy as your sister was, 3 was much more difficult with her than 2. And you are, no questions, repeating the trend. You are more strong-willed and temperamental than I had realized. But you are also incredibly funny, loving, and smart. And as your mother, I am going to do my darnedest to help cultivate those amazing characteristics. I never want you to feel like I constantly focus on the things about you that frustrate me. I will never be perfect at this - I'm sorry. But I make you this promise right now: I will always try.

Friends and strangers alike have been commenting lately on how pretty you are. This makes me very happy. There have been a lot of articles circulating on the Internet amongst friends of mine about how important it is to NOT focus on being pretty with little girls. But I'm not going to lie, I'm grateful for that dirty blonde, wavy hair; those big blue eyes; those full little lips. Soon we will start teaching you the importance of being smart and kind over being pretty. But I'm shamelessly grateful that "pretty" is not something we have to worry about. You and your sister look very different. But you are both beautiful.

You have recently left nursery at Church and are now officially a Sunbeam... and you hate it. I think it's harder for you because I am the Primary Chorister, and seeing me sit on the other side of the room as you are forced to be still and "listen" to some stranger tell you stories that go way over your head just isn't as fun as running around a room with a bevy of toys at your disposal. Sometimes I have to intervene when you have brief moments of retaliation - but I get it. It's not an easy transition. And despite your moments, and your unwillingness to hide your disappointment in the change, your peers are actually doing worse. I know I shouldn't use other peoples' children as a measuring device, but even at some of your worst moments, I still find other kids are being worse. Again, it's a reminder to me to lighten up my expectations of you. You're only 3, for crying out loud!

Potty training.... oh, wait. I decided to focus on the positive, didn't I? Moving on...

You make us laugh, daily. People are charmed by your antics and the faces you make. Sometimes I worry people will be offended when they greet you and you scowl, but there's something in the zest for life you ooze from every pore that makes even your "mean" moments absolutely charming. Your sister Malia has unstoppable fits of giggles when you really get going. I am grateful you have become such a friend to her. I'm excited to see the kind of dynamic you share when the two of you are older. But SLOW DOWN! I'm excited, I said - not ready for it.

You love dress up. If you had enough extremities, you would wear 20 tutus and necklaces, and 10 pairs of shoes. You're lucky you're my 2nd child. I'm much more willing to let you leave the house looking like a walking circus closet than I was with your sister. I also think it's because it's just "you." There's something so fitting for you to be wearing a sparkly, article of clothing to match each of your personalities. You've also finally come to accept you're having a baby sister. I don't think you understand she'll actually be coming OUT soon - I think you're understanding is that she's taken up a permanent residence in my tummy - but at least you talk about her now instead of saying, "NO!" and walking away when I ask you about her.

I don't know if there are many children more clumsy than you. Every night at bath time, I am astounded by the sprinkle of new bruises I discover all over your little legs. The amazing thing is, I don't recall you falling that much. I think it's because you're our little trooper. It takes a mighty big fall for you to feel the need to cry about it and come for a "kiss it better." And even then, you've had some booboos where I was amazed that a "kiss" sufficed. You're a tough girl. I think this could be said about you in all facets of you. You're a tough girl. And I know God saved you for these last days for that very reason.

Despite your lack of grace, you are actually quite coordinated when you dance. You can do a "pirouette" with amazing balance and ease, which isn't common at your age. I'm also impressed by the way the quality of music you are listening to inspires the way you choose to move your body. It's a thrill to watch. Now, if only we could get you enrolled into dance classes (*cough,cough* potty training *cough*).

There are multiple times in the day you do things and I think to myself, "Agh! If only I had my video camera." There are also multiple times a day I have to turn my head to stifle a laugh as I discipline you. As exhausting as your strong-will can be, I can't help but admit I admire it in you - you did, after all, inherit it from yours truly. Refusing to take one bite of something and then holding it in your mouth for 45 minutes and then throwing it up the moment it touches the back of your throat? When I tell people this story, the part their amazed by is the "45 minutes."

"Why do you go for so long?" they ask.

"Who do you think she got her strong-will from?" I answer.

I'm both terrified and proud of the similarity.

And I'm both terrified and proud of your potential.

A lady at Church once told me a story about how she had purchased dozens of books on raising a "spirited" child, and how ultimately, she simply turned to the Lord and asked, "Help me learn to help guide him to use his attributes as strengths and for good." She didn't want to change him. She just wanted to aide him in who he was and point him in the right direction.

I pray I can do the same for you.

Love, Mommy

A Teaser

I have NOT been blogging lately! Part of it's a busy holiday; part of it's the fact that it seems fewer people are reading/commenting lately; part of it's the entering of my 3rd trimester which makes me want to do nothing but watch TV & eat Bon Bons... (for reals).

When I get a chance, I have photos GALORE!

But for now, here's a little teaser:

BEGINNING OF DECEMBER

END OF DECEMBER