25 weeks down, 15 to go Random Thoughts

Or so. As I said, I plan to be pregnant forever + a week so, you know. That's all a guess.

I am officially 6 months, 1 week pregnant. I miss eating. Micah starves me.

Actually, I just don't WANT to eat. I find that I am hardly every hungry except in the morning when the dogs and small children fear me (still) and my mad look of hunger. Aside from that, I generally can get by on a small meal for lunch and then eat something for dinner without too much problem.

Nothing though really appeals to me and those in my house have learned that if I say I'm having a craving for something it's a miracle and we need to eat it RIGHT THEN. Otherwise everything else just sort of turns to ash in my mouth and I choke down a slice of pizza before declaring I'm full.

No swelling really although I complain about the big belly I seem to be developing. I complain in fun because hello, THAT is a big belly.

People at work have started to NOTICE the belly more. I had a race yesterday down the aisles with a woman with a broken leg. She beat me. I blame the waddle. She was doing her victory lap when I mentioned my belly and her face deflated. She told me she hoped I had just put on weight because beating the pregnant lady at work doesn't have the same ring to it that beating the fat chick at work does. Apparently.

To my defense I was wearing sandals too. That doesn't help.

Lulu and Micah have both felt the baby move. Kylie has not. I think he snubs her.

These last 2 weeks or so the movements have come more often and are more defined. If you want to feel him move feed me and then wait about 10 minutes. That's prime moving time apparently.

3.5 weeks ago I had gained 4 lbs. I have a Dr appt today. Let's see what I've added since then. My diet has largely consisted of pistachios and Dr Pepper with watermelon and Chocolate milk chasers this last month. I'm sure that's considered healthy right? I mean, I've got protein, dairy and fruit at least.

Micah's sweet grandmother forgets how pregnant I am but keeps asking in a super nice way. Things I often hear are "3 more months?" "2 more months to go?"
Sadly I often slump my shoulders and say "4 months."

Lulu is totally preparing for the new baby brudder. She insists she will hold him, bath him and change his diaper just as soon as I throw him up. She believes he is supposed to come out of my mouth. I haven't broken the news to her yet. In other news she still has a fish in her belly that steals all her food too. Especially Popsicles. Which is why she always wants 2 apparently.

My boss casually asked me yesterday why I space my children so far apart. (9 years between the first 2, 5 years between the second and third) My response?
"A 5 year old can change a diaper and a 14 year old can babysit."

We have a name and we aren't afraid to use it!
Name selected: William Raul

William because we both like it despite it's placement on the top 10 boys name list since forever and Raul after Micah's Grandfather who passed away almost 3 years ago. Apparently he was a big fan of grandkids and would have liked to have had some great grandkids before he went. Hopefully he and my mom are getting their play time in now with little Will.

And there are your random 25 week pregnancy postings.

Nana

I was raised in what at the time was considered a very unconventional household. It might still be, depends on your area of the country.

My parents divorced when I was around 5. Maybe 6 when it was actually finalized. Before I went and got myself all divorced my mother was the only one in her family to have actually gone through a divorce. I came in second. Not a great track record on this side of the family tree.

When I was about 9 my mother met Nana*. They worked for the same place and had a lot in common. They became roommates and eventually life long friends. There was a brief period of time where Nana moved out when I was 14 because I sucked but the day I moved out at 18, she was RIGHT back in. They never lived apart after that.

I want to stop here because I know my mothers family reads this but also I have friends that occasionally stop by this blog and so might be thinking weird things.

My mother and Nana were soul mates. It's as simple as that. They were kindred spirits, best friends and true partners. They were not lesbians. But even if they were I wouldn't have cared. (For the record they did argue during Trivial Pursuits like an old married couple but I think that happens when you live with someone that long.)

Nana took care of my mother when she had cancer. When Nana had cancer my mother took care of her. Albeit not to the same extent since Nana survived her Breast Cancer and my mother did not survive Lung Cancer. I don't think my mother could have had better care during her last few months than she did with Nana by her side. She took time from work, helped my mom shower and was known to help her wipe her butt from time to time. To call her my moms roommate would honestly be a slap in the face. At least to me.

Curious thing though, Nana and I don't get along very well. We have very different opinions about child rearing and she sees the world through a Grandmother's eyes while I see them through a Mother's. Honestly, being a Grandmother without ever having been a Mother might make her see it very differently or she might always have had those opinions. I don't know. I don't care.

A few years ago, shortly after my mothers death Nana started communicating almost solely with my now ex-husband. Except he wasn't the ex at the time. It was better that way honestly since she didn't listen to me, seeing me still as a crappy teenager I suspect and less like an actual mother. But she gave him the respect of a father because he had that ability with her.

So since this divorce she and I haven't really spoken either although she is very, very close to my children. She is their Grandmother. She's a beneficiary on my life insurance on their behalf. We may not always like each other but at least in my corner I still love her. Begrudgingly sometimes, but I do.

Recently there was an issue in my house involving a cell phone and my ex-husbands displeasure in the teenager having one. I called Nana to a)vent and b) explain that our best laid plans about Kylie having it while at her dads house might be crap and c) ask if she still wanted to come to visit in September.

It was honestly a little refreshing to get to vent for a second. She knows Brian. She's known him since before we were married. She's known him since he was a 13 year old punk eating tacos at my house one Saturday afternoon. She is only person I know who knows him. And I know she likes him. Better than she likes me. So it was refreshing but I was prepared for her to roll her eyes and me and tell me he was right or some such thing.

Instead without missing a beat she kinda laid into him. Not in a mean, loud way. In a way that says "I know this guy. And that's crap. And even though I don't really like you, I understand you."

What she said was something to the affect of "He's always been a cheap bastard Lacy. At least you know you're doing the right thing."

I wanted to cry with relief.

Family. You may not always like each other. But for better or for worse you're always there for each other.

*Nana is what my kids call her. This is not her real name.
** Nana is also a bastardization of Ana which is an Aleut word for Grandma. Wrap your heads around the idea that my kid was screwing up the Aleut language before she was 2.
***And no, Nana is not Aleut. She's Hispanic. And I'm with a Hispanic. Weird, right?

Funny story about Kylie and Nana. If you know my family you know Kylie is blond. When she was little she was much blonder. One time I asked her who she thought she looked most like, me or Grandma. She responded Nana. She was about 2. Who, have I mentioned is Hispanic? And not blond.

What a difference a Dad makes

I'm not sure why but I seem to have, in my previous life, attracted a lot of men who were pretty oogied out by the pregnancy process. Yes, that's the scientific description, oogied. As in to oogy. Of course.

Tom probably felt Kylie move around once or twice. He was more fascinated with WATCHING her move inside me. She was a very strong kicker and he would get hours of entertainment watching her kick things off my belly while I was laying down. Things like remote controls, glasses of water, plates, furry animals and a VW Bug. She was, as I said, very strong.

Brian, on the other hand, was completely grossed out by all things pregnancy. He would not hesitate to "moo" at me while I was pregnant, despite gaining only 25lbs that pregnancy. I don't believe he ever felt the baby move on purpose. He might have accidentally brushed up against my belly once and the baby moved but I can't be sure. He told me he pretty much thought that was gross. Luckily, Lulu was not such an involved kicker. She was much more mellow and generally lazy when it came to kicking. She would just rather not. We had to go to the hospital once because she apparently fell asleep for 2 days while in utereo and moved not once. No orange juice, no sugar, no nothing would wake that child up.

Last night I was laying on the bed feeling my belly. As with my last pregnancy, this child seems concentrated on my left side which is where I feel more movement but also there is a discernible bump. Micah came in and I told him to feel my belly. He very gently started touching it, pushing a little bit at my urging to feel the difference between baby and no baby.

All of the sudden his eyes got big. Big like a child in a candy story. Which is not to say that my belly is a candy store. While the two may occasionally be in the same place at the same thing there is certainly a big difference. Lack of licorice is one of them.

He looks at me and says, "I felt that!"

Indeed, the baby had just expressed some displeasure at being pushed on and had kicked right where Micah's hand was. While I had felt it I had assumed he would not because, well, just because. Micah felt around a little more and then felt another couple of kicks and was hooked. Like a 3 yr old on chocolate, he could not get enough.

I asked him if he was grossed out. He looked at me like I was crazy. He said, "That's my baby in there. That's my son." But with the tone of "Duh" behind it.

I'm not saying I cried. Because I didn't. But I can't help but think, what a difference a man makes. Not only for me, but for the baby too.

Now maybe I should work on getting some licorice in there.

Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes

So today big changes happening for the Pregnancy.

I'm switching care providers.

Over the weekend Micah and I watched "The Business of Being Born". There was a lot of information in it (and a lot of babies coming out of vagina's. I had to point that out EVERYTIME it happened. As if Micah wouldn't know.) some of which I didn't know and some of which I did. Believe it or not, back in the day I used to have "issues" with infertility. Birth research was just an extension of infertility research for me and I love nothing more than to research the hell out of something.

But the funny part of me never really put two and two together. So I had my first child with a midwife. Who was lovely. Her name was Bonnie. I cant say more nice things about her without getting all emotional. I had an epidural. I also labored forever. She slept on the couch in the hospital while I was getting closer so I wouldn't have to have the next on-call person deliver me. She rocked. I had an 8lb 12 oz baby and walked to my shower 15 minutes later.

My second child was delivered by a Dr. Looking back, it wasn't a fantastic experience. I delivered almost flat on my back. With an oxygen mask on my face. And I pushed for about an hour. My first time I had 3 pushes. I had a 7lb 6 oz baby and didn't do so hot afterwards. I had stitches for the first time and was sore. My Dr was good but I think some of the stuff I did was maybe unnecessary. I would have liked to have gotten out of bed at some point but was unable to.

So after watching the show, comparing my own information and talking it over with Micah, we decided to switch. I dumped my Dr and am headed back to a mid-wife. Now, don't get too excited, I'm STILL delivering at a hospital. Just one that allows for a water birth. And apparently provides a Doula. Plus an epidural if I lose my cool.

There were things at my Dr's office that just plain bugged me. They were very much into procedures. They (my dr specifically) didn't take time to talk to me about pro's and con's of tests or go over my unusual ultrasound results. The lecture I had about weight gain has proved to be, well, unfounded and unneeded and have I mentioned the hour wait with no reason plus rescheduling 2 appointments. At the last minute. And not because of delivering babies. Because she's taking vacation days. Or something.

It's the blood work that got to me honestly. There is an elective blood test called the Quad Screen. I've done my research. I know the false positive rate on this rest is ridiculous. (80-90% depending on your research.) and you're almost guaranteed a positive if your, well, chunky. Which I am. I elected not to do the test but to have a level II ultrasound instead. My Dr's office was not receptive to the idea and in an effort to reassure me, advised that if I had received a positive on the test I declined, I would have been given an amnio. Did you know that aminos can have a .5-2% chance of leading to miscarriage and terminating a pregnancy? Not for an almost guaranteed failure rate, no thank you. Not for me.

I dont want a lot of procedures. I don't want a lot of intervention. I want to move around. And walk. And squat to deliver. If I want to. I want options. And I wasn't getting that at my Dr's office.

Oh and the Dr. didn't think Micah was funny. Which I find to be criminal. Dude makes me laugh so hard I am constantly afraid of wetting myself. So if she can't find him funny (or you know, talk to him when he's in the room with me) then I don't wanna be anywhere near her.

So how do you feel?

I'm beginning to get this question a lot from friends and co-workers. It's kind of a default question like "How are you doing?" or "Have a good weekend?". People really just want to hear "fine".

Luckily for them in the last 6 weeks or so I have gone from the puking, nauseous, cranky, overly exhausted pregnant momma to mildly tired, occasionally weepy, pregnant momma. That is such a good thing.

I think the idea that I feel better though can best be summarized by what happened last night.

Micah and I were enjoying some precious alone adult time watching some of our DVR'd shows from the week. Specifically we were watching 18 kids and Counting. I hope he doesn't kill me for telling the Internet he sits and watches this show with me. And has a favorite Duggar. (I wont tell which one though. We wives have our secrets to keep.)

Anyways about mid-way through the show I asked "Can we have 15 more kids?"

I'm obviously not feeling crappy anymore.

*Micah's answer was no. But he might have just ignored me too. Either way the answer was no.

I wouldn't wanna trade

Two posts in a day. I know, I know. It's a miracle.

If you know me, you know I have a teenage daughter. If you have either A) had a teenager or B)been a teenager, specifically a girl, then you probably know how bad teenagers suck. Especially girls. Not that I don't love them but the dynamic between a teenage girl and her mother can be rough. Mean. Reminiscent of D day from Hitler's POV. If you're LUCKY.

I have a teenage girl with "issues". I don't share a lot of those issues on this blog because that's not what this blog is about. This blog is about fun stuff like my mother dying and my 4 year old's selflessness. You know, giggle material.

But just know, my teenager is a teenager to the teenaged power. Every mean thing I ever did to my mother? Times Teenager. Every mean thing SHE ever did to her mother. Yeah, I get that too. Karma for your children's children SUCKS mom.

My weeks revolve around therapy. My family's week revolves around therapy. And pill schedules. And co-pays. And occasionally waiting for the other shoe to drop. Frankly, my teenager can be exhausting. I don't generally participate in one upping other moms with their stories of their children but I have occasionally. The look on the others MOMS group mom's faces generally is a mixture of horror and abject disbelief.

I once had a Grandmother of a friend call me SPECIFICALLY to tell me I should consider making her a ward of the state. YES folks, I really do have a child with "issues".

I also have a child who will still hold my hand, even in public (sometimes). Who walked me down the aisle at my wedding. Who gives awesome footrubs. Who appreciates my love of chocolate milk. And my iphone. Even when she isn't allowed to.

I am reminded of this today because I was sitting here at work and another family popped into my head.

I went to Pregnant Girl School with the mom and our daughters were born less than 2 weeks apart. Oh and both of our daughters were named Kylie. (To be fair, my Kylie was born first. And her Kylie was actually a middle name, not a first name.)

Her Kylie had some pretty severe health issues starting when she was about a week old. She eventually dropped out of school when the baby was almost a month old just because of all the health stuff going on. I believe she got her GED later. I saw her after I graduated at the Safeway once and her baby was so tiny. And sickly looking. She was very obviously "delayed". My 9 month old was crawling and thinking hard about walking and probably reading classics while she was in bed at night and her baby laid in the baby carrier looking like a VERY sick 3 month old. Eyes wouldn't focus, head didn't even respond to sound. She was deaf. And blind. Eating from a feeding tube.

In her case her daughter had actually developed and been born healthy but due to an undiagnosed STD (Chlamydia?) that the mother got while she was pregnant from the baby's daddy the baby passed through it and contracted and it became incredibly sick from it. She wasn't supposed to live past 6 is what my friend told me at the time. I felt heartsick for her.

I don't know why they popped in my head today. That's just sort of how my brain works. So I did a Google search for her daughter since her first name was VERY unusual and found out that she passed away in 2006. She was 10. She never walked. Or ran. Or swam. She never saw her mother or heard her sweet voice or music or rain. She never tasted chocolate or pumpkin or any of that. She never slammed the door in her mothers face or screamed hurtful things at the people who loved her the most.

I bet my friend would give anything in the world to deal with my issues. Any.freaking.thing.

What a reminder to be grateful for what you have. Even when it's hard.

Week 2 as Mrs. Micah

This week posting has been light. Sorry. We had a system go down at work which generally doesn't affect me because I'm HR, not IT. Except it was our timesheet system. And I specialize in Timesheets. Remember?

So Monday I have no memory from 8am until 5pm except for the occasional "Yep, you'll still get paid on Friday". Okay, that was more than occasional. That, coupled with a REALLY ugly email/phone call fight with my ex-husband WHILE I was at work makes Monday a day to forget.Except for the grilled steaks. Thanks Micah.

Tuesday was more of the same plus Family Therapy with Kylie. Which went well. Mostly. Tuesday night was a wild and crazy PTO board meeting, of which I was the designated driver. You heard that right. Read it again. That's how our PTO rolls down here in Colorado.
Not really but it was still a good time even if I did have to talk about flyer's and box tops etc.

Wednesday was a little quieter for the most part until my boss and I had a "misunderstanding". Due to raging hormones I was instantly reduced to tears (loud sobbing snot producing ones) and even when he came back and admitted he was in the wrong the day was pretty much ruined for me at that point.

*side note to managers. Sometimes it's not enough to know you were wrong. Check your facts before making accusations or attempting to discipline an employee because when you kick someones moral, it may not recover.*

But yesterday was also my 2 week anniversary. It allowed me time to reflect on what week 2 as Mrs. Micah has been as opposed to 2 weeks (my first 2) as Mrs. Brian.

Week 2 opened with Brian and I having a screaming match in front of our house with him accusing me of tricking him into marrying me. Yes really. Like he didn't propose and wasn't there at the church. We had just returned from our honeymoon in Disneyland. He told, for the first time, he wanted out. We didn't speak for almost 2 days.

Week 2 opened with Micah "surprising me" with an anniversary kiss. And a Hot Bath. And grilled burgers that I didn't have to grill. And cuddling. Lots of cuddling due to earlier Wednesday. And sweet whispers that I can't repeat, not because they are dirty (they aren't) but because they are so special you wouldn't believe me if I posted them anyways. And belly rubs.

Week 2 started as a much crappier week but ended with a firm belief that I am exactly where I am supposed to be for the first time in a long time.

Lessons from my 4 year old

Two things before I start my story.

1. I believe in God. As a general rule I kind of see him like my President, only more omnipotent and super natural. I believe in miracles. But I kinda like my God working on big picture stuff if I get a choice. If he or our current President could solve World Hunger, Unemployment or Global Peace I'd be a happy camper. I figure I'll handle my stuff, I'll teach my children worship and peace and kindness and value of every human being and I hope he'll handle the big stuff.

2. This story takes place in a local grocery store on a very busy Sunday late afternoon/early evening. I don't know why my entire town chooses to grocery shop at that time, they just do. So it's ALWAYS busy and packed and apparently I've not learned my lesson either because I'm there too.

Right now Micah and I are busy counting our pennies. We're both very lucky to still have jobs right now but we're working really hard on debt reduction/saving for maternity leave so that leaves money a little tight sometimes. That's okay. But I certainly take my time and count my pennies when I can in terms of our grocery budget.

Earlier in the day I had cleaned all the change out of my purse. When I say cleaned out I mean that I emptied everything from my purse and then dumped it upside down on my counter. I took all the change and put it in the Family Change Jar earlier in the day and had completely forgotten we were going to go grocery shopping later. The grocery store we got to has a Penny Pony which gives mechanical pony rides for a penny. Normally I try to keep a penny or two in my purse for Lulu for this but this time, well, I forgot.

I'm waiting in line at the store and Lulu sees the pony. I see two little girls on the pony already but it's not moving. They yell to their Grandma who happens to be in the line next to mine. She's already getting her groceries scanned while I am still waiting. Grandma says something to the effect that she does not have any money right now for the pony ride. Lulu walks up and starts chatting with the little girls who appear to be about 5 and 3. She comes over and asks for a penny. I know that I emptied my purse earlier but I decide to give it a shot and look. There at the bottom of my purse, after I empty it on the counter at the store, is a penny tucked into the crease at the bottom. That's miracle #1.

I give it to her and now have a confession blog readers. I'm not always generous. I try to be, I try to teach my children to give but sometimes I fail. Sometimes I forget how I am supposed to behave and that everything I do is an example to my children. I tell her not to put it in the pony but to wait her turn even though I know those little girls aren't about to get a ride.

Their Grandmother is flustered behind me and I start to pay a little better attention to her as the cashier starts scanning my purchases. She doesn't have enough money for her food. She's short but I don't know exactly how much until I notice things she starts to put back. There is a line 3 people deep behind her and I can sense her embarrassment. She puts back the tomatoes, the Popsicles (the only childish "treat" I can see in her cart), some chicken etc. She is trying to be proud but my guess is that she put back at least $50 worth of food. That's when I pay more attention to the little girls. Their hair is done nicely and they are clean but their clothes give them away. They are more worn than I would expect, certainly hand me downs that have seen more than a couple of children before them, possibly thrift store sales. Nothing wrong with either but the clothes make me think that this is a family certainly experiencing a harder time than my own.

Lulu and the girls are trying desperately meanwhile to fit all three of their bodies on the pony. She wants a ride, they wont get off and she's willing to share. She catches me looking at them and tells me, loudly, "I WANT TO SHARE MY PENNY MOMMY!" I smile, the cashier and bag girl smile at me and I know they are thinking my child has apparently learned from someone better than me. But the fact of the matter is, no matter how they try it, those little girls are NOT going to fit all on that pony. And that fact hits Lulu too. She climbs down and tells the other bigger little girl to take the spot at the front.

She then walks over to me, penny still clutched tightly in her hand, and tells me she wants to give the girls her penny. She knows I told her to save it but, and this by the way kills me, "They need the ride more than I do." I tell her to go ahead. All of this conversation was whispered between her and I. She walks back and I can see she's still hesitant. She's not perfect either but she's 4. She really wanted a ride and she's about to give up her chance. She knows it.

Just then my cashier finishes ringing up my order. Grandma is still listing a few items to put back and counting her cash over and over again. I hand the cashier my $40 cash and prepare to put the rest on my debit card when I see it. There, sitting directly on my wallet is a shiny dime. Where the dime came from is still a mystery to me because I had JUST taken my wallet out and searched my purse for that last penny. And now here is a shiny dime. I grab it and ask the cashier to make me change and he does while he also takes my debit card payment. All of this happens just as I hear the two little girls yell "WHEEEEE" behind me as the mechanical horse starts it's ride.

Lulu walks back over to me and gives me a hug and I can see she's a little disappointed but still happy to have done her good deed for the day. Just then I hand her a new penny, fresh from the cashier's till. She skips back over to the pony and is so excited to get her turn next.

I get to the pony just as the little girls are finishing their ride and their Grandmother is collecting them. She thanks me about 10 times for giving the girls their ride. I smile and tell her it was nothing. She tells me the girls haven't been able to ride the pony in months, she's been hanging on to every penny.

Sometimes doing a good deed gets rewarded and showing the kindness in yourself shows the best of humanity to others when they need it the most. I was reminded of that today from one of the best sources ever. From a 4 year old doing the work that was set in heart by someone greater and more omnipotent than myself.

Were it not for the total absence of skills I would be a Ninja

*When I first when on Eharmony I listed my profession as boring HR Administrator. Which is my title. About a month in I realized that no one apparently reads that crap anyways because the men who would contact me would ask me what I did for a living. So I changed my profession to HR Ninja.

Only one man ever asked me about it and he was so funny about it I was glad I did that. He asked me what exactly an Hr Ninja did and that it made him think of nun chucks and files. I told him that was about accurate except he forgot throwing stars. I should have known I would marry that guy.

I rarely talk about my job on this blog. I assume that the people reading it already know what I do for a living but then it dawned on me, I don't even know half the time what I do for a living. So I thought I would share.

My official title is HR Administrator. I perform all the job functions of an HR Generalist but without the pay. I get paid like I work at a call center. Which I do. So glad I got that degree. I, along with 9-11 other people, sit in a cube and answer employee questions all day long. I don't fire people but I do handle severance questions and information and help employees do their new hire paperwork and their exit paperwork. I specialize in Money. (Are you surprised?) That means I'm particularly trained to assist with payroll questions, tax questions, base pay, commissions, short term incentives (bonus'), and timesheet issues. I should have been an accountant.

Most of the time I like my job. I love aspects of it. Sometimes I really hate my job. I answer the phone and take emails and run special projects and wonder why people make it so hard on themselves. My company's culture has made it so that employees don't make a MOVE unless they call and ask us. I get calls for help with their phone systems to Swine Flu and everything in between. I can't help with that, FYI.

My days look something like this:
Employee: I need to change my direct deposit.
Me: Great!
Employee: So do I give you in the information or what?
Me: Actually we have an entire company website set up to handle your direct deposit information. Have you gone out there?
Employee: Can you just do it for me?
Me: No.

x30 calls and emails a day

Pretty much the same thing my kids ask of me when I'm home.

Kid: Mom, I'm hungry.
Me: Great!
Kid: What are you making?
Me: I'm not hungry right now and it's not meal time. You're 13, look around.
Kid: Can you just make it for me?
Me: No.

Jason the cat

Recently we allowed Kylie to get a cat. When we had agreed to this we (Micah and I) were feeling frankly a bit guilty for getting another dog and not checking with the kids first and also were envisioning a rescue from The Dumb Friends League.

As time went on though Kylie would not.let.up. about the damn cat. She was CONSTANTLY begging for it, even though we told her to wait until after summer since the plan was for her to travel and go to camp. Except then she didn't do either of those things. Then her BFF's slut cat (not my words, theirs) had 3 kittens. Kylie of course fell in love with one of them and they told her she could have him for free. Gee. Thanks Iron Maiden flag waving, meth-daddy looking, trailer park dwellers. That's swell.

So we now have a approximately 10 week old kitten in our house. Micah and he are the only signs of testosterone in the house and frankly, there are days where both of them need to escape from all the women in house. Micah luckily has a computer and while he may be furry, he just isn't as small and portable as the cat. So that means the cat has to be carried around and held and I'm surprised it even knows how to walk because between Kylie and Lulu he gets carried everywhere. Whether he wants to be there or not. (And generally, he does NOT)

This weekend he found me in my room cleaning, folding laundry gestating while watching something on the Science Channel or National and Geographic Channel and promptly responded to my ignoring him (I'm sure there was something riveting on) by settling on my lap and curling up to sleep. It's probably because I had fed him earlier, something I suspect his "master" wasn't doing.

Lulu then found her way into my room, her "kittysense" tingling. I asked her not to bother the cat because he was sleeping because he still has claws and was on my lap. So instead she laid down next to me to snuggle with him. She originally started with her face directly on my lap and next to the cats back. But within a few minutes...well, see the evidence for yourself

Yes. That really is my belly. I have a baby in there. Or maybe watermelon.

In any case, I can't help it.

Lulu feel asleep within moments. I lingered there, watching my riveting program on possibly the Science of Science or the Speed of Light for about 30 minutes and then moved the cat to my right side where he continued to snooze, safe from sticky fingers trying to carry him around by the neck, and moved Lulu to her own bed. She stayed there all night without a peep.

It is my favorite memory of the weekend. Peace and quiet.

Not a real wedding

Micah's sweet sister said this to me, obviously disappointed for me last Wednesday. I *think* she might have been asking if we were going to have a reception later to which I believe I responded no. Or I could be making that up. In any case Melissa did express some disappointment on my behalf that I wouldn't have a real wedding. I tried to assuage her fears by telling her I had experienced a REAL wedding once. Look how that turned out.

I didn't have time or words to really express what I was thinking at that moment. But I want to take a second now because I've had some other beautiful, well meaning people, express disappointment for me that I didn't have the beautiful white wedding. Or that I don't feel that this wedding was "special", probably because I went to work the next day.

First, I will say, I am blessed to have so many people who love me and care about me enough to worry about this for me. Much like my mother worried I would feel bad about missing Prom or my step-mother worried I would miss the true college "experience". People truly love and care about me. I appreciate all of that.

Honestly, part of me is sad that I missed those other rites of passage. And while I'm glad to be done with the wedding part of my life I am a little disappointed that I didn't get the big white wedding. But the reality is I wouldn't have gotten the big white wedding if we hadn't eloped anyways. I'm pregnant. Getting larger every day. And when it comes to money I would rather spend my dollars saving for my maternity leave than paying for wedding invitations. I don't have the time or resources to have my "Dream" wedding that involves violins, lush public gardens and $3000 for a wedding photographer. I frankly don't have the groom for it either.

At my first wedding I walked down the aisle to the Bridal Procession and I had the white large fairytale dress. I had flowers and was married in a church by a Christian minister. I had a reception and a cake and gifts. But as I was standing up at the alter I remember thinking to myself, "Why doesn't this feel special? Why does today feel like any other day?" I generally chalked that up to the fact that I felt that no one at my wedding was happy to be getting married, especially my groom. A funny story that my now ex-husband told at my mothers funeral was when he first saw me walking down the aisle. I was smiling and laughing as I walked down and I looked so happy.

The truth was, and he found out later, that as we began walking down the aisle my mother leaned over and whisper "You don't have to go through with this. We can still cancel."

My wedding to Micah included no music. 5 sunflowers. No white dress, no mom walking me down the aisle. My minister was non-denominational and I was married outside barefoot with mosquito's and shade. And I don't remember a single person being in my world when we said our vows. I do remember almost crying. I remember he did too. I don't remember my audience and all I kept thinking was how much I loved that man. That's huge. That means everything to me. That tells me that maybe I got it right this time.

When I said my vows I was only making legal what I already felt. I wasn't getting married because I had to, because I wanted someone to make me feel something else or to show anyone anything. I got married because I can't imagine my life being anywhere else than right where it is. I want to make plans and walk our road together for the rest of my life. I already said vows in my soul to him long before I said those vows in the garden.

For me, and I realize this isn't for everyone and this certainly doesn't say anything about how I feel about other weddings, because anytime you feed me for almost free, I wanna be there, but I was ready for the wedding to be over and for the marriage to begin. I was ready to be legal to change my name and make financial plans with him. The wedding was simply the ceremony with which I chose to do that. And so mine was short and simple and pretty much us. (Short and simple people)

I wont lie though. Planning somewhere along the line of 500 weddings, quinceanera and Christmas parties didn't hurt fulfilling that fairytale wedding fantasy though.

Wedding Pictures - kinda

Okay so these aren't the "official" pretty wedding pictures, these are ones that Micah's stepsister Julie was kind enough to take with her camera and share with us. So they are pretty "real" and not very posed. I kinda like that.

Micah and I with his step-sister Julie who took these wonderful pictures

Micah and I with his Grandma Jenny. She is his only living grandparent

Wedding is done and I'm hugging Kylie. Micah talks with the "flower girls" Lizzie and P.

Colorado doesn't require witnesses for a marriage but the license does have a spot for 2 witness signatures. I happen to have 2 daughters. Lizzie is signing her part of the license right now.

Vows and stuff.

Opening words.

Waiting for the bride to appear. They actually started humming the "Here comes the bride" song. Just those two.

Official flower girls Lizzie and P. Micah's sister Mel happened to have them dressed in velvet dresses when she brought them over to his moms house. Talk about luck since I had only really packed shorts for Lizzie the night before.


I hope to have the posed and pretty wedding photos fairly soon. The photographer did it for free plus a generous tip from Micah's mom though so I'm trying to give him a lot of leeway when it comes to timing.

Our Vows

As an FYI - I got our minister online. Her website is http://www.lyssabeths.com. She was awesome to work with and her husband took our wedding pictures. No, I don't have them yet. Please be patient.

Before we begin the marriage ceremony, Micah and Lacy would like us to take a moment of silence to remember those family members who could be with them today only in spirit, most especially Lacy's mother, Julie and Micha's grandfather, Raul.

Opening Words:

We are assembled here in the presence of these witnesses to celebrate the joining of this man and this woman in the unity of marriage. There are no obligations on earth more sweet or tender than those you are about to assume. There are no vows more solemn than those you are about to make. There is no human institution more sacred than that of the home you are about to form. True marriage is the most joyous of all earthly relationships.

A marriage is a promise between two people which takes a lifetime to fulfill; a promise to share your lives generously and enthusiastically each and every day; a promise to listen when the other needs to talk; a promise to comfort when the other needs assurance; and a promise to renew the appreciation and love you feel for each other. A good marriage must be created and maintained. It is more than the excitement and romance of being deeply in love. By marrying, you are committing to an agreement-one that you must make new every day: "I agree to help you. I agree to look out for you. I agree to trust you and be worthy of your trust. I agree to put up with your bad moods and try to make you laugh. I agree to do the best I can, and if on occasion, my best falls short, I will continue to grow and get better." And so each day becomes a small mosaic of plans and trials and laughter and ideas and promises shared and promises fulfilled, and to this we add the words: "Because I love you, I agree to do this. And because I love you, I will make this agreement anew everyday." To make this relationship work, however, takes more than love. It takes trust, to know in your hearts that you want only the best for each other. It takes dedication, to stay open to one another, to learn and grow, even when it is difficult to do so. And it takes faith, to go forward together without knowing what the future holds for you both. While love is our natural state of being, these other qualities are not as easy to come by. They are not a destination, but a journey.



Statement of Intention

Officiant: Micah and Lacy, will you both honor each other's happiness, respect each others differences and hold each other in your hearts remembering always to be each others best friend?

Micah & Lacy (together). We will

Vows:

Maureen: Having declared your intentions to be together in marriage, I now ask that you repeat after me:

Micah: I, Micah, take you, Lacy, as my friend and love, beside me and apart from me, in laughter and in tears, in conflict and tranquility, asking that you be no other than yourself, loving what I know of you, trusting what I do not know yet, in all the ways that life may find us.

Lacy: I, Lacy, take you, Micah, as my friend and love, beside me and apart from me, in laughter and in tears, in conflict and tranquility, asking that you be no other than yourself, loving what I know of you, trusting what I do not know yet, in all the ways that life may find us.

Exchange of Rings:

Maureen: These rings mark the beginning of a long journey filled with wonder, surprises, laughter, tears, celebration, grief & joy. May these rings glow in reflection of the warmth and love which flow through both of you today.


Maureen: Micah, please take Lacy’s ring, place it on her finger and repeat after me:

Micah: With this ring I thee wed. Take it and wear it as a symbol of all we share.

Maureen: Lacy, please take Micah’s ring, place it on his finger, and repeat after me:

Lacy: With this ring I thee wed. Take it and wear it as a symbol of all we share.

Signing of the License (witnessed by Lizzie & Kylie)

Blessing:
Now you feel no rain, for each of you will be shelter to the other. Now you feel no cold, for each of you will be warmth to the other. Now there is no loneliness, for each of you will be a companion to the other. You are two bodies, but there is one life before you and one home. When evening falls, You look up and there the other will be. You will take hands and you'll turn together To look at the road you traveled to reach this - the hour of your happiness. It stretches behind you, even as the future lies ahead. A long and winding road, whose every turn means discovery. Old hopes, new laughter, shared fears. The adventure has just begun.


Pronouncement:
Officiant: Lacy and Micah in so much as the two of you have agreed to live together in matrimony, have promised your love for each other by these vows, the giving of these rings and the joining of your families, I now declare you to be husband and wife.

Officiant: Micah, you may kiss your bride!


Officiant: Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you Mr. and Mrs. Micah and Lacy Gonzales!

Please come up and congratulate the newlyweds.

Why was 6 afraid of 7?

Because 7 8 9! (Or Seven ate Nine!)

Sunday night, after a harrowing day of wedding invitiation shopping, I came home, sat down and said "enough". I was tired of planning. I was tired of running around. I was tired of trying to budget. I asked Micah if we could just elope. I think the joy in his eyes at the suggestion was enough to tell me I was on the right track.

I asked him what day he would like to get married. He said "I have Wednesday or Sunday off this week."

He also asked if I was sure. As I mulled the question over in my mind for a minute I checked my email. The top email was from a wedding invitee asking if I would mind making my wedding time later in the day (actually evening) so they could make the season opener of a football game.

I'm not saying this to be harsh or mean or woe is me. But we had such a small guest list and this person was actually from my side of the guest list which was considerably smaller than Micah's. The fact that my wedding even had to compete with a football game pretty much confirmed to me how unimportant my event was to others. At least to some others. It also confirmed that we should just elope and save ourselves the time, money and stress. If my wedding wasn't good enough to skip a football game for to 2 of the literally 6 people I had on my invite list (that's a third of my invite list folks) then I didn't want to waste anymore time on it.

I called a minister on Monday morning and paid the fee and we wrote our vows on the way to the Colorado courthouse to get the license.

The thing with Colorado that makes it a great destination wedding is that there is no waiting period. You just go down, pay your $30 and you get a license. That day. We did that Tuesday since we had already taken the day off for Dr's appointments (1 lb weight gain in the month for me!) and errands (adding my name to his bank account). We told one online friend.

Micah called and asked his Grandma to come to dinner at his mothers house on Wednesday. She didn't hesitate to say yes. Micah asked his father to come to dinner. He wouldn't. Micah told him it was really important and he wouldn't ask if it wasn't a big deal. He still wouldn't. He told him (via Grandma and a lot of phone calls) that we were eloping Wednesday. He still wouldn't. Once again, loved ones telling us that our wedding wasn't important enough to them. More confirmation that we were glad we weren't wasting more money and time on this.

I had tricked Micah's sister Melissa into coming to Leslie (Micah's moms) house by telling her it was to assist with wedding invitations. Leslie was told via Micah it was to sit down with all women in the room and do wedding planning. I showed up and Leslie helped me carry what I'm sure seemed like a ridiculous amount of food into the house and a bag of invitation makings and other assorted items (non-traditional wedding dress & marriage license).

As Micah's sister Mel pulled up with her kids and my youngest child who had spent the night at her house the night before I asked Leslie to read the wedding announcement we had created the night before. Those reading should expect those in the next week or so via mail. As I let Mel and her family in the door I was under the impression that she already knew as Micah had told me that the only way to get his brother in law to come was to tattle. Apparently he didn't actually tattle because BIL didn't come initially. But I didn't realize that.

It took Leslie quite some time to read the announcement and then you could see the confusion before she spoke. She told me later she just assumed it was a sample and we had simply gone to the courthouse to get our license. Her question to me was "did you get married?" I said no.
"But we will be in about 30 minutes." More confused look. "Here"

That's when Crazy started. Melissa said something along the lines of WHAT and Leslie looked SHOCKED and I told them we were eloping tonight at the house in the backyard. We all went to the bedroom (two of us faster than the pregnant bride) to change clothes and prep. There was a lot of madness of changing and explaining and talking.

The only part of the whole thing that I regret is that Micah's stepdad Rex couldn't be there. We honestly couldn't think of a way to ask him to drive 2 hours from where he's been working during the week and then back 2 hours without telling him it was a wedding. And we wanted the wedding to be a surprise to everyone for the exact reason of avoiding the Crazy. If we had told him he would have told his wife and then our cover would have been blown. There would have been massive amounts of Crazy everywhere. Rex is a wonderful man and of all the father figures that we have in our lives he is the one who was geniunly happy we were getting married, happy for us and loves us wholy and unconditionally. He loves my children like they are his own and is happy to share all that he has and all knowledge he posses. The fact that he wasn't there yesterday is the only part that I would change if I could.

The minister, Maureen, and her husband Jeremy, showed up at 7pm. She was dressed in her robes, we had about 10 minutes of prep and then Lulu and P acted as flower girl and ring bearer offically while Kylie walked me down the aisle. My bouqet was 5 sunflowers and I wore a red dress that I had bought for Cancun. Micah wore a white shirt, also for Cancun, and pants. I'll post our vows tomorrow as this is already wordy and long but it was beautiful and perfect and everything we both could have wanted.

We dined on BBQ (from a place called Piggin' Out) and a fruit and veggie tray and had chocolate and strawberry cake from King Soopers. We got home close to 11pm and were wiped out but happy.

I'm now, officially, Lacy Gonzales.

Funniest moment of the day yesterday:
When I told the grisled old guy at the BBQ place that the food was for my wedding and that I was getting married in about 30 minutes he said "Mozl tov". I kid you not. And gave me an extra potato salad.

Doing it with kids

Those of you with dirty minds STOP IT right now. This is a family blog. You know, the one where the unmarried divorcee gets pregnant out of wedlock and has to fight her daughter to get the birth control shot. Family entertainment people.

There are certain things that I think people do with kids because they almost HAVE to. It's fun to do as an adult but when you take kids to do certain things the possibly if having the event suck at least doubles. Children under 5 triple this likelihood.

I know some people really do enjoy going out and doing things with young children and good for you. This is my blog. Get your own.

Things I hate doing with children but do anyways because it's good for them in the long run:
1. Camping
2. Going out to eat
3. Attending a sporting event
4. Shopping - for anything
5. Deep cleaning of any kind
6. Exercising
7. Live performances
8. Adult Dr. Appointments
9. Movies

Yeah, it's only 9. That's okay. For the most part I like my kids and doing stuff with them but this list? Right here? Yeah, that's stuff that's not so fun.

Cousins

*I actually have a lot of posts about "Family" and what that means to me floating around in my head. This is just a small part of the float.



Cousins.



I have a lot of them. I have 11 on my mothers side. None on my fathers side that I know of.


Growing up as I did in Alaska which was (or felt like) a million miles away from my closest blood relative aside from my mother and an uncle, cousins were always a real treat when I went to visit my Grandmother in the summer. And by treat I mean pain in the ass.


I hated SEVERAL of them. Biggest Pain was my cousin Jodi. She's maybe a year older than me but she knew all of my cousins and visited them and had things in common with them that I just didn't. She was cool. I, was a spoiled, whiny brat. The fire of our hatred for each other could have warmed a planet, at least while I was young.



When I was 13 or 14 we met up again one summer over a funeral and reconnected. I actually reconnected with all of my cousins that summer and enjoyed them. We hung out. We watched movies and stayed up late and really got to know each other. Dare I say, we liked each other? We DID. I came home from that trip really appreciating Cousins in a way that didn't involve hand me down clothes or sticking my tongue out. (Did I mention I might have been a brat?)



Fast forward a few years and my then husband and I were living in Tucson, AZ. My Cousin Heidi moved out there as she was a traveling nurse and as such, well, liked to travel. Heidi is honest to goodness the best person I know. No, really. She's giving and kind and selfless (and was also a brat growing up but she had 3 brothers so I'm sure God understands) and loving. My (now ex) husband said that if I died he was totally holding out for Heidi because she was of course beautiful on the outside but also beautiful on the inside. I'm pretty sure he divorced me because she got married and started her own family. (I'm kidding. Mostly. He moved on to holding out for Jodi.)



When my mother passed away my Cousins really came through for me. They let me babble and babble and babble. They understood even though they didn't. I'm for all intents and purposes an only child so there really isn't anyone to talk to about "Mom". But, my mother was the favorite Aunt. She was the cool one and so everyone adored her, everyone loved her and everyone knew her. My cousins, and even their spouses still take time to share a random Julie story with me that makes me smile. Ask my cousins Jodi and her sister Jenny about the "bridal" shower that my aunts, grandmother and mother threw Jenny. Where they dressed up in thrift store bridesmaids outfits. I love that story.

While I don't exactly HANG with my male cousins very much I do know their wives fairly well and love them all. Honestly, those guys are very lucky but then, they're really great guys too. And science minded which is nice but sometimes distrubing at family functions because two of them work for a large food manufacturer. I'll never eat another Yoplait Whips in my life.



Because I am an only child and we live no where near any actual blood family my children don't have a lot of cousins right now either. Kylie has one in Alaska that she likes from her birth fathers side and Lulu has 2 from her birth fathers side but they too, live in Alaska. I have literally a ton of second cousins that are the right ages for my children but they live everywhere else, like Minnesota and Ohio and Australia which might as well be other planets at the moment.

Enter Micah and his family. They live here. In the same town as us. And his sister HAPPENS to have children about my children's ages. Well okay, really only one is close to one of mines age. But are they CLOSE. Lulu is only 2 days older than her youngest daughter P. Although P is probably a good 6 inches taller and weighs maybe 10 pounds more. (You know, she looks like a real 4, almost 5 year old and not the product of dwarf parents who don't feed her) They love playing together. Love. It. They love being cousins. And being close. And playing. Did I mention they like to play together? And ganging up on Grandma?



Honestly, my definition of family is wide reaching and all encompassing. I've learned that family doesn't mean a blood relation. But to have THESE family. Right here? It's pretty awesome.

Helping Grandpa wax the car. They were paid $1 for their hard work. I believe Lulu is prepared to declare that $1 on her taxes for 2008.

Cousins on Grandma's fence.

Thanks Family.