Happy Days Are Here Again

Last week was l-o-n-g. Busy and long. I am not the busiest mom out there. My days are usually simple, easy and filled with anything but stress. I try to keep it that way. But last week, was busy. And when you're doing it all solo, a busy week means a long week.

Eye appointment (lost my glasses months ago, and can't really see in the dark, and since that starts at about 3:30 here, I should probably take care of that) preschool, play dates, ultrasound appointment (still a boy, and still on the tiny side, but healthy as horse), planning a birthday party, Christmas card photo shoot (see picture above...enough said), more play dates (some call it babysitting, we don't, because we love it), preparing Christmas treats for neighbors and friends, stressing over what to get the girls for Christmas (any ideas?), sending out Christmas cards, planning weekend family getaway, thinking of baby names (not going well), wanting to see my husband for more than the 45 minutes I got Wednesday night, after he got home from work in barely enough time to say good-night to the girls and before we both fell asleep on the couch...at 8:30...

I always loss sleep this time of year. I wake up in the middle of the night, this past week, to an empty bed, and can't go back to sleep for hours. My mind does not turn off. This month of November has slowly been killing me. Joe's schedule has been the worst. 19 straight days of working an hour to an hour an a half away doesn't even begin to describe how much he's been gone. Or working. I thought 80 hours was the limit. Not true, not true. Last week about did me in. It was a long week.

I'm better this morning though. I'll ignore the time of 5:07 on my screen, that's not good. This weekend was just what I needed. Joe wasn't working for most of it. The girls got some daddy time. I took a nap. Helped Joe through the BYU loss, blowout, slaughter, whatever you want to call it. Enjoyed dinner, at the dinner table, with my whole family. Loved quality time in the car to go get gas or deliver birthday invitations or whatever silly errands we had to run. Slept peacefully at night...except for right now obviously. It was a good weekend.

I now only have to get through two more days. Because come Tuesday night, I earned a girls night out, hallelujah! And starting Wednesday morning Joe will be home for five straight days. Five beautiful, uninterrupted days. I think Christmas just came early!

The Truth Comes Out

We have countless Ariel figurines.

There's the hairless Ariel Polly Pocket that came with different clothes that are now all torn in half. No one plays with her or her clothes, yet I'm not allowed to throw her away. Or her hair.

Then there's the Ariel we got at Disneyland. She is wearing her mermaid fin and came accompanied by King Tritan, Eric and the rest of her little under the sea companions.

Lastly, there's the Ariel cake topper figurine in her pink fancy dress that came with the rest of the Disney princesses from the Disney store.

At least daily, there is an argument and fight over this last Ariel. Everyone wants this fancy dressed Ariel. I never understood why. Her arms don't move, you can't change her clothes...

Then, I was playing with the girls and they both wanted to get me Ariel. Gwen got to the fancy pink dressed Ariel first. Gabriella broke down. I mean really broke down. She was overly dramatic, unreasonable, and inconsolable over having to play with the mermaid dressed Ariel.

Finally, through her cries she said, "I don't WANT to play with this Ariel. She shows her BELLY."

The truth finally comes out. It all makes perfect sense. And now, thinking of the countless, Gabriella break downs I witnessed, I smile a very proud smile.

Now, if only we could get Gwen on board the modesty train. She would rather throw a tantrum over putting her shirt on. She is very proud of her rolly polly belly. We certainly have a streaker on our hands.

And since everyone is throwing tantrums, I wish I too, could cry when I see certain young girls showing their bellies...sheesh.

A Bit Of Advice

I'm going to go out on a limb here, and give some advice.

Now, I am not a husband, but if I were, I would avoid saying to my wife things like, "Wow! Babe. You've gotten to the phase now where it seems like every time I see you, you're bigger." Might not go over so well with the ladies men.

I better mention also, along with that, how about, husbands, try avoiding saying that again the next day. Yup, I'm pretty sure your wife got it the first time.

But thanks.

And now, for all you three year olds. Try not to tell your momma hourly that her belly is getting really, really big. I'm sure she'd appreciate it if you bumped it up to say, I don't know, daily, like your daddy. Yes, that would probably help. I know you are really adorable when you say it, but loss the wide eyes and shocked expression that accompanies your hourly observation.

It doesn't help.

And since I'm on a roll, here's to the two year olds out there. Try not to constantly tell your momma "no", that makes her feel fat too.



Anyway, that's just my two cents.

Sugar And Spice...

And Everything Nice.

That's what little girls are made of. My world is full of sugar and spice. My girls are girly girls. They love pink. Makeup. Bows. Dresses. Princesses. Cooking. Dolls. Jewelry. Babies. Fairy tales. Shoes.

I love having girls to enjoy these things with. We have created a world dominated by girliness. It's fabulous.

Boys are made of snips and snails and puppy-dog tales.

Snips and what? Are those pink snails and pink puppy-dog tales?

What am I suppose to do with a boy in this girly world? I am completely confused. And totally panicked. My radar is so far off from boys. I am down right worried.

We are so excited that this little baby is a boy. We can not wait to meet him. A nameless him, by the way, but honestly, I don't know where to start. I feel like a first time mom again. With Gwen, we had everything from Gabs. No need to shop or paint. I had an idea of what she'd look like, and could picture our next little girl in my arms.

Right now, I am lost. Excited with butterflies in my stomach, but a little lost. What will he look like? What will he act like? I go shopping for fabric and only see pink and flowers. I don't even register boy anything. It's like it doesn't even exist. I'm so not in tune to it. I go into the boys side of a store and feel like I am in foreign territory.

I know it will sink in soon. We are blessed to be having a boy. Our little princess world is going to have a prince. A prince of snips and snails and puppy-dog tails. That sounds fun! I am so eager to see what that means for our family.

But as excited as I am to see blue, I feel completely in the dark. Oh, please, help me!

Lucky Me

We were all getting along just fine. Who cares if the sun wasn't coming up until 9:00 am? At least we were sleeping until 7:30. Then Sunday rolls around, the time changes and now everything is a mess.
I really hate Daylight Savings. How can "falling" back one hour mess two little girls up so badly? How does "falling" back one hour change the morning wake up call by two and a half hours? For a week? I'm really irritated by this.
Then, there's the fact that I have to go around turning on lights at 3:30 in the afternoon and closing blinds so my whole world isn't exposed to the streets outside our home. Plus, the girls haven't seen their Daddy two nights this week, and I've only seen him a combined total of 7 hours. I'm irritated by this too.
So when we heard Gwen cry out this morning and Gabriella walk into our room, I was too scared to look at the clock. Because it was still dark and I was immediately saying a pray that this wasn't happening. I asked Joe to tell me the time. It was 5:04 am. My days have got to stop starting with a 5, because that irritates me too.
By 5:30, our little full size bed was crammed with two crying girls. I told Joe I felt like crying too. Because we all know what kind of days are followed by nearly a week of early mornings. I told Joe he was lucky that he got to go to work today. I did. I said that out loud. And Gabriella heard me. I immediately wished I could take it back, because I didn't honestly mean it.
Then Gabriella, in all her early morning sweetness, told me not to cry as she clumsily tried to rub her little hand on my cheek in the dark. She said she would be so sad if I went to work too. That she was so lucky to stay home with me.
And that made me feel like crying even more because I feel the same way.
I know I am so lucky to be able to stay home with my girls. I get to hear them read to each other. I get to hear the funny way they change their voices when they are pretending. I get to hear Gabriella's hysterical laugh when she's doing something she know she shouldn't to Gwen. I get to hear "I love you" countless times during the day. I get "thank you's" on a regular basis. I get to laugh at Gwen's pathetic attempts at learning colors. We seriously think she's color blind. The girl just doesn't get it. I get to get hundreds of "invitation's" to party's that Gabriella is throwing in her room. I get hugs and kisses. I constantly get to feel proud of my girls every second, because I am home with them.
I am one lucky momma. I absolutely know that. I wouldn't change being here with my girls for anything. Even if the days are really long sometimes, I still sure am lucky.
But for today, I wish I could go work somewhere else. Because, today, I'm tired. Lucky, but seriously tired.