Life Gets Better. I Promise.

Alicia and Molly are doing great--for the most part. Both are still tired. Both are ready to come home--especially Molly. We had hoped that today would be the day that both Alicia and Molly were discharged from the hospital. However, little Molly has jaundice. If you remember in my post yesterday, I said that Molly is the sweetest little girl....rarely cries. Well, life is already testing that assertion. The docs decided to put her under some lights to get rid of the jaundice so that she...and Momma could go home. They stripped her down to her diaper, put this harness like structure on her head to shield her eyes from the lights, and she is forced to lay there (not swaddled or comforted) and soak up some light rays. She's doing her best to be a trooper, but she is frustrated at not being able to be held, swaddled, and just left alone to sleep in peace. I've already given Molly several fatherly pep talks to let her know that life gets better than her current state of being naked and blind lying under some strange color lights.

But, we are hopeful that tomorrow (Monday) will be the day when the Cunningham gals get to come home. Keep your fingers crossed.
She looks better (less yellow) today, but still doesn't have that tan that you would expect after hours of soaking up some rays. :)

Emma and Macey got to visit Momma and Molly again yesterday. I think that Alicia was a little caught off guard or surprised that Emma and Macey rushed into the room, right past Alicia with only a cursory "hi momma", and straight to the baby.

We're on our way to the hospital right now to see Alicia and Molly but we're a little apprehensive about how the girls will respond to seeing their new baby sister under those strange looking lights.

Good Golly Miss Molly

Introducing the newest member of the CUNNINGHAM family:
MOLLY JOY CUNNINGHAM was born on 11/28/08 at 08:24 A.M.
She weighed 6 lbs, 14.9 oz and was 19 & 1/2 inches long.


Alicia did a FANTASTIC job, but I'll let her provide any other details that she would want to share. Both Alicia and Molly are resting and recovering from a hard day. We're hoping to have them come home tomorrow (Sunday).


I know that it is early, but thus far, Molly is a true joy. She has been the most patient, laid-back, content baby. Except for the initial trauma of birth, bathing, prodding, suctioning, blood drawing, immunizations, etc, she only cried for about a total of 10 minutes her entire first 24 hours.

Emma and Macey came by the hospital yesterday afternoon to meet their new baby sister. Both were SUPER excited. They each got to choose a balloon to take to the hospital to give to Molly--because what newborn wouldn't love a balloon?

(Disclaimer: Alicia forbade me from posting any pictures with her in them.) However, this is Alicia's third C-section and I have to say that each time I am more amazed at the heroic act of motherhood and giving birth. I witnessed the surgery. It's a pretty big deal. Alicia was in PAIN throughout the day, had to deal with all the recovery processes, and yet her primary focus was not on herself, but in making sure that Molly was ok and taken care of. I don't know how you mothers do it, but you have my heartfelt admiration and respect.

Emma already loves Molly and wanted to bring her home yesterday and give her some "cold milk."

Macey is SOOO excited to finally be a BIG SISTER. She showered Molly with hugs, kisses, and even got to hold her little sister.

I'm not sure if Molly was curious or terrified of her older sisters, but she clearly kept a watchful eye on hem


Thanks to Grammy for traveling up to take care of Emma and Macey while I stayed at the hospital to help both Alicia and Molly rest and recover.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! Even though I have a fabulous excuse to not be travelling and to be home right now, I have to admit that I miss my family today. While we are putting the turkey in the oven and trying to get the rolls to rise, I am thinking about what is probably going on in Utah.

But is anyone going to have a better weekend than me? You really cannot beat it. Garry & I get to meet our daughter tomorrow! And I am the only one I know that KNOWS I will weigh less tomorrow than I do today!

Happy Thanksgiving!

Memories & Conflicting Hormones

I have been so focused on friday, Friday, FRIDAY that I have to stop and really think about the fact that tomorrow is Thanksgiving! No, Garry is not cooking one gloriously large meal for me because it will be my last good meal for awhile (the joy of c-sections and hospital food) but because it's Thanksgiving!

I am glad that I have something to focus on or else I would be in quite a funk. My family has all gathered in Utah for a few days of chaos, fun, and, oh yeah, food. Today will be spent with cousins running all over my sister's house and my sisters making a million trips to the grocery store because something will be needed or something was forgotten.

It will be crazy and joyful -- all at once. Sometime tonight they'll settle down for a movie night that will begin way too late because my oldest sister is a night-owl and half of the audience will be asleep within 30 minutes. A few people may decide to not watch the movie and opt for a game of PIT. Man, I am fabulous at that game. Good thing I am not there this year -- it gives someone else a chance to realize victory.

I am jealous of the great gathering going on. Part of "nesting" I guess is this overwhelming feeling of needing to gather everyone together and just hunker down. Unfortunately, Garry is feeling the exact opposite. Knowing that we may not be venturing out much in the next little bit, he is taking lots of little trips out and about. He would take more but a few times the girls have absolutely refused to budge from the house. They are clearly getting hunkering. I am one step away from disabling the battery on his Jeep. Why can't he just hunker? Maybe, just maybe, men do not have the hunker down hormone?

The Contenders: Something New To Vote For!

So here's the background for my latest, and greatest, dilemma. Both Emma and Macey came home from the hospital in cute little dresses; Emma had a pink and white little cotton number and Macey had a cute little yellow sundress with a white sweater. Very cute.

But for Number Three, Garry and I picked out a sporting little sweater number. It's very cute and warm and soft, but . . . should I keep with the dress tradition? I bought one, just in case. So, cast your vote!

Slight disclaimer: no matter how the vote comes in, Garry probably will get the final say. So, justify your vote and maybe you can persuade him!

My Priorities

This morning I woke up a little around 5:00 am. I think that the insomnia is getting better as I am sleeping later. It used to be 2:00. Then I could never sleep past 4:00. So 5:00 is not bad.

I came downstairs to play another fascinating and challenging game of Spider Solitaire when I heard a BOOM!

Two things went through my head. Either one of the girls fell out of bed or someone was trying to harm my brand new Honda with its seat warmers (a neighbor had a catalytic converter stolen off of his truck a few days ago).

So where are my priorities? I have to confess, I ran to the window to check the van, making sure that no one was trying to saw off any parts.

Oh, and the boom? I think it was Emma. But don't worry. She's fine. Eventually I checked.

Pep Talks & Domestic Bliss

When I was pregnant with Emma and then really shortly later with Macey, I started a tradition with my sister known simply as "The Pep Talk". About a week before I was due, I would call her, tell her I just did not want to be pregnant anymore, and she would tell me all the reasons why this baby could stay put, at least for a few more days. Some of the top reasons:

(1) the crying: there's no crying right now. Except from my 4 and 2 year old, of course. Which is enough. For now.

(2) one word: latching. Two words: latching problems. Back to one word: Similac.

(3) the smells: No, not from the baby. Babies are great smelling. Smells from the momma from not getting enough time in the shower, enough days of the week, and from the leaking. And that's all I will say about that. My sister goes into more detail and gets me laughing so hard that I. . . never mind.

(4) Engorgement: Only women read this blog, right? I actually do not mind this stage. I am naturally a size "Barely A" and so it's a nice change for a while. But a friend of mine is larger to begin with and THEN when she has a baby -- well, she just calls it the porn star stage.

(5) SLEEP: everyone tells me to sleep now, but I have been struggling so much with pregnancy insomnia, it will be nice to actually have some company. But usually this one applies.

I love this pep talk, it keeps me going for several more days. I am not in so much of a rush to get this baby out. Especially now that I am in domestic bliss. That's right, WE BOUGHT THE VAN. And it has seat warmers. Life does not get better than this.

The Prayer Payment

A few months ago, actually, now over a year, I tried to color my own hair. On my own. Blond. It came out an orange rainbow. Bless Stephanie's heart, she tried to help me fix it, but the damage was too great. I had to go to a professional, confess my crime, and ask for help.

In "fixing" it, I had to pick out my natural hair color, and I picked incorrectly. I ended up with somthing a few shades lighter than my actual color, and for a for months now I have obviously been very two-tone.

But, the baby is coming, and relatives are coming, and pictures are coming, so I decided to fix it.

One of my piano student's moms recommended a friend that she goes to church with. She does hair late at night or on weekends, perfect for my schedule, and she truly listens to what you want and does a good job.

Here's the catch.

She does not charge a fixed fee. She considers what she does a talent from God, intended to bless the lives of others, especially women. So she asks that you pray about how much you should pay, and simply pay that amount.

I have to admit, this stressed me out. As you can tell from previous posts, I fret enough over tips let alone THE WHOLE THING?!?!

What if I gave her too litte? She would curse the day I ever walked into her home and she wasted her time on my too-dry-too-damaged-two-tone hair.

What if I gave her too much? Than I would be out of some hard-earned cash. And really, no one wants that.

The color is a little darker than I would prefer, but it's even. No rainbows. She did a good job, and I had her undivided attention on my hair for 2 1/2 hours. She even blow-dryed it straight, something that I love. And the theme of this blog: don't mock it 'til you try it because while I was getting my hair blow-dryed, I knew exactly how much I should pay. And, since I am really cheap (truly, Garry, I am. I promise.) it was actually more than I had planned on. Luckily for her, God is not crazy frugal. (Truly Garry, I am.)

The Box

Have no fear, I have my bassinett. Did FedEx come through for me? No. Hardly. I was just encouraged to "file a claim" and then told that they would only deal with the shipper. Which was Amazon. But, Amazon came through and overnighted a new bassinett.

I'd like to think that I got such great service from Amazon because I have been a LOYAL customer for over ten years. But I think it was more to do with the email I sent to their Help contact. Yeppers, I dropped my full name. And by full, I mean that I used the Esquire. The Esquire rarely comes out, but I guess in this case it did its job.

So, what did I do with Ms. Jones' box? I still have it. I've called her cell phone and left a message, and she has not called back. So, I guess I'll have FedEx come get it. Again.

An interesting note: Amazon used UPS this time. I thought that was kind of funny.

My Decision

So from the post below, you can see that the drama facing me today was in regard to my missing bassinett. It was delivered to the wrong house, and FedEx cannot find it. They delivered to us a box of books for a Ms. Jones that lives about 3/4 of a mile away.

I called FedEx, and they expressed their disappointment that my bassinett was missing, and, by the way, could they come and get the box for Ms. Jones?

Now, Ms. Jones' phone number was on her box. Garry and I did a reverse number look-up on it and discovered it was her cell phone. My hope was that she had my box and we could do an even trade of boxes -- her books for my bassinett. I called her cell phone and left a message.

Meanwhile, FedEx was on their way. Garry suggested that I hold on to the box -- it was my collateral for my missing bassinett. My way to force FedEx to go looking for my bassinett and my way to ensure that Ms. Jones return my box, if she had it, promptly out of a desire to get her own stuff.

But still, wasn't this some level of mail fraud? Extortion? Or some other crime?

FedEx rang the bell, and I headed downstairs with the box.

So, what would you have done? Held onto it or handed it over?

Kharma

Do you believe in kharma? And, if you do, how do you think that it works? If you wish bad kharma on someone, does that mean that bad kharma will come to you?

Here's the story. I do not like my neighbor much. He's never held down a job and so he is home everyday, all day, which means that I need to try to keep my girls from making too much noise because apparently "it sounds like a marching band is coming through the wall" if they run around. You'd think that he was an old, cranky man, but he's actually just in his 20s.

So, I have to admit, I have wished upon him some heavy bad kharma. He does not have a job but somehow they have three cars, nice ones, and the other day one of the cars had a flat tire. I thought kharma had landed. And then said automobile got towed. And I thought that kharma had delivered him a one-two punch. But, I think that he just had it towed to get the tire fixed because it was back quickly.

And bad kharma has landed on my head.

After years of ordering with Amazon.com, they have managed to mess up an order. A bassinett. I am without my bassinett. Yesterday we got a tiny little box for a Ms. Jones and someone else somewhere got my bassinett.

Is this kharma's revenge? Must I learn to like my neighbor?

Thrown Under The Bus

Yesterday my oldest daughter threw me under the bus.

As a snack during Movie Time Monday, Emma asked if she could have some marshmellows. She brought me the bag, and I said, "Sure" and put a few in a bowl for her and for Macey to munch on during the movie.

A few hours later, Garry came home and saw said package of opened marshmellows.

Those were for my yams, he explained.

Well, no big loss. I'm not a fan of yams.

Who opened the marshmellows? he asked.

Well, the answer to that one is obvious unless Quincy the dog developed a working thumb. But still, my oldest daughter threw me under the bus. Without hesitation, she said, It was Momma.

Now, forget the fact that the marshmellows were opened per her request. Or that it was all her idea. Or that she munched on them happily, with little thought of her father's yams (she gets that from me), or that I was in full labor with her for 20 hours and THEN had to go through a c-section, or that the guy responsible for my epidural during her labor MISSED and had to put that huge needle in AGAIN -- yep, apparently none of this was fully appreciated.

Motherhood is tough.

Nothing Hurts Worse Than A Fake Boo-Boo

Theoretically, my shower time should be my quiet time. But somehow, it rarely works out as the girls find any excuse to come into the bathroom and especially get into my makeup bag and do their "lips" -- a process of applying and applying and applying chapstick until they look like something from Wringling Brothers.

Today, Emma's excuse was a boo-boo on her big toe. Apparently, while I was in the shower, a big wind came up and hurt my 4 year old's toe. How a big wind reached her, well, she could not explain, all she knew was that she needed a band-aid. Now.

Fine. I got out the Dora bandaids, wrapped it around the big toe, and watched her march off. I knew exactly where she was going. To show off her band aid to her Dora-obsessed little sister. I started counting the seconds. Sure enough, there was a knock on the bathroom door and Macey said it was "her turn".

I looked at her while she processed her mistake.

"Mama, owee on my leg."

Much better.

Macey hiked up her pajamas and started looking for a boo-boo. Luckily for her, she falls down 20 times a day -- the irony of naming her Macey Grace since she has none. Quickly, she found a bruise, and asked for a band-aid.

I understand that nothing hurts worse than a week-old-bruise, so I quickly handed one over. She said it felt better.

Down To One

I love the movie While You Were Sleeping. I saw it with my sister-in-law in the theaters a long time ago, and I still enjoy watching it today. Do you remember the part where they are walking back to her apartment and they slip on the ice? He splits his pants open and suggests that he can borrow a pair of hers. To which she answers, if you fit into my jeans, I will kill myself. Great movie.

So I'm sitting here with my laptop in a pair of Garry's basketball shorts, because that's all that really fits comfortably right now. It's not my best moment, but there is still great joy: I am down to one more doctor visit and down to one more Sunday pregnant. Wahoo! Sundays are hard --sitting on a bench or a chair for three hours and especially trying to find a dress that works. I think that while I have my sewing machine out, I will just remove the seams on Garry's basketball shorts and make a skirt. It'll be great!

No Pain, No Gain

A few months ago I came up with a brilliant idea to really leave things until the last minute before Baby Girl Cunningham came. About two weeks before I delivered, I would make sure that the crib was up, the bassinett was up, the swing was up -- all the fun stuff a newborn requires. I did have a reason for this stupid idea -- I just wanted to not stress out Emma and Macey until I really had to not really knowing how excited they would be about everything baby.

One of the things I put off was making her baby blanket. Today I decided that it was time to cross that off of the list. It took about five hours and sitting in front of the sewing machine for that amount of time was probably not the best idea that I have had -- it seems that I've been making a lot of bad decisions lately! But hey, it's done. And it's pretty.

Losing My Award

So today I was removed from the competition for "Mother of the Year." I think that I can apply again in a few years, but for now, I am definitely kicked out of the running.

Here's what happened.

Three days ago Macey started getting sick. She had a really runny nose and would tell me that she had "bubbles" in her nose. It was kind of cute. I started giving her Benadryl and when she had a fever I started giving her Motrin.

Wednesday evening she started wheezing. Badly. Like you could hear her from the next room badly. She got a bath and the moisture helped move things around, the wheezing stopped, but she was still breathing really fast and really hard. I wanted to listen to her breathing and so I crawled into her bunkbed for about two hours, and I noticed that she was taking two or three breaths for every one of mine, even when she was in a deep sleep.

Thursday I called the doctor. Not for Macey. Oh, no. Emma still needed two shots for her vaccinations, but they were out during her well visit and so I called to see if they had them back in stock in the office. They did, but they were running out, and so could I bring her this afternoon? Sure. I took her right after school.

While I was holding and comforting Emma, the nurse looked at Macey, saw how pale she was and how she was breathing heavily, and started running tests. All on her own. I didn't say anything, because, well, Macey just had a cold, right?

So one breathing treatment and two prescriptions later, Macey is feeling better. But I feel horrible. Apparently "wheezing" demands an immediate call to the doctor. Who knew? Okay, you probably did. How can a doctor make you feel so stupid for calling (It's probably a cold. Give it a few days) and so stupid for not calling (She's sick. Really sick. Why didn't you call earlier?)

Anyone else also out of the running?

Unknowingly Letting Them In

Last night I was on the phone with my good friend Debby, who now lives in California. While I was talking with her, Garry handed me the laptop. He had been looking at a sex offender list, checking out our neighborhood, and there was a familiar face. A very familiar face. I taught a girl piano for over three years -- it was her Dad and he had a conviction for child pornography.

I liked her Dad. He brought his daughter nearly every week. He was always punctual. He was always nice and very supportive of his daughter's efforts. However, their paying schedule was erratic and so when they took the summer off, I told them in the fall that I no longer had any openings.

I teach piano on the first floor of my home. My girls stay on the second and third level and my students are never allowed upstairs. In that way, there is a layer of protection and privacy. But how do you protect your kids when the ones you should be on the look out for appear to be gracious, kind, perfect fathers?

Not That There's Anything Wrong With It. . .

Yesterday I found myself in a store that is not my favorite. But, I am a captive to the low prices and wide selection. What can I do? While shopping at said store, I split away from Garry and the kids to go find another tupperware-thingy-majigger. We're big on organizing right now. I was wearing black pants, a black shirt, and a green sweater. My hair was a hopeless mess. Make-up? Not sure if I really had any on. It wasn't my best day.

While I was trying to find Garry and the kids, tupperware-thingy-majigger in hand, some lady. . .

Well, before I proceed, let me clarify NOT THAT THERE IS ANYTHING WRONG WITH IT . . .

but then some lady stopped me to ask me a question because she thought I was an employee of said store that is not my favorite but nevertheless holds me captive with its low prices and wide selection.

The mistake was quickly fixed, and I went on my way. Walking back to Garry, I started wondering what in the world had just happened. What vibe was I sending out? Because in general the employees in this store have a reputation for being unhelpful and easily annoyed. Was that my vibe? Am I sending out feeling waves of wanting to be left alone and easily annoyed and completely unaware of where the light bulbs may be located?

So, here's my goal today. Relax. Be happy. And fix my vibe.

Decisions, Decisions

I used to make decisions quite quickly. I usually knew what I wanted and just worked for it, sometimes got it, sometimes did not, and life just continually moved on. Did you agonize over colleges? I only applied to one. Agonize over majors? I liked two, and so I just double majored. Law schools? Alright, that decision I think took a whole two maybe three weeks.

And then I met Garry. Garry makes decisions very slowly. He can ponder on the merits of a new pair of pants for a very long time. His buying remorse is sometimes so high that he will leave the tags on a new item of clothes and consider it some more as it hangs in the closet.

So consider the fun that we are having in the selection of a van. When we first started talking about getting a van, we talked about getting one in October. But, I paid off my Jeep awhile ago, and so it is hard to consider reentering the realm of car payments. So now our timeline has been pushed back. And back. And back as the reality of car payments becomes more real. But, there ain't nothin' more real than three kids sharing one back seat when at least two of them still need helping buckling up.

And there are so many questions to consider. Do we get a new one or a used one? My father taught me to always buy used, but Garry thinks that vans, by their very function, get trashed. So he's leaning heavily toward new but feeling the pain of the sticker shock.

What about types? We have at least really narrowed it down to the Toyota Sienna and the Honda Odyssey. The Honda has some fun features on its top model. Seat warmers. Dual climate control. A funky camera thing for when you back up. The DVD player. So much fun! But for so much money.

Now if I was crazy single and could just make the decision myself, it would probably be this: Honda, used, fun features -- gotta get those seat warmers. But if I was crazy single I would not need a van. Or dual climate control. So therein lies the irony of it all.

What Version Are YOU Watching?

Emma and Macey are on a Princess kick. They love all of the Disney videos with Princesses and enjoy the Barbie series as well. I am loving this phase. The girlier, the better.

The girls have three dress-up outfits: Belle, Snow White, and Sleeping Beauty. These dresses come on and off several times a day. They are a favorite play-thing.

But lately, Emma has been inventing "rules" about the proper wearing of these dresses.

Here's the rule: you have to be completely naked to put on a Princess dress. Really. Completely. Naked.

We try to keep the blinds down and closed just in case Emma strips down, AGAIN, and we have tried to find out the root of this phase. Garry asked why she took off EVERYTHING before putting on her Princess outfit, and she informed him quite authoritatively that Snow White doesn't wear panties.

What? What? Where did she get this? Of course Snow White wears panties. EVERYONE wears panties!

But since Garry has been travelling a lot lately, he did have to wonder exactly what version of Snow White I was watching with the girls while he was gone.

Getting A Test Run

Yesterday I made a Thanksgiving test run: subject matter: pumpkin pies. The recipe that I chose was okay but there were problems with the crust. I needed deep dish crusts to accomodate all of the mix. So now I know. Thanksgiving should go great.

Apparently my body decided that it needed a baby test-run as well. At 7:30, I was having some contractions and had a lot of back pain. At 9:30 I gave in and called the doctor. There was a problem. MY doctor was not on call. Instead, some other man was on call, and while I am sure he is very nice, I was really cautious about having someone I did not know decide whether or not to do the c-section early. So when he told me to go to the hospital, I laid down and convinced myself that if I could just remain calm the contractions would stop.

And they did slow down. So I called the doctor again and told him I was not coming. No sir, no way. He said that if I was having contractions, I needed to come in. So I promptly ignored him and tried to go to sleep.

I finally gave up around 11:30 and went into the hospital. By then, I was having contractions every minute. But, since I am just at 36 weeks, they gave me some fluids, some antibiotics (this was all caused by an infection) and a muscle relaxer to make the contractions stop.

So, here's what I learned from my test run:

When they say "just a little pinch" they mean hold on because this is going to hurt like #$&*!
There is nothing relaxing about a "muscle relaxer".
I need to bring in my own blanket for the real deal.
I need to bring in warm cozy socks for the real deal.

So now, in a few days, we'll really be ready!

Now I Know

Yesterday, I passed a major test of parenting: I took my two year old and my four year old to the movie BY MYSELF. It was a big accomplishment. But, the girls did well. We lasted through the entire movie (hooray!) and I do not think that the people around us hated us too much. No one got up and moved, that I noticed. And I learned some things as well:

(1) Emma loves popcorn: No, really, she loves popcorn. I bought a small bag of popcorn for us to share during the movie, and she had it devoured before the movie even started. She is a popcorn finisher-offer machine.

(2) My Stomach Is Huge!: Just in case I had any doubts, I realized again yesterday that my stomach was huge! And it's not just because I haven't seen my feet in a long time or because I am looking at Garry's wardrobe for things to wear now, but because, during the movie, Macey took out her pacifier (a must have for any solo movie outing) and placed it on top of my stomach, like she was resting it on a table. And the darn thing stayed put!

Garry's travels look like they are finally done and he should be home today. He's gone on five trips in the last nine weeks, not that I've counted. But the girls and I have had some fun outings!

The Problem With Women

Many of you know that in my previous life (life before kids) I was very involved in politics. I started interning when I was a Senior in High School, and I interned for a congressman, a senator (the DISTINGUISHED Larry Craig), and a political party. Finally, I came to Washington and worked in the Senate for a few years.

So, those who know me well may be surprised that I have not penned a single political blog in this election season. Well, wait no longer, because here it is:

I do not understand women. I look at the way that the African American community has embraced Obama, and I keep waiting for a leader of the same Community to decide that he is not "black enough" because his mother was "white" and he was raised by his "white" extended family and went to some really "white" schools. But no one has, they have fully embraced him and see his victory as their own.

So what is wrong with women? Why do I really dislike Hillary Clinton? Why did so many women turn against Sarah Palin? There was a poll in Newsweek that said that more men than women liked Sarah Palin. And they attributed it to jealousy: she's pretty, she's successful, she's balancing family and career. We must hate her. Why do we turn with such venom on our own?

The day after the election, a reporter was talking about the excitement of having the next President of the United States be someone that looked like him. I only hope that one day I can say the same.

What I Did

I took the discount and gleefully filled up my Jeep. 18 gallons for $36. I was so proud of getting gas for $2.01 that I called my parents because they ALWAYS appreciate a good bargain. But when I explained the situation to my father, he paused before he said, "Well, that wasn't quite honest, was it."

I'm over 30, but despite the age, you always hate to disappoint your Dad.

And I have to admit, that whole day I kept checking my caller ID to make sure that Mr. Swann did not call and yell at me for taking his discount, if it was a one-time thing. After all, he clearly knows the phone number!!

What Would YOU Do?

When I shop at Safeway, which is not often, I do not use my club card, which was lost long ago, but rather I just enter my phone number. My phone number, which I have had for over four years, is still registered under someone else's name, and often the check-out people call me "Mrs. Swann". I smile, take my food, and head on out.

I think that the Swann's are still around and shopping at Safeway because if you spend a certain amount of money at Safeway on food, you get a discount on gas at the gas station -- 3 cents to 10 cents, depending on how much is spent. So sometimes I can tell that they are around and shopping.

Yesterday, I stopped by the Safeway gas station, and the machine informed me that Mr. Swann was entitled to a 50 cent per gallon discount, and GAS WOULD JUST BE $2.01. When was the last time you filled up for $2.01?

I do not know what Mr. Swann did to qualify for a fifty cent per gallon discount, and I do not know how long it will last. The computer asked me if I wanted to use it. The Yes and No button stared back at me as I considered my options.

So, what would YOU have done?

Old Before My Time

Being really pregnant is just no fun. But when I start feeling a little overwhelmed, I remember that my Mom understands what I am going through -- and not just because she's been pregnant before -- but because she shares right now some of my most uncomfortable symptoms.

Weight Gain: Frustrated by that added weight in the middle? Worried that it is working its way down for a nice long stay on the thighs? Well, ditto for her.

Sleep: Can't sleep? Waking up in the middle of the night and just tossing and turning until sleep blissfully returns? Watching QVC for the first time ever. Well, ditto for her.

Hair: Confused by all the changes? Remember how hair used to be obedient and full? Well, ditto for her.

Bladder: Have to go to the bathroom what seems like every 30 minutes? Yeppers. Ditto for her.

So, there's good and bad news here. The good news is that the baby will be here in a few weeks. The bad news is all of these symptoms will be seeing me again, sooner than I would like.

The End Of An Era

I've had a lot of bad haircuts in my life. I've gone to people that have not had much experience with curly hair and paid the price. One lady tried to "brush out" my hair before she washed it so that it would not get knots in it. Ever tried to "brush out" curly hair? POOF! I used to have long hair -- about 1/2 way down my back -- and one lady made me stand up during my haircut because it was just too long. Hmmmm.... That wasn't my favorite. I've had people give me guilt trips about my DRY, DRY hair. Well, it's curly. I challenge you to find someone with curly hair that isn't dry. But regardless, I've always tipped these people. Always. No matter what, I tip, because it's just the nice thing to do. Until today. Because today I discovered what is worse than getting a bad haircut -- watching your daughter get a bad haircut.

Poor Emma. She was so patient and tried so hard to sit still, like the lady yelled at her to do, but the end result is far from the princess-look I promised her when we walked in. With tears in my eyes, sniffles in my nose, I paid the lady what was due and not a cent more.

Is that horrible?

What, Me? Worry?

I come from a family of worriers. My Mom works herself into a worry-funk at times and my Dad, when worried or stressed, paces. He's a pacer. So considering my gene pool, it's no wonder that lately I have been worrying about things. And hitting the treadmill. Some things you cannot fight. So here's what tops my list lately:

My Uterus: So how much time do YOU spend worrying about your uterus? Here's the deal. I have c-sections because while I can have contractions quite efficiently, they do not do anything besides cause me great pain. So, I have been generally told that I can have four c-sections. Four kids. And there's something about being told my limit that makes me want to take it on. Who knows how many kids Garry & I would have decided to have without this imposed limit. But even those four are based upon whether or not my uterus heals well and does not leave a lot of scar tissue. So, when the doctor goes in in a few weeks, he'll tell me if I can have that #4. So many of my really close friends cannot get pregnant and I'm grateful to have my girls. But still, I worry. . . Am I done at three?

My Girls: Wow, I am in a really good place right now. My girls are a joy, and I have fun with them. I love that I can take them to the bookstore or out to get a hot cocoa at Starbucks. It's a really good place to be. I know that the baby will bring change and a lot of joy, but I worry that I am throwing a wrench into domestic bliss. A silly thing to worry about, but still, I worry. . .

Football: I really think that the Redskins are in for a big beating tomorrow night. And it's sad when you can see it coming toward you, and all you can do is worry about just how bad of a beating is it going to be?

Names: Garry and I can never agree on names before the baby arrives. This time has not been any different. Though I am pretty sold on two names, he's still holding out for a different name. The name of a male actor, by the way. Who just got out of rehab. No, not David. So I worry, is he waiting for me to get that morphine shot after the c-section to fill out the birth certificate? Sure, honey, I love that name. . . look at all the pretty colors. . .

So what are you worried about today?

Halloween Overload!

Halloween was a great and busy day for the girls -- they were in candy bliss.

The day started off really early as I dragged the girls to my doctor's appointment. I only have TWO MORE APPOINTMENTS! Yahoo!

I took the girls to Sports & Health Gym where they had a parade and got candy from all of the employees. Macey was really proud of herself for "staying in line" and both girls waved happily at me on my little treadmill as they proceeded on their parade. Emma led the line, of course. I wonder how many years before they will stop waving back or think that my overactice waving is embarrassing?

We went to Starbucks for a yummy hot chocolate and muffin and then took Emma to school where she was able to go trick or treating at North Point High School. She had a great time and was surprised by Garry picking her up at school.

Finally dusk hit and we hit the neighborhood! Emma and Macey started out with gusto and would yell "Trick or Treat!" and then would say "Thank You!" as they handed up their buckets. But eventually fatigue set in and they just started handing up their buckets for the candy.

But we were not done yet! Off to the church for a fun trunk or treat. I was only able to so-so decorate my trunk -- I hope to do better next year!