32 weeks

I am at the point where I am turning heads everywhere I go, and little kids are staring and saying to their mothers, "She's having a baby!" That's right, kiddo. In 8 more weeks, or even less.

So far, all pictures of me with child, with this child, have all been mirror selfies at home. I'm happy to say that after next week I'll have something different. My friend Kim down the street asked to take maternity pictures to build her portfolio. I said of course! At first she told me she would like to do them in November, but this morning she asked if I was available sometime next week. She must have sized me up and decided she'd better not wait much longer! We're going to do it Tuesday right after the kids get on the bus, so the sun is still coming up. I'm already thinking about what to wear. I'm glad we'll be doing it in the morning when it will be cool enough to wear layers.

I took Tim with me to my 30-week visit with Joanne the midwife. This was his first time meeting her, since my appointments usually happen when he's traveling. I had bloodwork done, and we talked about the OB appointment I'm going to have in the next few weeks. In SC it's the law that if you're having a homebirth, you have to see an OB at least once in the first and third trimesters. We discussed our expectations for the day of the birth, and I brought up the possibility of one or both of the girls seeing their new brother being born. Neither of them has expressed an interest in being there when it happens, so I don't think it's something I would wake them up at night or keep them home from school for. But if they want to be there, I won't turn them away as long as they can stay quiet and not distract me. It would be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to see a sibling being born. I myself have never witnessed a birth. As of now, I think we'll just play it by ear. What else..? Joanne discovered during her examination that the baby is breech. At this point it's nothing to worry about, but she said if he's still breech by the end of this month, I should look into a Webster-certified chiropractor to get him to turn. I have already looked one up, and I might just proactively make an appointment with her, since chiropractic care before birth is a good idea anyway. If there are any imbalances in my spine or pelvis, she can address those sooner rather than later. But she's about 40 minutes away, so it would be one more thing to drive to, so I'm still hesitating. In the meantime, I've checked out Spinning Babies, read up on optimal positioning for both me and the baby, and tried some techniques to help breech babies turn. It was comical the first couple times I tried doing inversions with Tim's help. Prenatal yoga, which I've been doing all along, is also said to help with getting the baby into a good positions. The other three kids never gave me any problems in that regard, so I have to imagine this little man will settle into a good head-down position once he runs out of room. The way he's been moving around tells me he still has all kinds of room and is just in no hurry to settle down.

For my reference later, I weighed in at 134, so still on track with my weight gain.

A few days after this appointment I took to the Internet in search of a good homebirth book for kids, just to get them all thinking about what to expect. There aren't many out there, and I was not impressed with most of them either because of the content or the illustrations. I ended up finding exactly ONE that I liked, and I ordered it right away. It's called Mama, Talk About When Max Was Born. It's very realistic but not graphic, and is written for young children. I love all the details of the pictures. The girls have both read it, and I'll have to read it to Timmy soon too, even though it's not one that he would ask for. I leave it on the coffee table at all times, hoping that one of them will flip through it and maybe ask questions. So far it has prompted no questions and no discussions.

Another book I like to keep handy for the kids that's just pregnancy- and birth-related, is Angel in the Waters. It is written from the point of view of the baby, from the beginning when he "was", to his growth and development, to his birth, and then a little beyond that. His angel is there with him to help him understand what is happening. The baby needs lots of comfort from his angel to process having to leave the safe, comfortable world he's accustomed to, to enter a loud, bright, new one. At the end of the book the angel tells him that when it's time he will guide him from this new world world to an even bigger world someday. It's a really sweet story.

I have a lot to do over the next several weeks. Training the girls to do more around the house has been ongoing, and I think I'd better try to get Timmy dressing himself consistently on school mornings. He can and sometimes will on his own, but he still likes my help, so getting him to see the advantage in doing it himself is going to be tricky. I've finally gotten Christmas shopping well underway, so in November we can start preparing for this baby in earnest. I am enjoying solid nights of good sleep, and solitude in the morning while all the kids are in school. My house looks really nice, and I'm going to enjoy that while I can, before the chaos starts. 

Day in the Life: Fall 2015

Today is Friday, October 9.

Cast of characters:
Tim: 40
Rachael: 36
Delaney: 8
Annie: 6
Timmy: 4
Baby #4: 31 weeks gestation (a boy!)

5:30 a.m. My alarm goes off, and I hit snooze about three times until just a few minutes before 6. I HAVE to get the kids up at 6, and I have just enough time to make my bed and brush my teeth before doing that. Tim is already up and out, very dedicated to his daily workout. I never hear him leave.

6 a.m. Annie typically gets up with no trouble, but Delaney and Timmy are the real sleepy heads. It takes many tries to get those two going. With Timmy, I usually resort to tickling and that works pretty well. Delaney's not as ticklish so that doesn't work. I remind them all that after today it's the weekend, and a 3-day weekend. Thank goodness for that. I know I need it.

Once I get Timmy out of bed, I help him make his bed and get dressed, then send him to brush his teeth. Out in the kitchen, Annie has already gotten ready, done her chore for the morning (wiping off the bathroom sink), and is eating a bowl of cereal. She asks me to fix her hair for her -- I think today the request is to pull back two pieces from the side and hold them together with one of the new polka-dot hair things. She always has a specific request for her hair in the morning, and it's typically fairly easy. She loves to top it off with a cute bow or head band. Maybe it's because they have to wear uniforms, but I've noticed that cute bows and head bands are a staple for many of the little girls at these schools. Bonus if they're handmade. None of ours are -- yet. Anyway, I think it's cute. I like Annie's accessories. Delaney sometimes wears bows too, but I think most of the time she'd rather not bother. As long as her hair is brushed, that's fine with me.

By the time Timmy comes out for breakfast, she's already done with hers and is practicing cursive writing today. I bought these workbooks for the girls a long time ago, but their interest in cursive comes and goes. It came back again recently when Delaney started learning it at school. I was thrilled about that. Cursive writing is just about a lost art, and one that I am at a loss as to how to teach at home.

6:30 a.m. At long last, Delaney makes her way out to the kitchen. It's her day to unload the dishwasher, and she will get it done with just enough time left to eat breakfast before going out for the bus.

Tim comes back from wherever he's been (gym? Running?) and starts mixing some sort of concoction to drink. He asks me if I want to leave right after the kids, and I say, "Maybe about a half hour after." It was my idea yesterday that the two of us go out to breakfast since he's home for the Columbus Day "96". It's not often that he's home and the kids are not. It sounded like a great idea yesterday, but this morning I feel like a slug. I don't know if I want to put on real clothes just yet. But I just keep sipping my coffee and decide to stick with the plan.

6:50 a.m. I read them today's devotion from our Veggie Tales book that my mom gave us awhile back, and we say our Morning Offering. We've never watched any Veggie Tales, but we don't need to be acquainted with the characters for me to appreciate this book. The format is short and to-the-point, easy to squeeze into even the most time-crunched morning; and I like the encouraging messages for the kids (and me) as we begin our day. 

6:55 a.m. Time to go! Everybody grab your backpacks and get outside! It is warm and humid, and the thirsty mosquitoes are waiting. Fall, where ARE you? Please get here and stay. 

A couple nights ago, all of Parris Island underwent aerial pesticide spray operations in an attempt to control the mosquito population. Why did they wait until the first week of October, when we've been suffering with them all summer? I'll never know. At any rate, the pesticide spray seems to have accomplished nothing but to stir them up into a frenzy. At our bus stop, a couple houses down from us, they are the worst. There's a huge tree right there, home to thousands of mosquitoes, and when they see us coming down the street they say, "Breakfast!" I complain bitterly to Tim every time I come back from the bus stop. He says, "Just don't go." I tell him, "One of us HAS to be there if we have a kid in Pre-K or Kindergarten getting on or off the bus. It's the rules." He says, "I just provide solutions." "That is not a solution. The real solution would be for YOU to go to the bus stop and me to stay home." But that is not to be. Tim will do a lot of things -- cook delicious meals, wash the cars, clean the garage, take trash in and out, and earn a living. He will not go to the bus stop to stand around and chitchat, fidget and slap at himself (and sometimes others) with the rest of the neighbors.

7:05 a.m. I've seen the kids off and now it's time to get ready to go out to breakfast. Again, there's a big part of me that would just rather make breakfast here and just putz around all morning, but I still feel like we should take advantage of this rare opportunity and do something special.

7:40 a.m. Once I've made myself presentable, we leave. As we drive through base I snap pictures of recruits hard at training, like a tourist, for more DITL material. They all turn out terrible. The iPhone camera has major limitations. One day I'd like a real camera.

We go to a place not far outside the gate called Red Rooster, which is my choice. We've been there one other time. We woke up with no power one Saturday morning, after an unusually cold winter night. I just wanted to go back to sleep in our warm bed, but everyone else was up and ready to go. Tim urged me to just throw on some clothes and not worry about makeup -- just up and out. I couldn't argue since I knew a cup of coffee wasn't even a possibility for me as long as we stayed home, and going back to sleep wasn't an option. We had a delicious breakfast (pricey, though! - almost $60 for the five of us, for breakfast food! I just looked it up in Quicken. Thank you, Tim for that.) at Red Rooster, and as much coffee as we wanted. Then we went home and the power was back on. It's a fond memory.

So here we are again at Red Rooster, and I order the same thing I had last time: "Southern Sunrise", consisting of two eggs made to order (mine are over easy), cheesy grits, a biscuit and sausage. I also have a little glass of orange juice. Delicious!

We make a quick stop at Walmart afterward, to return a few things, and then get home about 9:30. 

9:30 to 10 a.m. I am so tired, even more tired than usual on a weekday morning. I think my body has been fighting an infection these past few days. I've had a scratchy throat, runny nose and cough at different times, and although none of my symptoms have been severe, the fatigue is making me want my bed more than anything. But I've got to make a menu and a list so we can go to the commissary. Tim is getting a little frustrated with the time I'm taking deciding what meals I want to make this coming week. I complain that I have no ideas. I just don't want to be doing this right now, but it's got to be done and the clock is ticking because Timmy gets off the bus at 11. He finally says, "We don't need a list. We'll buy the basics." He offers to go without me, and I probably should just take him up on that offer, but the thought makes me too guilty. This was supposed to be a morning for us to spend together, and the the commissary is supposed to be my job. 

10 to 10:55 a.m. It's a quick, easy trip. It's true, we already know what to get. We're there, back and unloaded in under an hour. He goes around back to wash the cars. I hurriedly put away the cold things and then sit down on the porch and wait for the big yellow cheesewagon bearing preschoolers to come around the corner. 

11:05 a.m. Timmy gets off the bus, and it looks like the fire department must have visited. He's wearing his hat, and pulling things out of his backpack that he can't wait to show me, as he walks back to our house.

I change into comfy clothes (running shorts and a tank top), and then throw a lunch together for him. Then I put away the rest of the groceries while he tells me about what the firefighters talked about at school. I take the opportunity to try to reinforce what he's learned. I ask him if he should first go find his favorite toys and then get out of the house if there's a fire. He says no. I ask him what our meeting place is if we all have to get out because there's a fire. He's not sure, so I make sure he knows it's the mailbox. He shows me how they practiced crawling, and how to "stop, drop and roll" if you're on fire. I say, "That's right buddy, stop, drop and roll. Not run around like a crazy person, waving your arms.. like they do on TV."

I make my own lunch and sit down. Timmy is finished eating and is coloring a picture of two fire trucks. He updates me every few seconds on his progress, and I am obliged every few seconds to tell him, 'yeah, it looks good, buddy.' Oh my word, it's exhausting. I just can not wait until naptime. I feel like I've never been more tired in my whole life than I am at this moment!

In a change of subject, Timmy tells me that he went to the "thinking chair" once while at school today. I ask him why and he clams up. I tell him I won't get mad, I'd just like to know. But I can't get it out of him so I drop it.

12:20 p.m. Timmy realizes that he hasn't had any post-lunch TV time since he's been happily coloring and talking fire safety with me. He asks to turn on a show and I tell him no, it's too close to naptime to watch a show. He is devastated by this and collapses on the couch in tears. I am all the more in a hurry to get him down for nap, so I expedite the process, and only 10 minutes later we are both in our rooms for a nap. Tim, I assume, is STILL washing cars. He takes a long time with the cars. It's because he doesn't just wash them, he gives them a deluxe detailing in and out. It's one of his things. I like a clean car myself -- I mean, not enough to go to all the effort he does -- but I do my part to try to maintain the cleanliness. The biggest thing that we do to prevent a mess in our cars is to just not EAT in them or allow the kids to. The exception to that is trips that take three hours or more. Even better than that is to just not use the car, and I do not drive much at all since I started sending the kids on a bus to school. 

1:45 p.m. I'm up from my nap. I feel rested but groggy. I could have slept longer. What is with me today? I come out to the kitchen to make my tea. Tim's having lunch. When he's done he leaves for Publix to get some fish and produce for our fish tacos and apple pie tomorrow. Yum! I spend the hour before the girls get home drinking my tea and browsing Pinterest for gift ideas for teachers and bus drivers. That would be a great thing to get out of the way since I'm supposed to be done with Christmas shopping by the end of this month. There are a lot of crazy ideas out there, maybe a few good ones. I am charmed by the themed mason jar gifts, but I can just imagine myself getting all frustrated trying to get things to fit in there just so .. and then asking myself, 'What was I thinking?' Pinterest queen I am not. It's really good to know that in a pinch a gift card is just fine -- and probably preferable to a lot of this crap anyway. Last year we made a big batch of Italian Christmas cookies, and put them in tins with a gift card attached. We could do that again -- with Grandma's help this time.;)

Oh, and about that Christmas shopping that I'm supposed to be done with by the end of October? It's not coming along, not even a little bit. Every time I ask a family member about it I don't get a whole lot of response, and that's understandable. It just turned fall, it's way too soon for this. I can either wait a few weeks more, or forge on ahead getting gifts without anyone's input. I'm thinking the second option would be best. If I could just motivate myself.. What it is I feel like I have all this time to be EXTRA thoughtful with my gifts, but the result so far is that I'm doing absolutely nothing. 

3:00 p.m. Timmy must have been tired today too. He's slept for almost two hours, and now he's back to coloring. I've never seen him so absorbed in coloring. Up to now, I didn't even know he liked coloring. And he's using the cheap, waxy crayons they gave him today .. Of course, none of them are allowed to go into the art supply room for anything lately, because they've all wrecked it by never putting away anything neatly. So it's the forbidden room now, and nobody's allowed unless they want to clean it up first. So far no one wants to take on that task, so it remains a mess and remains off limits. We have yet to find any method of organization that works for art supplies. It all starts out neat and turns into a jumble before long. I can't stand that.

I start the pizza dough in the bread machine, and then go out to water the plants. I feel a twinge as I see and hear other moms gathering to wait for the bus down the street. I feel like I'm missing out on this social occasion, but since I don't NEED to be there, I don't want to. There are the mosquitoes, and just that I don't feel like talking to anyone right now. But I feel like I should. It's an awkward feeling. This moment aside, I have had the kind of success making friends on this street that I could only dream about when I was living in our neighborhood in North Carolina. I know almost everyone on our street, we have coffee and dinner together sometimes, a few of us go to the same bible study, and it feels like a real community. I keep telling Tim that I never again want to live in a place where everyone ignores everyone else. I am an introvert but I need people.

At around quarter after, the girls get off the bus. At last, the long weekend begins!

I take a quick look through the girls' lunch boxes before putting them away. I find this Gogurt, and Annie tells me she wasn't able to open it. I feel bad for her because I know how much she likes those. There are a lot of packaged snacks that my kids have trouble opening. They are so convenient, but if little hands can't get them open, what good are they? We buy too many pre-packaged things anyway. I could save money, make better snacks for them, and package them myself in ziplock bags or containers. 

3:30 to 4:45 p.m. I feel like we should kick the kids out of the house, but it looks like everyone wants to have a lazy afternoon, and I don't want to mess with it. Maybe it's been a long week for everyone. Annie has also brought home a bag of fire safety loot and wants to color. Tim and Delaney want to lounge in the la-z-boy. 

Delaney's soccer coach moved yesterday's practice to today, saying that the soccer fields had not been touched since the big rain. He's in the Navy, and maybe in the Navy they don't get a 96 for Columbus Day? Whatever the case, Friday, especially this particular Friday, is a bad day to have a practice. Nobody's going to want to go, and there are a few who have probably left town. We have been watching the email updates throughout the day. Early in the day, Coach Tyler informed us that he has to make "an emergency trip to Pensacola for the weekend." That gave us a laugh. The 21-year-old Navy guy has to make an emergency trip to Pensacola for the weekend? Ha! Good one. He asked if anyone could assist Cesar's dad with coaching today. Then Cesar's mom replied to everyone, saying neither Cesar nor his dad would be there today. But did he cancel it then? Nope. After a few hours, he replied and says, "If anyone could help out with the kids today, that would be great." Sigh. Tim asks me if there are any more updates, anyone going to coach? I say, "Not unless you want to." There are no more updates. Tim believes in committing, even to kids' sports, if only for the sake of teaching our kids that we show up where we're supposed to be when we're supposed to be there. So at around 20 of 5, he leaves and takes the girls with him to stop at the Exchange and then go to practice. He leaves Timmy with the iPad so he won't bother me while I'm doing my YouTube yoga. My life is easy when Tim's home.

5:30 p.m. Tim and the girls are back and we're about to get the pizza and caprese salad on the table. Not a single other soul showed up for practice, so they had their own little practice, which was fun until Annie got mad because she was being beaten. That girl can not lose gracefully, and that is one reason she is not in any sports right now. The other reason is that she doesn't like anything. We just tried a month of tumbling classes and she didn't like that. We just want our kids to be active, and think that some kind of sport is good for their development, so we're always trying to find something they enjoy. Timmy's easy, he likes anything. This is Delaney's last season of soccer because she doesn't want to do it again. What to try next? Dance was a flop. There must be something these girls could have fun doing. Maybe martial arts? They never act interested when I bring it up, but it's probably worth a try.

It is just too easy for them not to be physically active. Their schools don't encourage it, with only one 15-minute recess a day and no P.E. this semester at all for Delaney. After school, I push them outside, but a lot of times they take a book or a notebook and park themselves somewhere and do something quiet. Often, the few neighbor kids around who are their age (only a few after this summer's moves -- sniffle!) are unavailable to play, either because they're at a practice or sick (things have already been going around), or who knows why. It weighs heavily on me. They're so little. They need to be running around more and having more fun.

5:50 p.m. We eat dinner, the girls clear off the table and load the dishwasher, and then it's time for our family walk. If we do nothing else that's active, we at least go on a walk. I love walking after dinner. For a couple months it was too hot and humid for me to want to go, but lately the evenings have been pleasant if not a little buggy. Delaney grumbles because she thinks she already checked the exercise box by having soccer practice.

Oh, and somewhere in there, it might have been on our walk, Timmy finally comes clean about why he was in the thinking chair today. It was because he made as if he was going to bite someone but didn't. Sometimes when he's playing around, he does it to me, just comes at me with his jaws open like a little monster. I think it's cute. His teacher didn't. What I can't ascertain is whether he did it and then kept doing it when she told him to stop, or if it was automatic thinking chair. He still acts worried that he's going to get in trouble again for it even though we've assured him that he won't.

6:45 p.m. The sun is setting by the time we get back from our loop around the neighborhood. The kids have baths and get in their pajamas. They opt to watch the DVDs that Delaney brought home from school instead of hearing the end of The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe. Bummer. The DVDs, we warn them, are not supposed to be entertaining so much as educational. They are about helping kids cope with military life, deployment and such. But although Tim and I find it silly, they seem to enjoy it.   

Scrolling through my Facebook newsfeed, I see that one of Tim's cousins has shared this:

I gasp at its adorableness and simplicity. "I'm making this!" I say. Tim takes a look and then with a smirk says, "Why don't you just buy it already made?" "But it's so simple! All I need is two grapevine wreaths, and I already have one; burlap ribbon, felt, some wire, and a letter B!" He rolls his eyes and starts bringing up the remnants of projects past, like the yarn that I was supposed to wind around that star. Well, I can make some stuff. I made that wreath that's on the door now, and I love it. And I'll make this one too! "I think we should all learn to accept our limitations," Tim says. Hmmph. You just wait -- come December, our door is going to be sporting something very similar to this. He's such a meanie. Why do I put up with him again?

8:30 to 10:30 p.m. The kids are in bed, and we are not far behind. I am looking forward to sleeping in. Before turning out the light, I read a few chapters of this freebie book I got from the Immunizations waiting room, The Gendarme. It's not the best thing I've ever read, but it is a fast-paced, kind of interesting work of historical fiction, and it keeps me turning the pages. I keep reading until I'm sleepy and then turn out the light. And that's our day!

Things my kids do that I love them for

As all good parents know, we have to love our kids even when they're stinkers. And our kids have their share of stinkerish moments -- the kind that make us look at each other and say, 'What are we doing wrong?' 'Where do they learn this stuff?' There are a lot of discouraging moments in parenting. But we have to just keep at it and remind ourselves and each other that this too shall pass, and they can't be much worse than anyone else's kids.

Then there are times when they make us so proud, and it's easy to love them. These moments can be fleeting, and I'm sure there are plenty more than the ones that come off the top of my head. I want to write them down and make sure I don't forget them.

First, the one that gave me the idea to write this post: Delaney. For all her good characteristics, she has never been the kid we would call our most generous. Generosity is something we try to encourage in all the kids, but she would be the one least likely to share the bag of popcorn she brought home from school with her siblings, for example. It just wouldn't occur to her. We try to be patient about that, especially me, because I know I have plenty of selfish tendencies. When I'm browsing Pinterest, let's face it, 9 times out of 10 I'm looking at stuff that's for ME. Well, the other day, Tim took her and the other kids with him on a quick trip to the Exchange. When they got back, Annie was excitedly telling me that Delaney had gotten the baby a present. Sure enough, Delaney proudly presented me with a baby blanket that she'd used up all her spending money to get. This is not something I took lightly. I know how much easier it is for her to spend a few dollars on a toy for herself. I hugged her and told her what a good kid she is, and how much her baby brother and I appreciate it. (Tim told me as an aside that she had wanted to get this blanket for him last time they were at the Exchange, but hadn't had the money. This time she still hadn't had the money but was looking at it again, so he'd gone halvesies with her on it.)

Annie, our second-born, has for a long time been the one most likely to blow us away with generosity for her siblings. For example, she'll happily offer to buy something for Delaney or Timmy at the dollar store. She shares the bag of popcorn every time. We have always been sure to praise her whenever she does something nice for someone else that we would never ask her to do or expect her to do. Lately, however, I am seeing a new development, a new kind of generosity .. one that I take every opportunity to praise and encourage. It's little things, like a spontaneous offer to help Timmy clean his room or find his shoes, or read him a book. These little things are really a big deal. There was the time not long ago she went to my closet and picked out my outfit for church. It was a better choice than the one I had in mind, and it was kind of refreshing. She has good taste. Annie and I have not always seen eye to eye, and of course she and her siblings still have plenty of moments of strife. But to see this spirit of kindness and helpfulness in her fills me with gratitude and hope. It makes up for the rough times.

Timmy, still the reigning baby of the family, usually doesn't stand out as a big helper or sharer. In fact, he often poses as helpLESS in order to get us all to do things for him. I am especially susceptible to his babyish charms, and I rarely deny his request to pick him up or get him his lovey, or put on the shoes that I know he is perfectly capable of putting on himself. He's not a complete bum. He'll fetch me the water that I don't feel like getting off the couch to get myself, and do things like that. But his most winning characteristic is his sweetness. I watched from the porch one afternoon as he ran down the sidewalk to meet his sisters who had just gotten off the bus. His arms were outstretched. Annie dodged his hug (oh, Annie!) but Delaney bashfully hugged him back. He gives the best hugs. At bedtime he wraps his arms around my neck and squeezes as hard as he can, then asks, "Can you breathe?" He lets go only after he's sure that I can't. When Timmy does something for himself, especially without being asked (like last night when he changed his undies and put on his pajamas), I tell him, "I love it when you do big boy things like that." I want to encourage him to be a little more of a big kid, a little more independent, but keep the sweetness, keep the hugs! 

Our kids are such gifts to each other and to us. We can't claim much (if any) credit for when they do great things, nor should we shoulder the blame for when they do things that disappoint us. They are their own individuals, unique and full of surprises. Like us, they are imperfect. They drive us crazy sometimes, but they are good kids and we love them.

28 weeks

12 weeks to go! I am so glad to be entering the third trimester, the time when it starts to really sink in that soon we'll be seeing and holding this newest member of our family. I am eager for that, but reminding myself that this is also the time I really need to savor because for such a long time I waited to go through pregnancy again. And it's been great to me.

I'm still feeling really good, with very little in the way of aches and pains. I have been trying to keep up the habit of walking and yoga a few times a week each. Even better would be to do both every single day, but I can never seem to get around to doing both every day. The best time for walking is in the morning right after the kids get on the bus and I eat my breakfast. So as long as I have nowhere else to be, that's when I do that. Yoga is wherever I can fit it in. I have plenty of  time, but I'm not always the best at managing it.

I saw my midwife last week and I weighed 131. My latest Babycenter update tells me that I'll gain a pound a week from here on out, and that sounds like a good estimate since I weighed 145 when I had Timmy, and 150 by the time I had each of the girls.

During her examination, she found that this little boy is head down, and that's good. I'm starting to feel his feet in my ribs since my torso is so short. His movements are now starting to make me uncomfortable at times, because now I'm feeling his bony body parts sticking out here and there. The worst is when I'm trying to go to sleep at night because that's his favorite time to start up.

We made our first large baby gear purchase a few weeks ago -- a travel system I found on Bookoo. For those who don't know, travel system refers to stroller, carseat and base for the carseat. That's a start! Delaney has practiced picking it up and moving around, telling me, "I just know you're going to tell me to pick the baby up and bring him over here.." And then she grunts as she hefts it around. I say, "You think it's heavy now? Just wait till there's a baby in it!" Lugging the carseat with the baby in it will not be one of the tasks I give to my 50-pound eight-year-old. But she shouldn't worry because there are plenty of other things I can still ask of her.

The temperatures are dipping ever so slightly now that we're over halfway through September. I've started making some use of my fall and winter wardrobe (including my Stitch Fix maternity leggings because they are the best!) even though that might be jumping the gun a little since it is still in the 80s most days. I don't care because the calendar says it's fall and I'm done trying to squeeze into shorts. As soon as I go back in my house, all my put-together fall attire goes flying off, and I'm back in my t-shirts and running shorts or yoga pants. A few mornings ago, it was in the 60s when the kids left for school, and it was such a festive atmosphere at the bus stop. People in the south long for fall the way people in the north long for spring.

That about does it for this update! I'll probably do this again in four weeks.

In Which One Itty-Bitty Ant Ruined my Whole Labor Day Weekend

I quickly learned a few years ago in North Carolina that it is really best for us all if I do not allow myself to be stung by ants. For some people, like my husband and kids, it is a momentary annoyance. It's an "Ouch, stupid ants!" Then they brush them off and that's the end of it. For me it is days of misery; and the initial burning sting is so far from being the worst of it. So I resolved a long time ago to just not expose myself to the ants.

To this end, I am the one at the bus stop on a steamy 80 degree morning in running shoes and pants while everyone else is in flipflops and shorts. If I have to walk in grass, I watch every single step. But really, if I'm being honest, I avoid the outdoors as much as possible this time of year. It's not worth it to be out there with the heat and humidity, the mosquitoes in the air and the ants lurking down below. Best to just be in the air-conditioning where nothing will get me.

Then we were invited to a party for Tim's boss's promotion this past Friday. It was an outdoor party on their front lawn. I took a little bit of time deciding what to wear. I knew all the other ladies would be in their cute sundresses, skirts and sandals. Did I want to be the only one to show up in pants and sneakers? No, I did not. (Why, oh why do I have to care so much about the way I look?) So I wore a maxi skirt and flipflops. My nice metallic flipflops, not the rubber kind. Not that it matters at all. I looked nice, and I was dressed appropriately for the weather and the occasion.

I did pretty well almost the whole time we were there. I didn't have to move much after I'd gotten my food, and I stayed mostly in one spot at a table in front of a fan. I was the pregnant lady, no one expected me to move. Then it got late (like 8ish) and the kids started to fall apart quickly. I was in a hurry for us to get out of there, but first we had some trash left on the table that I wanted to throw away. I very carelessly traipsed across the yard in search of a trash can, and just before I reached one I felt it. The sharp stinging burn. I took a couple more steps and then stooped down to make sure there was nothing still there that needed to be brushed off. There wasn't. Whatever had stung me was gone. But ohmygosh, it hurt. I just wanted to get home and treat it with my AfterBite stick and ice, and try to minimize the damage. We live only not even a half-mile away from their house, and we drove, but we just couldn't get there fast enough for me. Tim just rolled his eyes.

At home I looked at my foot and saw one little mark on my foot. Just one had gotten me. One of whatever it was was all it took. Hour by hour, it got worse and worse. That first night wasn't too bad, I think I got some broken sleep. But by the next day I had a massive histamine overreaction of my entire foot and ankle. Itch wasn't even the word. I had to restrain myself from clawing my skin bloody. I had exhausted my arsenal of conventional itch remedies and was Googling to find more -- a search that led me to the kitchen cabinets, the laundry room, under the kitchen sink, and I feared eventually would lead to the garage. Anything I had to rub on my foot was the worst because that just made me want to USE MY NAILS, USE MY NAILS! I was making ever more frequent trips to freezer to use the ice pack until it got warm, and then to fill another bag with our rapidly dwindling supply of ice. Then that wasn't enough and I was just bathing my foot in ice water for about a half hour at a time. It was the only relief I could find. After some hesitation (and checking with medical professionals closest to me) I tried Benadryl on Saturday night before bed, and to my disappointment, it didn't do a thing either to stop the itch or let me sleep.

On Sunday morning it let up enough for me to attend Mass without an ice pack. "You would have gone to Mass with an ice pack?" Tim asked me later. "Yes, I would have if I'd needed to! I would have been discreet with it, only letting it sit on my foot while standing or sitting in the pew. And I wouldn't have hobbled up to Communion with it, but yes, I would have brought it if I thought I needed it."

I was not a happy camper and not a pleasant person to be around, as you can imagine. Later that day, Tim finally stopped mocking me and as he looked at my foot, all ballooned up and a deep angry red, he said, "Maybe you should go to a doctor." We had all been preparing to go to a birthday party at the pool, and I realized that I would much rather be seeking help for my foot than attending a party. It was probably best for everyone in fact. I quickly researched my options and decided that urgent care was the way to go. "You need a doctor to give you a shot of something," he said. He urged me not to change or get ready, to just GO. It was already almost 6. I was wearing one of his old t-shirts, running shorts and Crocs, and I couldn't believe I was going to be out and about on a military installation looking like that. "I am such a dependapotamus right now," I said. Then I had a big snack and left, feeling hopeful that real relief was in sight.

I was the only soul at the urgent care clinic at the naval hospital. I was quickly seen by the doctor. She seemed a little concerned when I recited the litany of home remedies I'd tried, which included among many other things bleach (it was diluted--a lot!), ammonia (not with the bleach! And it was in the AfterBite stick that I dabbed on), and vinegar. "Were you trying to clean your floor?" she asked. (This is what happens when you go to Dr. Google.) Then she told me that she wished she could give me a shot of hydrocortisone, but she couldn't because I was pregnant. Then she told me that she'd gone down a list of things in her head she wanted to give me, but she could do none of them because I was pregnant. Noooooooo! She prescribed antibiotics, and suggested I buy apple cider vinegar, tea tree oil, and Caladryl. She cautioned me to be careful about what household products I exposed my skin to, because it was all being absorbed. Good point. I was so deflated, but off I went to buy these safer products before I headed home. I used the Caladryl in the parking lot of CVS, and it made my foot flare up something fierce.

At home I frantically threw ice cubes into a pot and filled it with water. When I plunged my foot in, it was like dousing flames. I tried the apple cider vinegar (the good kind, Bragg's organic) and the tea tree oil, and they didn't do anything. Tim came home with the kids at almost 8:30, and they were all talking to me at once about what a good time they'd had. I was so glad that for 2 1/2 hours of that whole weekend, it had stopped raining so the kids could have a fun pool party with their friends. That was an answer to someone's fervent prayers, no doubt.

Later that night I tried to position a bag of ice on my foot and ankle in such a way as to numb it all and let me sleep. But there was always a spot that wasn't covered, that would start up. Then I'd move it to that spot, and then the same thing would happen somewhere else. I kept chasing it around. And now I was keeping Tim up because he could hear the ice cubes all knocking together in the bag while I turned this way and that. At around 4 or so in the morning, I decided to move to the couch so that he could at least have some rest. I sat on the couch and cried a little because I was so exhausted and didn't know what to do. Then I gave my foot one more ice bath at around 5:30, elevated it on a pillow, and fell asleep before the feeling could return.

When I finally woke up that Monday, the house was silent and I had no idea what time it was. It was pouring rain outside and could have been any time of day. I was afraid to even get up and check the time, but I finally did and it was 11:30. When I looked at my phone I saw a picture Tim had posted on Instagram and Facebook of the kids at IHOP. The caption read, "A little IHOP while Mama recuperates from the great ant bite of 2015." I smiled, glad that they had had a fun outing with their dad on this rainy day. Going out for breakfast is a very rare occurrence around here. I think the last time we did that the power was out and there was no other way to get coffee. I knew that IHOP only takes up so much time, and figured he must have taken them to stores in Bluffton too. There's only so much you can do around here to take up a whole morning. Later he told me that he had gone to the gym around 7, and had left them on our bed with the iPad and strict instructions not to go into the living room or to bother Mama. To his surprise, when he'd returned, they hadn't moved and I was still asleep. That's the power of the iPad!

I wish I could say that when I woke up that day, my foot was all better. Far from it. I would fill up many more bags of ice over the next 36 hours, and I'd try an Epsom salt soak that would help for a little while, and then have one more night of sleeping in short spurts. (Pretty much how it's going to go in about 13 more weeks anyway.) It is now Wednesday, and last night was my first night of decent sleep. The swelling is still there, but the itch is gone, thank goodness. I'd like to go back in time to Friday evening, grab myself by the shoulders, shake till my teeth rattle, and say, "No flipflops! It is not worth the risk!"

And that's finally the end of my tale of woe.

20 questions for Timmy at Age 4

1. Who is your favorite person in the world? Somebody on my soccer team named Jackson.

Timmy recently had his yearly checkup. He is 40.75 inches tall and weighs 35.8 pounds, right around average as always, for his age. He wears size 4 in clothes and size 9 in shoes.

2. What is your favorite color? Black.

3. What's your favorite TV show? Jake and the Neverland Pirates.

4. What's your favorite outfit? One of my school shirts.. [He gets up to look in his closet and points to a navy blue polo shirt]. This one. [I ask him what he likes to wear it with and he goes to the drawer where his pants and shorts are kept.] I like wearing it with these pants [navy blue shorts] because it matches the color.

He has a pesky habit of always needing to "adjust"himself.

5. What sport do you like best? Can I choose any sport? [I nod yes.] I choose soccer because I always play soccer. And it's [his team is] called the Bulldogs.

6. What song do you love? Jake and the Neverland Pirates. [theme song, I guess]

7. What's your favorite cereal? The cookie one.

He loves taking selfies.

8. Who is your best friend? Um... it's 'Other Timmy'. [the little boy down the street]

9. What do you want to be when you grow up? Like a nature guy.

His latest thing is he likes to make me cards. He gets Annie to help him.

10. What is your favorite book? I'll show you it. [He goes to his bookshelf, selects Mike Mulligan and his Steam Shovel, and holds it up for me.]

He still looks like a baby when he's asleep.

11. What are you really good at? Um.. soccer.

12. Where do you wish you could go on vacation? Disney World.

13. What is your best memory? [This completely stumps him and he shrugs with a smile, his hands up next to his face.] I don't know.

He's playing soccer for the first time and loves it. He just needs to work on listening to his coach a little better, and horsing around with his teammates a little less.

14. What would you buy if you had $1000? I'd buy a box of cars.

15. What is your favorite vegetable? Um.. apples. [That's not a vegetable, that's a fruit! I tell him.] No, it's not. [I won't argue anymore. Let's not make a liar of him anyway, since we all know he doesn't eat any vegetables.]

16. If you could have a wish, what would it be? [Shrugs again. "Anything you wanted, what would it be?" I prompt.] I don't know.

He sort of drives his dad nuts, but he also does really cute things that melt him, and so he says that's why we keep him around.

17. What is your favorite flavor of ice cream? The green one.

18. Who is your biggest hero? Well, it's one of my friends.. It's .. I forget.

19. What do you like to do with your friends? Play.

He never eats the crusts of his sandwiches. Come to think of it, he doesn't eat the bread anymore either. Or what goes on the bread.. I don't know what to feed him anymore. He eats snacks for lunch, basically. He fits right in with his picky sisters. I'm pinning my hopes on his baby brother to be the kid in this family who eats.

20. What do you hope you'll get to do before your next birthday? [Shrugs.]

Inspired by my Delaney collage, I will leave you with this one of Timmy at ages 0, 2, and now a big boy of 4. It's been an amazing four years with our little buddy. Just writing this post makes my heart swell with love, pride and gratitude for the gift he is in our lives.

20 Questions for Delaney at Age 8

I was just reading a birthday update/interview on another blog and realized that I had not done a birthday interview for either Delaney or Timmy yet this year. They just fell the cracks of our busy July. I decided I'd better catch up on that right away, so here is Delaney's, better late than never.

In the two months since this photo was taken, her two top front teeth have grown in -- finally! She spent about 10 months looking just like this, and we wondered if those teeth were ever going to grow in.

1. Who is your favorite person in the whole world? Daddy.

2. What's your favorite color? Blue.

3. What's your favorite TV show? Annedroids. 

4. What's your favorite outfit? I'll wear anything. [Upon further thought] Let me think.. my favorite pajama outfit is my flipflop ones.

5. What sport do you like best? Soccer. [I ask her if she's sure because it so happens that she is playing soccer currently, and does not have much enthusiasm for it. I tell her that it doesn't have to be a sport she actually plays.] Football.

I don't know who took this picture, but apparently here she is showing off her new front teeth and whatever else she's got in her mouth -- yuck.

6. What song do you love? Mean.

7. What's your favorite cereal? The Star Wars kind.

8. Who is your best friend? Norah.

9. What do you want to be when you grow up? A vet.

10. What is your favorite book? Max [the Marine dog].

Here she is looking characteristically bashful when asked by a neighbor about that day's reading material for the bus. It's one of her old go-to's, her dog encyclopedia. These days it's the Star Wars trilogy, and judging by the thickness of that one, it's going to keep her occupied for the whole rest of the year and maybe even the next.

11. What are you really good at? Putting my tongue on my nose. [This I did not know. I ask her to do it for me and she does. She laughs at me when I attempt to do the same.]

12. Where do you wish you could go on vacation? Massachusetts.

13. What is your best memory? The picture of me and my funny face when I was a baby. [I ask her if she means the one where she's pouting and ready to cry.] No, the one where I'm sitting in the chair.. [Well, that narrows it down to about a 1000 pictures we have of Delaney sitting in a chair as a baby and making a funny face.] Let me go try to find it.. [She runs off to her room and I wait. She comes back unsuccessful and then I say to her, "You know you can't actually remember that anyway, right?" She gives me a funny look. I think she has a different idea of what a "memory" is. She doesn't think it's something you remember, but more like a keepsake.]

Here you go, Delaney.

14. What would you buy if you had $1000? Doggies.

15. What is your favorite vegetable? Corn.

16. If you could have a wish, what would it be? To have a doggy.

She's an elf-sized 3'10.5" and 50 lbs. She's at the 4th percentile for height and 21st for weight. She wears size 7/8 in clothing and size 13 or 1 in shoes, depending on the brand.

17. What is your favorite flavor of ice cream? Chocolate.

18. Who is your biggest hero? Daddy.

19. What do you like to do with your friends? Play with Fenway. [This answer makes me sad for her because she is referring to Norah who lived next door until this past summer, who has a dog named Fenway. I hope that next time I ask her these questions she'll talk about things she does with kids who are in her own zipcode.]

20. What do you hope you'll get to do before your next birthday? Get a doggy. [I give her a look and say, "Really, before your next birthday?" She has already been promised a dog when she turns 10. But a girl can dream!]

I'm going to wrap this up with the little collage I posted on Facebook the day of her birthday -- Delaney at ages 0, 4, and now, 8. She is one special little little girl and we love her to pieces.