Buddy Holly, collections, and a helpful list

My dad punched the lenses out of some old, thick, black glasses for Miller, but Robert has really taken to them and wears them on errands at least once a week. He gets a lot of "Clark Kent" comments, but our family calls him "Buddy Holly". He usually doesn't mind when we call him that, but all bets are off on Sunday rides home from church, when Robert wails about anything and everything. (As opposed to rides TO church, when he wails about having to go to church. BTW - he loves his teachers and all his little friends. I can't figure out what the deal is, though lately he's been asking me to make sure he doesn't have "the grandmothers" instead of his usual teachers. He must have had a substitute one week.) Anyway, last Sunday he had on the glasses and Miller called him Buddy Holly. "DON'T CALL ME BUDDY HOLLY!!", he screamed, sobbing. She laughed and said quietly, "Okay...Buddy Holly."

The kids and I went to the Botanical Gardens to explore this afternoon. I've probably mentioned before that Miller LOVES to collect things, and could and does spend hours in our yard "making collections" in various containers. She collects grass, weeds, sticks, bugs, the occasional flower, acorns, etc., and carefully keeps them all separated until someone pours them out and almost drives her over the edge of insanity. I didn't bring any containers on our outing today, but she began collecting nonetheless, and didn't want to hold her collections.

"Here, mom, hold this", she said about a rotten berry of some kind.
Yuck, Millie, it's rotten and probably has worms crawling in it.
"That's okay. Hold it."
She stumbled onto some pine straw. A lot of pine straw. "This looks VERY mysterious. Hold it."
She then found a leaf. "This is SO beautiful. Look at this beautiful leaf. Hold it."

Robert was next, discovering a damp, yucky pine cone. "Hold it."
Miller interrupted, "I don't want that pine cone with my collection. Robert, put it in your pocket." I told her it could prick him in his pocket. "Robert, here bud, put it in your pocket." Okay, so she was more interested in the great outdoors than in being compassionate today. Sweet Bud didn't seem to mind, but he threw the pine cone to the side after about five seconds.

I've been wanting to compile a short list of things NOT to say to a pregnant women. All of these have been said to me, and in the last few weeks I've developed a system of answering that requires no thought and therefore never leaves me simply giving a dirty look or standing with my mouth hanging open. (Do people think I'm not aware that my belly defies what seems physically possible?) Well, it's not really a system. I just repeat back, verbatim, what the person said to me, but I add, "I FEEL" to the beginning of the sentence. Example: You look tired. "I FEEL tired." You look huge. "I FEEL huge." It's pure genius. Okay...the list:

"Oh my gosh!!! Are you sure you're not having triplets?"
"I don't think you can POSSIBLY get any bigger."
"You look really uncomfortable. I can see it in your face. Do you need to sit down?"
"You look like you're about to pop."
"WOW! You must be due any minute. "
"Are you due any day now? I thought so. You are REALLY big."

My c-section is scheduled for September 10th, and though I truly feel in my heart of hearts that I cannot survive being pregnant until then, I just bet I'll be kissing this precious baby's face on...September 10th. I absolutely cannot WAIT to hold her. Robert has told me several times lately that he has a baby in his tummy that is being born in five minutes.

There are so many wonderful kinds of trees for kids to climb, but my poor kiddos have to make due with this crepe myrtle in our front yard.

Official Warning

I knew I hit a low point this week when I actually said to Andrew, "I don't think you feel sorry enough for me." What kind of loser says that out loud? Especially to a man who is beyond sweet, beyond sympathetic, beyond concerned? (As much as he can be. We ladies know he'll never totally understand.) I'm starting to avoid talking to people, because I realize what all my conversations sound like, and it's embarrassing:

Others: How are you? How are you feeling?
Me: I feel okay. Well..I mean...I'm not sleeping, which makes the days hard. And my belly is so heavy. I feel like my uterus is about to fall out. I'm getting a little swollen. And you wouldn't believe the horrendous heartburn that kept me up all night last night. If you think about it, would you please pray that I can get some sleep? I can't make it 4 more weeks without sleeping.
Others: Okay.
Me: Also, none of my clothes fit. I wear the same thing every day because my shirts no longer cover my belly. Did I tell you I moved my kids in the room together and they won't go to sleep at night? They're driving me crazy.
Others (now trying to walk away): Oh. wow.
Me: Also, it's just so darn hot. It's so hot in my house.
Others: Okay, well....
Me: Also,...

This is seriously how I sound these days. I have to be the most complaining pregnant person of all time. If you see me on the street, RUN!!!

Bad Words

Robert has a new bad word - "mean 'ole stibio". It's causing quite a ruckus amongst the Murray children:

M: "Robert called me 'mean 'ole stibio!!'"
M: "Mom!! Robert called you a 'mean 'ole stibio!!'"
R: "Sissy call me 'mean 'ole stibio'"

Even last night, before he went to sleep, Robert smiled and recounted to me, "Today I call you 'mean 'ole stibio'".

I don't take much offense to this, partly because it's made-up, mainly b/c I've truly been a mean 'ole stibio lately. But, since it's name-calling, of course, I have to address it as such, even though it basically just makes me laugh. I guess I've been glad he's using this made-up phrase instead of some of the other words he's been exposed to lately - poo-poo head, big-fat poo-poo head, butt, and yesterday, weeny's. (I have no idea how to spell that one, but I'm sure the other 3-K mothers will be thrilled if he's using it when school starts.) He hears these from little guys a little bit older, and I have to remind myself that one day soon, he'll probably be teaching much worse words to those younger than he is, and I'll probably be hanging my head in shame as he tells his teachers he learned the d-word from his mommy. So many things slip out under my breath, and I'm just waiting for the day when my bad habits are exposed to the public.

This picture is really old, and unrelated, but I saw it today and just had to use it anyway.

Negotiations

Miller has always been a little negotiator, and as she grows older, her skills are advancing in this area, too. Janny makes 90% of my children's' clothes, and they're wonderful, and people always tell me how talented she is. Of course, I agree! But every once in a while, Janny likes to try her hand at EBay, and she occasionally is tempted to buy something..."even though I know it's a little tacky. I thought Miller would love it." Well, Miller loves tacky like I love sherbet, and this summer she's been thrilled with a long, purple gingham dress from EBay. Think Little House on the Prairie. Think a little too big. I truly hate the dress, and I'm not kidding when I say it's her favorite thing to wear. Every day:

M: "I want to wear my long, purple dress."
L: Not today. Pick something else.
M: "Okay...then I want to wear something long and purple."

It's sad to admit, but M & R love McDonald's, and Miller in particular loves eating out, period. We've had WAY too much fast food since I've been pregnant. Yesterday, we ran a few errands and finished around lunchtime. Miller said from the backseat, "Let's go get some chicken nuggets from McDonald's." I replied, "We can't eat out every day. Some days we just eat at home." She followed up with, "Do you want to pick it up and take it home, or just eat at the restaurant?"

In an effort to keep it real, in spite of funny quotes, cute new rooms, and adorable children, the past few days have been hard. I want to blame it on summertime, constant together-ness, being super pregnant, but when I look at my list of scapegoats, they're all things I would hope to be thankful for instead of excuses for my inability to cope with motherhood. I'm far from living out thankfulness for my wonderful life, and instead am turning into a complainer who resorts to two-year-old behavior in tough moments. I'll spare everyone the details. These are the days when I want to wallow, want to quit, want to somehow pay penance for the mountain of sin that rests on my shoulders. But I'm trying to make myself remember that it doesn't rest there, that Someone else bore it on His shoulders for me, that I have to repent, receive the forgiveness that's mine, and start again. My high school bible study teacher used to say all the time, "Every day is a new beginning." Thankfully, not just every day, but every minute can be a new beginning if I'll allow it to be.

I've been teaching my kids this song and teaching the verses to myself as well:

What can wash away my sin? Nothing but the blood of Jesus.
What can make me whole again? Nothing but the blood of Jesus.
Oh precious is the flow that makes me white as snow;
No other fount I know, nothing but the blood of Jesus.

They sound so cute when they sing it, except for today, when Robert pitched a monstrous fit because Miller joined in while he was wanting to sing it "MY BYSELF!!!"

They were both exhausted on Night Two of room sharing. Robert got out of bed once, and that was all they wrote....

Night One

After working for countless hours to turn old, banged up twin beds into cute, red, pottery-barn-ish beds, Jeffy made a big delivery yesterday to help make our two-kid home a three-kid home. After much thought and advice, I decided to move Miller and Robert into a room together, and let yet-to-be-named baby girl have a nursery. Tonight is the commencement of the room sharing, and so far....well, no one has even thought about sleeping, and we've seen them both about 55 times. Andrew and I decided not to give them any rules until we could see what kind of rules we needed. I'm now questioning our strategy.

M: "Robert keeps getting in my bed."
L: Well, is he just trying to snuggle you?
M: "No. He's banging me in the head with baby dolls."

Miller has come out so many times to tattle-tale on Robert, I guess he decided to come tattle on himself. He just appeared at the doorway and told me, "I'm talking....I'm talking."

All pioneers of room-sharing have told me to expect the first two weeks to be tough. Stay tuned...

"I'm a gymnastics girl" - RM

These are several pics of two of the big hits of Summer '09 - gymnastics and popsicles. Miller has taken her first little gymnastics class and has loved it, except that every week she tells me how hot and sweaty she is, which has never yet been the case after class. Some little girls from church, older than us, sent her some really fancy hand-me-down leotards. Robert did not miss out on trying them all on. Another day this week, he went with more of a ballet theme, but wanted to play outside in his tights, so I made him wear tennis shoes.

Hodge Podge Conversations

Anytime Robert is feeling tired, or unhappy, or slighted, or mad, (in other words, many, MANY times per day), he says:
"I'm not feeling very good." -or- "I'm not feeling very well."
The other day, after he had told me this for the 27th time, I said, "What doesn't feel good?
He replied, "My feelings."

One rainy afternoon this week, I took the kids to the McWane Science Center, a wonderful place in downtown Birmingham where in addition to a million fun things to do inside, we get to "park in the dark". (Miller Murray LOVES a parking deck, and this one even has a circular exit ramp. So exciting.) Robert was playing inside a little airplane, where he was sitting in one of two toddler-sized plastic chairs. I peeked in at him and he patted one and said, "Mama, come in here with me."
L: Bud, I don't think I can fit in that little chair.
R: "Fit."
"Try."

The three of us went to my OB check-up this week, and on the way, M & R had a myriad of questions about the baby, how long I'd be in the hospital, how she would get here, etc. After a couple of attempts at vague answers about her delivery (via C-section), I finally said, "Well, they'll make a little cut, and they'll pull her out of my tummy through that little cut....through a little hole.
M: "Will you be dead or alive when that happens?"
L: Alive.
M: "And then we'll have a little baby with a hat."
She's been very interested in the hospital hat placed on newborn babies.

A regular conversation about this baby:
M: "Can I hold her a lot?"
L: Yes.
Next questions, always:
M: "Standing up?"
L: Not at first.
M: "But later I can hold her standing up?"
L: We'll see.

Miller's favorite baby name at present: Flower
Robert's: anything ridiculous

This afternoon:
M: "What do policemen do?"
L: Well, they do lots of things to protect us, and serve us, like making sure we don't go too fast, or looking for robbers.
M: "What are robbers?"
L: People who steal something. Like maybe something from some one's house.
M: "Like their people?"
L: (Trying not to be scary) Well, maybe like a t.v. or computer or something like that.
M: And then the policemen would come and squirt the robbers with their guns?

A new development at our house - we've been getting birthday invitations for one child only. Miller loves to check the mail every day, is elated when she gets mail, and when she doesn't, complains, "I never get any mail." A few times over the past couple of months, an envelope has come that's addressed: Miller Murray (only) or Robert Murray (only). I brace myself for what's coming next. If it's an invitation for Miller, she immediately starts in, "Bud, I'm invited to this party for ----. You're not invited, Bud. Just me. I'm the only one who gets to go." Robert begins to cry, even if he's never heard the name of the birthday child before.

I tried to get a good pic of me and the kids with my pregnant belly this week, but none were so great. You can't tell in this picture, but my belly is incredibly round, and big, and heavy, and I get stares of sympathy? shock? (hard to tell for sure) everywhere I go. I went to a mattress store today looking for a twin set for our forthcoming big kid room, and the salesman expressed fear that I would go into labor in the store. Then he told me to lie down on the mattresses to test them out, as if anything would feel comfortable to me right now, as if I could get back up once I was down.