Three Short Years Ago

Just three short years ago, this precious little guy…

 

… was born!!

I’d gone into preterm labor several times and each time my labor was stopped with medication. Contractions came again on May 28, when I was just 35 weeks and 2 days pregnant. I knew that my labor would not be stopped with meds, as I was passed the 35-week mark. We left the kids with my brother and sister-in-law who were visiting for the weekend. On the way to the hospital, I prayed so hard that my son would not be born yet. It was just too early and I was frightened.

At first, my labor was allowed to progress because I was over 35 weeks. But then my nurse realized that our little guy was in a transverse position. They weren’t going to let labor progress with a breech baby and I was given medication (it took three injections that time) to stop my labor. I was so relieved that my labor had been stopped and vowed to stay pregnant for at least one more week.

On May 30, while out running errands with the kids, I began to feel “funny.” That funny feeling progressed quickly and contractions started at Walmart. By the time Rick arrived home at 6pm, I was sure that I was in labor. But I was only 35 weeks and 4 days pregnant and I had made up my mind to make it at least another week! Even though my body and my heart told me this was it, I stubbornly refused to believe it.

Rick really wanted to go to the hospital. But I wanted to stay home. I was also bound and determined to finish folding laundry and washing dishes. I still remember bouncing on my labor ball next to my bed, while I folded laundry on the bed and timed contractions at 2 minutes apart. Rick, realizing how close my contractions really were, called my mom to come stay with the kids. He put a towel on the seat of his car “just in case” my water broke (it didn’t).

At the hospital, we went through the ER because the main doors were closed. Someone commented that I looked great and was way too “tiny” to be in labor. Rick grabbed me a wheelchair and pushed me to the second floor. But- afraid of looking like a wimp- I insisted on walking into the labor and delivery unit.

The nurses responded immediately, as my labor was heavy and intense by then. They asked if I was sure baby was head-down again (he was) and then repeatedly asked if I felt any pressure. I think they were worried I’d deliver right then!

I was 4cm dilated, almost completely effaced, and Baby’s head was “right there.” I was given my epidural, which stopped my contractions, and pitocin to pick them up again. Early in the morning, I felt that tell-tale, time-to-push pressure and called my nurse.

Braden was our “half push” baby. He was born with just a half a push and my doctor literally had to jump forward to catch him. Dr. H joked that we should nickname him Bullet because he shot across the room!

Braden Andrew (given his Daddy’s middle name, Andrew) weighed just 5 and a half pounds and was only 18 inches long. He was an itty bitty guy. He got great apgar scores, but he was grunting, which is an indicator of respiratory distress. He was admitted to the NICU for observation. Rick went with him at my request. I cried in the recovery room. With my other babies, this was my favorite time- immediately after delivery when Rick and I marveled over our sweet new baby together. But this time was different. My baby was in the NICU and Rick was with him and I was all alone. It was hard for me. As soon as I was able to, I joined my boys in the NICU.

I remember being wheeled into the NICU and seeing Braden’s name written in print for the first time. I remember how tiny he looked and how frightened I was to have him in the NICU at all. Rick gave Braden a blessing and then went to my recovery room and slept. I spent the day at Braden’s bedside. 

After a few hours, I was able to nurse Braden. It was incredible to nurse this sweet son of mine! Our connection was instant and complete. It was my favorite first nursing experience, so sweet and sacred.

For an almost 36-weeker, Braden did exceptionally well. He never needed any kind of assistance and was breathing fine on his own. We were told again and again that most babies of his gestation spend up to a week in the NICU learning how to breathe and how to eat. There was even a 37-weeker that was in the NICU with us that day. But Braden did wonderfully, amazingly, surprisingly well! Everyone was impressed and I was grateful.

After just 12 hours in the NICU, our tiny boy was discharged. Our NICU nurses and our pediatrician all told us how rare this was and we were thankful that Braden did so well. Exactly 12 hours after he was born (almost to the minute), I held Braden in my arms as Rick pushed my wheel chair out of the NICU and up to my recovery room. It felt like Braden was truly ours for the first time!

The kids all adored their new baby brother. Braden slipped into our family easily and swiftly. He was truly a blessing to us and we all cherished him.

It’s been a delightful three years since then! Braden has always been a sweet, easy going, mellow little guy. He’s obedient and gentle, he loves to snuggle and he stays out of trouble. He’s a breeze!!

Braden loves Diego and Harold and the Purple Crayon and Wall-E. He loves to read. He loves church (and he sits quietly through an hour of Sacrament Meeting without a single toy). He loves to play with dinosaurs and the play kitchen and his tiny t-ball set. He has an enormous imagination. He spots every airplane in the sky. He eats like a teenage boy and he has the most adorable sense of humor. He’s a smart and witty little guy, with a great memory. He’s endlessly observant and is quite articulate with a large vocabulary. He is gentle and sweet and somewhat timid. He’s a total snuggle bug and loves to be held. He constantly (seriously, constantly) tells me he loves me… and he melts my heart every single time. He is the easiest, most delightful toddler ever!

I always said that Braden was my “sunshine after the storm” because he was born after three miscarriages in a row shattered my heart. He was also my sunshine during the storm because he comforted me a great deal during that year of heartache while we tried to get pregnant with Asher. And Braden, with his constantly sweet and cheery disposition, continues to be MY SUNSHINE every single day!! I am so thankful for him!

Just look at this tiny boy and how he’s grown over the last three years…

 The day he was born, just after he was discharged from the NICU…

Two days old and ready to go home, looking so tiny in Daddy’s hands…

On his first birthday, incredibly surprised by his birthday cake…

 

On his second birthday, covered in cake…

  

Just a few days before turning three years old, and looking quite grown up…

Braden has been looking forward to his birthday for some time. Earlier in the week, I took him to Walmart where he picked out party supplies and ice cream and so on. Braden originally wanted a “Harold and the Purple Crayon” birthday cake, but when he spotted Diego cupcake liners and Diego candy decorations, he instantly changed his mind. He was so excited about this! He asked for chocolate cupcake with chocolate frosting.

Braden picked out balloons and orange wrapping paper and orange sherbet ice cream (orange is Braden’s favorite color). He was bursting with excitement! Wanting to save time, I took Braden to the toy section and let him pick out several toys that he liked. He fell in love with a tool set and a baseball glove and was so excited.

As we headed to check out, I asked the kids if they could think of anything we were missing. Braden thought a moment and then quickly asked, “Do we have fire, Mommy? We need to buy fire!” It took me just a moment to realize that he wanted fire for his birthday candles. I tried to assure him that we could make fire at home, but Braden was very skeptical. 

Ever since then, Braden has been asking constantly for his birthday. Every day, he has wanted to know if it was his birthday yet, if we could have Diego cupcakes yet, if it was time for presents yet.

Yesterday, I rocked him before his nap, and enjoyed that time together on his last day of being two. I’m an emotional mama anyway and pregnancy hormones increase that. So, yes, I got teary as I snuggled him close and marveled at how incredible he is and how rapidly three years can pass! Later, I looked at pictures of the other kids on their third birthdays. I was surprised by how young they looked, how long ago those birthdays seems, and by how much tinier Braden is than the rest of the kids were at this age!

We woke up early for church today, with everyone wishing Braden a happy birthday. Braden was excited and kept announcing that it was his birthday today! I felt sick this morning (surprised that I STILL have days when I feel sick- maybe this is a girl?) and we were late for church as a result. Several people at church wished Braden a happy birthday… and were surprised to find that he’s three. Yup, he’s tiny!

After church, Braden helped me make his birthday cupcakes. He sat on the counter next to me, wearing nothing but his too-big underwear, with his skinny legs sticking straight out, and commented happily on each step of the process. He licked the chocolate covered mixing beaters and loved them.

While the cupcake baked, Braden went down for his nap. He felt it was unfair that he had to nap on his birthday, but I knew that a birthday would be no fun if he was tired and grouchy. I took a nap as well, but I actually liked taking my nap!

Braden’s party was simple. He opened presents first (Brenna had wrapped them all herself). There were several cute gifts from his three older siblings, all either hand-made or a special toy of their own. We gave him the tool set (his favorite) and the baseball glove. He also got a Harold and the Purple Crayon DVD of the complete series from Nammy and Papa and an small electronic dinosaur from Grandma and Grandpa (but it’s still at their house so he’ll get it later). Braden was thrilled with everything and his reactions were darling!

We ate cupcakes and ice cream next. I placed the cupcakes on the table in the shape of a giant three. It was bigger than Braden is tall! Unfortunately we only had one lonely candle in my cake decorating box. I felt my emotions rising, but Rick assured me that Braden wouldn’t know the difference and that his cupcakes were in the shape of a three anyway. Braden blew SO, SO hard on his candle (his face was priceless) and he blew it out from several feet away. He grinned and clapped and was so proud of himself. He devoured his cake and ice cream.

We try to fulfill our kids wishes on their birthdays. Braden, at age three, has very simple tastes. He asked only for Diego cupcakes and hot dogs “at a restaurant” for dinner. Okay, well, “simple tastes” isn’t an entirely accurate statement. Braden’s first request was to eat his birthday dinner at a very expensive Japanese steakhouse. He loves it there (he says he loves the rice, the shrimp, and the fire), but it costs around $100 for our family to eat there so we vetoed that idea and encouraged his second choice of hot dogs.

The older kids know that we’ll do whatever Braden wants and they have tried again and again to convince Braden to go for a more extravagant party. They keep suggesting swimming and a movie at the movie theater and a trip to Chuck E Cheese. Rick and I keep telling them not to push him and Braden, with a mind of his own, keeps persistently insisting that he wants hot dogs for dinner and that’s all. Like I said, simple tastes and easy to please.

Braden wants to eat hot dogs at a restaurant, but today is Sunday. So tomorrow night, we are going out for Braden’s special birthday hot dog dinner at a restaurant. He can hardly wait. We will also do whatever Braden wants to celebrate… he’s considering the zoo or the park, but mostly just continues to remind us all that he wants restaurant hot dogs.

I am so thankful for this precious boy of ours! He is delightful in every way and so very precious! I am thankful for MY SUNSHINE BRADEN!!

When they were down, they were down…

 And when they were up, they were up.
And when they were down, they were down.
But when they were only halfway up,
They were neither up nor down.

Do you remember this nursery rhyme about the Noble Duke of York? During this pregnancy, I can SO relate! Everyday I am either UP or DOWN… except that there really is no “halfway up” for me right now. I’m always either UP or DOWN and never in between. I’m not speaking of my emotions at all because I feel incredibly, blissfully happy most of the time. Actually, I am speaking of my ENERGY LEVEL, which waxes and wanes daily.

Yesterday I was UP. I had lots of energy, in spite of an Asher-imposed early morning. I did tons of laundry and cleaning and vacuuming and even dishes. I homeschooled the kids. I made lots of phone calls and sent emails. I baked a loaf of yummy gluten free bread. I walked to the park with the kids and let them play. I made and delivered two dozen chocolate chip cookies to nearby families. I whipped up chicken and broccoli alfredo for dinner. I bathed the kids. I even exercised. And by the end of the day, I was still left with so much energy that I probably could have taken my husband in an arm wrestling match!

And today I am DOWN. I just feel tired… that familiar, exhausted, can’t-move, pregnancy kind of tired. I was up early again with Asher, who got up at 5am to nurse and then was up for the day by 6:30. Rick is working today (as he does every Saturday). I loaded up all the kids at 8am and took them to Brenna’s early morning soccer game where I kept them entertained and cleaned up the bottle of Gatorade that spilled everywhere and cheered for my darling soccer player. I came home and collapsed onto the couch for a while before making lunch- homemade macaroni and cheese. Just past noon, I was ready for a nap!

The big problem with my up and down and never in betweenlevel of energy is that my list of things to do never follows the same pattern. You see, today my energy level might be DOWN, but everything else around me is UP. My kids need attention and guidance, someone to play with and someone to snuggle, someone to make food and wipe noses and change diapers. My dishes need to be washed again and laundry is already gathering even though I washed so much yesterday. Floors need to be swept and toilets need to be scrubbed. The playroom needs to be cleaned and the garage needs to be organized. I need to run errands. I need to finish making phone calls and sending emails. I need to get ready for Braden’s birthday, which is tomorrow, and I need to plan my schedule and homeschool curriculum and make all the lesson plans and copies I need for next week. Our household does not stop simply because Mama is pregnant and exhausted.

But I have learned that gratitude in ALL things is very important. The reasons to be grateful are all around us, all the time. We just need to take the time to notice how blessed we are.

I find myself grateful for the circumstances I am in. I am so thankful that I am as tired as I am today… because that exhaustion is evidence of another sweet baby growing inside me. And I am so thankful that I do NOT have time rest… because everything demanding my attention is proof that I am living my dream. Truly, this busy, sometimes exhausting, always amazing life is exactly what I always hoped for. I really am living my dream and I love it! Sure, I wish that my energy level was UP every moment of every day! How nice would that be?! But even when my energy level is DOWN, I find myself happy and thankful.

And so, feeling very tired and very happy, I put my little boys down for their afternoon naps. I enjoyed nursing Asher, holding him close while he twisted my shirt with one hand and pulled on his ear with the other. Once he was in bed, I rocked Braden… my baby boy who is on his last day of life as a two-year-old. Tomorrow he turns three! I took extra time to rock him, as if that would somehow preserve his babyhood a little longer.

Now that both boys are asleep, I am going to have some cozy, quiet, “special” time with each of my older children. They are excited! Brenna is gathering supplies and setting up a little salon on our living room coffee table so that she can paint my nails and fix my hair and apply my makeup and in general just provide me with a nice mommy makeover. Joshua is planning on assembling puzzles together and building castles and towers with blocks. Maddie wants to “make a story” with me, and although I am not sure exactly what that means, I am sure it will be fun.

What a perfect way to spend a tired day! Forget the laundry, dishes, phone calls, errands, and cleaning. Throw the To Do List right out the window. Mommy is tired and just wants to spend the afternoon with her babies! And, truthfully, there isn’t a better energy lifter than that!

Don’t Forget…

Please don’t forget to scroll down and leave a comment on my “blog birthday” post. I was so scared that no one would respond, and now the wonderful responses that I have gotten have left me with quite a taste for them! So leave a comment, say hello, and introduce yourself! I am excited to “meet” you all!

My Beautiful Boy… photographic proof included

I have three younger brothers. Growing up, I remember them always being dirty and messy and always smelling like boys. No worries…they eventually all grew out of that and are now very hygienic and handsome adult men.  But they were often dirty and stinky and sticky as little boys and, truthfully, it sort of grossed me out at the time. In fact, I remember my mom snuggling my very dirty, very sweaty 5-year-old brother one late summer afternoon, and wondering why she didn’t seem even the tiniest bit grossed out by his general smelliness.

And then I had boys of my own. Beautiful boys. Precious boys. Boys who are quite often dirty, sticky, sweaty, and grass-stained. But I see them with different eyes now, with the eyes of a mother instead of a big sister. These boys are so perfect to me. They are busy and active and full of innocence. They have blackened toes and sticky hands and grass-stained knees and heads that smell like dirt. And I love it!

I love watching my precious sons during this innocent time of their lives. It’s a time when dirt is meant to be played in, and grassy hills are supposed to be slid down, and a single grasshopper can provide hours of summertime entertainment. I cherish these fleeting years when my boys are young enough to be enchanted by the world, young enough to be so exuberant in their endless play, young enough to be constantly dirty and smelly.

And I finally understand why Mom snuggled her sweaty 5-year-old son so close to her that sweltering July afternoon so many years ago. She understood, as I do now, that dirty, sweaty, grass-stained little boys grow up far, far too quickly. We mommies must hold them close while we have the chance!

So last night, after the sun had slipped below the roof-line of our neighborhood, I took Joshua outside for a little impromptu photo session. I wanted to capture my boy just as he was on this warm May evening, with his dirty feet and bitten-down fingernails, and while he looked for bugs in the grass. I wanted to always remember him in his perfect, innocent boyishness.

 

 

I never want to forget Joshua the way he is now: six years old, bursting with energy and emotion, with a voice that must be heard and a determination stronger than any I’ve ever seen. He is vibrant and busy and so very smart. He is passionate and protective, with a strong sense of justice and a strong sense of self. He athletic and strong and sweet and funny and adventurous. He loves all games and he loves to play. He loves bugs and dirt and sunshine and running.

I cherish this child. I hope that he has many years of dirty, innocent, jubilant boy-hood ahead of him. Like I said, little boys grow up so rapidly, leaving their sticky, grass-stained, innocent days far behind them. For now, I hold my boys extra close. I inhale the dusty smell of their hair and admire their grubby toes. I pretend that these days of innocence will last forever, and then I cherish the moment even more because I know that I’m really only pretending. And I take the time to hold these little ones tightly in my arms… while I still have the chance to do so!

A Brief Rest

I have spent most of naptime relaxing on my couch with my laptop across my knees and a sucker in my mouth (yes, I went through multiple suckers during the course of naptime). Joshua sat nearby, finishing his school work (Brenna had already completed hers) and asking questions as he needed to. But now naptime is over, with both boys waking up perky and cheerful. And we need to get ready to leave for gymnastics. Even though my brief rest is over, it sure was nice while it lasted!

A Belated Birthday

My blog’s “birthday” was last week. It seems crazy that it’s been two years since I started this blog. I still love looking back through the last 24 months of entries and photos. My blog has never been fancy, but it has always been straight from my soul and there is something magical to me about revisiting those earlier days.

I get the same nostalgic feeling when I read my old journal entries (in my days before blogging, I kept meticulous journals for myself and all of my children). Reading those entries- written when I had just one sweet baby or just two sweet babies, back when I was so young and innocent in so many ways- is always incredible. It’s like taking a trip home somehow as I wistfully recall my growing children in their baby days. And it makes me grateful for how much I’ve grown and changed myself since then.

But, in honor my blog’s somewhat belated second birthday, I would LOVE to hear from my “lurkers.” C’mon, I know you are out there!I only get a few occasional comments, mostly from friends. But my stat counters tell me that I get many, many hits on my blog in a single day. I would love to hear from some of you, those anonymous readers who tune into our lives each day. All bloggers love comments after all!

So c’mon folks! De-lurk and just post one “I’m here” comment on this post. And, to those who post comments already, I want to hear from you to. Please everyone? I’d love it!

Sleep Training

I am an overly protective mama. I admit it freely. It’s just a part of who I am as a mother. I still cut hot dogs for my seven-year-old and that same seven-year-old still rides in a 5-point harnessed car seat. I’m big into helmets and life jackets and keeping medicines and cleaning products high and locked away. It bothers me terribly when even a bit of water is left in the bath tub because it’s a drowning hazard. My kids aren’t allowed to have hard candies because they are choking hazards.

Of course, I try to recognize when I do not need to overprotect my children. For instance, this past weekend Grandpa and Daddy were planning a fishing trip and wanted to take Joshua with them. I was scared to have my tiny son out on a big boat on a big lake, but I recognized that this fear was irrational (mostly) and that I couldn’t let my own worries stop my son from making wonderful memories with his Daddy and Grandpa. So with Daddy’s assurance that Josh would stay snuggly buckled inside a life jacket, I sent him on his way. It’s great to be an overly protective mama, but not if it prevents my children from doing something that really is safe just because I am a worry wart.

Asher was difficult to conceive. My pregnancy with him was hard, and his delivery (an emergency c-section because his little heart all but stopped beating) was frightening. After his birth, he’s had quite a few health issues, some minor and some more worrisome. And thanks to all that, my already overprotective instincts have kicked into overdrive with Asher.

Asher is nearly 11 months old (gasp, gasp, I can hardly believe that’s true) and he still sleeps in our bedroom at night. I am just afraid to have him clear across the hall all night long! And because Asher is so sweet and so much my baby, I have rocked him and/or nursed him to sleep for the past 10 and 1/2 months of his life.

But lately, rocking doesn’t work. Asher doesn’t want to be rocked to sleep. He wants to play and explore, no matter the hour, no matter how tired he actually is. Each night and before every nap, I nurse him into drowsy oblivion as I always have. Once he has nursed and is blinking long, slow blinks and breathing nice and deeply, I wrap him up to rock him just like always.

But rather than letting me snuggle him to sleep as he used to, Asher now instantly snaps awake. He’s suddenly outraged once he realizes that he’s being put to bed. He fights and wails and thrashes in my arms. If I lay him down in his crib immediately after nursing, in that original drowsy-after-nursing state, the same thing happens- he is instantly awake and angry at the injustice of being put to bed.

Personally, I would be perfectly content to continue to rock this sweet baby every night and before each nap, but it’s obviously not working anymore. Even though the protective mama in me longs to rock him to sleep, I finally decided that this pre-bedtime wrestling match was doing neither one of us any good. I decided to sleep train Asher. And I was nervous about it, but I had to do something.

I know that many people have their babies “cry it out,” but I knew from the start that I just couldn’t do that. It wouldn’t work for Asher and it wouldn’t work for me. I couldn’t leave him to scream himself to sleep. And I couldn’t do the alternate version of crying it out- sitting in the room next to him waiting for him to cry himself to sleep without picking him up. (I’m not knocking parents who try these methods, just saying that they wouldn’t work for this particular baby and his unique personality.)

So I decided to try a modified version, one that I felt would be more do-able for both of us. My plan was to let him put himself to sleep because it was obviously not working for me to try and put him to sleep. I decided to let him fuss if necessary, but to return to him as frequently as needed to lay him back down (he always stands in his crib now) and give him his binkie again. I hoped that this method would be a more gentle way to sleep train, allowing Asher to learn to soothe himself to sleep, but also providing him with the comfort and help he needed while he learned.

We began yesterday. I nursed Asher before bed, until he was full, comfortable, already nodding off. Then I slipped his binkie in his mouth, kissed his sweet forehead and set him gently in his crib. Asher began wailing indignantly as soon as I laid him down. He was quite angry. It broke my heart, but I left him there.

After about 30 seconds, I returned to him (he was now standing in his crib, still yelling). I placed his binkie back in his mouth (he stopped crying immediately) and laid him back down (he began crying again as soon as he realized that he was stillgoing to bed). I left again. As soon as I heard him stand up, again about 30 seconds after I laid him down, I returned to him. I gave him his binkie and laid him back down. This little routine happened two more times, and each time Asher’s protesting cries were less severe.

But the fifth time I laid him down (just minutes after the first try), Asher grabbed his ears, one in each hand, and laid there, quietly subdued. I left again and didn’t hear another protest from him. I checked on him after a few minutes. His eyes were open, but he was still laying down, still sucking his binkie, and still holding his ears. A few minutes later and he was fast asleep, all less than 10 minutes after I first put him down. Success!

At 10:00pm, just as Rick and I were getting ready for bed, Asher woke up again. I heard him start to giggle in our dimly lit room and then I saw his small, round head pop up over the side of his bed as he stood. He laughed boisterously, making us laugh too.

Certain he was tired in spite of his cheerful demeanor, I snuggled Ash and nursed him until he’d had his fill. Then I followed the same routine that had worked so well before. Asher still cried out the first time I laid him down and he stood again in his crib. But this time I only had to lay him down twice before he got the idea and just went to sleep. And today, for his morning nap, I didn’t have to lay him down again at all. He whimpered mildly when I first laid him down, but them went to sleep without another protest.

I am hoping this trend continues and that afternoon nap and bedtime are just as easy. And after that, I suppose it’s time to move Asher out of our room and into the boys’ shared bedroom. He is nearly ONE after all. And another baby will be sleeping in our room in just a few more months anyway. (Five months counts as a few, right?)

Next step… figure out how to get Asher to sleep past six o’clock every morning!

Trick or Treat

Today Braden found a pumpkin-shaped bucket, the kind for collecting candy on Halloween. I don’t know where he found it or why it wasn’t put away in the Halloween box. But Braden instantly decided to capitalize on his lucky find. He remembered how easily candy had been tossed into that very bucket just seven months ago and, fortunately for Braden, he also remembered the “secret code” that he’d used on each door step.

“Trick or treat,” Braden chirped brightly, standing at my knee and holding his pumpkin bucket up expectantly.

Of course, a tiny two-year-old who’s trick or treating (and sincerely expecting to get candy as a result) in the kitchen at the end of May is always cute. But in this case it was even cuter. Braden had just recently taken himself to the bathroom and, while he managed to get his too-big underwear back on, he never did put his clothes back on (I’ll never know why his shirt came off in the first place).

So, standing next to me in the kitchen, was this skinny, naked, innocent little boy, with big blue eyes and blond hair and too-big underwear and a trick-or-treat bucket nearly too big for him to carry, as he sang out “trick or treat” over and over again. He looked hilarious and adorable all at once.

Braden followed me around the kitchen, saying “trick or treat” every few seconds, always with the same expectant tone in his voice, the same look of certainty on his face. Those three small words worked so well seven months ago, why wouldn’t they work just as well today?

I reminded Braden that he needed a costume- the final piece in his plan to acquire candy tonight. He ran off to the playroom and a few minutes later was back at my side, bucket in hand. He was wearing a bright orange knit pumpkin hat and a green fairy skirt. Brenna stood proudly next to him and announced that he was dressed as a “pumpkin fairy boy.”

I didn’t have candy on hand so for the next 30 minutes I just kept tossing random pieces of food into his bucket- a french fry, a piece of broccoli- as I finished up the delicious dinner that Rick made tonight. (Fresh trout that he and Josh caught with Grandpa last weekend, battered and fried in a homemade gluten-free breading, with big, salty homemade steak fries and broccoli… But I digress. I suppose that’s the pregnant lady in me!)

So Halloween came early this year, in the form of a darling, half-naked, “pumpkin fairy boy” with a giant candy bucket and the innocent words “trick or treat” continually on his lips.

Oh, the HEAT

I am hot. You know, pregnant hot. My last three babies all had summer due dates so I am no stranger to the intense heat that being pregnant in the summer brings. BUT I’m only 4 months along (in a few more days anyway) and it’s not even June yet. How can I feel this pregnant hot already?? Oh, I have a feeling that it’s going to be a long, hot summer…

Classic

I think that every mother has a photo of her child that looks similar to this one…

Falling asleep in a high chair must be a babyhood rite of passage.