Betty Brinn

Back in February, it was Girl Scout cookie time. Maggie was her troop's top seller, and she was motivated by the possibility of earning a family pass to the Betty Brinn Children's Museum. She made (actually far surpassed!) her goal and we received our pass in the mail in early May. If you remember correctly, we also received a new baby in the house about the same time. So... with only a few days left of summer vacation, we packed up and headed to the museum with our pass for the first time this past week. The bigger girls have been here before- and LOVE it. Hattie got to experience the museum for the first time- and to be honest? I didn't think we'd get her to leave! I'm looking forward to taking her a few more times this fall when the big girls are in school. Here are a few fun pictures from our day!

Hattie was SERIOUS about the grocery store. Here she is, unloading her cart... 

 Waiting patiently with load #2...

 Lucy the bus driver!

 Hey- she picked up Gramma!

 Hattie.... still shopping! 

 Lucy thought she was pretty cool on this motorcycle!

And....more shopping!
 

 Unloading the cart... AGAIN!

 Maggie and Lucy as a pit crew

 This is one of many play phones in different areas of the museum. My mom and I noticed there was always a long line of kids waiting to play on the phones... and then realized most of them had never seen or used a wall mounted phone before!

 Lucy LOVED this! She took the muffler on and off this car about 10 times. Great Grampa Milan would be proud!

 Banker Maggie says, "Would you like to take out a loan?" 

How to get Lucy and Hattie (who are notorious for arguing 24 hours a day) to get along? Let them smooth fake "cement" together!
 

Lucy inside the beehive!

 Lucy and Hattie drive the work truck

 Maggie on the beehive

 Love this kid! 

 Lucy and Hattie learn how to shingle a roof.... we needed this skill LAST summer!

Lucy!
 

 Hattie sends dad an "email" 

 Oh, look who woke up from her nap to enjoy the museum, too!

 Big muscles!

 This was my favorite part... a huge Scrabble board! I want one!

Lucy got to drive the ambulance, too!

The Worst Kind of Day...

Ugh. I have something to confess. Something horrible and terrifying and heartbreaking and scary. 

Last week I forgot my baby in the car. 

Yup. I did. Thank goodness it all ended well, but it was hands down the most awful day of my life since becoming a mommy over eight years ago. 

Why am I telling you this? Because I've seen this meme show up in my Facebook newsfeed a handful of times in the past two days:

And it's not fair. 

Maybe it's been all the horrible news stories of late about babies being left in hot cars and dying, but this has always been a fear of mine. When Maggie was a baby, Dan was responsible for taking her to my mom and dad's house on Fridays on his way to work. It was a change in routine for him on that particular day, so (unbeknownst to him) I would call my mom and "check in" about 8:00 every morning... just to make sure that she actually made it there and wasn't still strapped in the backseat of 

his truck. Would Dan ever INTENTIONALLY leave our baby in the car? Absolutely not. But, better safe than sorry.... so I made that phone call every week. Of course, since I have the kids in the car with me 98% of the time and getting them in and out safely is such a normal part of my routine, I was never overly concerned that *I* would be the one to "forget" a kid in the car.... until last week. 

I had taken the big girls and the baby out with me to run a few errands and left Hattie at home napping with Dan. It was hot, so while we were out and about on the far side of town, I thought we should stop at my parents' house to water their flowers while they were up north. I pulled in the driveway, hopped out with the big girls, and got to work. My parents have A LOT of flowers and the girls were running around and helping themselves to cherry tomatoes from Papa's garden. After about 10 minutes,I finally wound up the hose, rounded up the girls, and headed into the garage for a bottle of water. That's when I heard it. The faintest of baby cries. Actually, a painful, hysterical baby wail. And then, it hit me. I flew to the van, opened the door, and found Ruby... red-faced, sweaty and bawling. I frantically unbuckled her from her carseat, picked her up, and... lost it. I sat on the driveway with her in my arms, trying to soothe her and sobbed... I apologized and cried and apologized and cried and apologized some more while I nursed her. The big girls watched with big, scared eyes as the enormity of what could have happened hit them, too. Once she was calmed down, I kissed her a million times, whispered "I'm sorry" a million more times, rubbed my nose on her sweet baby head, and strapped her back into her seat. I drove home crying, silently thanking God and simultaneously screaming at myself for being so careless and stupid. 

Needless to say, she got extra cuddles for the rest of the day, and I am pretty sure I got next to NO sleep that night. I kept replaying the incident in my head and couldn't shake the "what ifs?" that kept rolling through my brain. What if one of the girls had to go inside to go to the bathroom? What if I had stopped to talk to one of the neighbors? What if I had grabbed a bag to pick a handful of tomatoes, too? What if... I had only been a minute longer???? It's been over a week. It still makes me sick to my stomach to think of what could have been. I am forever thankful that it isn't. 

Why am I telling you this? Well, because of pictures like the one above.  Because of the comments that followed it: 

"Don't understand how people can forget their kids I think about my kids every damn second of everyday I even dream about them they are my life"

"I am a great mother and I've never left my kids in the car without air conditioning. I can't understand how you can be that engulfed into a conversation to forget what takes us 10 months to carry in our bodies and then the pain to deliver. You can forget keys, money, purse but not my child."

"There is no valid excuse for completely forgetting your child. It's murder. If you can't prioritize and protect a living person, you shouldn't be allowed to have custody of any children. I'm tired of reading all the excuses for over 30 horrific deaths a year of innocent babies- it's unacceptable and these "parents" should be in jail. We are complicit as a society when we reserve judgment for something so absurd and horrible."

Stuff like this breaks my heart- not only because I feel as though they are talking to me (To be honest? Those words are no worse than what I have already said to myself in my own head. I was mad and sad and angry and horribly, horribly guilty) but because every day people expect moms to be PERFECT. Granted, leaving your baby in the car ranks a little higher on the "oops!" scale than say, forgetting to put mayonnaise on your kid's ham sandwich, but it happens. I did everything "right." I leave my diaper bag/purse on the floor next to her seat. I wasn't distracted with my phone. I didn't purposely leave her there because I knew it would be a "quick" stop. I legitimately FORGOT her. I'm not making excuses for myself because I KNOW I'm a good mom. A damn good mom. But I'm human. For those of you who want to judge me for this, so be it... but please know that I won't be judging if it ever happens to you. 

Ruby says, "Pppbbbllllttttt to all the haters!" 

Minions!

I haven't blogged in a long time. That's not to say I don't have a lot to write about... I just don't have the time.... After all, it's summer- we're busy having fun!

BUUUUUT.... today I came across this article: 

The Missing Minions

... and for a fleeting moment, I was horrified. I was scared to death that as a mom of FOUR little girls, I am not ONE BIT bothered by this fact. AT. ALL. and that somehow my daughters would be scarred for life if I took them to see this movie. Then, I asked my eight and six year old if they knew that all the Minions were boys. Their responses? 

Maggie: "Who cares?" 

Lucy: "Really? I never noticed... but wait, their names are Bob and Kevin, so yeah, they are boys. But they're funny!" 

Do I think children are impressionable? Absolutely. Do I think those types of messages exist in our society? Absolutely. Do I think seeing only boy Minions is sending them an underlying message that "girls aren't important or interesting?" Um... nope. I think what they will take away from that movie is a bunch of giggles, a tummy full of popcorn, and enough "Minion-speak" to replicate in the days following to drive their parents crazy. 

The article gives very little biographical information on it's author, Samantha Ettus. Perhaps I could find more if I did some digging, but I just don't quite care enough. I am not sure if Samantha is a mother of a daughter(s), or even if she is a mother at all. But I am... times four. And to Samantha, I say this: all the energy and brain power you wasted on dissecting this entire phenomenon of strictly male Minions, you could have spent the same amount of time playing, talking, creating, with your daughters. Why are you letting a movie like "The Minions" shape how your daughter(s) feel about themselves? As a mom, that's what *I* signed up to do. The way I talk about myself in their presence. The way I encourage them to try new things. The way I tell them how proud I am of them. The way I talk about OTHER women in their presence. The way I tirelessly support their choices and let them learn from their mistakes. And you know what? By doing just that, my daughters "don't care" that all the Minions are boys. It's just a simple fact in their world... a world filled with drawing pictures and kicking soccer balls and measuring sugar and riding bikes and giggling and fighting with their sisters and playing (gasp!) Barbies and learning archery and making their beds and doing puzzles and reading books and swimming and climbing and cartwheeling and building with Legos. 

Last Day of School!!

Today the big girls celebrated their last day of school for 2014-2015 school year. I'm not sure "celebrated" is quite the right word, as both of them were really quite sad to be done with school and their beloved teachers for the summer. 

Lucy wrapped up her kindergarten year, while Maggie finished second grade. Lucy's teacher was amazing... the true epitome of  a "kindergarten teacher" - always smiling, so patient, and always ready with a hug. Lucy LOVED school this year- and I know that mostly had to do with her... and there is not a doubt in my mind that she loves her students as much as they love her!

Maggie also had a great year. She earned several awards at the end of the year ceremony, and ended the year with a fantastic long-term sub that took over when her teacher retired in the winter. She was a new, young teacher that brought a lot of energy back to her class and really challenged her students. 

Now... it's summer. With the addition of Ruby to our household, we may not be able to get out and do as much "fun" stuff as we'd like, but I have committed to the big girls that there will be at least one "Adventure Day" each week- when we can go out and do something fun. The girls have already come up with lots of ideas: the museum, movie theater, riding the trolley downtown, going to the beach, bowling, painting pottery, Peanut Butter and Jam concerts... we'll have to find time over the weekend to make a real list! 

Here's the official "Last Day of School" pictures for the year 

(it was a "casual day" today- no uniforms!) 

First and third grade... here we come!

Newborn No More

Today is the day I've been dreading. I am no longer the mom, or ever will be again, of a newborn. Today Ruby is a month old and "officially" an infant. I have avoided blogging this past month... even though I have so, so many words and thoughts and feelings rolling around in my head. I have been skating around the edge of this cliff, afraid if I got too close, I would fall off and never get my bearings again. I knew if I started to write about what I was thinking and feeling and experiencing, my hormones would take over, the floodgates would open, and I would sink into a hormone-induced depression. Don't get me wrong... I am so very, very happy. Ruby is the perfect compliment to our family and the amazing little piece that makes our family complete. But with each of my other girls, I knew there was a good possibility that I would be doing this "one more time." I know now that Ruby is my last baby, and that breaks my heart a little (ok, a lot) Ever since I was a little girl, I knew all I ever wanted in life was to be "a mom" and now I am quietly mourning the fact that I will never again feel a baby kick inside my belly. I will never again get to argue with my husband about baby names. I will never again get to wear those fancy mesh underpants they give you after delivery.... just kidding! 

This morning I packed away the first two sleepers that Ruby has outgrown. Packing away... as in, putting them in the rummage sale box. Sigh. Don't even get me started on the thought of having to disassemble the crib one day...

With that said, I know how very, very blessed I am to have FOUR healthy pregnancies and babies, but knowing this chapter of my life is ending is absolutely heartbreaking. I know God made this pregnancy and labor a bit more challenging than the last to help me solidify our decision. And yes, while it makes our decision easier, it doesn't make it any less sad. 

In a funny twist, Ruby gave me her first honest-to-goodness smile last night (not the gassy, I-have-a-full-belly smiles in her sleep) So, while I'm sad that my newborn bundle is growing far too quickly into an "infant," I am reminded of all the amazing, incredible things I have to look forward to... her first giggle, sleeping through the night (yes, please!), but mostly, watching her run and play with her big sisters. 

Cheeks

Yesterday I went for my first non-stress, fetal-monitoring, ultrasound, blah, blah, blah appointment. After writing and posting about it last week, and reading friends comment that these same appointments had taken up to an hour.... I was a wee bit stressed. As my due dates nears, my professional workload is increasing as I try to tie up a million loose ends before I go on maternity leave through the end of the school year. I squeezed this first appointment in between a handful of home visits, Hattie's nap time, and (fingers crossed) some grocery shopping. My appointment was scheduled for 2 pm. I got there a few minutes early, was weighed in, BP checked (totally within normal range, by the way) and on the ultrasound table a few minutes before 2:00. By 2:06, they had gotten the pictures and measurements they needed, and I was able to WATCH MY BABY SUCK ITS THUMB on a 3D ultrasound for a few minutes. Um, there are no words. In three prior pregnancies, I've only had the fuzzy black and white ultrasounds. This was my first time with the 3D kind, and all I did was cry. I got to see my baby in real time, moving it's little fists around in front of its face. Scrunch up it's little mouth and nose. Move its head from side to side. It was so incredibly awesome. 

And, while I risk sounding like a cold, uncaring mom with this next admission, I'm saying it anyway. I enjoy being pregnant (mostly) Feeling a teeny human move around inside of your belly is an indescribable feeling. Watching a baby's heartbeat that I MADE beat inside of me on an ultrasound screen is super cool. BUT.... there's always this tiny feeling of disconnect. Yes, I have a baby in my belly. Yes, I love it because it's mine. But.... it's a baby I haven't MET yet. A baby I haven't SEEN yet. I think I was in love with the IDEA of the baby growing inside of me... more so than the actual baby.... because, well....  it never really seemed real until I could hold them and smell them and feel them lay on my chest. Until yesterday. When I CLEARLY saw my baby's face. And hands. And chubby cheeks. And broad, Lucy-like nose. 

And holy cow, I am so freakin' in love.

AMA

AMA.... stands for "Advanced Maternal Age." So fun. So "politically correct." In the obstetrics world, I'm old. I get to see a perinatologist in addition to my OB/GYN. It doesn't help that I had ONE visit in my records (from the fall of 2013 when I had a major life change and quit my job to become a stay-at-home mom and had a minor breakdown as I adjusted to my new normal) where my blood pressure was a bit elevated during a routine doctor's visit. Now, in addition to my AMA status, I'm also flagged as hypertensive.... lovely. With that said, I haven't had a doctor's appointment SINCE that single visit in 2013 with an elevated BP reading, but they are still closely monitoring me. 

So.... what does that mean for me? Up to this point, not much. I had a few extra ultrasounds along the way- which has been kind of fun. With Maggie, I only had a single ultrasound at 20 weeks, so I am enjoying all the extra "glimpses" at baby this time around. Plus, my perinatologist is great- he is so laid-back and easy to talk to, which helps a ton. This past Monday, I had to go for a routine "maternal-fetal medicine" ultrasound appointment, where they simply check baby's heartbeat and take some simple measurements (FYI: Baby is weighing in at a whopping 4lbs 3oz) It also happened to be my mom's 65th birthday, so I brought her along! Baby was super cooperative (happy birthday, Gramma!) and we got the BEST ultrasound picture ever! It was so clear... and for the first time in four babies, I have an ultrasound picture that looks like a BABY- not a Skeletor-like version of one. Chubby cheeks, plump nose, and (gramma swears!) a head of wispy hair. 

I think baby might have been super cooperative, too- because he/she knew that the best was yet to come. Starting next Monday, I get to go for TWICE weekly non-stress monitoring. Can you say, "Yay?" (NOT!) Weekly, I will get a quick ultrasound to check baby, then get strapped to monitors to watch baby's movement and heart rate for 20-30 minutes. And... as a working mother of three OTHER children, finding time for all of these appointments isn't supposed to raise my blood pressure. HA! But... it is what it is... and with only seven weeks left (give or take) I'm just going to go with the flow and enjoy laying in a dark, quiet room for 20 minutes twice a week. Maybe I can take a little nap???  

Ultrasound Time!

I'm not a huge fan of New Year's resolutions, but this year I did try to set some personal and professional goals for myself. One of them was to try and write a blog post a week. Here we are, on the afternoon of January 11th, and I am getting around to my first one of the year. You can see why I am not a fan of New Year's resolutions...

Anyway, right before the holidays, I had my 20 week ultrasound appointment. This is the hour-long one where they take all the measurements, etc. and firm up a due date. When we went to this appointment with Hattie, they ended up pushing my due date back 2 weeks based on how small she was measuring, so we were excited to see what would happen at this one! 

In the end, all is well! Baby is growing right on track, and my due date is 5/11/15 (Note: Mother's Day this year is 5/10/15- and wouldn't a baby make a cool Mother's Day gift????) Normally, the 20 week ultrasound is the one and only peek we'd get at baby, but because I'm "OLD," I get a follow-up ultrasound in 8 weeks... and I'm a little excited! 

Here are a few pictures: 

 Profile of baby's face (check out those cheeks already!) 

 Another profile picture

The famous "Skeletor" face picture!