Digging for worms, eating Ice cream and Playing checkers

Yesterday, Mason took over my evening. After dinner, which I actually cooked(spaghetti which I thought I could convince my stomach was a good idea but apparently, my stomach is pretty stubborn), I desperately wanted a bowl of Cookies and Cream Ice cream with milk poured over it. Does that sound gross? Because it's not. Not at all. It's like milk shake. Anyway, as any mother of a four year old knows, ice cream can not be served to one without serving it to all. So, I dished us out two bowls of ice cream and sat there at the table enjoying it. We just sat there talking about our days and random things. It is so crazy to have a conversation with a four year old. Some things they say make absolutely no sense. Others are so profound - "God must have spilled a lot of water up in heaven because he knew daddy needed the grass to grow."

After our ice cream, I retreated to the couch because, still, food doesn't always settle that well. Mason went outside to "do something." A few minutes later with this little grin of desperation, he comes back in - oh, you have to know what he is wearing - a green shirt that can "get diwty", football underwear, and brown dress shoes. That's it. So cute. Anyway, he comes in and says, "Mom, pleeeease can you come outside really quickly to see sumthin?" Well, of course I had to say yes. So we go outside, he hands me a shovel and says, "We're diggin' for worms." And he proceeds to drag me by the hand to the best worm diggin' spots in our yard. So that's what we did. I would dig for a while and if a worm happened to wiggle to the surface, Mason, with extreme giddiness, plucks him from the soil and puts him in a clear cup with his other finds. I am not a huge fan of worms or any wiggly, slimy creature, but he kept trying to get me to hold one. I kept telling him no because they were gross, etc. and he kept saying, "But momma, I promise they are not gross and they don't bite at all." I finally just lied and told him the worm germs would be bad for the baby. I know. I am terrible. After we had caught 4-5 worms, we went inside where Mason decided it was necessary to unearth all the worms from his cup and put them on a piece of paper in his room. So he did. At one point I was helping him dig out a particularly long and fat worm. I absentmindedly, in helping him, laid my leg down on the paper full of worms. Well, when I lifted my leg up they all stuck to it. Mason panicked when he didn't see the worms on his paper and nearly burst into tears and starting yelling at Maggie,our dog, for eating the worms. Then I saw the pile of slimy worms stuck to my leg and let out a shriek that I am sure the neighbors heard and started flinging worms in every direction. Mason who was now aware of what was happening, started to cry because I "didn't like his worms and I had killed them all." I started laughing because it was all just so funny and then tried to tell him, without touching the worms, that I did like the worms and it just scared me to have them stuck to my leg. I then pointed out that they were all still wiggling and therefore they were alive. I finally convinced him that I didn't hate his worms and he forgave me, but more importantly I convinced him that we should let the poor worms rest and that we were definitely should not cut them up for when he and dad go fishing. Poor little worms.

After the worm excitement, Mason taught me how to play checkers. I get red. He gets black. We pile them in front of us and then takes turns throwing checkers at each others piles. If we hit any, we get to keep them. We play until, well, I don't know when because he kept changing the rules until I told him it was bed time.

Man, what a night.

Hasn't sunk in because I won't let it sink...

I will be 12 weeks pregnant on Thursday. That means I am almost past the point of any real risk of miscarriage. For some reason with this pregnancy I am really worried about losing the baby. With Mason it was a concern but it didn't consume me. With this baby, I have pushed almost any thought of the actual baby from my mind. I haven't imagined holding her or him. Or feeding the baby or the nursery or anything. When I see a baby, I don't think, "In just six months..." and when I go to stores I don't ooh and ahh over baby stuff. I am just so scared to get excited. I don't really know why I feel this way. Maybe it's just because I feel like everyone I talk to has known someone or has had a miscarriage. Or maybe it's because this baby was planned and tried for so I am more appreciative of the miracle growing(quite rapidly) inside of me. Or maybe it's because I feel like everything in our life has been so easy and wonderful and we don't deserve that for some ridiculous reason. Or maybe it's just psycho pregnant hormones. I don't know. But I am ready to let it sink in. I mean, I am already wearing maternity jeans for crying out loud! I have even told my students who, by the way, were so WAY excited. Like girls screaming and guys asking questions that I never thought they would have cared to know - like names and due date. It's time for me to let it sink in. I am having a baby. A baby. A cuddly, gurgling, crying, soft skinned, adorable baby. I am not going to let fear rob me of this special time any longer.

By the way, 12 weeks also marks the end of the first trimester. Maybe Jenny will return and the nauseous zombie will retreat into hiding. Or at least make a few less appearances.

Bye Baby

Yesterday as I was stumbling out of the house, wishing that I could somehow miraculously prepare for a sub rather than go to work in the sick body I woke up in, I said bye to Mason. He said, "bye momma." and I walked out the door. Then I heard this, "Bye Baby!" I came back in and said, "What did you say?" And he said, "Bye baby." I almost cried. I told him how sweet he was for already being such a great big brother. And peeled myself away from him.

Bye Baby. How is he so darn sweet?

Sick

I feel sick, sick, sick. And for once it is not tummy sick. It's sneezing, sniffling, itchy eyes...basically I could be in a nyquil commercial. My throat is on fire. It's all red and hurts so bad when I swallow. My head is pounding on the right side - the kind of pounding where your eye gets all squinty from the pain. My nose is constantly dripping and I believe I have sneezed about 38 times since I woke up two hours ago. I am sick. Sick. Sick. The bad thing is I don't know what I can take to help me. I can't talk to my doctor(it's sunday) and I just can't remember what I can take besides tylenol. Which tylenol usually does nothing for me anyway. I just want to crawl back in bed forever. Forever. I have never gotten this suddenly sick so fast. I've had a sore throat for a few days, but it was like I woke up in another person's body this morning. A poor sick person's body. The good news, though, is that the last few days I have felt considerably better tummy wise. I haven't had the major food aversions like I was and when I eat I don't feel near as sick. Also, hunger isn't as debilitating as it was a week ago. I am still pretty tired but I can handle tired. But now I am sick sick. Ugh. I wonder if I could/should take the day off tomorrow. Probably not. It is such a pain to be out when you are a teacher. Hopefully this is one of those 24 hour colds. I don't have time for anything else.

missing my dad

My dad died in 1999. This September it will be 8 years. For the most part, I still miss him but rarely cry about it or get too upset about it. The whole experience of losing a loved one is so much easier when you know that person is just waiting for you in heaven. But every once in a while I will see, hear or smell something that will make me miss Dad as though it all happened yesterday.

I was grading these projects my students turned in on Monday and came upon one that was a blown up map of europe taped over some other boardgame. It looked very much like the game Risk. My student had drawn all these paths around the game that detailed paths of attack and battle sites basically reinacting World War 2. There was one tiny section of the game that I am almost certain was written in his dad's handwriting. It was that angular, very straight writing that so many dads, including my own, have. As I sat there staring at the board, I could just imagine my student and his dad working on this project together, discussing battle tactics, troop numbers, and how to create this very unique game. It just made me ache because my dad loved the game risk and also I loved showing my dad the things I did in school and working on projects with him. I was so envious of my student in that moment because of what he and his dad were able to do together. Sometimes I just wish I could show my dad the things I have done or how amazing a husband Troy is or most of all, how perfect his grandson is. Most of the time, I don't really get sad about his death. Because, like I said, I know without a shadow of doubt, he is in heaven just waiting for our family to be reunited. But, every once in a while, the ache of that loss comes to the surface.

I think memory, the ability to recall details, sounds, sights, smells of our past, is one of the greatest gifts God gives us. Have you ever really thought about how amazing it is? That I can remember with absolute clarity the way Dad's hugs would feel after a bad dream; how the taste of a butterscotch sundae will remind me of stopping at dairy Queen on the way home from Christmas pageant practice; still being able to see the wrinkles on my grandmother's hands as she would sew; a cologne that can bring my grandad back for a moment; the smell of gardenia returning me to my Hawaiian honeymoon; the lyrics to a song that remind me of a carefree day with friends. What a gift that is. What a gift the power of memory is. Without it, death would be an absolute. Loss would be unbearable. But, because of memory, I can see a gameboard and remember my dad in a whole new way. And for a brief, fleeting moment, he is with me again. What a blessing it is that God gave us the ability and the desire to remember what should never be forgotten.

Pictures!!!

Okay, all these pictures are out of order so I hope you don't mind. I am getting very frustrated with blogger right now. Refer to entry titled, "Roller Coaster Ride".

Me and my very beautiful friend on her very beautiful day!

Michael(the groom, of course) and Mason posing for what are sure to be adorable pictures!

Me and my very handsome boys!

Mike wasn't the only one getting kisses from the bride!!!

The reception hall was perfect! I don't think Kylah could have been happier!

The very beautiful centerpieces at the wedding - aren't the flowers beautiful!?

Kylah getting smooched by her mom and grandmother after her very beautiful bridal brunch.

Rollercoaster Ride

Everything about this pregnancy is like my first just more - more hunger, more pooch, more ick, more tired, more emotion. The emotions are getting out of control people. I go from angry to joyous to crying for no reason. Like for example, last night I got almost giddy when I remembered I bought a muffin mix and could make and eat them in the morning. Giddy - like big smile and felt like the world was a better place because of that muffin mix.Then, in 4th period today, we were watching channel one and they were doing a thing on soldiers going back to Iraq after R&R. My 4th period got pretty darn close to witnesssing a full blown sobfest. I get uncontrollably frustrated doing dishes. Like livid. Can't stand when water splashes on me and run for cover if I happen to step in a water droplet with a sock on. It's kind of funny really. Well, to me. For Troy, it is probably horrific. Poor guy. Hopefully, he'll just ride the roller coaster with me until the end. He is so great...sniffle...sniffle....see here we go again. Man, October is going to take forever to get here....