Our new home

The new blog address

Okay, I finally heard enough of "when are you going to change your blog address" to finally make the plunge and change it. But man, that was hard. I hated to let go of all the archives and memories and fun times on this address. (Not to mention the fact that it is a pain in the batootie for everyone to change the current address in their blogrolls to the new address, but whatevah.) And even though I didn't think that I would only luv my girls when Mr. Nathan came around, I succumbed to your pressure and changed the address to something that does not include the word "luvin" in any way, shape, or form...good grief, it is nice to get rid of that ridiculous web address that I obviously just put up there on a whim when I was setting this whole blog thing up two years ago.

Introducing...

The new and improved Life with the Ferrells (which hasn't actually been improved at all)...

www.lifewiththeferrells.blogspot.com

How's that for originality?

Please do come and visit. And sorry about you having to change the address in your memory banks. Speaking of...for those of you who I have changed your blog look over the course of the past year and a half: just go to your template setting, scroll down all that confusing code until you reach the part that has all of the blog addresses in your blogroll (should be towards the bottom), and manually change my address. Then click "Save Settings" at the very bottom. If you need help, feel free to email me.

Snapshots in the lives of two pregnant preschoolers

Yeah, that could so be a 20/20 episode. But only after it airs on Springer first.

Abby and Emma are big time into pretend mode right now, and their new favorite game is playing the roll of mothers-to-be. They walk around with babies up their shirts all day and then head to the livingroom (the hospital) to have their babies. It's always such a joyous event.

I believe this would be the stage they call "crowning". Notice the agony on the young mother's face. Know how you feel there, babe:

What is it? Boy? Girl? Baby coming out fully clothed? Excitement is in the air!

It has been proclaimed that it is a GIRL...mainly because her clothes are lined in pink. Who knew that's how gender is determined? Her name: Percy, which just so happens to be the name of every baby doll, dog, stuffed animal, or imaginary friend in this house right now. The mother looks elated to finally meet her little Percy.
When they aren't pretending to give extraordinarily painless births, they are playing Mother/Baby where Abby is always the mother, Emma is always the baby, and I am labeled as "grandmother" all day long. After being called "grandmother" by both girls for the past week or so, my hormones finally got the best of me and made them start calling me "Mom" again today. I don't know why it was getting to me today...that's why I blame the hormones.

While watching their sweet interactions through play this morning, I had to give a talk to Miss Abigail that I never imagined I would have to give:

Me: Abby, only real mommies with real babies breastfeed their babies. Stop trying to nurse your sister when she says she is hungry.
Abby: But, she's not my sister. She's my baby. And we're just pretending.
Me: Well then, stop pretending to nurse your sister. You can feed her a bottle instead.

She was clearly confused as to why she had to stop pretending to breastfeed her sister "baby", but I do believe that this is one of those things that she will thank me for when she is older. And this part of the post may mysteriously disappear once she can read...that's probably another thing she will thank me for.

The girls sure have played so well together lately. I am amazed daily at their close friendship.

Hmmm, never thought of that before

One of Abby's favorite past times right now is a little game called "Guess the body part" in which she probes my expanding belly until she feels one of Nathan's body parts. A couple of weeks ago as she was playing this, she ran across something wider than usual:

Abby: Is this...a knee?
Me: No, I think that's his booty.
Abby: Oh. HAHA! His booty!!
(moves hand over a little and sticks her forefinger in my belly button with a rather sly look on her face)
Abby: Well then, does that make this his booty hole?

Two the Terrible

O, ye age of two. How I have forgotten the turmoil ye bringeth about.

What? What is all of this falling on the floor stuff after I have said that it is time to turn off the TV? Oh, you better have some sort of temporary muscle spasm causing your legs to give way and your body to involuntarily fall into a heap of tears and drama in the middle of the floor. I am hoping that it is NOT the way you show your distaste in my decision to limit your visual consumption of Wow Wow Wubbzy.

What? I don't understand all of this jumping up and down and flapping of arms when I tell you to give your sister back a toy you have so rudely taken from her. I hope that you are merely recreating some sort of Chicken Dance at the glorious thought that your mother is trying to instill some wholesome methods of dealing with others in a good-hearted manner. Surely you are not throwing yet another tantrum due to the immature reason of "I want it! I want it! I want it! I want it NOW!" No, not a precious daughter of mine.

When I ask you to so kindly pick up your toys or take your shoes to your closet, why must you always answer with "I not know how"? Do you really not know how to bend over at that short little waist of your's, put said item in your hand and take it to the proper destination. Because if you don't, I would gladly show you one time, and one time ONLY...when I regain the ability to actually bend over myself. I would hope that you are not just trying to play the "baby card" and get out of work. Surely you are not old enough to know how to manipulate in that way...surely, surely.

Hey! Hey, you! Yes, you...I'm calling you. Don't walk away from me when I call your name. Oh, you must be hard of hearing because I don't think you would just ignore your mother when she calls you to come hither. In fact, let me get an appointment for a hearing check right now. That must be it. No child of mine would ever just ignore their mother. They love me and want to obey and listen to me all the time. Hey, come here. Come. Here. Yoo-hoo. Hellllllllooooooo? See, I told you she was hard of hearing.

Two. Anyone want a child for a year?

A shout out to my sweetie

I'm gonna get all sappy on ya here...

Man, I have the best husband in the world! Truly, I do. The Lord has blessed me with the sweetest, most unselfish and thoughtful man I know. And as cliche' as it sounds, he really is my best friend.

I was treated to my Valentines Day gift a couple of days early. Jay came home early from work Tuesday and sent me on my merry way to do a little shopping (Emma left her crocs outside and a little annoying neighborhood mutt decided to make them his new chew toy. Nice.), have dinner at my beloved Atlanta Bread Company (by myself! with a People magazine. Just me, a bread bowl of chili, and the important information on Mrs. Spears' train-wreck of a life. 'Twas a fun dinner.), and head to the local spa where I was to partake in one of life's wonderful pleasures...a massage.

It was one of those places where they call you Mrs. Ferrell and make you feel all prim and proper and relaxed and stuff. And you sit in a dimly-lit room on a pile of pillows listening to the soft plucking of piano keys accompanied by waterfalls and birds and wonder if all the other relaxers in there are wearing anything under their white robes. Then people come in and feed you grapes from perfect little clusters and fan you with those big elephant-ear leaves while you stick out your pinkies and call everyone "dah-ling".

The massage was wonderful. Seems that carrying around about 30 pounds of extra weight isn't too good for your back. Go figure. And yes, that little hour of pure bliss on my mutinying muscles was well worth our family having to live on beans and peanut butter for the next two weeks.

Thanks hun! I love you to bits and pieces!!

Poppin' Out

Here's the only time I think it is acceptable to show off this much of my skin...that beautifully photoshop-altered skin of mine. Purely the best. Dear Photoshop, Meet my friend Stretchmark. You will become very close during the following edits.

36-1/2 weeks pregnant. The is the farthest my belly button has ever popped out, and that's not saying much. You will often find me curled up on the couch, watching a favorite baby show while playing with my little outie button. It's just so soft and sweet, and I'm kinda sad it will be gone really soon. We've had a fun couple of weeks, outie.
After battling the frizziness of the frizzy-headed kid for the past few months, I finally convinced myself that it was time for Emma's very first hair cut. I have been so afraid that I would cut off all of her curls and ringlets, and some days her hair is really beautiful. But other days she looks like a mini Chewbacca from Star Wars:

I mean, seriously! Does anyone else see the resemblance here? Actually, the above picture of her was right before I cut her hair as she was screaming "Don't hurt my hair, Mama! I no wanna cut!" It took some serious convincing from me and Abby that her hair would not hurt when I cut it...a few minutes into a Dora episode, and she had no clue I was even snipping away. The after-shot...not the greatest, but I love how the sunset is illuminating her hair.

And a couple I took yesterday to showcase what her new "do" really looks like. I LOVE it! Her hair is still curly, and there are still a couple of ringlets in all the mix. More than anything, it looks so much healthier and fuller. I think I cut off about 2-3 inches in all, and she was a trooper through everything. It still kinda makes me sad that I cut off her baby hair, but I do love how she looks now.The best news of all today: I got a FULL NIGHT'S SLEEP LAST NIGHT!!! And so did Emma. Granted, she woke up at the buttcrack of 6:00am, but I'll take that over being awake for hours in the middle of the night any day.

And...the hospital bag is packed and waiting by the door. And Nathan has about 6 outfits packed because I couldn't figure out which ones I liked best. Now we're ready. Bring on the contractions.

The early bird gets bags under her eyes

So, it's almost 5:00am. And, I've been up since, ohhhhh 1:30am, give or take a few. Why, you might ask? Well, only because I have a child who obviously seems to enjoy seeing her mama walk around like a zombie all day long...she gets to watch lots and lots of Dora and Blues Clues during the day if she keeps her mama up all night. She's a smart one...caught on quickly in her young age.

Emma is on Night 5 of NOT SLEEPING! Which means that she will be on Day 5 of "crank butt/cry at the drop of a hat/whine 'till everyone's ears bleed" tomorrow. Wanna come over and play? The child has been waking up at random hours of the night and staying awake from 1.5-3 hours, happy as a lark. I've tried sleeping with her, bringing her into our bed, sleeping on the couch with her, and the last two nights of making her stay in her own bed and threatening her within an inch of her life NOT to wake up Abby. After a while, the Benadryl kicks in (we're praying for non-addictive qualities in that miraculous drug of choice) and she hits the hay once again. Which means that I can now quickly go to sleep...

Problem is that once I do tuck my freezing feet back in those covers and position the extra pillow perfectly under my growing protrusion of a belly, my mind starts thinking of all the upcoming craziness in our life. How will the delivery go? Is the extra camera battery charged? I need to remember to get so-n-so's phone number. Was that a contraction? What if whoever watches the girls doesn't know how to work the remote? What will they do? No TV? How do people live like that? I need to pee. Okay, lay here and don't think about anything. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Did I just hear something? What if someone tries to break in? I need to be awake to hear them. Okay, I really need to pee now.

And there goes 2 more hours. And I'm still awake.

Tomorrow should be lovely.

36 weeks

Little Man is doing well. He's head down/face down and has definitely dropped...getting ready to make his appearance into our family. From the ultrasound measurements, he is still measuring a couple of weeks behind in growth, just like the girls. Currently, the little guy is about 5 pounds, so that puts him at around the 6-6.5 pound range for birth. His left kidney still has fluid on it, so it hasn't resolved on its own yet, but the right kidney looks great.

When looking at the calendar today, the Dr. isn't going to be on-call during my 38th week, so we have an induction date for March 5th. She said that taking my previous two early births and the fact that I am contracting regularly nearly everyday into consideration, he could very well come earlier than that. We'll take each day as it comes. It is amazing how much more laid back you are the more kiddos you pop out. And besides, this pregnancy has been the least physically taxing of all of them. Besides the exhausting contractions, I am feeling really great.

3 more weeks...I can make it. And that gives me at least 2 more weeks before I have to pack the hospital bag, right?

For the birds

Nesting...well, I think I nested a little too early this time. I seem to be all nested out about now and am starting to embrace the growing clutter and dust that is making its home in the corners of the house that I super-cleaned a month ago. Jumped the gun on that one. Heck, I still can't seem to get the hospital bag packed (though I do have a list of things I need to pack, as of about 10 minutes ago), much less get my nest ready for the upcoming hatched egg. Plus, I don't think that mother birds have little birdlings still in the nest undoing all the "nesting" as fast as she creates it.

You know, if the birds were really as smart as some think they are, they would have copyrighted some of the everyday slogans we took from them and made enough money to be able to sit on a little nestegg for retirement. Then we wouldn't have the cute little euphemisms that making life occurrences sound cuter than they actually are:

"Nesting" would then be called: Ahhh crap! Family and friends will be coming to see this new little booger soon, so I guess I might need to throw out the Thanksgiving leftovers, try to remember to flush the toilets every once in a while, put out all of the Christmas gifts we got from them this year, and change the sheets on the bed that Aunt Melba drooled all over during her visit 2 years ago.

"Empty Nest Syndrome" would be referred to: Now what do I do with all of my time now that I'm not constantly telling someone to "clean your room" or "brush your hair", and who do they think they are by saying "I'm an adult now"? I changed their diapers for goodness sakes. I still pay for that mouth to disrespect me that way.

"Nestegg" would be: Money that you have worked hard to save up so your children can sit and ponder about what they will buy when you kick the bucket.

"Restless Egg Syndrome" would be known as: a condition that is characterized by an irresistible urge to move one's legs while at rest. Oh wait, maybe that would actually be Restless Leg Syndrome. Yeah, we've got that one in the bag...don't you even try to take it, birds.

And now you are made aware of the ramblings that engulf a sleep-deprived pregnant woman's brain while she is taking a shower. Thanks for playing.