Week number 2 in the baby baking series. This week brought to you by chamomile tea and afternoons naps.


Weeks pregnant: 6 (presumably)

Weight: 185 POUNDS ( Yes. That is two pounds up from last week. I don’t think it’s a genuine gain though. My weight tends to pop up a couple of lbs when I ramp up on the exercise, which has been happening. My eating habits haven’t changed, except for the better. I made chocolate chip cookies and only had part of ONE. Who eats PART of a cookie? More on weight later.)

Gain: +2 lbs

Waist (I said belly button but I MEANT at the skinny part): 36″ today

Average number of times I get up to pee per night: 2-3

Size of the baby bean: Lentil (.25 inches)


Other pregnancy related crap:

Emotional crap: Still with the crabby. Still with the emotional. The kids chewed almost all of my gum this week. I almost died. Seriously do NOT stand between a nauseated pregnant woman and her minty freshness. DO. NOT.

Physical crap: Still with the bloated. I look pregnant. Not a fan. Nausea off and on with no real rhyme or reason. Though the heat does NOT HELP.  Not as bad as with Ella at this stage but very inconvenient in any case.

What I want to devour: Only craved spicy tofu one day this week. Two days later spicy tofu made me want to gag.

What makes me want to hurl: Only the *thought* of things makes me want to hurl. Hot dogs. Hurl. Corn dogs. Yum. Weird.

Activity: Still walking 2.5-3 miles 4-5 times a week now (45 minutes) when the Mister is away at work and last week twice with him once he was home (I think I only took one day off). I even RAN a bit. Ok it was a sad 4 minute jog at an 11:30 pace but still. Also yoga. We ride our bikes in the evening when the Mister is home (and I ride alone or with the other kids when I feel up to it). My bike had a very unfortunate breakdown last week. It was devastating. The new parts have arrived and I’m hoping the Mister can fix it soon. I have been riding his bike. It’s heavy and has fat tires. Add 26 lbs of Ella and me = a really challenging workout. Also chasing Ella around the house should count. Trying to keep her from falling down/climbing up and THEN falling down the stairs could be a full time job. Gates on order.

Boy? Or girl?: Still with the boy. Or twin girls. Pretty sure boy though.

Names: I think we’ve firmed up a boys name. We were absolutely SET on Benjamin Joseph or Eli but I think we’ve tossed those both out now. I like Jack. So maybe that but the firm name I’m keeping under wraps for now :) (there’s really no REASON to keep it secret. I just am to be ornery). I perused my family tree and found some GREAT names on my mom’s side. My great great grandmother? Her name was Winnary. No lie. Also Amos, Riley, Saralia, JOHAN. There’s a Hattie a Cornelius AND a Heinrich. We are all over the board with girls names but I think it’s a boy so irrelevant. I hope. Otherwise we might have a daughter with 5 names. Definitely love Clara and Maggie (Margaret) though. Those are on the top of the list. I also love Ruby, but it’s not well received. Those of you with older children… did they offer an opinion on names? Because we’ve got a whole HOUSE of opinions over here.

In other news: Let’s talk about weight. I am LAMENTING my not losing weight before I got pregnant.  I am not pleased with my size. I don’t like buying XL clothes and I don’t like that my maternity clothes from Ella will not even remotely fit (not that it matters because they were all spring and summer anyway). What I mostly don’t like is by this stage with Ella I already had what was obviously (to me) a pregnant poochy tummy and with this baby I just look lumpy. And I don’t want to be lumpy. It’s all my own fault for not being more disciplined earlier but let me tell you it takes DISCIPLINE. It is HARD for me to lose weight.  When I was 20 I used to look at overweight people and say “Oh I’ll NEVER be like that. It won’t happen. Because I’m skinny. TEE HEE Where’s the CHEESECAKE?” Well guess what? Skinny people get chubby too sometimes. Also it is not an exaggeration when people say it gets harder to lose weight as you age and after more kids. This is FACT. If there is no data to back it up I’m here to say it’s FACT. I AM THE DATA. With every pregnancy it has gotten harder and harder and taken longer and longer to lose the weight. Anyway it’s too late now so all I can do is be careful and eat well and do what exercise I can. .

That all being said, because I marvel at the wonder that is the human body and the ability mine has to even grow one baby much less feed a WHOLE OTHER baby, this is no time to bemoan my physique. Lumpy or not. And to be frank ladies there really is nothing more UNattractive than a woman walking around complaining about how she is fat and ugly all the time. Act fat and ugly. Be fat and ugly. So you won’t hear me mention this again. Head up. Shoulders back. Smile on. Period. Next item of business.

We, in case you were unaware, are planning a homebirth. We will be meeting with our wonderful CNM Rita Barron in August for out initial visit and labs/ultrasound. We plan on having concurrent care with her for these kind of things. And in the event we need to go to the hospital for any reason she would care for us there. I have known Rita for many years and she is a big proponent of homebirth. She’s also a very nice lady. :) Also we’ve spoken with the midwife who will do our homebirth, Jacque. She attended Ella’s birth and is awesome. And I think she’s is about as excited as us!

Tandem nursing update (still talking about boobs. you may skip): Well there isn’t much to say. Ella is still nursing day and night every 2-3 hours (sometimes all night). I’ve been sore on some days but on some days she spends so much time attached to me that I’d be sore if I were pregnant or not. It helps to nurse frequently and switch sides often.  ALSO you should know that I am taking a prenatal vitamin and calcium-magnesium. I am not really a big fan of vitamins. Mostly I think they just give you expensive pee. I’ve taking enough physiology and nutrition classes to know this… If your nutrition is good (read: optimal) you shouldn’t really need supplementation BUT in this case I feel like I’d better protect my bones because of the tandeming (and folic acid is always important so there’s that). And I would offer this recommendation to other mothers as well. If you can’t take a multi take calcium for YOU (and folic acid for your baby ) because in the end the body will protect fetus first, baby second and you, yeah you’re last. Awesome. Also notable  I think the tandeming definitely plays in to my being  tired DEAD EXHAUSTED . I’ve said it before I’m sure but having an infant relying on you while you’re building another one is no joke. I’m being really aware of what I eat and drink and making sure to take care of myself to try to protect my milk supply. The thing I KEEP hearing over and over is “My milk dried up at 8 (10, 12, 18, 20) weeks.” I know that this is a REAL possibility but if it happens I want to be able to say I did everything I could to try to have it not happen (though hormones are hormones and you can’t change those).

And here’s the photo (I can’t suck it in this week):

Also note: being photo bombed by 13 year old’s hand and baby’s head.


first trimester , operation Baby #5 , pregnancy , tandem nursing

Well whatever. Anyway. I’m going to post my recipe for what are, without contest, the Kick Assingest Cinnamon Rolls EVAR.  Because people are asking for it. So yeah. I’m not a recipe snob or anything so I’ll share. You don’t even have to say please.  NOW, I’m not going to treat you like a kindergartner and give you step by step photos because I’m going to assume you know how to bake. If you don’t know how to bake then feel free to ask me any questions you may have. Without further adieu.


1 c milk warm (110* F)

2 1/2 tsp. active dry yeast

1/2 c. sugar

1 tsp salt

2 eggs (at room temp)

1/3 butter melted

4 1/2 c bread flour


Topping (what you put on before you roll up):

1/3 c. butter (softened)

1 c. packed brown sugar

1/4 c. white sugar

2 Tbls. cinnamon

(you may opt for 1 c. packed brown sugar and no white if you prefer)


1 8 oz pkg cream cheese

1/2 c butter

3 c. powdered sugar

1 tsp. vanilla

1/4 tsp. salt

splash of milk (if you need it to make it thinner)


Directions are given for a stand mixer (kitchen aid type). If you need to use a hand mixer the kneading portion will be done by hand. Throw in your mixer the milk, sugar, yeast, salt. Let stand for 10 minutes (to activate yeast). Add in salt and butter. Blend in the flour 1/2 cup at a time (use the paddle for the first 2 cups then switch to hook). Keep adding flour until the dough is no longer sticky and then mix another 2 minutes. (Now here’s the kneading part… if you don’t have a stand mixer knead for 5 minutes. I like to think of this as a zen activity). Grease a large bowl. Place the dough in the bottom of the bowl. Turn to coat. Cover with a damp towel and let rise in a warm place (I put it in the oven on 100* because well my over has a WARM setting. How brilliant is THAT?) until double (an hour to an hour and a half or you know longer if you *happen* to sit down on the sofa and fall sound asleep). When doubled punch down and let rest for about 10 minutes. Or 20 if your baby needs to nurse. Or 30 if you fall asleep again (not recommended). Now the fun! Flour a large flat surface (I use my kitchen table) and roll those suckers out. Make it a good foot or longer tall and at least 18 inches wide. The wider the dough the more “rolled” the rolls, if you get my meaning. Then spread the softened (or melted if you put it in the microwave and forgot) butter over the dough. Sprinkle sugar(s) and cinnamon (I don’t measure the cinnamon because I’m a rebel). Then roll up jelly roll style and divide (and cut) into 12 equal parts (a serrated knife works best for this). Place them in a greased 9×13 pan and let rise for another 30 ish minutes (until doubled-ish). Bake at 400* for 15 minutes. If you like you can invert these onto a cookie sheet before they cool so the gooey awesomeness can ooze all over the tops.

Before Baking:


Now mix up the creamy frosting of deliciousness  by throwing the butter and cream cheese in the mixer, adding the vanilla and salt and then dumping in the powdered sugar a 1/2 c at a time. Add a little milk to make it thinner is you like. NOTE: this frosting keeps in the fridge for a long time. I store it in the fridge and smear it on when the rolls are being served. Up to you.

After baking:

Try not to die from the awesomeness. Try.




So this is this our first official weekly baby baking update. Week 5. We’ve known officially about Cinco de Babio (that’s fifth baby in the Spanish I just made up, no disrespect to people who ACTUALLY speak Spanish intended) for about 10 days now. We had our first VERY faint positive test on July 8 which is about 15 minutes after implantation happened probably but in reality I knew the week before that because I just *felt* pregnant. I know people say you can’t *feel* pregnant before implantation happens but I’m here to tell you that’s an out and out lie. Because I did. And the funny thing is I’ve never really *felt* pregnant so early before. Anyway I’m going to rough this whole thing out as I go so feel free to ask me if you want something included I’m not telling you about. I am going to do weekly updates BECAUSE I want to have them for me later. So if this is ultra mega lame to you. Skip it. It’s all good.



Weight: 183 POUNDS ( YES. That’s my real weight. I am not trying to hide what I weigh. I don’t know why people even CARE. It’s just a goddang number anyway and my 183 might be someone else’s 210 or 160 so whatever. I am writing it here because I want to keep my gain UNDER 20 pounds. I’m going to try. Because I don’t really want to have another 10 and a half pound baby. So being careful. Very careful.)

Waist (at belly button): 36 INCHES (note: this is what my waist measurement was at 12 weeks with Ella and I was SHOWING. So yeah. I’m chubby. It’s fine. When she was born it was about 50″)

Total weight gain: Zero

Average number of times I get up to pee per night: 2

Other pregnancy related crap:

Emotional crap: I’m cranky. Just ask my husband. Probably because of the complete lack of sleep. Also I am crying. Like constantly. And suddenly my children’s every move is amazing to me. Mostly.

Physical crap: Bloated (yay). I am five weeks pregnant. I look five months. No nausea really, just some indigestion. EX.HAUS.TED. So tired. Ridiculous. It doesn’t help I’m up with Ella and can’t seem to manage a nap. Like ever. Sigh.

What I want to devour: Nothing special. Eating lots of tomatoes and mozz and basil and oilve oil. Yum.

What makes me want to hurl: No aversions. Yet. Hoping this means maybe a not so sick pregnancy. Though it’s still veeery early. I was feeling sick with Ella by now. KNOCK.ON.WOOD.

Activity: Walking 2.5-3 miles 3-4 times a week (45 minutes) when the Mister is away at work. Also yoga. We ride our bikes in the evening when the Mister is home (and I ride alone when I feel up to it). I rode my bike when I was pregnant with Ella up until 7 or 8 ish months.

Boy? Or girl?: I’m going with boy. But I give myself until week 9 to make my final determination. I’ve been right 5 times thus far. So I’m due to be wrong.

Names: We have some picked out. Not sharing yet. hehe.

In other news: I hate pants. And pretty much anything with a waistband. Pretty typical for me.

Tandem nursing update (talking about boobs. you may skip):

I’m amending this post to include a tandem nursing update (or pregnant nursing as it were). Here’s how it’s going. Initially I thought I had a supply drop. Some moms describe this as being the way they realized they were pregnant. Last week Ella became fussy at the breast and would latch on and then immediately cry and let go refusing to nurse (she still does this periodically). After some period of this (2 minutes?) she would finally give in and nurse fitfully. Cry.. Nurse. Cry. I was WORRIED. But I’ve concluded that this is probably more teething than anything and possibly a slight change in milk flavor (it seems saltier and yes I tasted it to find out). Anyway my supply is abundant. I can easily express milk and she was spitting up last week which she NEVER DOES (again the salt?). Anyway this is the thing that concerns me the VERY MOST. Not having milk. I can deal with pain and discomfort but if I don’t have milk then it’s irrelevant. And what about pain? Well I’m very happy to report that the typical VERY sore donotlookdonottouchdonotcomenearme nipples have not happened. I also did not have any soreness when I was nursing Sean during my pregnancy with Owen (but we stopped at the end of the first trimester because he was 16 months and ready to wean anyway and my OB made me paranoid. NOTE: DO NOT LET YOUR OB MAKE YOU PARANOID. THEY DON’T KNOW EVERYTHING. The end. ) and actually did not have soreness when I was pregnant with Sean either (horrible with Kelsey and Ella though). I can make two possible conclusions either 1. my nipples are more sore with a girl or 2. First pregnancy (or having a big gap between) makes for sore boobs. One of those. Anyway this is all a long way of saying, it’s going just fine. Thankfully.

Finally, the weekly photo:

I’m not showing. I’m just chubby. Thanks.




This is one of those serious times. I tell you this in advance because you don’t always expect serious from me but you’re about to get it, so I feel like you deserve a warning. Maybe because I’m pregnant and a little *ahem* moody or maybe just because. Anyway my friend Erin and I had a brief but very meaningful discussion about birth yesterday evening which prompted the writing of this blog post almost entirely in my head in about 5 minutes. Sometimes things flow like that and when they do, they should be written.


First… Facts: I am a RN (though not currently practicing). I worked labor and delivery as  doula, then an intern and finally a RN for almost 5 years before I left for Hospice (that’s a whole OTHER blog post). I am also a homebirther but I have not always been.

I get asked two things fairly often 1. Why, if I love birth so much did I leave L&D? and 2. Why would I have a homebirth, because I’m a nurse and I should know better?

The two simple answers are these 1. I got tired of doing things TO people instead of for them and 2. (this one is in two parts) A. I like my house and B. I didn’t think I could get the birth I wanted in a hospital.




Now I am going to put on my flame retardant suit. Be right back.

While I’m gone look at newborn Ella…

Isn’t she CUTE? Yeah. I know. I made her. ALL TEN AND A HALF POUNDS OF HER.


I am about to say something that has been said by bloggers before me, and will be said again after me and something for which many of you may not, shall we say, like me. I am qualified to make this statement for one reason alone, because I have given birth, both naturally and not naturally, both in a hospital and in my home, both with the help of a doctor and without. Because I am a mother and woman, who has given birth. Four times.

We are doing it wrong.

Yes, I said it. You heard me right.

We are all a mess in this country and we are making things WORSE.

I worked L&D for roughly 5 years in a hospital that did about 4,000 deliveries a year and in that time I saw some beautiful births. Some were medicated, some induced, some even C-section (GASP). A HANDFUL of truly lovely births. But the rest, well the rest were what I like to call, McDonalds mentality deliveries. You can use your imagination there and picture getting your extra large 44 ounce diet coke in the drive thru while you’re in labor, but I’ll explain to you what I mean.  It looked something like this… Mom comes in 39 (or 38 or 41) weeks pregnant. She is TIRED. She is HUGE. She wants this baby OUT. She JUST CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE (been there ladies? Yeah. We’ve all been there.) Her well meaning, lawsuit conscious physician has agreed to induce her because well the baby is probably getting too big anyway or her placenta probably isn’t functioning that well. So he does. She gets the cytotec or the cervidil or the pitocin and about 5 minutes later she’s had all she can take. She stuck in bed, strapped to a monitor and she is DONE. She hits the call button. I want an EPIDURAL NOW. I call the anesthesiologist. Two minutes later her husband walks out, “She can’t take it. Did you call? CAN YOU CALL NOW PLEASE I THINK SHE IS GOING TO KILL ME. Please fortheloveofgod (tone of begging).” The anesthesiologist administers the epidural and  she kisses him square on the mouth and goes to sleep. She says, “wake me up when it’s time to push.” And I watch the monitor. I watch for fetal heart rate decelerations and the tell tale deep V that says baby’s head is getting compressed and it’s probably time to push. I check her. Sure enough, 10 cm. She can’t feel her legs and she doesn’t want to. So we push, numb. Sometimes for hours and hours until we finally see some hair. Sometimes for not too long before she gets a section. Sometimes the baby pops right out into my hands before the doc arrives (more often than you’d think actually). So the baby is out. It doesn’t matter how it got that way or at what price as long as it’s “healthy” and mom and baby are doing “fine”. Her miserable pregnancy is over. The awful horrible terrible labor experience is over. Her baby is in her arms and she almost slept through it. But thank god. It’s OVER.


People don’t like when I liken the American birth experience to eating at McDonalds. But the fact is folks, we are, in large part, a fast food nation. And this mentality is trickling into our births. As fast as you can say two all beef patties special sauce lettuce cheese pickles onions on a sesame seed bun our births are becoming a managed experience, not just an experienced experience. People can control everything around them from the temperature of their house to what brand of jeans they buy. And why should birth be different? We want it fast, painless, timely. We want under our control. We want it how WE WANT IT. Have it your way. And all that.

Here’s the problem, and where things get a little sticky, it’s not MEANT to be controlled. In fact, I daresay, most of the time it functions best when left alone. Yep. I said it.


Now, before you start drafting your hate response, let me again  say I have seen beautiful epidural births (and induced births and even c-sections). Births where mom was present and involved and asking questions and being informed. Not merely a passive participant in something happening TO her but rather an active participant in something she is doing. She does not lie silently waiting for it to be over. She does not ask to be left alone or tell the nurse to “just get the baby out.” Instead she stays in tune with her body and baby. She feels what she can. And she processes it. That all being said, if you’re asking my opinion, which I realize you are NOT,  I’ll also say I don’t recommend an epidural. At all. And it’s not because my births weren’t  painful, because of course they were. It’s because I’ve had one. And I’ve done it the other way and I promise you, you’re  better off without it. Scouts honor. Better off. Moving on.


The McDonalds mentality is spilling folks. And it’s scary. It’s spilling into every.single.facet of our lives. Fast food. Fast birth. Easy out. Path of least resistance. Quickest result. And this is a DANGEROUS prospect for our nation and our world. When we start approaching life this way, from birth to death and every thing in between,  we are shortchanging ourselves. The body, whether you believe it to be an instrument of grand design or a product of millions of years of evolution, is SMART. It does things for a reason. Why did it take my 10 and a half pound baby hours and hours to be born, when it was my fourth birth and should have been the fastest? Well because MY BODY was finding a way to get that huge baby down and out. Whether we want to believe it or not our bodies have a plan. And if we don’t screw with it, usually the plan is pretty smart. When we start ordering it to be quicker, easier, painless, we are asking it to REVOLT. We are, for all intents and purposes, telling it to show us just who is boss after all.

It wins. Because it is boss. You cannot fast food drive thru your way out of  birth. It’s a bad idea. And I don’t think we’ve even realized the depths of just how bad it is. I don’t know how long it will take us to fully grasp all the ways we may be screwing things up by not letting nature takes it’s course. A baby KNOWS when it should be born. The BABY. Not your OB. Not you. Not your mother in law or your great auntie or some lady at the grocery store. YOUR BABY. And pain? Well hey here’s something, maybe pain exists for a REASON TOO. WHaaaaaat? Yeah I said it. I could get all physiological on you and start talking about dopamine and endorphins but suffice it to say, PAIN HAS A PURPOSE. No lie.

The other thing about the McDonalds mentality is where does it stop? We want our births easy? We want raising kids to be easy? We want our jobs to be easy? Housework to be easy? What should be hard? Should ANYTHING be hard?

Here’s something…  things aren’t always MEANT to be easy. They just aren’t. The best things in life are worth fighting for and usually take some WORK. Sometimes a LOT of work. Birth is no exception. It’s hard for a reason.

It’s hard because the hard work of growing and nurturing the unborn and the work of bringing that being earthside is meant to be preparation. Because motherhood is, ohmigawd I can’t believe it, HARD. Like really really hard. And being a good mother? You can’t get that in a drive thru. You just can’t. And you shouldn’t try.

birth , homebirth , labor , serious stuff , Uncategorized

In lieu of a ‘regular’ blogpost, because my thoughts are scattered like the Neptune Society, today I give you my list of randomness, inspired in part by Erin (who gave us her own variety of random last week), and brought to you by two loaves of zucchini bread, two batches of zucchini brownies, one sad cup of decaf coffee and my lack of sleep.


So here goes:

1. In case you don’t follow me on twitter, or facebook, or know me in real life, let me just tell you I’m TIRED. Like dead corpse tired. Want to go back to bed before I get out of bed tired. Yeah, that kind of tired. TIRED. Just really epically tired.

2. Ella is teething. Bless her peapickin heart, she’s about the cutest thing there ever was, even if she does have horns on her head, razors for teeth and flames shooting from her nostrils. And is screaming. And trying to bite my nipples off. Teething is an asshole. Teething, You’re a PRICK.

3. Speaking of nipples (move on to #4 if you don’t want to hear about nipples), my boobs. Oh yes. Boobs. Mine. A. They are no longer fitting in my bra. Which is awesome because they weren’t NEARLY MOUNT EVEREST ENOUGH BEFORE. and B. Yeah, they hurt AND there is a baby attached to them like about 12 hours a day. Moms, remember that flaming, burning, aching DO NOT EVEN LOOK AT MY BREASTS UNLESS YOU WANT ME TO RIP YOUR EYES OUT feeling you get when you’re newly pregnant? Yeah. That. And I’m still nursing. And as a result of aforementioned teething, I’m nursing, oh just about 77 times a day. (it’s actually surprisingly not that bad. No, really. All that other stuff was for effect.)

4. Did I mention I was tired?

5. My husband has an extra long week away this week so that’s awesome because I don’t really like him AT ALL. And he’s never helpful at all. And I don’t like sleep or somebody to snuggle with. So yeah. AWESOME. (not)

6. My 13 year old SON is surprisingly helpful and really quite good with the baby. I mean like REALLY REALLY good. Like I’d pay him. He’s good. I didn’t give him enough credit. I feel bad about this. But grateful (because of numbers 1 and 4).

7. Because of #1 and #4, (I’m TIRED, in case you hadn’t heard) I have recently become quite the slave driving chore requiring mother. I’ve always had the children do certain things and at times we have had very organized chore charts with reward systems even (not now though because I’m too lazy to do that every week, I mean get real, people) but recently I’ve let go of the guilt of feeling like because I’m back home again (after working outside the home for several years) I should be doing ALL the household duties. No. SO it goes like this. I wake up at the Ass Crack of dawn and I go for my 2.5 – 3 mile-ish walk while the children (the big ones anyway) slumber peacefully in their beds. Then I come home and leisurely prepare Ella and I breakfast. Then I grab the TRUMPET and sound the GET THE EFF OUT OF BED alarm and they get up all smiles and joy and happiness. Or something like that. Little do they know, dun dun dun, while they slumbered peacefully I prepared a chore chart of EPIC PROPORTIONS with things like pick up dog poop (ALL OF IT) and clean your rooms (No. REALLY), and unload the dishwasher (YEAH, the silverware too), and fold the laundry (NO, not JUST YOURS, all of it), and vacuum (yeah, with the vacuum ON and yeah if you don’t do it right I’ll make you do it again. Don’t TEST ME.) Stuff like that. So far… working. Thank you little baby Jesus with the little baby Jesus halo in the tiny little manger. I need the help.

8. People say things like this to me all the time, “OH WELL at least you’re other kids are OLDER so they can help you. That must be nice. How lucky you are.” And I am. I’m lucky I have four awesome healthy children. But here’s the truth (mom’s of TEENS SPEAK UP), NOT REALLY. Teenagers are not like toddlers. Oh they are in this regard, they are MESSY and BOSSY and backtalk-y, they respond to the same positive reinforcement and spend the same amount of time ignoring you, but other than that no. They’re rooms are almost always a disaster (oh wait that’s like toddlers too). They can make their own food. AND leave the kitchen a huge mess. They have places to BE. Like all the time. It sounds like this, “MOM LEAVE ME ALONE. Uh but first, can you take me to the mall?” SO yeah, no. I’m not saying having 3 kids under 4 was EASY (it was, in reality a nightmare oft times) I’m just saying have 3 kids over 11 isn’t EASY either. Having fours kids is just not easy. Nope.  I’ll give you this, I can hand one of them Ella so I can shower but the fact is I’m only showering so I can take one of them to the store to get tampons/ deodorant/ swim trunks/ a birthday gift for a friend/ a poster board/ a binder or to school or to a friends house or or or. You get my point. Awesome, yes. Easy, no.

9. I am thankfully not nauseous (YET). There will be more on this in the weekly pregnancy update later in the week.  I am going to try to NOT make every.single.post about me being pregnant because I know that’s going to bore the holy hell out of about 25% of my readers (though feel free to tell me if I’m wrong) but it’s hard because, yeah, pregnant. So so pregnant.

10. I am wearing maternity pants. Not because Im’ showing (I’m just chubby) but because I hate pants. So there you go.


Until next time… love and kisses and cakes

mothering , pregnancy , pregnant