The Big Night

Well, after months of climbing out of the crib, we finally made the move...to the big girl bed. (When I say "we," I really just mean Savanna. Craig and I have been in a big girl bed for at least a year now.) Savanna was a star, so excited for her own bed, and she really only gets out of bed every night about as much as she got out of her crib. Not too shabby. Here's a little photo documentation of the big night. (A couple nights later, I went in to check on the girls and found Savanna asleep on the floor and her bed covered in books. Go figure.)

A Sad Day in Laveen

This past Saturday, we were enjoying some family bonding time by perusing neighborhood garage sales when we happened upon a Foreclosure Open House for a house with the exact same floorplan as our house. We decided to be brave and check it out, trying to prepare ourselves for the worst. Both Craig and I threw out some low numbers as to our guess of the home's value, hoping against hope, of course, that the house was actually (maybe, possibly) worth even more than what we were thinking.

So much for hoping.

The house was selling for $118,000, which was $7000 less than our lowest guesstimate.

I tried to comfort us by pointing out that the foreclosed house didn't have all of the same things as ours...no finished backyard, a half bath where we have a full bath, ugly kitchen cupboards, linoleum where we have tile, etc. Surely all of those things add up to a difference of about $137,000 in value, making our house worth what we paid for it, right?

Here's to more hoping.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UgJKRvgWTwA

The Numbers Game

The more I think about it, the more I realize that pregnancy and childbirth are little more than a numbers game. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that numbers are the only concrete thing that you can concentrate on until you actually get to meet the new little muffin. How many days since your last period, how many weeks along you are, how much weight you have gained, how many days until your next appointment suddenly changes into how many centimeters you are dilated, how many minutes apart your contractions are, and, for me anyway, how many hours it has been since you got induced. Insert birthing story here, and in a whirlwind your attention turns to how many pounds the baby is, how many fingers and toes she has, how many centimeters long she is, and even how big her head is.

Fast-forward a few days and you begin to realize that even child rearing has its share of important numbers. Now the focus becomes how many months old the baby is, what percentile she fits into, how many ounces she's eating and how much weight she is gaining.

The numbers game--I admit that I totally play into it; I think that most of us do. So, in honor of the monumental significance of numbers, I thought I'd let you guys in on some equally important yet lesser known numbers associated with this, my third pregnancy.

*How many times I've been pregnant: 3

*How many times I have been surprised at the Ultrasound findings: 1

*How many times I have thrown up this pregnancy: 0 (A modern-day miracle, I totally recognize.)

*How many bins of girls clothes I have saved in the past 4 years: 13 (Plus 2 full boxes of shoes.)

*How many boxes of diapers I have purchased in preparation for our new little bundle: 1

*How many Skittles I have eaten this pregnancy: 234 (An admittedly conservative estimate.)

*How many pairs of shorts I can fit into comfortably: 1

*How many days I have gotten through without putting sweat shorts on: 0

*How many meals I have avoided putting meat into because of a sensitive gag reflex: 6

*How many toes I can still see when I look down: 10

*How many times I have painted my toenails this pregnancy: 2

*How many belly buttons I have left: 0

*How many chins I have: 2

*How many times I have blow-dried and straightened my hair since I got pregnant: 1 (Thanks for noticing, JL and sweet husband.)

*How many times a night I wake up to pee: 2

*How many times a night I wake up on my back, despite my doctor's advice to the contrary: 4

*How many times a day nothing sounds good for lunch: 1

*How many days a week I contemplate not getting dressed at all: 6 (Only because it's less of an option on Sundays.)

*How many days a week I eat "second dinner" at 10:00 at night: 5

*How many days I have gone without a nap since I got pregnant: 3 (Another miracle, yes, I know.)

*How many times a day I ask one or both of my kids not to push on my tummy: 8

*How many times I have hula-hooped this pregnancy: 2 (Oh, yeah, still got it!)

*How many times I've gone maternity-clothes shopping: 2

*How many times a day I struggle to sit up: 7

*How many little girls I will have by 2010: 3

Well, there you have it, friends, just a tiny look into some of the obscure numbers that I can proudly claim as a part of this pregnancy of mine. If there is anything I have failed to mention about this pregnancy that you are dying to know about, just let me know...I'm sure there's a number for it.

Mommy, the Liar

My kids never believe anything I say, but I can't really blame them. By now, they know that "just a minute" actually means that they need to wait anywhere from 5 to 10 minutes, that "I'm on my way" really means that I am planning on doing 4 things before I even head in their general direction, and that "we'll talk about it tomorrow" is just a way to deflect a conversation centering on a topic about which they have no choice anyway. So it goes.

That being said, I really shouldn't be surprised when they have no reaction to me telling them "It's time to go." In our household those words have absolutely no meaning. Sometimes, if I'm lucky, one of them will put on shoes and then continue playing as if I haven't just said, "Okay, seriously, I am getting in the car right now." Truth be told, deep down, they really know that while I have every intention to leave right at that moment, inevitably I will run back in the house a minimum of three times to grab sippy cups, turn up the air conditioning, or to get some other forgotten yet vitally important object like my cell phone or sunglasses. (And let's not forget the once-a-week mad dash to switch the laundry after I have buckled them into their car seats.) Basically they have learned that if the car is not running and the garage is not open, mommy is not going anywhere.

My poor kids--they are destined to live life with a well-intentioned liar for a mommy...

Then again, I guess it's the only way I can get back at them for telling me "that looks uhsgusting" every night at dinner.