Mommy Mobile

You don't have to tell me all the perks of a minivan. That's why we got it. In fact, the only reason we got it. It definitely wasn't for it's high class, or good looks. With three kids aged 3 and under, it's the only thing that makes sense. We can slide the 2 captain's chairs side to side, leaving room for Brock to get in and out to the backseat. I can easily reach in to buckle him up back there. We can move the now middle captain seat forward so I can easily reach my soon-to-be, brand new crying baby without swerving all over the road. The DVD player has convinced my 3-year-old that he is in a transportable movie theater. There are more drink holders than one could possibly need. There is a back up camera, and mirrors throughout. There are sun guards, so Curtis doesn't need to cover his face with Blanky Bear all the way to daycare. With the push of a button the doors open. In essence, it's almost as if it has given me a third arm.On top of that, it has seat warmers. Leather seats. Navigation. XM radio. A hidden 6 disc CD changer. Separate heating controls for the driver, passenger and rear end. On the inside, it is a luxury vehicle. It makes my life just that little bit easier. How can I not like it? I do, I guess, for what it is. I am a logical person, if we were going to get a new car because of the third addition, then why not get the one that makes the most sense. And honestly, I love ANY car more than the Buick.

So, maybe it's not so much the vehicle itself that I don't like, but the connotation of a minivan. I think Matt can happily, and confidently drive around in a mini because people see him and think, "Oh, someone's on mom duty today". They assume he is driving MY car. I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE being a mom. In fact, I often find myself thinking, "will I ever get to the point where I say, absolutely no more kids, no way." Even when we decide our family is complete, I feel like I would be ok with an "accident" for a long time afterwards. But just because I LOVE being a mom, does not mean that is how I identify myself. I am me. I am a mom. A wife. A doctor. A daughter. A sister. A coffee lover. An ice cream lover. A puzzle doer. A million things. Which all just make me, Erin. In the minivan, I am just mom. I lose my own identity. This is really the best way I can explain it.

Yes, in many ways, I am ruled by my children. But I never feel that way. I think overall, I am in control. Buying a minivan, was purely because of my children. Without them, I would never even consider it. Never. There is no denying it anymore. Mom is my over-riding identifier now. And this mini makes that obvious to everyone.

There you have it. I don't hate the car. I just don't want to be judged by it.

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I am getting to that point. Where I can't wait for coffee to taste good again. For sleep to be satisfying and comfortable. When I can go for a walk and not dread every step. Perhaps I could even workout. Or enjoy a beer. And kiss my husband without gagging from bad breath. And lay next to my 3 year old and read him a book at night. Or pick up my giant 15 month old and hold him for more than 3 seconds. And tie my shoes without almost losing consciousness. Or just get dressed without needing to rest in between applying each individual garment. And NO MORE INDIGESTION. Or restless legs.

Probably, my mind is most restless of all. It's a strange thing to not look forward to anything but one single event. Honestly, I am not complaining, just simply stating a fact. There is NOTHING I look forward to right now, except for the birth of this child. It is all consuming. At a HUGE 37 weeks and some change, nothing is enjoyable anymore. Food sure isn't. Sleep definitely isn't. Work, well, if it ever was enjoyable, it is now the opposite (as in I dread it). Even sitting here typing is uncomfortable and unsatisfying. (Now replace "sitting here typing" with a different, slightly more inappropriate/over-share type word, and we've got that in the mix too.) Now I remember why I cried every night for the 10 days prior to Brock's birth. It's just bothersome to know that the kid is fully cooked, but something keeps it in there. Perhaps it is set up like this, so when the baby comes, wakes up at all hours, spits up, poops constantly, and runs you ragged, you don't care. Because ANYTHING is better than being pregnant at this point.

I am assuming these feelings hit at the same time during the last 2 pregnancies. Though, originally, I thought it started MUCH earlier, so I thought I was getting by easy with this third go. Now, I think it's that these last 2 weeks drag like you wouldn't believe therefore giving the illusion that this torture lasts for weeks and weeks on end. And to add to that (and the last 2 were the same way), I contract a lot. Just randomly. But pretty uncomfortable. And sometimes, 2 or 3 will come in a row, just enough to get my hopes up. Talk about your Chinese Water Torture. It really isn't as bad with #3, because I learned my lesson from the previous 2, but you can't help but hope.
But the end is getting so close in sight. I bought some size 1 Swaddlers today, as well as Johnson & Johnson baby wash. I might actually wash and clean the infant carseat tomorrow. Afterall, even though the last 2 made it well past 39 weeks, every kiddo is different. For now, that is the glimmer of hope I hold on to...or is thinking any day could be the day, torture as well? Who knows.

Lots and lots of sighing.

I cannot wait, can't wait, can't wait, can't wait for this baby to arrive. I think my whole little family can't wait for this baby to arrive. My already on the short side temper is constantly boiling just beneath the surface. And maybe I was having an extra pregnant-looking day, but every. single. person. I even had the potential to make eye contact with had something to say, ask, or express to me about my huge belly. The "when are you due?" question I have gotten over. I just simply state, "3 weeks". Which these days, is often, annoyingly, greeted with "you're not going to make it that long, honey". And the, "any day now, huh?" type questions have got to stop. Because it is not any day now.

And, you know what? Most likely I WILL make it three more weeks. The same things that makes me a "cute pregnant person" are the same things that keep these kiddos in there. My body doesn't seem to mind pregnancy. I don't swell up. I've only gained 20lbs. My blood pressure does not increase. I don't have contractions (lots of braxton hicks). The baby is still rolling around, un-engaged. I don't think I have ever "dropped". 3 weeks from now, I will most likely be scheduling an induction to avoid going 2 weeks overdue and having a 12 pound baby. Yes, with Brock, my water broke 4 days prior to the due date, but, guess what? I still wasn't in labor. I still had to go through the whole induction process to get him out of there; 27 hours after my water broke. Curtis was induced, completely. My body is capable of birthing these kids, it just doesn't care to. Ever.

Though, comparatively speaking, this pregnancy has been far better, symptom-wise, than the other two, I can't say it has been less demanding. Working long hours, chasing around and lifting 2 kiddos and all the laundry and cleaning and dishes that go with them has done me in. I can't even pretend to be comfortable. And I HATE to complain, out loud to people. And I am a really awful liar, possibly even incapable of doing so. (People get the impression that I am pompous because I am always saying I can do anything...but they fail to notice the times when I admit I could never do something - like become an actor, singer, performer of any type.) I prefer to give the impression that I am happy and life has never been better at all times. Because, honestly, if I stop and look at it, I am happy, and life HAS never been better. There is a saying, "If everyone were to throw all their problems out into one pile, you'd grabs yours right back". I truly agree, I know I am blessed. I love my life. And that, my friends, is why I must resort to blogging. So, I can express my true feelings thoroughly, so as not to give the wrong impression. And to save Matt from a little bit of big, uncomfortable, pregnant-wife whining.

From here on out, just don't ask me how I am doing. I don't want to lie. And I don't want to whine. Just know, I will be happier with the kid on the outside. And, let's get real. It's pretty apparent from my ragged, worn appearance, and the constant sighing what my answer to that question is anyhow. I know you all have the power of observance, use it.

Let's hope my next pregnancy update will be one with a picture of a newborn included...

The 'Nesting" List

For a 3rd baby, there really isn't much you need - material wise. I have all the baby supplies, clothes, car seats, strollers, toys, etc that a mother could possibly need. (Though, 2 little boys dirty up washcloths pretty darn quick...I ain't touchin' my precious new baby's butt with those tainted things! And diapers are always useful, will I ever stop buying diapers!?) What I really need, is a big burst of energy, and some major cleaning and organization.

1. Laundry - I have a big collection of boys clothes that are too small which need to be put away in storage. And newborn clothes to wash and get out of storage. And a place to put the newborn's clothing.
2. The nursery needs a deep, deep clean.
3. Toys need to be organized.
4. My bedroom needs to be reorganized so clear a spot for the baby's bed (hopefully Baby O #3 takes after it's big bro's and does not need to stay in o ur room long, because it will wake up one time or less by 4 weeks.)
5. And if the above circumstance does happen, then Brock's room needs to be reorganized (perhaps a borrowed crib from a friend set up) for Curtis join.
6. And because of all this "reorganization" which is really another way to say, go through all my s*@t and get rid of some of it, so there is space for another human, we need to cut a shelf for the downstairs closet. Maybe add some hooks to it as well. And buy a couple storage baskets.
7. Then, all this stuff that I am shuffling around and adding to storage means that the storage area of the house requires some rearranging and attention.
8. And we pulled up all the carpet...so we need area rugs.
9. Did I mention laundry?
10. And a name for the kiddo might be nice.

    

I think that about covers it. Phew. Now that it's written down, at least there is evidence that I thought about actually preparing for this child. Just don't judge if none of it gets accomplished.

Oh, and *hint hint, nudge nudge* dinners as a new baby gift are always welcome! I cannot tell you how much that helped us when Curtis was born!!

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The Nesting List- Modified!!

1. You can mark numbers 1, 5, 6, 7 & 8 off the list.
2. And add: we need baby wash clothes. baby diapers. a Navy blue crib sheet. a dangle toy for the new baby's carrier. Nuk pacifiers (for newborn and for Curtis)
   
3. I would like a new pair of house slippers for my month as stay at home mom with 3 kids - doubt I am leaving the house.
4. And more laundry.
   

And I am sure there is more, but that is about as productive as my brain gets these days...

A Steel Trap.

One could describe Brock's mind as a steel trap. Seriously, once something gets in, it doesn't get out. I wish I would have known this before I told him that his teeth would turn black and fall out if he didn't brush them. Now, he WILL NOT go to bed without brushing his teeth (not that I would want him to, but if he falls asleep and we carry him to bed, he will wake up in the middle of the night and freak out that he "got forgot to brush his teeth!"). He even likes to floss. And apparently, as I just found out, he brushes his teeth frequently when visiting his Mimi and Papa. Also, he will periodically look at me, point to his teeth and ask me what color they are...just to double check that they are still white. I know this can also be described as stubbornness or anal retention, but it all stems from an incredible memory.
One night, I finally convinced my little, elephant minded child to let me read him the book, Bluberries for Sal. I got through about 3 pages before he grabbed it, and exclaimed, "We picked blueberries!" Which we had, as you might recall from last June! Over 6 months ago...I mean, that's a sixth of his lifetime. And not only did he remember the event, but he remembered every person who came along with us, 7 people. I don't think I remember much from 5 years ago, I know I got married and was in med school, that's about it. And, while we are on the book topic, if he likes a book, he pretty much memorizes it after just a few reads. We have a recording on Matt's iPhone of him reciting most of Are You My Mother before he was even 2.5 years old. His little voice is adorable, he sounds much more like a baby, rather than the little boy he is these days.

But not only does he have simple, rote memorization skills. He can incorporate these memories and use them to his advantage. Such as, last weekend, when our good friends' Gabe and Christin were over for dinner and games. Brock asked his father if he could play with his phone. Matt said, "no". Brock then turned and looked at Gabe's phone, which is identical, and asked Gabe if he could play games with his phone. Gabe said, "no, I don't have any games". Wrong move. You could immediately see the wheels spinning. Did I mention that Brock might be the world's biggest skeptic? You could tell he did not believe for a minute that an iPhone had no games. So, he sauntered off, pretending not to care that Gabe had rejected his request.

He returns moments later to inform Gabe, "You have a nice phone, I really like your phone." To which Gabe replied with a thank you. Brock then gets a little closer and says, "Does your phone have speakers?" And Gabe says, why yes. "Well, can I see them?" - HA! Are you kidding me, we were all just watching in astonishment. Brock was trying to come up with a clever way to get Gabe to hand over his phone. Gabe just pointed them out. Brock realized his plan hadn't worked and just came out with his trump card: "can I play the Balloon game?" Just as a little background, Gabe had shown Brock this game months ago. Caught in a lie. Personally, I would have accepted defeat, and handed the phone over to the kid, but Gabe said, "No, you forgot to say, please." Ugh. Darn those manners. Extremely intelligent people aren't known for their manners anyway...

...and let me add. It's a good thing Brock has fairly bright parents, because we have to constantly come up with new ways to convince that kid to do anything. Anyday he is going to start out-smarting us at every corner. I mean, he even reads the newspaper while out for a stroll. I can only hope he will use his powers for good, someday.