I'm not a consistent blogger.

You've probably noticed.

This is a blog, and as such I think I've done a pretty good job at maintaining it in a certain tier. Mediocre design. Filtered cell phone photography. Rare substantial content. I don't see myself breaking from this trend as much as I would like to go all Camille Styles on you.

But I also have always managed to post a pregnancy update at 30 weeks with each of my now THREE pregnancies. So: Tradition! Tradition!

I'm a sucker for pregnancy updates and bump photos. When someone I follow on social media isn't bumpdating (sorry! ouch!) I get surly. And I always click through to see how much better/worse she wears this pregnancy over previous ones. I'm not critical. Just curious.

So here it goes. How I'm wearing pregnancy 3. Words first.

Ugh. This one's been tough. Nausea for 22 weeks. I earned myself some serious spider veins. I haven't had too much back pain yet, but I've had shin splints? Or something like them? My midwife was about 0% concerned about my shin pain, and so I'm trying not to be either. I haven't googled it yet, and that is helping.

I haven't been able to jog at all really. With my first I jogged till 34 weeks, and I managed to jog at least some with number two, but every time I try to up the waddle this time around, I get all kinds of weird pressure and pain. I have been walking a lot. If I don't walk, my shin pain and back pain get worse and I'm positively puffy by the end of the day.

When this pregnancy started, Jacob was working all the time, I was sick all the time, Lucy June stopped sleeping through the night, and Jakeboy became a holy terror of a 3.5 year old. It was rough. And then it got better. Then I picked my head up off the pillow to see that it was getting better. Around week 22, we suspended ourselves in a slow and hopeful dawn. Now the hot summer day is upon us, and life is pretty good.

Here's Jake @ 30 weeks. And Lucy June @ 30 weeks. And here's Baby #3 at a technical 30 weeks and 5 days (but who's counting...) (...me!)

And for good measure. Here's the paternal half at 30 weeks while I adjusted camera settings...

Such a sport. Such a sport.

Bye for now, friends!

Fluffy Ramblings and a Bump

I started my last draft with a plan to go full fluff, but then things got heavy. I cried while I wrote it. I think posts no longer qualify as fluff once someone starts crying.

So I paused it. Went on a date with Ben & Jerry's, and now I'm back.

~~~

I've been combing the archives of this little lady recently. She's like the cutest ever, and she's about to have her first baby, and she's just so delightfully stalk-able, so go forth.

~~~

I've been experimenting with DIY shampoo again. (Ah. This life. Riveting!) It's actually a terrible time to experiment because during pregnancy my hair and scalp get super dry, so it's hard to tell what's causing what, but I'm on a castille soap/honey kick right now, and I'm moderately pleased with it.

I've also finally made some epsom salt spray - I used this recipe  - and don't you know I went the chamomile/lemon route because I'm always Hail Marying for highlights. Results: not in. My spray bottle kept getting clogged and leaking and the concoction would run down my arms, and I don't wash my hair regularly, so I can't experiment very easily with how much to use. Long story short: I'm basically Mrs. Paul Mitchell.

I'll probably just throw in the beach towel and buy some, but not before it sits in my Amazon cart for a couple weeks and I go through several cycles of buyer's guilt before I've even purchased it.

We all have our neuroses I suppose.

~~~

You want to know a fluffy secret I don't think I've ever shared? You want to talk more exemplary hygiene?

I don't shave my legs. Except for the very rare occasion, I haven't shaved in the last five years.

And this isn't like a hippy, crunchy thing. I'm not some kind of hairy feminist.

I got some waxing done when I was a blushing bride and went on a razor-free honeymoon, and after six weeks of hairless underarms, I was like: I'm never shaving again. So now I mostly epilate. Yes. It hurts. An Italian friend first introduced me to epilating. At about eight hairs in, I swore I'd never do it again. But once I'd had a couple waxes, it didn't hurt near as much, and now that I'm a few years in, I don't even flinch. And then I'm golden and hair-free for 6-8 weeks. Are there any other epiladies out there?

~~~

I'm trying to cut back on the amount of meat we eat. Since I've been sick with Baby 3, our food budget has been off the hook. I haven't been cooking ($$) and Jacob's been doing all the grocery shopping ($$$). So we're trying to venture back into the wide world of legumes, but as I make this valiant effort, I'm noticing that all my bean recipes are very wintery. So I'd love any recommendations you could send my way!

~~~

Lucy June talks a lot about my parents' animals. Their cat, Izzy, who scratched her (Izzy! ouch! Izzy! Hurting!) and also their dog, Beau. When we were at their house last, my parents tried to teach her how to give the dog commands, so now she randomly walks around our house lisping: "Shit, Beau! Shit! Shit, Beau!"

I know it won't last long. Good things never do.

~~~

And as titularly promised, here we are pushing 19 weeks.

On Friday we head to Boston, to watch my dad run the marathon. I'm so proud of him and excited to see ducklings and haunt lots of quaint coffee shops.

And that's all for now.

The State of the Rhodes

Nothing like a good ole fashioned family update to jump back on the blogging scene.

(No promises that I'm back on the wagon for real. I'm 15 weeks in and nausea doesn't usually clear for me entirely until 18 weeks, but since it has consigned itself to the afternoons/evenings recently, I might actually find some time to write. We shall cross our fingers and see.)

So. The Lost Rhodes. Where are they now??

Lucy June

Lucy June is thinning out, if still a plumpster who would eat every half hour. Yesterday we confirmed that she is still allergic to avocados. Not deathly allergic, just the more she gets the more she throws up kind of allergic. Jacob finds the allergy absurd and now wants a paternity test.

She almost has hair, not enough to do anything with, but you can SEE it. I know I should probably do the whole headband thing. But I'm afraid I'll get a super cute little headband (like this one!!) and she'll just tear it off. How do you know if you've got a daughter who will keep pretty things on her head??


JakeBoy

Jake has given up his afternoon nap except for once in a blessed moon. Even though we haven't touched our preschool workbook in about two months, he proudly tells strangers that he homeschools. He still loves outerspace and makes me tell stories about the Kuiper Belt and Oort Cloud.

He's all energy. Whenever anyone starts crying at playgroup, there's an 85% chance he's involved. If he didn't start someone crying, he arrives shortly after to make things worse. Mr. Moth to the flame of discord. I'm sure this is my fault.

Luckily, Lucy June is on her way to exonerating me as the The World's Worst Disciplinarian because she's a playdate angel. Today at a baby shower she was playing with a ten month old and desperately wanted the toy chicken he was holding. She could've easily overpowered him, but she didn't, and instead just pitifully repeated: "Chiten? Peez? Chiten? Peez?"

Jacob

Jacob is still working so so hard. His busy season allegedly comes to a close soon, but he's still booked solid through the beginning of next month. He took four days off in a row last weekend, so he could weather the stomach flu. It's the most I've seen him since Christmas. But before you cue all the violins, know that things should slow down drastically by the end of April, and so long as we don't do something stupid, like buy another house that needs remodeling, my husband should settle into working about 25 hours a week for a couple months.

He drives all over Houston for work and gluts on historical non-fiction audiobooks. One week it's all "Andrew Jackson" and then it's all "The Dustbowl" - and I think it's cute, and I act interested, and I glaze, and then he mentions the detail in the book about the baby, and I'm like "Hmm? What was that?"

And Me

(Sorry for all the greasy-haired, pale-faced, pit-stained T-shirt reality in this photo. It's not that I don't love you enough to put on eyeliner. It's just that I don't love anyone enough to put on eyeliner these days.)

I've probably been through the most physically and emotionally exhausting winter of my life. I don't really want to write about it. But after two months of crippling nausea crowned by a bout with the stomach flu. I just. I have a newfound empathy for people with chronic illness.

I know I'm not all the way through but in the last week I've had some nausea free mornings and one blessed nausea free day, so I'm riding pretty high.

Turns out the fetal position isn't so bad for reading, so I've done a fair amount of it over the past few months. I haven't been listening to presidential biographies, instead I've enjoyed the edifying tomes of literary masters like Rainbow Rowell.

I've cooked maybe twice since January. I think we subsisted on Eggo waffles for the whole month of February, but I honestly can't remember.

I'm super emotional. Like I heard someone quote Mary Poppins the other day - "In every job that must be done, there is an element of fun. You find the fun and - SNAP - the job's a game." - and I was a mess of tears.

I turned thirty. I feel thirty.

Baby Three is still reading much more beer gut than bump, but hopefully we'll get some definition in a few weeks.

I'm a bundle of aspirations whenever my nausea clears even for a moment. I want to make capsule wardrobes for the kids and cinch my summer maternity style and imbue every corner of our life with intentionality, but since Ms. Kondo is on hold at the library till doomsday, I probably will just settle for folding some laundry and remembering how to turn on the crockpot.

Tis all the nausea-gods will allow for today, but I'm excited to wake this space back up! 

Here's The Thing

I haven't been able to write on the blog recently.

Believe me I've tried - not very hard - but I've tried a little.

It's this little thing called motivation. I have zero right now.

No motivation for anything. Not cooking or cleaning or laundry or writing or reading (except for this book which earned a big fat fine and its sequel which is more of a meh.)

On my nightstand I have Charles Duhigg's The Power of Habit, but I've done nothing but show it to Jacob because I thought he should put the audiobook on hold. He did put the audiobook on hold and thanked me for the recommendation. Then it went back on my nightstand.

Right this moment I need to get up and switch the laundry. But I can't do it. I can't make myself move. I'm just here on my butt, not very Lentenly eating the Valentines cookies that didn't make it to Jake's buddies. Even though the washing machine is only eighteen steps round trip, staying still is just SO nice. So so nice.

Jacob works all the time right now. He may get like two days off between Christmas and March. Tonight he'll be home by 10? Hopefully?

All I can manage recently is getting out of the house daily. Parks and playdates and the like. Even though I'm a dyed-in-the-wool-socks homebody, I've had to get us all some space. The kids need a break from me. I need a break from me.

Because here, my friendlies, is the deal.

That would be numero tres snuggling right down into el uterus and touching down in early September, and the thing making my days a living couchfest.  

So that's why I've been hiding from the blog. All I can talk about is being sick, and I hate to hate on pregnancy.

I was gonna wait to spill the news with some cutesy birth announcement on my birthday which is in like a week, but I've kinda hit bottom. We're truly and deeply stoked for this baby, but I'm losing the pregnancy game physically and mentally. My nausea antidote du jour: tell the world. So there 'tis.

WE'RE HAVING A (nother) BABY!!!!

And I'm spending yet another Lent with the not so glorious penance of: "try not to throw the cookies up."

Taking Seven: Guinea Hens, Shallow Thoughts on Happiness, and Other Even Less Related Things

Joining Jen today in the Friday ritual. And what a Friday it is.

It has already been the loveliest day. I'm feeling so much better with only remnants of drainage and facial pain that serve to remind me of just how much better. Birds are singing, my new batch of yogurt is straining, and the sun is peeking in and out of the clouds on the serenest of October days. We just got back from a lovely walk where we met some very friendly horses who sniffed Jake's head, and it was like a Disney movie or something.

Commence photo dump of recent visit to the guineas with Nana Suz.

"I'm just a guinea in the coop. My name's Grey Guinea White Guinea" - Sure, kid.

Sorry if you're not sunshiny today because all is rays at The Rhodes Log.

Let's record all the happy things shall we?

- 1 -

A few minutes ago my brother brought my son into the kitchen. Jake was holding a wrench and asked if he could go help Uncle Robert work on his truck. Twist my arm, kid. I looked up at my brother who said, "Is that OK?"

And I thought: OK?? You obviously don't speak "Mom."

So the little man is workin' on a truck outside, and I'm currently enjoying a second cup of tea and feeling only a little on top of the world.

- 2 -

My sister is coming home for the weekend!!! Huzzah! I should probably go put all her shoes back in her closet...

We didn't grow up sharing clothes because she was eight years younger than me. But in our more adult lives we've done all kinds of adolescent indulging in each other's closets. The shoes are contentious because my feet are a smidge bigger than hers and I kinda maybe stretch them out a little bit...but ever since she took my favorite shirt to study abroad for a semester and I spent six weeks looking for it, all bets are off.

If you know me, you know that I go shopping about once every...eight months...and at any given time I'm rotating about three outfits and otherwise living in cut offs. I don't love this about myself. So yeah...If I had all the money in the world I would probably be wise to get a personal shopper.

- 3 -

Have you ever asked yourself what you'd pay for or how you'd live differently if money really were no concern? I posed that question to Jacob on a date recently after I'd read Laura Vanderkam's All the Money in the World: What the Happiest People Know About Wealth

I didn't love the book, and I didn't agree with everything, but she did have some interesting points.
She attacked the penny pinching attitude and brought up, what I will call, The Latte Question. Have you noticed that as soon as you start talking budgets everyone talks about buying a daily coffee? The Latte has become the go to metaphor people use in America for wasted money. "Think of the money you could save just by routinely skipping the $4 latte."

Vanderkam falls in the camp that encourages you to figure out a way to sustain the latte habit, some new means of cash flow, because, she argues, that the daily sacrifice can take a significant toll on your overall happiness.

I'm probably not representing her point very well, but I didn't agree with it. I suppose because the Latte becomes valuable to me only when it is scarce. I suppose it's the Catholic in me, but I love sacrifices. I love them for themselves, and I especially love how they season the Feast.

How would you live your daily life differently if money were no concern?

I value frugal living so highly it's actually really hard for me to answer that question. But I would probably have local organic produce delivered to my house instead of having to fetch it myself. I would also get semi regular manicures and massages. A lot of massages.

- 4 -

One very interesting statistic that Vanderkam cites, however, is that happiness only corresponds to how much money you make up until an annual household income of $70,000. That is, people's recorded happiness levels tended to go up with their income until they hit seventy grand at which point the graph didn't stay true. More money didn't necessarily make people happier.

Such an interesting statistic.

[Insert Moral or Some Such.]

- 5 -

Tonight we're taking Jake to a high school football game to watch my cousin play. Jake's love affair with balls has quelled somewhat and been replaced by an obsession with heavy machinery, but I think he's going to have a blast.

- 6 -

As of last night I am officially more pregnant than I've ever been. Jake was born at 39 weeks 3 days and I'm sitting on 39w4d right now.

Snug as a bug and always a little to the right. 

Already a family record breaker. I wonder if she'll be as miserably competitive as I am.

Perhaps being massively pregnant isn't the most comfortable of states...but I'm SO GRATEFUL that I've avoided labor through this illness, and that Jacob's been able to get some really good work in at his new job in Houston before taking a break to father a toddler and a newborn. I'm hoping little lady waits till her due date which is Tuesday.

I was born on my due date, and we could be like twinsies.

I'd also like at least a few more days so we can do a better job on the name game. Jacob went soft on my #1 pick and since then we've been bickering at the drawing board.

- 7 -

I sort of apologize for the randomness and general lack of substance that is this post. Or not really. I have to rush and make sure my grandmother's dog isn't eating one of the guinea hens. We'll see how well a 9mo pregger breaks up a spat on the farm.

See Jen for more of the day's takes.

38 Weeks!

Here you go as promised! I will be honest and say that this cold has more than got me down: slight fever, sinus pressure, nose hydrant, sore throat, feeling pretty good when I hunt down a tissue instead of using my shirt, tempting labor by chasing down the toddler to do a number on his crusty face. So this photo was the SOLE reason I got dressed today. I even considered putting make up on, but that felt a little over the top.

Here's a photo from roughly the same moment in my last pregnancy, if you're interested.

Have a lovely evening! Three days till Jacob comes. Huzzah!

Waiting for the Girl

Jake and I have deposited ourselves in Fredericksburg and have begun the wait for the newest logger.  If she follows in Jake's footsteps she'll be arriving exactly three weeks from today.

We spent the morning bumbling around town. I dropped Jake off with a friend and continued to an OB appointment where I found that I'm measuring a little bit too small, which probably only means that baby's just nestled in nice and low, but I will be getting an Ultrasound on Wednesday just to make sure that is indeed the case and that my fluid levels are good and baby is beefy. I really don't want to be induced...so hopefully it will only show good things. We then accompanied my friend to toddler time at the library where Jake was about .01% engaged with the designated activities.

We went to toddler time at our library in LA once. Jake threw a fit when I made him leave the basketball court for the event. We both sat through the whole thing shell-shocked because we'd never seen so many toddlers in one place. The craft was edible, and my granola-heart almost stopped beating. I try to be cool in situations like that - and I usually am. I've resigned myself to the fact that my kids will eat whatever they want at their friends' houses, and I'm totally fine with that. I know their friends will find our eating habits absurd. I can roll with this. It doesn't bother me that my kid will be the one with homemade fruit leather in his school lunch and not have near the bargaining power of little Sophie with her gushers and soda. But seriously, library people, you're supposed to be some sort of beacon of hope for the next generation, not just another place where they get pretzels and chocolate teddy grahams and marshmallow paste. Thankfully Jake didn't realize any of it was food, and I wasn't enlightening him, so we made it out unscathed. I couldn't pull that stuff today. He's too worldly. But the Fredericksburg Library didn't try to feed my child anything so this library time got a pass.

While we're talking crunchy. My mom mentioned to me that she wanted us to start a ginger bug while I was here, and I almost knocked her over to get the grater. Because. Seriously. My mother wants to harvest wild yeasts with me! Voluntarily! I just about skipped around the kitchen (but then I didn't because women who are two hours shy of full term are not the ones who get to do that with a younger brother in the room and live it down.)

Full term. Full term. I'm welcoming its advent accordingly.

The chocolate didn't make it into the pic. But it should've. In this mama's book full term marks the end of weight gain, because as far as I'm concerned the rest of the weight I gain in this pregnancy doesn't count. Here's to not looking at the scale for the next 3ish weeks! Or the 6ish weeks after that!

Though this little lady has me pushing numbers on the scale I've never seen the likes of, I'm pretty impressed that the skin on my belly seems relatively unimpressed by the whole affair. Last pregnancy my skin felt SO stretched the whole time. I remember looking down at my 5-months-pregnant stomach and thinking "ain't no way!": I was stretched to capacity. But the body does what it do and kept right on making room for little person.

This time around I'm sitting at 37 weeks and my skin's like "Bring it. I SO got this!"

Alright. My diaper laundry is done, so I'm going to bed and trying not to stress about what news Wednesday's ultrasound will bring...this shouldn't be too hard because good ole Doctor Dad took one look at my stomach this evening and with 3000+ prenatals under his belt said: "No way that baby is too small."

...Thanks, Dad.

You're welcome for all the profound thoughts here compiled. Good night.

7 Quick Takes: Mostly Pregnancy Ramblings

- 1 -

I am 35 weeks along as of Tuesday. And feeling very pregnant. I've started making all the weird grunting sounds whenever I stand up or swing my legs into the car or...move...and Jake has started imitating me. He's much cuter when he does it. I'm having boatloads of Braxton Hicks contractions which don't really bother me, but they weird me out a little because in my first pregnancy I only remember getting them while working out. The thermostat gets cranked further down every week that I'm more pregnant, even though other bloggers are talking about something called fall.

- 2 -

So far, our plan is still the same. Jakeboy and I will move in with my parents at the beginning of October and begin the long wait for the newest Rhodes from the comfort of my childhood home. My folks live about four hours away, so we won't be seeing too much of Jacob in that time. And we haven't figured out how we'll do the whole make-sure-hubby-makes-it-to-the-birth thing. When I went into labor with Jake, I knew immediately. There was no doubt in my mind that this was labor. It took about twelve hours for that labor to get intense, but I was positive it was the real thing. But I hear that sometimes it's harder to tell the second time around, and the stakes are higher this time since I'd like baby's father to be there...Thoughts from my multiparous readers?

- 3 -

Nesting is a very strange phenomenon. When Jake was born we were in the process of moving, so my nesting instincts were all channeled toward finding a nest, any nest, before baby came. This time we're pretty settled in a little two bedroom apartment that promises to be home only until we can get our ducks in enough rows to buy a house (by the summer? knock on wood) so I'm not at all inspired to make the apartment beautiful. This sends my nesting traffic into weird and seemingly unproductive places, like organizing my craft supplies. Much needed grocery-runs take every ounce of motivation but color-coding my embroidery floss? Please mcpretty please.

- 4 -

All I think about are donuts. I'm also about five pounds heavier now than I was when I delivered Jake even though baby girl is measuring a little small...so...yeah...restraint be mine.

Last pregnancy all I thought about were oranges.

- 5 -

I can't bring myself to crack any of my pregnancy books this go round. Last time I was pretty gungho about having an unmedicated birth. I read all about natural labor and delivery and topped every night off with a couple zen birth stories from the land of Ina May. I know this is my second time, so it's not too surprising that I haven't been as obsessed with childbirth, but I was definitely "in the zone" last time and this time I'm like...what's transition again?

- 6 -

Also, my friend Anne has updated her blog with more details on her situation. I got to see her a few days ago and she looks extremely well and baby is staying put which is awesome. She's in the hospital till she's at least 24 weeks along which is TOMORROW. Every day is a huge victory for that family, and so if your feeling clickish, go offer your prayers and encouragement and

invite her to your blog.

- 7 -

And the rambling ends here. Back to eating my weight in watermelon and caprese salads (because as far as I can tell it's still summer) and trying to forget about the Shipley's Donut Shop camped at the end of my street.

And a family photo courtesy of Picasa and our Apple Devices.

 

More takes at Jenn's

30 Weeks and Other Words

So. As promised. I'm giving you a 30 week bump picture. I have wet hair in the picture after having washed my hair for the first time in - wait for it - 9 days.

Before you unfollow me, know that I usually wash my hair for church on Sunday - a la Ms. Martha and Jacob's Mennonite relatives - but we were running late to church on Sunday so...yeah...God got the dry shampoo treatment. (And of course by dry shampoo I mean straight cornstarch. Because I'm like that.) And I didn't get around to the epic wash till Tuesday.

The people who know me in person can now fill up the combox assuring the rest of you that despite all these habits, my hair doesn't typically look like a greasepot, my legs aren't that hairy, and I don't have body odor. Or they can lie. Or say they love me anyway.

But back to baby #2. The little girl. (Even though I dreamed two nights ago that she was a boy. I checked twice in my dream...But I don't put much store in pregnant dreams, because while pregnant with Jake I dreamed that he came out as a full grown American Indian in authentic garb...so do with that very useful piece of info what you will. Sorry for the dreamdeets, Grace.)

The story of this pregnancy has been the lameness of finding an OB here in Houston that would take both me as a late transfer and my not so popular health insurance. It's a long, drawn out story of time spent on hold with OB practices and medical records departments and ends with me deciding to skip Htown's medical mecca altogether and opting to deliver in my hometown. Basically, I'm running home to my daddy to make everything better.

Dad's a doctor in this little town of ten thousand people about four hours west of Houston, and the moral of this story is that both my dad and little towns are awesome. Not only did I spend almost zero time on hold in the process of setting this up, I ended up with personal cell phone numbers of hospital employees in case I had any more questions. 

I'll have my first appointment with my new OB - an old family friend - tomorrow, and the offspring and I will move in with my parents at the beginning of October when I'm full term and wait for the debut of our little lady in the same hospital where my parents' oldest daughter made her debut some 28 years ago. 

And because you all clicked through to see a pregnant lady here you go.

Just me and Mr. Camera Shy being all kids of genuine.

And here's me at 30 weeks with the Jakester. 

Big Boy Bed and Belly Pics

In the wake of a love story that went viral thanks to Grace, I welcome all you new readers and apologize that we are now returning to the regular programming of not that much of interest is going on around here.

So we'll talk about baby sleep habits. Huzzah! Babies who don't sleep! Empathy train!

If you've read this blog for awhile you know that it took us a long time to get Jake to sleep through the night. I think living in a one bedroom apartment hurt our sleep training efforts, and "sleeping through the night" at its best (from 13-20 months) looked like sleeping till 5:30 and kicking around in our bed until 6:30 at which point we'd kick him out of bed and he'd reek havoc on the living room until one of us finally dragged ourselves out of bed and started tending to him. And that blessed routine would get royally screwed up by ANYthing: travel or teeth or whatever. Then we would coddle the night-waker a couple times and then the night wakings would increase and we'd find ourselves back in hard core sleep training mode...again. At least for the past few months he'd been sleeping till 7, and we were patting ourselves on the back until last week.  

We're kind of textbook parents so you should probably be taking notes.

Jake learned how to climb out of his crib months ago. This was a crib Jacob basically built, so we just dropped the mattress to avoid any further thumps in the middle of the night. Then we had to drop it again. And again. And again. At which point it couldn't get any lower without the mattress being lower than the bars. And last week the inevitable happened: our little climber conquered crib Everest and nighttime and nap time rituals flew out the window to the tune of miserable toddler and more miserable parents.

Yesterday after putting him back in his crib eight times at naptime, he was finally quiet. I peeked in and found him like this:



I was torn between congratulating myself and feeling completely guilty.

So apparently we're late to the toddler bed train. I had NO intention of transitioning Jake to a toddler bed before the move, but circumstances have slapped us in the face - they have a way of doing that - and this morning we finally bit.




Jake is much more excited about his "bid boy bed" than I am.




With my luck he will force me to potty train him the same week his little sister is born because I'm not interested in cracking that pandora's box until baby girl is like four months old.

Sigh.

I have to go be a mother now because Jake is tired of playing "fetch the bobby pin."

But I will leave you with some preg pics because I'm on the ball and thought you guys needed some 22 week photos:

 
And I will FLAP this even if I'm two days late because that was my church outfit on Sunday, or it was until my shoes broke. Classy classy classy like always.

Sicky McSickerson

I've really enjoyed all your sweet comments on my last post. We're truly stoked about this pregnancy. Or let's say we're truly stoked about this baby because so far the pregnancy has been pretty miserable for the parents involved.

I didn't manage to start this blog until my nausea cleared in my last pregnancy, so aren't you in for a treat that for the next four weeks you get to here me complain all the time? Good thing I'll probably only blog about three times...

You see I'm VERY bad at pregnancy for the first 16 weeks or so. I sleep poorly, I'm utterly exhausted, I'm mildly sick 80% of the time and completely incapacitated about 20% of the time, mostly in the evenings when my sweet husband gets home to a trashed house, a half-diapered toddler, and spoiling food in the fridge. I live on the couch. I dry heave, I throw up, I cry a lot.

This pregnancy is mildly better than the last but the added toddler trumps that fact. (But who am I kidding, Jake has basically been adopted by Diego and a little kinkachoo.)

This is his "Diego time?" face with strawberries on it.

Sigh. Still reading? Well it gets better. But it gets worse first.

I did discover something interesting about myself though when I was on the phone with a friend discussing the horrors of early pregnancy. She was talking about how annoying it is when you hear of that person who has absolutely no morning sickness whatsoever, and I realized I have no bad feelings toward those moms-to-be at all.

 I thought this was SO remarkable. When I hear of someone who is having an easy time of it I'm GLAD for them. When my friends get pregnant, I pray that they will avoid the holy hell that the first 3 (4? 5?) months can be. So there I was on the phone feeling completely magnanimous about my lack of hard feelings...when I realized...there was a catch. I have all the grace in the world for someone who is nausea-free until they attribute it to one of their lifestyle habits and then I start raging inside.

I'm not talking about the mom who's been sick with previous pregnancies and found something that helped her. No. She's my hero.

I'm talking about the Lucky Lucy who never had any issues whatsoever and thinks it's because she's vegan or has a really strong constitution or has never touched alcohol. The woman who believes she somehow nipped it in the bud with her general awesomeness. The woman who has the gumption to offer this wisdom when you've just spilled your guts (literally?) about your own struggle with the big 1st T.

But seriously? How am I supposed to respond?

"Vegan? What a great idea! I'll try that as soon as I can eat anything besides turkey meatballs and gummy bears."

"...Yes...It's not so surprising how sick I've been, because I'm, well, sickly in general."

"You know you're right. This does feel strangely similar to all those nights of binge drinking in college."

Sensitive much, Kate? Simmer down.

Ok. Ok. Let's try to get a little positive.

I have learned some things. Some good things. None of them are groundbreaking, but all of them are hard lessons for people like me to learn.

Cut yourself some slack. Go to the store and buy some frozen dinners and canned soup. Practice feeling indifferent to piles of laundry, dishes, and ungraded papers. And if you're me and you're kind of obnoxiously concerned about conservation, get over yourself and buy some ziplocks and paper towels for crying out loud. 

Don't feel guilty. Not exercising? Don't feel guilty. Not getting all those folate-rich greens and throwing up your prenatals? Don't feel guilty. All you can think about is beer? Have some and don't feel guilty.

Let yourself be helped. Whether that help is a friend who offers to bring dinner or watch your kid. Whether that help is in the way of extra phone dates with a friend or a sister because you need to be distracted away from how gross your stomach feels and your floor looks. Whether that help is Neftlix to carry you and/or your little person through the harder times.

If you find something that works for you, go with it. Try every zaney ginger tincture, epsom salt bath, and magnesium oil massage. There's comfort in pursuit of your magic cure, I promise. Try any diet change you can stomach. Eat a box of saltines. (Or if you're me today: a mountain of whipped cream and strawberries.)

And finally. This is the hardest one for me. Say thank you to your husband for picking up all the slack. Let him know how grateful you are. You might be surprised at how far appreciation goes. And let him love you even when you feel awful about yourself. When he tells you you're beautiful even if he's wrong and the mirror knows it, don't contradict him. Just let him be right. Just let him be right this once.

Easter Sunday and a Link-Up

We found ourselves at a super early Mass this morning. We decided to take advantage of how early our toddler wakes up to avoid the Easter crowds. It was nice to get a seat at the 7:30 Mass, but I did miss myself some full choir and organ action.

Jacob and I stayed up late last night dying Easter eggs au natural. We cobbled together some dyes from an old beet, some frozen blueberries, and turmeric. Mine are the earthier ones and Jacob's are the flashier ones. I was pretty pleased with our results.



As was the little man.

As fun as the eggs were, the highlight of the day was certainly Jake's "skateboard"

He pretty much wears his dad's helmet and talks about skateboards all day long, so we figured we'd indulge the critter this holiday.


And now to link up with Grace, Kayla, and Erica for some:

Here's the 'fit.

Outfit details: 

Dress: Urban Outfitters

Shoes: BCBG via Ross

Cardigan: Gap back in the day

Necklace: my grandmother's

Color Palette: embracing the season

Fake smile: Jacob's snarkiness

Now I will say a Happy Easter to you and send you on your way with one final picture that I hope will brighten an already bright day.

Say hello to 11 weeks of baby numero due. 

 

We're more than stoked.  And even Jake gave the concept of a "baby in mama's tummy" more notice than ever today when he insisted that the baby wear Papa's helmet.

 

Have a blessed Easter, friends!

Blogoversary

Happy Birthday to my blog. One whole year old.

Baby is sleeping. Papa is doing dishes. And I'm reflecting on one of the biggest years of my life. 

And, Baby Jake, how quickly, how quickly you change.

Consider:

Nine months very pregnant and freshly moved into a new house.

Baby in a Basket:
 

And 8 months later. Chillin' as best we know how:

 

38 Weeks and Change

Well, TOMORROW, I'm 39 weeks, but this photo is from Saturday. I apologize for the general lack of pregophotos. My camera broke a few months ago and the iPhone is not such an alluring substitute while we research our next legit camera purchase. Any recommendations?

Work at the Rhodes abode is coming along. As soon as we got our couch and set up our living room, I lost all steam for the little unfinished projects. Jacob (who is still hard at work) predicted this.

Nothing resembling labor as of yet. Every day Jacob tells the baby to stay put for just a little while longer. And every day we are a little closer to ready. Maybe we'll be all ready by our due date, which is, ladies and gents, ONE WEEK FROM TOMORROW!!

7 months!

So as promised. Here we are at 30 weeks:

Right side 

And left side 

So yes, the waxing of the stomach. Getting closer to the end and so looking forward to it.

Not much that is picture worthy has gone on in the Rhodes cabin recently.

But of course there was Uncle Robert's visit a few weeks ago. He and three buddies were on a crazy west coast road trip for spring break and stopped in Santa Monica for a Wednesday eve.

They arrived and told me they were hungry.

I asked what they wanted to eat.

They said they weren't picky, but they wanted their stomachs and their pockets full...So we went to the grocery store, and the four strapping young men proceeded to make dinner for Jacob and me.

Look at all those big cuties in the little kitchen. We had some marvelous spaghetti that evening. I was very impressed. I was impressed by their cooking, their teamwork, their general lack of odor. I was also very impressed by how much body mass our kitchen table could handle.

The baby and I aren't sure what to make of Uncle Rob's stache, but we're definitely both crossing our fingers for those curls. Kirk's massive beard, Joey's ponytail, and Micah's recent buzz-cut all get A+'s. Jacob (as cute as he is!) doesn't get a grade because he went to Waldorf schools.

Here's another for good measure:

Apparently, Jacob is a much more entertaining photographer than I. Not even my "to dust returneth" forehead was enough to sober up the clan.

So that was a lovely evening.

Signing off. Hope all is well in your lives!