The last day of one kid...I hope

I know, it's been a long time since I posted. My only excuse is EVERYTHING seems to take SO MUCH EFFORT! I think it's partly because I went over my due date (okay, that was just Sunday) and I was pretty depressed about it. There's definitely a psychological strain that comes with the passing of that arbitrary date-in-the-sky pulled-out-of-the-air DAY your doctor gave you seven months ago. Add that to the fact that Sabrina was born on her due date and, well, everything takes more effort. But tomorrow? I get induced. Until my due date on Sunday I didn't really believe that impatience was a medical necessity. I hereby recant that belief.

So, today I've been busy cleaning, doing laundry, packing my hospital bag, and I just need to buy some (ahem) necessities that I forgot about until an hour ago. The work hasn't put me into labor, but hey, that's what Pitocin is for.

I also cleaned out the disaster we call a car today. It's primarily my car; that is, I'm the primary driver. Here's the breakdown of who left stuff in the car:
Molly: 10% (not including garbage. Let's face it, 50% of the garbage was mine.)
Sabrina: 50% (not surprising. She spends a lot of time in the car, and I usually have so much to bring in, including her, that her stuff gets left behind.)
Zane and Spencer: 20% each. This is what gets me. WHY do I have four pairs of Zane's socks in the car? Two pairs of pants? Random metal pieces that are VERY IMPORTANT but have been sitting there for weeks? Spencer's geode that he desperately wanted when we were in Southern Utah but never took out of the car? Three pairs of Spencer's shoes? Grrr.

I felt good for cleaning out the car, and was all set to put Sabrina's old carseat in there for the babe, but then I looked at it. Where were my eyes when I put my sweet, clean baby on that filthy seat? So, I'm washing it right now. And yes, it's girly. I feel, however, that my boy will be adequately masculine that he will overcome the obstacle of a pink and gray infant car seat.

I'm sure I have many more amusing and clever things to say, but this is already a novel and I need to finish making sure I have adequate entertainment (books and Alias and Pride and Prejudice, BBC version) for tomorrow.

Oh, and happy birthday Nora and Meredith last Saturday! (People remember your birthday when you're born on 9/11.)

WHO do you want?

So, I had a doctor's appointment today (dilated to a 1-2!) and left Sabrina with Breklyn, my sister-in-law. Well, she had to go do something with the Wariorettes, which meant halfway through the babysitting gig, Sabrina got Uncle Lance (hereafter known as "Yance"). When I get to their house, Lance said she'd been saying "I want my mommy" and "where my mommy go" for an hour. As soon as she saw me? Monkeyed onto Uncle Yance, reached for him when I got her, and begged Yance to hold her. Hold me, Yance, hold me. Then she pulled my hair and screamed.

Bad Dreams

Last night, I had a nightmare. It woke me up and I couldn't get back to sleep for 30 minutes. I'm sure my enormous belly didn't have anything to do with it.

So, I dreamed we had a tuberculosis pandemic. Everyone was terrified, trying to isolate themselves, protect their kids. Yes. TB. A disease that (as far as I know) has no acute phase and takes 10 or so years to kill you. (If I'm wrong about this, at least one doctor reads the blog; she can correct me. Thanks, Mom.) But it was scary!

Sabrina has been so adorable lately. That's one of the reasons I didn't want her to get TB. She has been throwing some tantrums, but in between them she gives big kisses and big hugs, says long sentences ("I don't yike it" being a favorite), and wants to play games like "Mommy yun," where she runs and I chase her. It's not like I really run, of course. I have 12 days left until my due date, so it's more a fast-ish walk. Sabrina has really short legs, though.

Independent Baby

Yesterday, as is my wont, I put Sabrina down for a nap. As is her wont, she cried, played, and fell asleep about an hour and a half later. Sadly, due to Spencer's soccer game, I had to go in to wake her up. When I got in, she was asleep in the middle of the floor, wearing only an inside-out shirt. Did you hear me? NO DIAPER. However, there were no...unpleasant consequences to the bare bum I saw below the shirt. So, she had taken off her dress and diaper, put on another shirt, and fallen asleep. I guess she's exerting her independence?

Really? A baby?

Last night, I went to the park with Zane, Spencer, and Sabrina. While there, we saw Vicki and Mike, a couple from our new ward who just had a baby three weeks ago. It hit me like it hadn't, really, that in 31ish days I would have a new baby. A baby! And he will be tiny and helpless...and then I will have two kids. Two! This is all so, well, lifechanging.

Non-Prophetic Dreams and other adventures

Last night, when I was not getting up to go to the bathroom or finding a comfortable position in which to lie (impossible), I dreamed a dream, or in other words, I saw a vision. I dreamed the new baby was born August 9. This is why I knew it was non-prophetic: it was the 9th yesterday. He was also about three months old when he came out, and I immediately reverted to my pre-pregnancy shape. Hmmm. Maybe it WAS prophetic. We can only hope.

Now to the true stuff. We have inherited (thanks Benn!) my brother's old bunkbeds for the boys' room. Since he got them when he was 14 and he is now...28, we no longer have the instructions on how to put them together. However, I put them together. Because I am awesome. I did not hear cries or crashes in the night, even though Spencer was sleeping on them, so my conclusion is that I did a dang good job. Thank you.

This morning, I changed Sabrina's diaper and asked her to take off her pajama shirt while I grabbed her clothes. She's 2, so anything that asks her to be self-sufficient may just get a "yessss." Unfortunately, she decided to stand up to take off her shirt. Fortunately, I was just close enough to her to catch her about 6 inches from the ground when she pitched headfirst off the changing table, where I had foolishly left her. Well, lesson learned. Never let her do anything. Sorry, 17-year-old Sabrina.

Waking Up

Usually, Sabrina's version of waking me up includes crying. Yesterday, it was a loud "I luv you, mama." I got up real quick.

As Sabrina just turned 2, she had a doctor's appointment yesterday. I really talked her up about being brave, and she did a great job. She stood on the scale (which had Dora stickers on it) without crying, although she did look a little traumatized. You would too if you were standing naked in the hall of the clinic! She let the doctor listen to her lungs and heart and feel her belly without crying, too. Looking in her ears was a different story, but it was better than previously!

However, when the shots started....She was a little suspicious of us when we held her down, but the indignity! the pain! of the two immunizations was too much. The screaming really started then. The rest of the day was "Mama, leg huhts." She has a very cute English accent for most "R" words. Then a few little whimpers. Poor baby.