Sunday Pic: Facepaint

Lazy summer days... a little bit o' decoration.

We accidentally left that Kiki (binky) of Pearls at Grandma's house yesterday. It has been almost 24 hours of no kikis. We've come this far. I think we will just be done.

Next Sunday Pic? I will take you on a tour of the basement progress. The week after that? We ought to be done.

Done

Done.

Or maybe the week after that.
.
.
.
.
.

Or maybe next year sometime.

Birdie's Early Christmasssssss

Last night was a banner night for the Eldest Chaos Girl, a.k.a. Birdie. At nine-thirty PM, she properly formed the sound of the letter "s" and used it while saying several words. She is six and a half, and until now the letters "s" and "z" have completely eluded her, to her deep frustration. She has done it, she has made that breakthrough.

And that breakthrough kept her up until well past eleven last night, practicing her "S's", the same breakthrough woke her up this morning with a hissy sissy snake sound coming out of her mouth!

On this blog, I have only ever mentioned this speech pathology of hers once. In my book, while it is a problem that has stumped her, it does not define her. Up until a few months ago she was dead set against Speech Therapy, and any conversation I had with her regarding her "s's" would leave her panicked and near tears... enter the beloved and wondrous Mrs W, the Kindergarten teacher with the magic touch. She casually mentioned to Birdie during a Parent/Teacher/Student meeting with the two of us that classmate so-and-so in Birdie's class goes to Speech and loves it. Good enough for the B girl, and so with her blessing I started the wheels in motion and got her in to meet with the school Speech Therapist. From that point on, there was no question that she would qualify, it was all formalities. The Therapist had never actually encountered the particular speech eccentricity that Birdie has. I know this is true, because she told me so, AND because she persisted in referring to the sound that she makes as a sound on the inhale. It isn't. Trust me, I have listened to it for five years. It is an exhaled nasal.

Details. Whatever.

In the end, the T's never got all the way crossed, nor the I's entirely dotted until just before the end of the school year, so Birdie never actually got any therapy. They figured that a week and a half (three appointments) would have confused her more than helped, so they just sent home a packet of summer Speech Therapy homework. Which I thought was pretty great until I looked through it, and realised that it was full of endless ways to encourage her to practice making the sounds correctly, and cute little charts to put nifty stars on for the days that she completes her assignments.

GAGHK! She has never been able to make an "s" sound! What do you mean practice? I was back to square one. Only now I was annoyed!

Birdie is a highly motivated little girl who loves to learn. She also has a little friend who's older brother is homeschooled, and thusly the little girl insists on some schoolin' herself. Plus several of the Chaos's cousins are homeschooled. She and LaLa had begun to pester me for some homeschool this summer.

Sigh.

I have NEVER thought of Homeschool as anything I was interested in doing. At best I had planned on supplementing their plain-old public education with art and a few science projects. Only now the pressure is on. Great. So this week we started with "Plants and Seeds." It was gonna be "Wildflowers" but there wasn't even enough literature in the kids section of the local library to even do a full week on "Flowers," so "P & S" it is. Frankly I think it's pretty funny to hear my kids talking about Monocotyledons, Dicotyledons and Disseminules, so we aren't dumbing down the vocabulary for them... but we generally lose Pearl within her first three thwarted attempts to engage us in a good wrastle while we are hitting the books. We lose LaLa about five minutes later as she hits the pantry for a good snack scrounge (although she can still hear every word, and I think she IS still listening). So last night I didn't feel at all badly about continuing our study of how seeds travel even after the younger two had gone to bed. But after a half an hour of study, plus an expedition outside to see if we could spot any winged disseminules (helicopter seeds) in the local maple trees, I started to cast about for something to distract Birdie from the all-seeds-all-the-time focus she has going. So I brought up the "Speech Therapy Homework Packet" that was awaiting her. I figure that it has "Homework" in the title, so it must have a bit of appeal for the Birdster in her current must-learn-everything mode that she is in.

Ayuh. Sure did.

For a thing that has brought her to tears so many times and completely stumped her, last night it was easy. It was effortless. It was immediate and it felt like a miracle. It is the very first step, and today she mastered the "Z" sound.

Had I mentioned that Birdie is a highly motivated little girl? She is motivated. Talking with her today has been like speaking to a stranger. She doesn't sound like her old self. She is going full bore into the land of "correctly pronouncssssed sssspeech." She is sibilance itsssself. She is thinking, and practicing and I swear it's like Christmas around here for her. I am constantly reminding her that this is a process and she will have to practice long and hard before she gets it right every single time. She is undaunted, and digs away at the practice like her life depended on it.

I am so PROUD of my little Bird

Power Puff Chaos

My girls are on a Power Puff Girls kick.... and it fits in kinda scary cute. There is Blossom, the red head who is the leader and kinda bossy, Bubbles the blond with two pony tails is the cute one, Buttercup has short dark hair and is hotheaded and tough.

Except for a little bit of transposing the personality of Bubbles and Buttercup... we have a perfect match-up for my sweet Chaos.

Birdie- Blossom
LaLa- Bubbles
Pearl- Buttercup (she pronounces it Buh-durrr-cup)

I sort of hope they are still into this come October... I'll totally make them some Power Puff dresses and send them Trick-or-Treating! But what really gets me, is that Birdie draws these pictures of PPGs that are dead on. Then they color them in, cut them out and play PPG with them until they are shredded into bits. They are averaging two dolls a day right now. I am too lazy to set up the scanner... but here is a photo of some of the latest incarnations of the dolls before they get colored or cut, along with two of the older, more scotch-taped-together versions.

Poisoning

What is the cosmic logic of this? I get pregnant, and I do this with great faith and high hopes; I also have a pretty good idea what I am getting into, both in terms of what happens to me pregnancy-wise, and what life with a newborn is like. I know that these times and sensations too, will pass. I know also, beyond any question, that this is my last baby... so I might as well find any enjoyment and just roll with it.

And yet...

The fatigue and general malaise of pregnancy combine against me and my ever more pathetic attempts to keep this house and family in working order. The forgetfulness of my overloaded brain drags us further into chaos. The hormones push me closer to the edge in terms of sanity, already an unsteady balance as the mother of three young girls. Everything combines to inform my super-sensitive and increasingly EPIC self, that I am a crappy mother and wife (indeed, human being) who has no business having another child. WHY IS THIS!?

And I know from experience that this is just part of the territory for me. I know that literally one half of an hour after giving birth that the hormones poisoning my blood and body will recede, and I will be astounded at how AWESOME I feel. I will raise my hands above my head and not feel as though I am lifting an extra twenty pounds per arm. I will stand up and hobble my stretched, stitched, bleeding and ice packed posterior over to use the bathroom, tears of joy streaming down my face because this is the BEST that I have felt in nine months. And even as I am slogging through those first sleep-deprived months of ups and downs.... Dude. I am not pregnant anymore!

But here I am. Carrying a basket load of clothes upstairs leaves me breathless and a little faint. The disobedience (a.k.a. normal behavior) of my two year old renders me tearfully frustrated. One single comment from Dadguy breaks my heart, and leaves me sobbing even though I KNOW that he did not mean it THAT way. I cannot seem to force myself to get the dishes washed in any sort of timely fashion, the whole while berating myself for my sloth. They have to get washed, I will wash them, but why or why do I have to turn it into torture?

Again. The world's worst mother, wife and person is busy building a human body here! Aren't you glad I am procreating? Isn't it thrilling?

... and I know better than ALL of this, but it doesn't make it go away.

Blogstipation

For a blogger, too much self editing is like not enough fiber in your diet. Causes an unpleasant back up of things that really ought to be moving on out, as it were.

Unpleasant. That about sums up my attitude, and really? I'm a-gonna just lay my blogstipation at the feet of my messed up, and preggo body. Because, same as my ACTUAL and equally unpleasant digestive constipation? it is caused by hormonal surges and imbalances. And I am not happy about it. Like the kind of "not happy" that would end up with someone getting kneecapped, except that I am PREGNANT, didn't I tell you? I feel so much like crap that I just couldn't be bothered to take that tire iron and actually chase that special someone down to do the deed.

But they upped my meds the day before yesterday, so in a week, you might want to watch yourself. I'm not joking.

Random Thinka-roos

* Hoping for an early and extended nesting experience this time around. This place needs a serious deep cleaning.

* Gagh! What was I thinking? Four kids? I'm gonna die.

* Dadguy is going out of town for four days next week, I'm gonna die sooner than I thought. I wonder if it's too late to reinstate mandatory naptimes?

* Of course it's too late. I'm gonna die.

* This is the best weather we are gonna have all year.... what the heck am I doing inside blogging?

* The smell of the churchhouse hallways makes me nauseous. Not sure if it's a cause and effect, or if it's more of a Pavlov effect. I'm in the cultural hall working out, and I start to feel sick, and run out into the hall so I don't puke in front of everyone. The smell of the hallway drives me right over the edge into yakksville, so I run into the bathroom. Or perhaps I am so used to being ready to puke by the time I'm IN the hallway, that now just the act of walking into the hallway makes me sick. I DON'T KNOW. But it sux.

* I come from a long line of genetic food intolerances and love of fresh fruit. Constipation in not a thing commonly found in my family tree or in my own, personal intestinal workings. Not even much of a problem during pregnancy until nearer the end. Enter this pregnancy. I think I really AM dying. When I run, or jump, or skip rope? I KNOW I am dying.

* Yesterday was my nephew's birthday party, it had a general pirate-like theme. The cake was a super CUTE 3-D bust of a pirate, and the cupcakes were frosted, with a red bit of fruit roll-up across the top for a piratical bandanna. We showed up a bit early for the party, so the girls and I got to help add the M&M eyes, nose and red licorice grins to finish out the smaller pirates. At the end there were still seven or eight frosted cup cakes with no bandannas, and my sister suggested that we go ahead and decorate them as well. Birdie contemplated them for a moment, and announced that these cupcakes could be the "guys who have to walk the plank." We had a good laugh, and proceeded to give the GWHTWTP sad faces, grimaces, and Mr. Bill "O's" of distress.

* It's three in the afternoon and I am ready for another nap.

The joys of 39

Feeling odd, a little contemplative... tomorrow is my thirty-ninth birthday and I just cannot get excited about it. Probly 'cause I'm getting so *OLD. It's hard to get excited when you are so dadgum OLD! Come to think of it... old and pregnant. Where are my Depends?

heh. I amuse myself.

Tonite is Dadguy's church night, which usually means he takes off around 8:30 PM and gets back around 11:00. More often that not the girls go down easily these nights. I simply explain that there can be no messing around, and for some reason they listen. Not so much with Birdie tonight.

She has been up and down innumerable times to go pee one last time, ask for a snack, look for a snuggly, go pee one last time, get a drink of water, go pee one last time. This last trip I was laying on the bed reading a book when she snuck up on me and started picking at my toes. I thought I was gonna have an aneurysm, scared me so bad!

Now, I usually will only tuck her in two or three times a night before I am done, at which time I will simply point in the general direction of her room and say something maternal and loving like, "ENOUGH. Good NIGHT."

Tonight I ask her what is up, and she tells me that she has figured out what she will give me for my birthday.

"What is it?" I ask.
"It's something special that I can give you any time, but I'm going to give it to you for your birthday." She has that secretive little six year old smile going, and I'm a sucker, so I ask again what it is.
"It's what I know you really want."
"Is it a hug?" I'm sure I have got her.
"No, it's more special that just a hug," she is gleeful that I am playing along after hours.
"It's a kiss then?"
"No," she smiles, and I see tears in her eyes as her voice deepens with emotion, "it's the love and the joy in my heart that goes to your heart. It's that special joy that makes us a family."

aaaand now Mama is crying. And Birdie gets herself tucked in just one last time (again) tonight.

Ain't life grand? Almost makes it worth it to be getting so flippin' OLD.

* this is a joke people. Ha ha?

Sunday Pic: Work

So... we're finally getting a little bit o' use out of the kiddos.


The fruits of the first art class with the cousins.


**********
Went to Home Despot and dropped a grundle of cash for most of the stuff we'll need to finish the basement. I say "most" but this is with the glaring exception of the carpeting. We will likely have to put in the carpet next year. Dude. We are going broke.

**********


The tile for the bathroom floor, plus the big white box in the tub is the fiberglass tub surround.




Ten doors, miles of casing and baseboard, and the fixin's for a half banister.



Caulking, sundries, and the primer for the walls. The painting will be perpetrated by my nephew "B" and a sprayer borrowed from my cousin. Let's see how long all of this really and for actually takes. I'm betting our carpenter/tile guy will be done by the end of the week. I'm thinking that the painting may take two weekends (or B's equivalent of a weekend, not sure of the schedule of B's day job) to do. Hmm... it may be time to call Dadguy's cousin (our plumber) to finish off the bathroom early next month! Wheee!

The Behbeh

So I went and did the test thingy... took two and a half flippin' hours what with the screening being a four part process, and then the waits in between each leg of the journey. Thank heavens I had dropped the girls off at my sister's or it would have turned ugly fast. To say nothing of the awkwardness of the fact that The Behbeh wouldn't cooperate, and so they had to scrap the regular ultrasound method and use the "trans vaginal" ultrasound, a.k.a. the wand or the cootchie-cam. Good times.

I am doing the "integrated screen" which means that I will not get the results until a week after a second blood draw at the end of June. But after talking at length with the Geneticist (leggo numero uno of el Journey), the fact that the main thing they were trying to measure via ultrasound, a pocket of fluid at the base of the neck, which in The Behbeh's case was so thin (thin good, thick bad) that they really had to work hard to get a measurement... well, I just ain't a-gonna sweat it. Mind you, I'll go back in for the blood draw, but my initial nervousness is gone. If the screen DOES show anything funky, and I doubt it will... then I will consider an Amnio. Again... I doubt it. Everything's just fine.

And not twins! Just one heck of an active kid! Holy SMOKES! Behbeh was spinning and twisting and flailing about... hiccups and kicks and a few goofy, twitchy karate-like moves. And not one clear shot of it's cootchie or otherwise! Stinker.

I WILL go on record here and say that in my heart, I am convinced that it is a boy. Will not be even slightly sad if we get el girlo quatro, but I really do think we have a boy. Either way... we are covered; I have a slew of both girl and boy names that make Dadguy insane!

I think we are a little overdue for some pictures. Especially after yesterday, when I Yapyapyapped my poor sister's ear off, with practically nothing nice to say about anyone or anything; I am muzzling my crabby-apple self.

Pretty flowers and the lawn's looking considerably better.

Iris and Pansy's making everything smell better and look brighter.

Cutest tushie evah!

I am having a bit of pregnancy fun this go-'round... a few days after seeing those two pink lines, I gave my doctor a call to set up my first pre-natal. Turns out he doesn't deliver babies anymore. Some crap about letting his obstetrics insurance go. This REALLY griped my soul, as this doctor's office is far and gone from where I live... I was only continuing to go to his practice because I wanted him to deliver my last kiddo. Highly inconsiderate of him if ya ask me! So his nurse gave me a few names of some other doctors, and I settled on the one woman doc on the list.

She turned out to be just fine, although her practices' waiting room is about the size of my bathroom, and even though her office is technically in the town two towns up... it might as well be in Siberia, as it takes over 25 minutes to get there. Those of y'all who live in big cities are now rolling your eyes, I'm sure... but hello? Gas? One income family? About to add to that family? YIKES!

Still, I was gonna just suck it up. Then they hit me with the bill, and they wanted it paid in full by the end of the seventh month. The huh? Now, it's not the matter of the money. We pay. But before the services are even rendered? What sort of business does that?

Perhaps I have been soured by the fun we have been having in terms of dealing with contractors, but in my book... you NEVER pay for a service in full, until after the deal is done. Half maybe, but not the whole shebang. You do, and they have no reason to finish the job nearly as well, or in as timely a fashion. Dude, they already HAVE your $$.

Plus you always hear about so and so who's doc doesn't even manage to make it there to catch the baby... and it's some random nurse or intern who takes care of business. Or you have that kid on the front lawn of the hospital, and it's your dear horrified husband does the honors. You get a refund? I doubt it!

Naw... so all that, plus the fact that a week after my first visit with the doc, I realised that if I wanted to get a Nuchal Translucency Screening done, the time window to do it would be closed if I waited until my next appointment to get it set up. So I called the office and talked to the doctor's PA who had absolutely no idea what I was talking about. A PA to a doc who delivers babies. I had to spell it for her.

Granted, this is a relatively new test on the scene... but it is covered by my insurance, and seems like a pretty good idea for a 39 year old pregnant lady to consider. It's essentially an early ultrasound that measures ( I think) a pocket of fluid at the base of a fetus' neck, and can offer a good heads up on things like Down's syndrome, Trisomy 18 and a few others.

Sigh... yeah I know, I will not be handling anything differently if there is a genetic defect in my baby, but this test can also pick up on heart defects... and there are some things that CAN be done in the womb if necessary. Plus, I just want to know. I just want a heads up. And I sure am going on and on for a woman with a muzzle on.

The upshot of all this? I switched doctor's to one who has a practice in this town. An office that HAS heard of the NT test. Yay! And tomorrow is my screening, the very last possible day that the test can be done and be considered viable. I'll let ya know if it's twins.

Today

Why couldn't I stage a blog comeback when I have something coherent to say? Or something better than "blah blah blah, I feel sick," or "wah wah wah, I feel like crap." Gotta wonder about this kinda stuff.



Today

Supple as a reed I will bend
un-offended,
the brittle disappointments
of day washed away.

May I gird myself up with
Thy kindness, and softness;
May I find no defenses
before Thy love and Thy Way.

Knee bent and willing
heart broken and whispered
"God grant me serenity,
courage and wisdom today."