building

Annabelle adores her daddy. Annabelle adores playing Legos with her daddy. Her daddy adores her more than words can say. The fact that she'll already play Legos with him just pushes that adoration right over the top. And I adore that I can lay on the couch, be lazy, and watch them play. Perfectly adorable.

DISCLAIMER: Annabelle has never been one for picking little things up and putting them in her mouth, not even when she was small. She preferred to examine them with her tiny, precise fingers, determine their molecular origin, then discard them and move on to the next tiny piece of something. (Unless it was chocolate - she could sniff out chocolate from a very young age and always popped it in her mouth when she found it.) So although the age recommendation on the box does say ages 5+, just believe us when we say she isn't going to choke on the pieces. In fact, she considers it her calling in life to make sure every Lego man is outfitted with a proper hat.

Also, along with her newfound freedom of dressing herself comes the undressing of herself. We roll with it.

it's lines like these

I'm a habitual Gilmore Girl watcher. Have been forever. I've seen every season at least a few times, I actually use lines from the shows in my regular speech or writing without thinking, and truly, I just think it's great. I love the mother-daughter relationship (and to all you doubters, it is a reality - ask my mom), I love the fast talking (slow talkers drive me a little insane), I love the wit. Like this:

Lorelai: "As my mouth was opening, my mind was screaming, 'Don't do it, I mean it, you'll regret it.' But did it listen?"

Rory: "No."

Lorelai: "And it opened, and the words came out, and Emily was Emily. And my mouth was stunned, and my mind said, 'I told you so,' and then my mouth got mad because no mouth likes to have its nose rubbed in it. And now my mouth and my mind aren't talking, and it will be weeks before we get the boys back together again."

Rory: "Your mouth has a nose?"

Can't get enough really.

If you haven't started this show that will become an addiction, I recommend you do so soon.

P.S. A post is not a post without a picture of Belle for grandma.

all foods are not created equal

So as of late, we've been having issues (to say the least) with Annabelle's general consumption of food. Of course, we're not too worried as she's very "healthy" (30 pounds healthy, and the average size of a three year old, according to the charts), and she possesses the communication skills to tell us when she's legitimately hungry ("Hun-gee? Eat?") Only when she first started solids (the jar kinds) did she eat like a champ; when we moved on to regular solids, her eating skills diminished. She still drinks milk a plenty, and water like it's going out of style, plus the occasional cup of juice (I keep her to a cup or two a day so as to encourage the water consumption and avoid the extra sugar, which she easily obtains by scouting around for lock-o all day). It's just food in general she has no basic interest in.

One theory is this: the poor girl got her four front teeth by the time she turned a year old. Then nothing. She's been grinding food with her four front teeth for six months. It would get old, no? The other theory: she just doesn't love eating. The only problem? It messes with her sleep. Sometimes she'll wake in the middle night to inform me in the most dramatic hysterics (sometimes complete with throw up, it happens when she cries too hard - super, right?) that she's HUN-GEE. Can't we be hun-gee during the day? 

Anyhow, we're just being patient and providing her ample meal time options. She eats sometimes; sometimes she chooses to abstain. I refuse to make food a negative experience for her as it's seriously one of the best things in life (when not pregnant - when pregnant, it's simply a necessity). I think she'll work it out on her own. Especially because two teeth just popped through - one in the front and one in the back (random?). 

Easy Mac has been a favorite of our girl for a very long time. "Mac Mac" was among the first words in her vocabulary. Recently Jess realized that if you bought the Easy Mac in a box (the pouch version as opposed to the cup version), you could save a couple dimes each time. It may sound stupid, but when bought en masse, it could save you some dollars in the end. During all of this not eating, she wouldn't even eat her Easy Mac. Then yesterday I had a thought. I purchased some of the cup version, just to see. She slurped it down in two minutes flat.

I guess the bright side is that she knows what really matters in her diet: water, chocolate, and the correct version of Easy Mac. I think she'll be just fine. :)

in other words

 pingers = fingers
Pick it? = Fix it?
pone = phone
phone-ee = pony
pish = fish
(as you can see, concern for F's true sound 

is at the bottom of her priority list)
I cash. = I crashed.
Dipe chay? = Diaper change? 

(we already bought her the kid potty, 

don't you worry)
Yeeshee = Jesus
leaks = keys
lock-oh = chocolate
luke = cute

gung gup = clean up
ick-ick = milk
ope-ee = open
maggots = magnets
cone = Popcorn Popping

bider = The Eensy Weensy Spider
roll it-bot = robot (she's taking "roll it" from Patty Cake)
lokes = clothes
gar-boo = garbage
poo-tee = fruit snacks
nah-ma = banana
slow-er = flower (pronounced the same, but with an S)
rib-epp = the sound a frog makes (cracks me up every time)
I wash-ee. = I'm sorry. (our very favorite)

I should mention again that she really loves dressing herself. 

And almost every ensemble includes those cowboy boots. 

Sadly, I make her change when we leave the house.

a new low

So with Annabelle, I threw up occasionally (and felt sick most of the time). With this little whipper snapper, I feel sick most of the time and throw up regularly. Usually at night. Especially if I've eaten something that has an ounce of fat or spiciness on it. Sometimes I can fight the barf. At least until I can get to a toilet. Yesterday afternoon, I trucked Belle down our three flights of stairs (by the way - we have an official house buying deadline* - I am not carrying two babies up three flights of stairs) and loaded her into the car to make a quick grocery run. I started the car and suddenly the urge to yack was upon me. And this was no urge to be suppressed. This was coming up whether I liked it or not. I had like 6.7 seconds to review my options. Knowing that the time it would take to unbuckle Belle and run up three flights of stairs to the toilet was not going to happen, I did what I previously would've termed the unthinkable:

I ran into the trees surrounding our parking lot. And threw up.

I'm telling you. This pregnancy is like a party all day long.

*July 26, 2011. The official due date. Two years and ten days after Annabelle's due date. I always said I wanted my kids at least two years apart. Oh the comedy. :)

struggling

Alright, so here's the truth of the matter. This pregnancy has been a beast. And not just in the "I feel sick and want to barf after I take a long nap" kind of way. I'm struggling. Big time. My main goals every day are to get up and take care of my girl. Showering is optional. No really. My hormones are completely whacked, and I feel what I can only assume is some sort of prepartum depression. I feel chemically altered, completely not right. My mind and body are more than not my own. I'm a complete alien to myself and those around me. And this isn't me trying to garner sympathy. This is just what it is, and it's my best explanation for why I have very little motivation to do much more than feed my fetus (and that's a freaking chore when everything makes me yack) and make sure my toddler is still thriving. Every ounce of positive energy I possess is packaged into what I can give Annabelle. It's the best I can do, and although I know it's what matters right now, it still isn't easy, and I still feel like a failure most of the time.

That said, I realize that there are some aunties and a grandma who are likely missing their Annabelle fix. I mean, I would. :) I admitted to my mom the other day that I was secretly scared that as Annabelle left the completely adorable sit-and-do-nothing-but-be-cute phase, I would somehow not find her as fun, that somehow toddlerhood would diminish her cute factor. Oh, how I was wrong. She is most definitely the light in all this pregnancy darkness. She's a complete joy and a wonder. Her daily progress blows my mind, and I'm so in love with the little woman she is. She's tender and insightful and knows when Mommy is "shad" or "shick." She gives hugs and kisses and tells me she lubs me, always when I need her to. I imagine she's enjoying this first trimester as it means I spend most of my day lounging with her, playing whatever she chooses, instead of trying to clean the house or multitask on her. I suppose that the bright side to this pregnancy is that I've had more minutes with Annabelle. And they're simply priceless.

So, I'm going to try and post more, and it will likely be chiefly photos, because I know that a daily discourse on feeling like crud is less than fun to read. My hope is that as I exit the first trimester in these next few weeks, that things will get better. But I'm also prepared to just stick it out until Baby Cheney gets here. I've never really felt this miserable, truthfully, but there is no doubt that it is worth it. Being a mother is my greatest dream come true, even when the price tag is chemical alteration for a while. :)

gender neutral

Whitney, one of my cute sisters-in-law, painted my toes a few hours before I went in to be induced. 

We chose pink for the big toes to encourage the preferred gender to come out. :)

Okay, so before we get too much further, let me just get this out there (again) because it tends to stress everyone else out way more than it does us: we are not finding out if we're having a boy or girl. We didn't when we were pregnant with Annabelle, and minus a few emotional breakdowns fueled by pregnancy hormones and my (not so) secret ardent desire to have a girl, we loved it that way. It gives us (me in particular) something unbelievably exciting to look forward to - like the best surprise on Christmas you could imagine. Only this surprise has a gooey wrapping. (Ew?) I'm just about the most impatient person I know, and nine months is like an eternity to be pregnant. Might as well have the surprise at the end, no?

And if we're being honest, this time around I'm really (honestly, this time) okay with either a boy or a girl. The first time around I pretended with all my might that having a boy would be super fun. But I really REALLY wanted a girl. I've said it before, and so has Jess, but there was something in me that needed her, this particular girl, and how grateful and blessed we are to have her. Also, our first boy has his name chosen. It was chosen before the beginning of time. He'll be the fifth in a long line of Jesses (plural for Jess?). And while I actually have grown to love the strength and integrity that my husband's name holds, I was a little bit distraught at the fact that I would have no say in my first child's name should it come out with man parts.

This time, although I would naturally love another pink baby, I'd also love a boy. Bring on another Jess. The world could use another really. They're incredible men. I also know that Jess would love a boy. But he'd also love another Midge. I've never seen a daddy so in love with his girl as Jess is with his. You see, we're just in love with this whole parenthood thing in general. And boy or girl, we'll be tickled pink (or blue). 

again

So when I was pregnant with Belle, I got huge. I mean, really. I looked like there might be two Annabelles hiding in my stomach. Here are a few of the never before shared photos of those last days. In fact, this was the day I went to the hospital to be induced.

WHOASERS, right? It's okay. You can say it. I know. I WAS THERE. And now that the quart of water has drained out of my face (seriously?), I can actually laugh a little.

A little.

Pregnancy as a whole wasn't too much fun for me. Among a myriad of random pregnancy symptoms, I was sick as a dog the first trimester, sort of sick the other two, my pelvis fell out of place in the third (limiting my ability to walk, quite literally), my gums completely receded from my teeth (causing continual tooth pain), and I ended up with a serious root canal after the baby came out, and I got fat. Not just pregnant. F-A-T. 

After I had Annabelle, so many people told me I'd forget about the pain of pregnancy and be excited to do it all over again. But let me tell you something: I HAVEN'T FORGOTTEN. NOT A SINGLE SWOLLEN APPENDAGE HAS BEEN DISMISSED FROM MY MEMORY. Yet, I will do it again. And there is only one reason I will. Every single second of pregnancy, as miserable as it might be, is worth it. Because you get a little bundle of newness, perfection swaddled up and tucked into your heart, as though there was a spot just waiting for that tiny baby.

The feeling is unlike any other. And I can't wait.

  To feel it. Again.

 

Some time in July. (Again.)

YES. I'M PREGNANT.

P.S. Yes, that's why this blog has become relatively silent. I have very few clever things to say when I'm bent over a toilet "shick," as Belle says. However, I believe that first trimester good times are winding down. (Oh please.)