Our little girl is THREE!

Okay...she actually turns three tomorrow, but we had her birthday party yesterday.

Showing off the party hat that she made with her Grandma Lawrence!  Look at our big, birthday girl!

And here is the cake that I made for her this year.  My mom always made us a special cake for our birthdays, and it is a tradition that I am DETERMINED to continue with my children....even though it took me 5 1/2 HOURS to make it (and that is not including baking time!).  LOVE YOU, MOM.  I have a WHOLE new respect for what you did all those years!

Anyway....Ava's 3rd birthday Barney cake:

(Pay no attention to the fact that Barney is more brown than purple.  Of course, they discontinued their "Barney Purple" icing dye, and I am apparently not very talented at mixing Barney Purple.  Let's just say that Barney just returned home from a tropical vacation.)

Here I was making it....

Because THIS is how much she loves Barney....

Eric built Ava a sandbox for her birthday this year.  She LOVES it!  Great gift, daddy!

I can't believe that you are THREE, Ava.  We love you so much, sweet girl.

MERRY CHRISTMAS FROM THE LAWRENCE KIDDOS!

Here's a bit of Christmas cheer for you!  If this doesn't get you in the Christmas spirit, nothing will!

I am so blessed.

Two year olds are funny....

Hee hee hee hee hee......

I'm sorry, but I just have to get on here quickly and explain what just happened. 

So, this morning, my little Miss Ava was playing in the family room when she found a penny.  She was very excited because we have always told her that--if she finds any coins lying around--she gets to put them in her piggy bank.  That is one of her very favorite things to do right now.  She has more money than I do.

Anyway...because she is TWO....she apparently thought that it would be a good idea to drop the penny down the front of her pajama pants.  Don't ask me why she does the things that she does.  I don't ask....because I enjoy the fodder that I consistently get for this blog and my own memory bank.  She proceeded to freak out because she couldn't find her coin.  She is literally running in a circle, holding the top of her pants open, and trying to get it to fall out.  Okay....that was funny.  Within minutes, though, the toddler attention span deficit kicked in, and she forgot all about it.

Now, fast forward about two hours later....

Here is the EXACT conversation that I just had with my daughter.  Imagine.....Ava in the family room.....Mom in the kitchen (which overlooks the family room).  Here we go:
***********************************************************************

Ava:  "Mommy.  I have to go poopy!"

Me:  "Okay, honey.  Don't forget to wash your hands and turn off the light when you are done in the bathroom."

Ava:  "Okay.  Poopy!  Poopy!  I'm so essssited (excited....for those who are toddler-bonics challenged)!"

My thoughts:  Uh.  Okay.  I'm glad to hear that. 

(I then hear Ava get up on her stool and crawl up on the big toilet.  I am still in the kitchen.)

After several minutes of hearing her grunting and cleaning out her bowels, the conversation re-emerges.)

Ava:  "Mommy!  There are SO MANY poopies!  I think eight!"

Me:  "That's great honey!  Don't forget to....."

Ava:  "Hey!  There's my penny!  Mommy! I found my penny!"

Oh yeah....the penny,  I thought.  Good for her.

Me:  "Good job, Ava!  We'll go put it in your piggy bank after you are done!"

(Enter the sound of a small splash quickly followed by toddler shrieking that was so loud, our dog jumped up and went to see what the problem was.)

Ava:  "WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!  Oh no!"

Me:  "What happened, honey?"  (At this point, I'm already grinning in the kitchen because I totally already know what just happened.  The sick and twisted part of me just wanted to hear her say it because I knew it would sound funny.)

Ava:  "I dropped my coin!"

Me:  "On the floor? (snicker snicker)"

Ava:  "No!  In the potty water!  And there is poopy EVERYWHERE!"

Me (laughing harder):  "Just leave it alone, honey.  I'll get you another coin upstairs, okay?"

Ava (in yelling sobs of horror):  "There's so much poopy!  I can't even see the penny in there anymore!  The poopy ate it!  My special coin is all GONE!"

Me (on the verge of wetting my pants):  "Ava, don't worry about it!  Just finish going to the bathroom, and mommy will get you a new, clean, coin to put in your piggy bank."

Ava:  "It was an accident, mommy!  Don't worry, I can get it!"

This is the point where you can imagine the scene in movies where the person starts running in slow motion while simultaneously yelling, "Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!"  I literally jumped from the top stair down onto the family room floor and sprinted to the bathroom.

"Don't touch the poopy!  Don't touch the poopy!"

As I ran around the corner, there was my little girl....standing at the base of the toilet, pants still around her ankles, and her hand slowly lowering down toward the toilet bowl.  I quickly scooped her up and immediately realized that she hadn't wiped yet.  Fantastic....now my sleeves are covered in spots of urine.

I cleaned her up and walked her to the base of the staircase.

Me:  "Okay, honey.  You NEVER NEVER NEVER put your hand in the potty water, okay?  Now let's go get you a new coin for your piggy bank."

Ava:  "Okay.  Just don't give it to me in the baf-room.  The potty chair is hungry."

That was 30 minutes ago, and I'm still giggling.  Two year olds are so awesome.

The Binky Fairy cometh....

We did it!  We got rid of Ava's binkies!!!!  I would sooooooooooo have a ticker tape parade right now if that was at all possible.

For the past year, Ava has only had her binkies when she is sleeping.  You would think that would make it easier for her to let them go.  You would be wrong.

Our first thought was to take Ava to Build-A-Bear and have her put together a new stuffed animal with her binkies placed inside of it.  We thought that maybe, if she knew that her binkies were right there inside her new little friend, that would be some sort of comfort.  We decided against that because Build-A-Bear is not a cheap thing to do...and it quickly became apparent that Ava would rip that poor stuffed bear to SHREDS to get to her pacifier on night number one.

Don't worry little bear.  I wouldn't do that to you.

Enter......the BINKY FAIRY.

I decided that it would be best to get those binkies as far from her reach as possible.  About a month ago, we started talking to Ava about how the Binky Fairy will come to her house (once she is a big girl), take her binkies away, and leave her a special present.  As you saw in my last post, it didn't take but a moment before she informed us that the special present was a pair of skates and a helmet.  Uh........okay......

So....we've been talking this up for almost a month now, but Ava has been sick a lot this past month, etc., and I just couldn't bring myself to take it from her when she was sick.  Finally, Eric ordered the skates, helmet, elbow and knee pads, and we knew that it was time.

On Saturday, I sat down with Ava, and we wrote our letter to the Binky Fairy.  We let her know that Ava was a big girl now, she didn't need her binkies anymore, and she was ready for her to come and get them that night.  She also made sure that I put in the request that she receive skates and a helmet for her generous binky offering.    Here she is.....super proud of her letter:

Seriously.....is it possible for a toddler to be cuter than that?  The correct answer to that question is NO.

That night, Eric and I took her to the mailbox to mail her letter:

We walked around the house, and Ava grabbed all of her pacifiers and put them into a plastic bag.  We then hung the bag-o-binkies on the handle of our front door.  Okay.  No going back now!

We decided to let Ava sleep with us in our bed for that first night.  It took her FOREVER to fall asleep, but then she did, and all was right with the world.  One bad effect is that she doesn't take a nap during the day at all anymore.  Boo on that.  I miss those naps already.  But, to see her excitement when she got her skates, it made it all worth it.

I have to admit, though, it was kindof funny to see how quickly she was over it.  She wanted skates because she wanted to be like "Wonder Red" on her "Super Why" cartoon.  Wonder Red has skates, and she zooms all over the place on them like a flash of lightening.  I think Ava assumed that she would immediately be doing the same thing.  We put all of her gear on, she basically walked in them for two minutes, and you could see that look on her face....that look of, "Uh.....this is nothing like advertised, people."  Within minutes, she was "all done".  Eric and I just looked at each other and laughed.  Nothing like going through all that work for sixty seconds of excitement.  Oh well....the binkies are gone.  Mission accomplished.

That saddest part was the next night.  Ava screamed and cried in her room for an hour.  I went in there twice to put her back in her bed.  Finally, on the third time, I open the door to her room, and she is standing there...in the middle of her pitch black room.....tears rolling down her face....and her arms full of three items.

She just looked at me and said, "Mommy, I have my baby, my teddy bear, and my pee-yoh (pillow).  Can I come to sleep with you now?"  SHE WAS JUST STANDING THERE IN THE MIDDLE OF HER DARK ROOM WAITING FOR SOMEONE TO COME GET HER.  OH.  MY.  GOSH.

Of course, Eric and I both melted into a parental puddle and scooped her up and into our bed.  We are such suckers.

The last two nights, though, she has been doing very well.  She has slept in her own bed, and she is going down without a two hour meltdown.  That is always good.  I'm so happy about getting over this hump, but I have to admit that I'm kindof sad.  She is potty trained now, so her binkies were the last "baby" things that she had since birth.  She's getting so big.   How is she going to be THREE in just a few weeks?  Sniff.....  Sorry....mommy moment there.....

Needless to say, I a very proud of my big girl. 

So, go ahead and breathe a sigh of relief, sweet Build-A-Bear, you shall live another day....

 

I know.  I know.  You're welcome.  I love you, too.

A day in the life.....

Brief update on the Lawrence clan:  WE ARE ALL SICK.  ALL OF US....EACH AND EVERY ONE OF US...

Ava has been sick for something like 25 days.  I believe that is the equivalent of 8 1/2 years in mommy time.  Eric, Parker and I all started in on the fevers within the last 48 hours.  Got it?  Okay....this leads us to yesterday.  I would have written about it yesterday, but I just stopped twitching about an hour ago.

Eric is working as much overtime as humanly possible right now because his work yanked all of the end of the year bonus money that they usually receive.  We normally depend on that money for Christmas and Ava's birthday-- which is conveniently timed only ten days before Christmas.  So, since he is forced to be at work more than usual, I am obviously the only one here with the kids most of the time right now. 

Imagine yesterday with me.....

I wake up with my own lovely flu symptoms.  Body aches, head ache, fever and chills.  Ava wakes up....fever of 101.5.  Parker wakes up....fever still normal.  I do the best that I can to get Ava's breakfast and nurse Parker without breathing down into his face.  The morning is fairly uneventful because I feel like poo, and so I happily let us all just sit on the couch in the family room and watch cartoon characters who have way more energy than any human could ever have.

Parker goes down for a nap at 11:00.   At about this same time, my fever kicks in to high gear and starts making me feel like I'm sitting naked encased in a block of ice.  I talk Ava into watching Dora on my bed so that I can sit in a bathtub full of scalding hot water.  After my bath, I get my sick daughter out of my bed and bathe her (No....not in the same water. You are gross if you even thought that).

I feed Ava lunch and begin the hour long process of trying to get her to take a nap.  FINALLY, at about 1:45, Ava konks out in her room.

YES!  I think, I get to take a nap!  I NEVER take naps...so this should tell you how icky I'm feeling.

I crawl my body-aching, feverish body into my bed and sigh gently as I cuddle under my comforter.  Life is good at that moment.

Moment over.

Within thirty seconds, Parker wakes up from his nap and starts crying for me to come get him.

I'm thinking, Okay....it's okay.  I'll just bring him into bed with me, and he can watch some TV for an hour while I try to rest enough to atleast get my body moving again.

So....I grab Parker out of his crib and carry him to my bed.  After I snuggle in next to him and prepare for a very comfortable experience, I reached over and rubbed my son's head.

Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.  He feels warm.

I grab the thermometer and put it to my son's temple while simultaneously praying that it was just because my fever was going strong and therefore, everything feels hot.

Nope.  Fever over 100  (Enter the sound of my mind screaming "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" here).

My pediatrician told me that if Parker showed ANY signs of getting sick, I needed to bring him in.  With the Swine Flu everywhere out here, I needed to make sure that he was seen within 48 hours.

So.......I suck it up and accept that taking a moment to lie down myself was just not in the cards for me.  I call the pediatrician, and they can get him in 45 minutes.  Uhhhhhh.....it takes 25 minutes to drive there.

"Okay,"  I say.  "If that is all you've got, we'll be there."

At this point is when I realize that Ava FINALLY fell asleep and has only been asleep for ten minutes.  Great....I have to go wake her up and take two tired and sick kids to the pediatrician by myself.  Lovely.

I wake Ava up, get her dressed, pack the kiddos up in the car, and head to the doctor.

The doctor's appointment was pretty uneventful.  I was basically told that everyone has a virus, there's really nothing I can do but watch to make sure that they don't get worse.

After the appointment, I tell Ava that she can play in the little playground outside of the pediatrician's office.  After about 45 minutes, I give her the five minute warning and start getting everything ready to head home.  Apparently, my daughter was not as ready.

I tell her that it is time to go.  She tells me that I am mistaken.  She will "stay at the park."  I actually walk away to the point where she can't see me (I can still see her), and still, she just continues to frolic like nothing has changed.  Now, remember....I still feel awful.  I'm achy beyond belief, and I just want to go home.  But, since Ava is refusing to go anywhere, I literally have to carry both of them to the car.  In one hand, a twenty pound infant in a ten pound car seat; in the other arm, I am now carrying a thirty pound toddler who has begun a spastic tantrum of epic proportions.  And yes...I also have my diaper bag slung around my neck.  Yep...I was THAT mom....

I finally get the kids in their car seats, and Ava asks me for a lollipop.  Uh.......are you kidding me, kid? 

At this point is when I gently remind her that she did not listen to her mommy when she was told that it was time to leave the park. 

"So, because of that, honey, you don't get a lollipop."

I might as well have told her that Barney and Dora the Explorer were holding hands crossing the street and both were struck by an 18-wheeler.

She started screaming and freaking out in a fashion that actually made me thankful that she was strapped into a car seat.  If she wasn't, I think she would have done that thing that we have all seen in the old Road Runner cartoons....where the coyote starts spinning around so fast that he starts drilling himself into a hole in the ground.  Yeah, that.  During this time, Parker is right next to her in a rear-facing car seat (so, yes, that means he is facing her).  I can only imagine how much he was enjoying the scream-fest that was blasting directly into his face. 

At this point, I call my sister, Mindy.  She wanted to know how the appointment went.  As I'm talking to her, Ava continues to channel the exorcist in the back seat.  "I need a lollipop!  I need a lollipop!"

I decide that, in order to stay calm, I need to go to my happy place in my head.  I can't, though, because it IS TOO FREAKING LOUD IN THIS CAR.

I calmly remind my daughter, for the bajillionth time, the reasoning behind why she does not get a lollipop.  She continues to flip out.  I decide that this is a good time to use the only leverage I have at this point:  the binky fairy.

That's right....the binky fairy.  Ava still sleeps with a pacifier, and I am preparing to wean her from it.  I have told her that the binky fairy comes to her house once she is a big girl, takes her binkies away because she doesn't need them anymore, and will leave her a present.  Ava has informed my husband and me that this present is a pair of skates.  Okay....fine....whatever works....

"Ava, if you keep crying, I am going to call the binky fairy and tell her not to bring you skates."

You think that worked?  Hmmmmmm.....let's recap the day so far.  That working would mean that something actually went RIGHT that day.  So NO....it didn't work.

Ava starts screaming that she need a lollipop AND her skates.  I'm still trying to talk to Mindy on the phone, and I think Ava has decided that I am talking to the binky fairy.

"I WANT SKATES!  I NEED SKATES!"

"Then stop crying and calm down."

"Can I have a lollipop?"

"No, honey.  You didn't listen to mommy, and so you don't get a lollipop."

"I need a lollipop!  I want a lollipop!  I want skates!"  There is crying, screaming, excessive drainage of toddler snot....the whole shebang...

I believe, at this point, my sister said something like, "Omigod, I'm so sorry."  I'm really not sure.  I could barely hear her.

I had no point but to just ignore my borderline pschotic toddler and continue on with the conversation.  I just kept thinking, Mindy, just keep talking to me.  It's easier for me to ignore the torture that is the inside of this car right now if you just keep talking and give me something else to focus on....

"I want a lollipop!"

"No, Ava.  You don't get a lollipop because you didn't listen to your mommy."

"Please?!"

"No, Ava.  Maybe next time you'll make the choice to listen to mommy, and then you might get a lollipop."

"But I said 'PLEASE'!"

"No, Ava."

"Can I have a carrot?"  (Uh.....Can we say RANDOM?)

"I'll let you have a carrot when we get home."

"I don't want a carrot!  I want a lollipop!"  (This was about the time that I wanted to start beating my head against the steering wheel to render myself unconscious.....but I didn't because I was driving.  Safety first, people.)

"Nope."

"Yes!"

"Nope."

(.....okay, you get the idea.)

Long story short, I get the kids home, and I take Ava up to her room and close the door.  She continued to throw a fit for another 20 minutes.....making the total tantrum time almost 50 straight minutes.

This was Ava:

This was me:

(minus the red hair.....but add a fever, body aches and a ball cap)

At this point, I had absolutely nothing left.  Did I make dinner last night?  Nope.  I've never called Dominos Pizza for a Hawaiian pizza so quickly in my entire life.

Let me take a moment to speak to my brother-in-law, Brandon (Mindy's husband).  Brandon, If there is any part of you that wanted to skip waiting that year to start trying for kids and instead begin now, I apologize to you for ruining your plans.  Why?  Because I'm pretty sure that the first thing that Mindy did after hanging up the phone was sprint to her medicine cabinet to make sure that she didn't forget to take her birth control pill.

Sorry about that.

So that was my day.  How was yours?

What I have learned this week....

I see my life as one big learning experience.  I believe that it is important to continue to learn and grow as life teaches us important lessons.  That being said, here is what this week alone has taught me:

1.  Leftover bowls of Halloween candy are a tool of the devil and his unwielding hatred for my waistline.

2.  Trying to teach a lesson in good manners to a two year old in the middle of a meltdown is an exercise in futility.  It would be similar to buying home owner's insurance just after your house burned to the ground.

3.  Skinny jeans don't make you skinnier.  They just make you wish you were.  Someone needs to put that on the tag or something.

4.  I have succeeded in getting both of my children down for a nap at the same time EVERY DAY this week.  I deserve a spa day...complete with chocolate covered cherries and being fanned with palm fronds.  It upsets me that this isn't happening.

5.  I'm jealous of my daughter because she gets to take a nice, warm, bubbly bath.  I don't get to take a nice, warm, bubby bath.

6.  I'm continuing to be amazed at the change of my son's poop now that he is eating solids.  I've done this before--I should be used to this.  I'm not.  I'm used to my son's old, friendlier, poop, and I want it back.  This poop frightens me.

7.  In addition to the above statement, I have been educated on why, with Ava, I spent the extra money on the Diaper Genie and the required Diaper Genie bags that twist and smell like baby powder.  I am using a different diaper pail with Parker--one that just uses your own existing kitchen bags and doesn't twist each diaper into a odor-eliminating, sausage link-looking roll (you know who you are). As economically pleasing as this is, I almost black out now from the stench in my son's room when I walk by it.  I'm afraid to close the door if he is in there napping for fear that the fumes may overwhelm his ability to breathe.  No amount of cost savings is worth the horror that my nose endures when I'm trying to put away his laundry.  I'm going back to you, dearest Diaper Genie, and I am so sorry that I ever doubted you (hangs head in shame).

8.  My son eats more food than any eight month old in the history of the world.  It's a good thing that I will be going back to work when he enters school.  I'll need that money for no other reason than to keep that child from eating my vertical blinds. 

9.  If I'm in the bathroom and changing my clothes near a mirror, I suck in my stomach to make myself look thinner....even if I am the only adult in the entire house.  Who am I trying to convince?  I'm so ridiculous.

10.  I now know that I should never feed my son his baby food while simultaneously eating my Honey Nut Cheerios.  Yes, I forgot what was on what spoon when and shoveled a giant spoonful of pureed pea and brown rice blend into my mouth.  There is nothing harder than realizing what you've done and having to swallow it in front of your child (to show how--gag, urp--"yummy" it is) when you are faced with the sudden urge to re-create that scene from The Exorcist.  Keeping that "Mmmmmm....this is delicious" smile on my face should warrant me an academy award.  I'm sorry that you have to eat that, Parker.  Mommy loves you.

Cutest. Kids. EVER.

Okay, so I don't have a post full of cute quips today...or anything super meaningful for that matter.  I just have to show a couple of pics of my kiddos from Halloween last week--just to further prove that I have the most adorable children in all the land.   I'm just saying......

And, of course....the best binky ever...

In answer to your question....No, these pictures have not been doctored.  They really are the most adorable children on the face of the planet.  I may be a SMIDGE biased since I'm their mother, but COME ON, people.....  Tell me you don't want to smush their faces.

Welcome to my world, people....

I'M BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!

I know....I know....I haven't written in this blog for eight months.  I'm so sorry....I've been a bit busy with two kids under three and all.  A lot of people have asked me to get going again, and so here I am!  I have been wanting to start writing again--really, I have, but I just haven't had the time to sit down.  I had Parker, we moved into a new house, my daughter is at the height of her crazy tornado energy.....

Okay...enough of the excuses.   I promise that I won't leave you again.  Big hugs.

I also know that I will kick myself if I don't keep documenting these stages.  There are way too many crazy things that happen when you have an infant and a toddler at the same time.  Oh, the nuttiness that is my existence.
I have to say, I'm pretty excited about documenting this stage of life. It's funny. It's messy. It's BEAUTIFUL (Life....not me....I'm a hot mess). So, let's get started with some background information again just in case you are new to joining this blog.

Here is a picture of my husband and me from around the time we were married.


Look at that. Look how cute we were. For goodness sakes, it looks like the picture that comes with the frame. I miss being tan. I miss being toned. I miss having the skin on my stomach stretch tightly from one side of my frame to the other and my butt not looking like bread dough after you stick your fingers in it. But hey, I just had my second baby eight months ago. I'm working on it.

So....even though THIS is how I feel.....

THIS is how I look...

I digress.

My husband and I will be married five years this summer. I love him more now than I did then. I still love him even though he is always in much better shape than I am.....even though he can decide that he wants to lose five pounds and do so by walking to the mailbox.....even though he is ALWAYS tan and gets a shade darker every time he walks outside to get something out of the car. He thinks that it is fair because he is losing some hair now. I don't think so. For him to look the same as five years ago, he has to throw on a hat and call it a day. For me to look the same as five years ago, I would require some Botox, liposuction, lots of self tanner, way too many Pilates classes and some duct tape.

You know why I can smile when I say that, though? Because Eric still makes me feel beautiful. After two kids, that's a tough feat, and he somehow is still able to do it at times when I really need it. I know.....awwwwwww. You can't have him. He's mine. Especially when he rocks this look like on Halloween last week.

That's right.  Step in line, ladies.....

Seriously, though....almost five years ago, I left everything and everyone I knew and loved to move states away and start a new life with Eric. I can't imagine doing that with anyone else. He's my rock--my strong, supportive, and nuttier-than-squirrel-poop rock that I love with my whole heart.

How's that for a Hallmark moment?

Okay....on to my children.

This is Ava:

This little girl is 28 pounds of all things hilarious right now. I can pretty much guarantee that many of my blog posts for awhile will be about something ridiculous that she said or did. It's one of the reasons that I'm starting this blog. She is constantly saying things that make me think, Oh, wow....I HAVE to write that down. Just last month, she was laughing hysterically in Wal-mart and loudly proclaimed in the canned foods aisle that it was because she had "so many toots in her bah-wum (bottom)." Yesterday, I was walking down the stairs with my son in my arms, and Ava told me to "Be careful with Parker, mommy. Don't break him into pieces."

Awesome.

I look at her, and I wonder what I did that made me worthy enough for God to entrust this little fiery ball of sunshine to me. I will always be fiercely in love with her.  She made me a mother.

On to my new little man, Parker:
He is the most smush-tastic little being on the planet. He turns eight months old tomorrow, so I don't have any funny "Parker-isms" from him yet, but he is just as impressive. He can sit up. He can sound like a pterodactyl when he squeals. He can fill a diaper with a matter that will curl your nose hairs and hurt your feelings all at the same time. The boy is talented.

In five short years, I went from a single, high school English teacher in Kansas to a married stay-at-home mother of both a daughter and a son in Arizona. Wowzers..... I still shake my head at how much life can change in a blink of an eye.

We even have two dogs: Kona, a nine year old boxer who is definitely ADHD and has occasional bladder control issues, and Gidget, a fifteen year old pomeranian who is almost blind and deaf, only has two teeth left, and can't seem to find the dog door anymore. We love them both so much as well....even when Kona barks and wakes up the kids or when Gidget runs into a wall because--well, that's just what she does now.

I know that this post was a lengthy one, but I figured that I should get the introductions out. I want these blog entries to be our "slice of life" to the outside. Some will be funny; some probably will not. I can say, though, that all will be the honest life-journey moments that we are experiencing at the time we experience them.

Enjoy living with the Lawrences. It's sure to be a wild ride!

Here he is!

He's here!!!!!!!!!!

Parker Miles Lawrence

Born on March 10th, 2009 at 9:28 p.m.
7 pounds, 9.4 ounces
19 1/2 inches long

Kristi's Top Ten 3rd Trimester Fun Facts...

Okay, folks....yes, I know that I haven't posted since Christmas. Don't hate me. Blame the third trimester of pregnancy and my unborn son.

You know, I have done a "Top Ten" list for both the first and second trimesters. I think that it is only fair that I give the third trimester the same attention. Unfortunately, this is not going to be as bright and sun-shiney as the "Oh, look how much I love the second trimester" post.

Oh no, my friends.... The third trimester is a whole new ballgame. If I had nuggets, this trimester is kicking me hard in those nuggets.... That's right, the third trimester is kicking me square in the phantom girl nuggets....

I digress.... Let us begin.


Here are the TOP TEN "KRISTI'S 3RD TRIMESTER FUN FACTS" FOR YOU:

1. I miss my ankles. They were so cute...and petite....and you could see BONE in them. I've never had attractive feet, but they were cuter when they didn't look like five vienna sausages attached to an overfilled water bottle.

2. I miss pooping. I sure felt better when I could poop.

3. I'm starting to forget what it feels like to do things like cough, brush my teeth, or laugh without peeing my pants.

4. When I'm pregnant, my pee smells like Cheerios. Don't ask me.....

5. While we are on the topic of urine, let me discuss the wonderful urine sample that is given at the beginning of each and every prenatal appointment. As any woman who has ever has a child knows, you are required to go pee in a cup before your appointment begins. Okay...this is not a big deal during the first and second trimesters. But, my friends, let us imagine the urine procurement process of the final weeks of pregnancy. I can't see my own feet....let alone anything that rests just beneath my ridiculously large belly. Let me get this straight...you would like for me to take this comically small Dixie cup into this bathroom and somehow find the ability to blindly catch said urine into this cup. Uh......no. I have an idea. How about instead I come in weekly, urinate on my own hand, catch a couple of rogue drops into your stupid little paper shot glass, and hope that it is enough. That, nurse, I can do for you.

6. Here's a "Kristi Fun Fact" for you. I have a tilted cervix. This means, that in order for the doctor to check to see if I am dilated every week, he has to dig his hand in and curl it all the way back towards my spine to check me. Okay....that hurts. Now imagine that I am carrying this boy WAAAAAAAY up high compared to my daughter. Sooooooooo....the doc has to shove his arm in all of the way up to his elbow and THEN dig back. Okay.....that hurts even more. What cracks me up the most is when they say, "Okay, now you are going to feel a little bit of pressure here." You think? I already have a full sized baby in there smashing my organs up into my throat, and now you have all but crawled up in there to join him. Uh huh.....I feel the "pressure" that you are talking about, doc. It's called that big ol' tree trunk of a man arm you have there digging around in my already overpopulated womb. "Pressure".....puh-leeze....... Sometimes, I seriously wish that I could just break wind right there to force him to back on out of there and withdraw the arm of death....

7. I pop Zantac and Tums like they are Tic Tacs. For all of you out there who deal with heartburn all the time, I tip my hat to you. I don't know how you handle it. I have already slept one too many times sitting straight up against the headboard of our bed. It burns so bad that I have actually had dreams that I needed to get up and drink some water immediately because my fetus has somehow just caught on fire and I need to put him out. That is so not normal.

8. Okay...I have to be serious for a moment. I will honestly miss feeling the baby move and kick inside of me. It's kindof sad since this is probably our last. I'm sad to think that this could be the last time that I ever get to have that miraculous feeling that is solely between me and my unborn child. I LOVE it so much, and I'm not ready for that to end. Okay.....MAYBE when I have to dig a foot out of my ribcage or when he kicks my bladder and I piss myself for the fourth time that day....but other than that.....

9. He is head down now, so it's kindof funny that when he has hiccups, it feels like my butt has the hiccups. Imagine that sensation, will you? Feeling like your butt has the hiccups....

10. I'm still trying to figure out where this "nesting phase" is that everyone keeps talking about. According to most everyone, right before you deliver, you enter this "nesting phase" that makes you want to clean every square inch of your house, cook fifty bagillion meals, and scrub your tile grout with a toothbrush. Oh please. If I so much as walk to another room with an armful of laundry, I feel like I just ran the Boston marathon in cement shoes while holding my breath. No matter how much my mind WANTS to get all of these things done, my body angrily retorts, "Are you kidding me? You have attached the equivalent of a 40 pound exercise ball to your small frame, you're giving me hardly any sleep at night, the outside of this body aches like mad whenever you even try to stand up, the inside of this body feels like you set a torch to it, your kid is using my ribcage as a jungle gym and my bladder as a trampoline, and now I have anal hiccups. Step away from the vacuum, ma'am."