on to the next ...

So, I thought about a writing a long, drawn out recap of our year, but then decided against it. Instead, I give you this.

In 2008, things happened, more good than bad. We laughed, we cried. Doodle took her first steps. Dizzle started preschool. I ran my first marathon and my first triathlon. J ran his first 10K. We found out that I was pregnant with our third daughter. We formed great friendships. We sold our house and bought a new one. We evolved. All in all, it was a fantastic year.

And next year promises to be even more eventful. Our clan is about to embark on a year of change. Just within the next two months, J will start a new job, we will move into our new home and baby number three will arrive. Then, just when things look like they might settle down, I'm pretty sure that the reality of our new life will set in (giving me oodles to write about). It's scary and exciting and I can't wait for it all to get started.

Adios, 2008!

and we've survived ... for now

After nearly two weeks of house guests and three Christmas mornings, we finally have our home back to ourselves. And it feels good.

Now don't get me wrong, I love our families and I really love how much the girls love having them all around. But I am never truly at ease when people are staying with us. I always feel like I need to be doing something. Entertaining, cooking, cleaning. It's always something. So, to not have that feeling hanging over my head is fantastic.

But, and this is a big but, this feeling is not going to last. In fact, I already feel it slipping away. Why, you ask? Because I realized this morning that Dilly is guaranteed to be here in less than a month (she's being evicted on the 29th if she doesn't try to arrive earlier) AND we are closing on our new house in 45 days. So, basically I have a zillion and one things to take care of (preferably before Dilly arrives) and I already feel like I have no time to do any of it.

OK, someone slap me. I know I am overreacting. It's all about taking baby steps, right? If I do a little each day (and purge half of our stuff) I will be done in no time. Easy peasy.

Am I totally kidding myself?

did I really think she was going to be small?

For basically this entire pregnancy, I have been measuring small. In recent weeks, I have been measuring even smaller (personally, I think I dropped). Anyway, this change (or lack there of) in my stomach size caused my doctor to order an ultrasound to "make sure everything is OK."

This immediately freaked me out. Obviously, all this running I have been doing is keeping my kid from growing (even though the nearly 30 pounds I have gained proves that I am growing just fine). And although, I measured small when I was pregnant with Doodle as well, I just couldn't completely shake the feeling that maybe I should rethink the whole running thing.

Until this morning.

Because the ultrasound just proved what I have always suspected ... J and I make giant babies. I mean, come on, it's not everyday that a 6'7" man and 5'9" woman have a super tiny baby. Sure, it can happen. But, seriously, it's not that likely.

Anyway, despite the fact that I am still measuring small (it must be those six-pack abs I have ... or maybe it's just the long torso), Dilly's growth is just fine. In fact, she's pretty hefty. Her head is measuring two weeks ahead (thanks, J) and the rest of her is right on target. They are estimating her current weight at 5.5 pounds (at 34 weeks. I know of full term babies who were born that size.) Calculate that weight out to 40 weeks and we are looking at approximately an 8.5 pound baby. Not what I would call small. But really, should I even be slightly shocked? Didn't think so.

it's official ...

We have a move date. February 16, 2009. So, who's coming to the packing party?

Christmas morning, take one

This year we are celebrating Christmas kind of like Hanukkah (you know, spreading it out over multiple days). Instead of one morning of presents, we are waking up to a room full of gifts on three separate occasions. First, with my mom and sisters. Then, just the four of us. And finally, with J's parents and brother.

This past Saturday was Christmas morning, take one. Rather than waking up at the crack of dawn to go out on my long run (which I did on Sunday, in the rain instead), I was awoken by two overly excited children who wanted nothing more than to open presents.

So, after making ourselves presentable for the camera (no blackmail photos here) we took the girls downstairs for nearly two hours of unwrapping. Dizzle loved everything, and how could she not? The girl was entirely spoiled by her Mimi and aunts. Her favorites? Probably the mountains of dress-up clothes, her Brain-Quest cards and the most annoying, singing Barbie doll on the planet.

Doodle, on the other hand, showed a little more discretion when opening her gifts. She had absolutely no interest in any clothing she received. Usually, opening the boxes, then abruptly closing them, saying, "Done." She, too, immediately fell in love with her own singing Barbie doll (the battery removal stage is upon us) and three identical baby dolls that we lovingly refer to as "the triplets."

We followed up our morning of consumerism with a huge brunch (thanks to J and his spatula). Then, that evening, we had yet another enormous meal, Italian this time and went on a Tacky Lights Tour. I had a blast, the girls had a blast, and I'm pretty sure that everyone else did too. And the best part is, we get to do it all over in two days ... and then over again two days after that.

just DON'T call me a slacker ...

So, I realized today that it might seem that I have been slacking big time on this blog this month. Which, in turn, means I may have been slacking on keeping any record of our crazy antics. But I promise, I have been super busy. Between selling our house, searching for a new one, teaching Stroller Strides, taking care of two kids, growing another kid, and prepping for two weeks of endless visitors, I've had pretty much zero time to sit down and recap our adventures. So here's the long and short of it.

We listed our house. And 22 days later, we sold our house. Thank you housing Gods.

That momentous event lead to a frantic search for a new house, because come mid-February we were going to be homeless. Sob stories aside, we've searched. Found one we love (and a back up just in case) and have put an offer in. Now, we just need to hear back.

Also, on the house front, ours will be chock full starting tomorrow. The only days in the next two weeks that it will just be the four of us are Christmas Eve and maybe part of Christmas Day.

J and I are keeping ourselves super busy with work/kids/house stuff. We've been a little more stressed than usual. Oh yeah, and there's that whole "we're having a baby in six weeks" thing too. And did I mention I'm still running? Boy, is that getting tiring.

The girls, on the other hand, are fantastic. Loud, but fantastic. And Doodle has picked up the cutest little habit of stripping down to her birthday suit every time I leave the room, leaving me to clean up the dirty diapers (poop included) which have been thrown across the room. Delicious!

See, I told you I've been busy.

and now I am prepared ...

Until yesterday, I really didn't have much prepared for Dilly's arrival. Sure, her bedroom is ready, but only because we staged the house for sale. And let's be honest, with seven weeks left and Dilly being baby girl number three, how much is there really for me to do at this point? Obviously, not much (unless she plans on making an early appearance).

Right now, the car seat is buried somewhere in the attic (J might know where. Personally, I don't go up there). But at least the base is strapped into the car. AND I've gone through our baby clothes. I haven't put anything away and the seasonally appropriate selection is looking scarce, but I have gone through it all.

But thanks to the miracle of the United States Postal Service, I am now fully prepared for Dilly's arrival. Because yesterday, Pampers sent me ONE newborn size diaper. That's right, ONE. Obviously, I can stop worrying that I haven't stocked up on diapers (or even purchased any at this point) because Pampers is coming through big time!

Seriously, what are you supposed to do with one diaper? That will last you approximately 20 minutes on a newborn, if you are lucky enough to put it on securely enough and a blowout doesn't ensue. And it's really not enough to determine whether or not you like a brand and would like to purchase more. I mean, with all the mark up on diapers (Pampers are like 36 a case, while Target brand is only 14 - how is that possible? they both suck up pee, right?), don't you think they could spare like 10? Maybe enough for a whole day!

But, all cheapness aside, I just wanted you all to know that when Dilly comes home, she will be diapered. For at least 20 minutes.

not my nose ...

On the way back from preschool yesterday, the girls were quietly sitting in the car watching a holiday episode of Miss Spider's Sunny Patch Friends (for the zillionth time, might I add.) Anyway, Dizzle suddenly threw this one at me.

Dizzle: (Screaming) "What if the new baby tries to touch my nose. I don't want her to touch my nose!!"

Me: "Babies don't move that much when they are little. She's not going to be able to touch your nose."

Dizzle: "Oh, OK."

And that was that. Total freak out to complete calm in 2.3 seconds flat. Now if I could only figure out why she's afraid of someone touching her nose ...

start of the season ...

When I was growing up, the holiday season started (at the latest) on Thanksgiving. My mom ALWAYS had the tree up that day and on several occasions I remember it staying up until mid-January, if not February. In addition to the tree, we had Christmas lights everywhere and probably 20 light up and mechanical figures spread throughout the living room. Plus, Christmas movies (and music) hit on Black Friday and NEVER ENDED. You could pretty much say that it was Christmas overload at our house.

And while I may have enjoyed it as a young child, as I got older, my feelings about it changed. I became a holiday minimalist, you might say. A tree in the living room and a strand or two of white (yes, they must be white) lights around the doorway is the extent of my Christmas decorating. Sure, I think light displays are nice to look at, but I don't want to deal with actually put one up.

Oh, and the music. Can we just take one second to talk about how annoying it all is? Don't get me wrong, Christmas music is fine. On Christmas, Christmas Eve and maybe a day or two before that. But does it really need to be played from mid-November to New Year's? (I could, however, handle Trans-Siberian Orchestra, but then again, that's not really traditional Christmas music).

My point is that for me, the whole "Christmas season", should be about two weeks long. At most. (I know you're thinking, "Scrooge.")

But, now that the girls are old enough to get the whole Christmas thing, I think I may have to change my tune (even if it's not willingly). You see, this past weekend we started getting into the holiday spirit (a week earlier than I had hoped, but I didn't want to feel rushed before family started visiting). Anyway, the looks on Dizzle and Doodle's faces when they saw our Christmas tree (even undecorated) was enough to make your heart melt. They are beyond excited. Dizzle is constantly asking when we get to go to Christmas (I'm not sure if she realizes it's a holiday and not a place) and Doodle screams with joy every time she sees Christmas lights.

So, instead of fighting it, I've given in. J bought a CD of Christmas songs and as a family we danced and laughed and decorated the tree. The girls loved it. And so did I. Then the following day, we headed to Williamsburg for the Grand Illumination. And despite being so cold that we ended up watching the fireworks from the car, we had a blast.

And with that I concede, because as much as I may try to fight it, it's glaringly clear that the holiday season has begun in our home.

torture device ...

In the past, I have gone on and on about how I love my BOB Stroller. How it is a Godsend and I could never run with any other stroller. EVER. Obviously, if my stroller failed me it would be the end of the world (I know that would never happen though, because they truly are amazing pieces of metal and canvas, plus BOB's customer service is spot on).

Anyway, I did have a point here. And that is, as much as I LOVE MY STROLLER (or strollers, because we do own the single and the double versions), I now know that it is a torture device in disguise.

You see, my replacement seat came this morning. Thinking that all I needed to do was remove a couple of screws, take off the old seat and replace it with the new one, I utilized nap time to repair my stroller. BAD IDEA.

Obviously, it wasn't going to be that simple. Of course, there were like 9,873,759,903 screws to remove, 4,389,050 straps to undo and 1 folding mechanism to unhinge. Oh, wait. Did I mention that some of the screws were slightly larger than others, so I actually need to pay attention to what came off of where? (let's just say I didn't exactly notice the different sizes until I had completely removed the seat.)

Needless to say, it was a frustrating task.

But it gets better. Once I got the old seat off, I realized that a nut was missing from the sunshade, making it hang all droopy to one side (and increasing the difficulty of reassembly). So, I had to call my best friends over at BOB and ask them to send me yet another piece. Completely fed up, I used one of the nuts from the hanging basket underneath to secure the sunshade (fortunately, they are the same size). Then, I attempted to stretch the canvas to fit the frame while I held the screws and screwdriver in my other hand. Eventually (an hour and a half later), the seat was reinstalled.

Yeah!!! Victory for me!!!

But, not really. Because when I went to fold up the stroller, I realized that I had improperly threaded the folding mechanism, which only lead to more work. Oh yeah, and being 31 weeks pregnant while doing all of this, SO NOT FUN.

See what I mean by torture?

playtime epiphany ...

I'm not quite sure what nap time is like at your house. But over here it's usually a little something like this. Doodle goes to sleep without issue for approximately two hours. Dizzle does not sleep. Not ever. Not since she was 18 months old. (Yeah! We've already gotten two bonus months with Doodle.)

So, long ago, I decided to give up trying to make Dizzle nap. It's just easier for us both. Instead, Dizzle plays with:

A) all of the toys that either are not safe or practical for Doodle (i.e. she might destroy them)

OR

B) all of the toys that lead to fighting when both children are present.

Then, when the two hours or so are up, Dizzle and I put everything away and a mini-tantrum ensues once Dizzle realizes her "alone" time is over. (I seem to recall her yelling, "Don't get Doodle" over and over again on most days.)

But today, a more mature Dizzle appeared. When I heard Doodle's cries, I asked Dizzle if she wanted to leave out the village we had built or put it all away before we went to go get her sister (who was bound to knock it over in two seconds flat). And rather than her traditional whiny response, Dizzle said, "I would be happy to have her play with us." (note: she also had what sounded like a slight British accent.)

Um, excuse me? Did I hear you right, Dizzle? You don't think your sister is evil and out to destroy you? You actually want to play with her?

Amazing.