Stupid (snow, that is)

When S came bouncing into my room on Sunday morning and told me it was snowing, I honestly thought she was joking. Or maybe I was just hoping she was joking. I should know better. Springtime in the West is always unpredictable. H was born in April and it snowed the day he was born.

Of course, the kids wanted to play in it. "No playing in the snow on Sunday!" I said. (Seems like a good rule, don't you think?) I prayed that the snow would gone by today but no luck. Now, I love having my children play outside. But, I had already taken all the snow stuff downstairs to the basement and the thought of dragging it up again, finding matching gloves for people, getting them dressed, and then peeling it all while they drip on the kitchen floor wasn't appealing. This morning, H started asking about it immediately when he woke up. "Why don't you watch a show instead?" (I'm such a good mother.) Didn't deter him for long. 30 minutes later, he asked again. Ok, fine. I eventually found all the necessary pieces, including one boot that had traveled to a completely different closet entirely.

They had a grand time, though. And really, if it can create hair like this, how can a mother be annoyed with springtime snow?
Also, a cute picture from Easter.

Things about me

I feel like I already share too much of my weirdness so finding seven little-known facts about myself to complete the tagging from my sister Angie was tricky, but I was able to dig some up.

1. I stockpile treats and then eat them slowly. I've tried to go off sugar and chocolate and all of that, but really I'm just a much angrier person when I don't have a little something during the day (or at night after the kids go to bed). This treat philosophy differs from my husband's. He would rather eat things all at once and "get them out of the house." I like to savor things and eat a few chocolate cinnamon bears here and there so the delightfulness lasts longer. Mmm, chocolate cinnamon bears. I may need to get some of those.

2. I always have to have a book to read. At night, I read my scriptures and then dive into my book (and yes, I usually read my book for longer than my scriptures--that counts as a bonus fact). If I don't have something new to read, I'll stare at my bookshelves and pull out something old, but well-loved. I don't know what to do with myself if there isn't a book on my nightstand.

3. I cherish sleep. When I applied for college and had to write stuff about myself so they could choose roommates, I may have put "sleeping" as one of my hobbies. My mom told me it wasn't really a hobby, but I really do love it. As I've grown older and had children who aren't born with this love of sleep, I've done my best to nurture it. (A calls me the Sleep Nazi.) Even now, I'm devising ways to get the twins on a good sleeping schedule as soon as possible. Yes, I know newborns have their own ideas about sleeping and those ideas rarely coincide with nighttime, but I will prevail at some point! And the house will be happier for it.

4. I'm not a nice pregnant person. I so looked forward to this last pregnancy, thinking I would cherish every moment as my last this, my last that. Yeah, not so much. I'm tired, cranky, and everything hurts already. I'm sure it has something to do with the fact that there are two people in there making me gain weight at a rate not unlike some zoo animals, but I don't think I'd be much more chipper if I was just pregnant with one. But, this too shall pass. :)

5. I used to think I sounded like Julie Andrews. I remember being in elementary school and singing Sound of Music songs in my head (complete with the accent, of course) and thinking I sounded just like her. And I remember thinking I was special because not everyone can sound like Julie Andrews. Unfortunately, that was only in my head. I have, at best, a passable singing voice. And my British accent is ok, but nothing to write home about.

6. I talk in my sleep. A has many stories of me saying weird things in the middle of the night--jumping up to examine something on the wall that wasn't there, screaming because I thought there was a fire in the corner, and his favorite: falling off the bed and when he jumped up and asked me if I was ok, I said, "Don't worry about me. Get the baby!" We didn't have any children at the time...

7. I believe I've divulged this already, but I'm somewhat of an obsessive person. I don't have floors you could eat off of, but I like my house to look at least picked up before I go to bed. The sink must be clean of dishes, toys must be put away, etc. I check the garage door like five times every time we leave the house, and I usually have to check the curling iron twice before we leave. I've realized recently that my obsessive nature began brewing when I was much younger. My mom always checked all the doors, oven, etc. at night to make sure everything was secure. I checked them, too. I remember when she was out of town, I would get out of bed to lock the doors because I worried my dad *might* not have done it already. Sorry, Dad. There are more obsessive tidbits, but if I tell you all my secrets, you'll all really be afraid of me, whereas now you're just sort of afraid.

Easter Egg Extravaganza 2008

Once upon a time, A's cousin and her family had an Easter egg-coloring tradition. They decorated eggs together and had a contest to determine which ones were the coolest. They had categories like Cutest, Prettiest, and Most Traditional. One year, they decided to invite us. And things quickly went downhill. Our categories this year included Most Artistic, Most Demented, Most Creative, Most Hideous, Worse Overall Egg 2008...

Behold, the results from the Easter Egg Extravaganza 2008...
A and others couldn't resist getting a little political this year...
And here's a few pics from the activity itself. Thanks, guys! It was great, as always!

What really matters

For the past week or so, I haven't felt like writing much of anything. Nothing much has been happening, the kids are crazy, and Daylight Savings has been kicking my butt. That about sums things up. I guess my mood was affecting others because A asked me twice if I was "just mad at the world in general." Once, when he asked me what was wrong, I said in response, "Our children are not very nice people, really." He didn't seem all that shocked by the statement.

I've had a horrible time falling asleep all week. One night, I got up and watched a few episodes of "Little People, Big World" (fabulous show, by the way) until I was groggy enough that I thought I could sleep. Last night, I caught some of "Zoolander." Awesome. And also last night, my OCD kicked in at 11:45 pm and I wondered if I had indeed locked the clerk's office door at the church after getting the library key out of it for the Enrichment meeting. So, I went back to check. (And of course all was well.) *Sigh.*

So, I haven't felt much like posting, or being around other people, according to my husband. Maybe I was just angry at the world, maybe I was having a bad hormone week, or maybe I was just nervous about the upcoming ultrasound. I wanted so badly for S to get a sister--just one sister. And I worried that something would be wrong with one of the babies, and on and on with all of the scenarios that pregnant women worry about.

Well, the big day was today, and here are the results:


It might be tough to tell on this picture, but let's just say that this little boy was not shy about showing off his stuff. And the other one...
One of each! This was the scenario we hoped for, but I didn't want to let myself believe that it would actually happen.

Sure, it's awesome that S will get a sister and that this will work the best for our bedroom situation in the house. But what really matters is that we got to see two hearts beating away, arms and legs kicking around (and kicking each other in the head, from the looks of it), and four little feet, all in a row.

P.S. I had two nice things said to me today. The ultrasound tech said, "You're so small." If I wasn't covered in that goopy jelly and flat on my back, I would have hugged her. Then the nurse told me my arms were tiny. Almost hugged her too. :)

Coping mechanisms

So, I am actually starting to look a little pregnant these days. Unfortunately, I am not one of those women that welcomes the wearing of maternity clothes with delight. I did buy some cute things for this time around. But, I know by the end, I will hate those clothes with every fiber of my being and I put off wearing them for as long as possible.

So, I camouflage. I've had some fun finding random things in my closet I'd completely forgotten about that fit me for a few weeks before I have to find something else. (The perks of having three kids and saving all your "in-between" clothes from being barely pregnant, sort of pregnant, really postpartum, and not so much postpartum but still can't fit into your regular clothes). But I am starting to run out of options. I did find a pair of khaki pants over the weekend that should last me another few weeks, but we'll see.

My real reason for this post is to ask if I'm alone in being sensitive to preggo comments. I don't think I've ever had anyone ever say anything mean-spirited to me over the years about my pregnant body, but even the most well-meaning and innocent of comments can hit me the wrong way (and please, no one take any of this personally. I'm not thinking of any particular comments.)

In my normal life, I don't think I have any body issues, but when I'm pregnant, I totally do. I'm already dreading the warmer months, because I'm quite certain that I'll blow up like a balloon. I had S in October so I was pregnant all during the summer months. I hated it. My ankles were huge, my face was swollen, my feet were huge, and my fingers were swollen (I literally greased my wedding ring off every night until I gave up about a month before she was born.)

Being pregnant with twins, I can only imagine that it will be worse this time around. My sister and her friend both just had twins and have said that people at church made comments to them towards the end. Some were nice and sympathetic. But my sister's friend had people laugh at her when she came into church. That could potentially be a problem...

I wish I could be one of those women who doesn't care what they look like and just revels in knowing that she's able to provide a place for babies to grow. Maybe I can rise above my insecurities this time around and become one of those women. Or maybe I'll hide at home the last month and not let anyone see me. It really could go either way... :)