Tallulah Talks Ed. 4

I am playing catch-up with documenting the ridiculous things that come out of my children's mouths. I think they are still funny, if old now, and I want to have it all typed out so that I can look back and laugh with them someday.



This was taken right at the end of my pregnancy and really captures how we were all feeling.



During my pregnancy....

Me: Can I have another one of your minieggs, Lu?

Lu: I just heard the baby say, "no more candy for me!"



Just before meeting Clementine...

Lu: Alright! Let me see the baby!



The next day...

Lu: Is the baby still here? Are there any MORE babies?!



After a hard day with Clementine and seeing her cry every time I put her down...

Lu: Well that baby super loves you!"



And more...

Lu: What did you say, Mama?

Me: Nothing, I was talking to Clemmie.

Lu: You silly! Clemmie is not real!

Me: ......



Lu: I think Clemmie will say, "Nooo! I don't want to be a mommy!" But I will say I would like a big tummy and a jiggly butt. I will like to be a mommy like you!

Me: .....Thank you, Lu.



Lu: I like a baby in our house!



Talking about the marriage she has already planned to her (already chosen) future husband...

Me: Do you think you will be a good wife?

Lu: Yes, but I will get mad at him. Like you get mad at Daddy.

Me: .....

We found this under our pillow one night. It's The Black Spot, from Theo. I think he meant it to be really scary but I laughed for a million years.



Theo's take on all this....

Theo: Well, I'll just sit here like a pregnant woman...



Theo: Now that we have three kids, I don't think we can handle it.



Theo: Look at my picture, Mama. It's our family...You're grumpy forever.

Me: ....



And finally...

Me: Lu, are you wearing underwear?

Lu: It's a surprise!

We're Seeing Other People. They're Our Children.

I remember when I was about twelve, my parents came up with this new system to try to encourage me to finally behave myself. It basically consisted of some sort of point system and the end goal was that, if I got ten points, I got to go to Chapters. This was major incentive because I was a big nerd and had my eye on the entire Nancy Drew section. The part of this that I probably would never have admitted to enjoying so much then, but fondly remember now, was getting to have hot chocolate with my Dad in the adjacent Starbucks. I don't remember what we talked about or what book I ended up buying but I do remember sitting there at the table, drinking sugary goodness, and soaking in the precious one-on-one time with my Dad, as only the oldest of seven could.

At some point during my recent exhausting pregnancy, I started to feel incredibly guilty for how many Netflix Naps I was taking. For those of you who are not familiar with this term, that's the time of the day when you tell your kids that they can watch a Paw Patrol or two and, once you've passed out on the couch with your mouth hanging open in a charming manner, they actually end up watching.....seven. You gotta do what you gotta do and all but I knew I wanted to start being more deliberate about the time we were spending with our kids. I also wanted to get into the habit of spending alone time with them, due to the imminent arrival of Clementine, because I knew how quickly baby life-takeovers happen, once those sweet dictators are on the scene. We decided to start dating our children, which is not as creepy as it sounds, I swear.



Now because we live the poor life (ok, in a first world problems kind of way), we had to find some really clever mostly-free ways to wine and dine our new love interests. Luckily for us, it turns out that kids are very cheap dates and easily impressed by things like M & M's and spending time together outside. In all honesty, we have put a cap on the snacks portion of the date lately because it was all a certain food-loving child of ours cared about and we were starting to get a little jealous. We felt all the "when do I get a treat? Is it treat time yet? Can I have five Kinder Eggs instead of one?" was sort of distracting him from the point, which was realizing how awesome and hip his parents are.

The hardest part about the dates has been that we have two children that go on them, which means that one is going and one is staying. There are usually some tears from the child who gets left behind. I hope that the more the outings become a regular thing, the more the left-out child will be able to relax and realize their turn will come. Either that or eventually Clementine will be old enough to also feel the pain and the two sad children can cry and commiserate together. Either way!

I try to make sure that I spend my time with them really trying to get to know them as an individual - their likes, dislikes, quirks, plans, view of the world, and whether or not they like to take long walks on a beach. I try to focus on those stories they tell that might still be going on when we are out shopping for old-age homes together. I try and think of the most thoughtful questions I can and really listen to their hilarious responses. I put my phone away. I try to let them take their time and not tell them to hurry up. The stuff other normal good mothers do but I sometimes forget in the chaos of a regular day. So far, Matt and I have taken them:

- to the park to play soccer

- to Starbucks, for hot chocolate and a necklace-making sesh

- to the animal shelter, just to look and not to come home with a kitty. Seriously. No.

- on a hike

All of these were enthusiastically received.

Some ideas we have for the future are:

- skating

- pottery painting

- going to a farmer's market

- picnic time

- sitting on a hill with some sketchbooks

- checking out the Lego store

- going to a hockey game (or let's be real, probably lacrosse because $$$$)

- taking them to an event happening in the city

- going to feed the ducks (in what feels like a million months from now. I can dream!)

- fro-yo (is that still a thing?)

- exploring a new park

- bike-rides

- Ikea ( you probably think I'm kidding but I'm not. Ikea is the most magical place on earth.)

- getting their expert help with a project, including a trip to a hardware or home store

- garage-saling

This weekend, I am taking Tallulah to see a version of The Nutcracker for kids and we are both looking forward to it. I expect to leave with a beaming daughter and me in tears because I will never be that graceful.

Do you date your kids? Do you have any great date ideas you'd like to share? I'd love to hear them! And, if you're wondering, no, my parents' point system didn't work. I am proud to say that to this very day I still don't behave myself.

A Paper Airplane Birthday Party

This year I tried really hard to keep things simple for Theo's birthday. The amount of people in our lives who have seen the real us and, yet for some reason, still want to be our friends has grown. Seeing as we have a tiny townhouse, I decided to do two separate parties for family and friends this year to try to keep all that party under control. With everything that's been going on and how exhausted I knew I was going to be, I decided to cut down on my birthday love a little bit.

Of course, I couldn't let it go completely but this year involved a couple of really easy DIY decorations that even Matt admitted were much more casual than in previous years. He's still trying to turn me into a "normal" wife but he was as happy as he gets in these situations. All that he had to do this year was make a few paper airplanes and pass me some tape. Ok, there was some cleaning and some hollering but that's how I roll.

Theo is in love with making paper airplanes, decorating them perfectly, being dissatisfied, and then starting all over again. I decided it was the perfect theme for his party. Paper airplanes that is, not perfectionism. I didn't get the most amazing pictures and the cake was lopsided but I tried! Everyone seemed to have a good time and at the end of the day, that's really all you can ask for. And cake leftovers. Lots of cake leftovers.













There you have it! Make some paper airplanes, stick them on the wall in a way that makes a pretty statement, and yell, "Nobody breathe!" because it will probably be temperamental. Coordinate your trendy straws and dollar store plates into colors that maybe have something to do with planes but you aren't sure why. There were also some matching simple streamers (not pictured) and a paper airplane garland. Brown paper everything because brown paper is amazing. Stick some tiny airplanes on skewers for the cake. Then stick some more on brown lunch bags and break out that rusty high-school cursive and you're golden! Now all you have to do is figure out how your son has managed to turn six and what you're going to do with his last year as a little boy.

I'm Still Alive I Think

See, they can practically teach themselves while I run away to Mexico!



Things have been all shades of nuts lately but here are some quick updates.



Clementine is almost eight months old and I'm still acting like she's a newborn! I don't know if I'm just trying to soak up every minute of her babyhood because it's been so long since I've had a baby or what. All I know is I'm carrying her around every minute of the day, haven't ever left her for more than an hour or two, and do everything in my power to prevent her from crying. It may sound loving but it looks a lot like crazy. I'm very attached to her and she to me, even though I think we are driving each other insane. I really do think I need to start taking more time for myself though, so I'll work on that.



Homeschooling is probably best left to people who have no other option but to stay in their houses at all times while they are waiting to be transferred into witness protection. People will tell you how much fun they are having with their children all day and how the joy is just reigning down upon them - #blessed. Well, as Maury would say, the results are in and it has been determined that that is a lie! At least for our family. Homeschooling IS fun, about 10% of the time. The rest of the time it is a lot of work, my friends. I'm not even talking about the school portion. The actual schoolwork is hardly a problem at all and truly one of the best parts of it. The actual hard part is the having your kids around all day so that, in order to be alone (EVER) you need to hide in the bathroom with the doors locked, stuffing chocolate in your face. It's having your kids, who previously got along so well, start to be at each others' throats because of how much time they are now spending together. It's having to take them all grocery shopping. Every. Damn. Time. It's my house that is in such a state it could give the people on hoarders a run for their money. As an added bonus, I also get to listen to them have philosophical arguments all day, with titles such as Stop Looking at Me, Don't Look out my Car Window, I've Never Seen that Toy in my Life but All of a Sudden it's my Spirit Animal, and my personal favorite I'm Not Singing That Song About You I am Singing it To Myself. Needless to say, it's killing me. I will say that there has been some good in all this. I have been able to see Theo start to read and spell and the excitement that lights up his face when he realizes that. I have been able to spend deliberate time with them every single day. We have gotten to spend a lot of time with our fellow homeschooling friends and had many new experiences. We've read some great books, I was reminded that I should never ever go into anything involving math because its the worst, and we don't have many early mornings. I have also been able to get to know myself even better and confirm that I am indeed an introvert, who loves silence and cleanliness and organization. The jury is still out on whether all of that and my burning desire to torture myself are going to be enough to make me do this to myself again next year. I thought it was only fair to come clean so that all of you who thought I was losing it for attempting this experiment can feel really good about yourselves for being right and all those who are saying, "I don't know how Tara does it!" or pondering trying it for themselves can do so with eyes wide, wide open.



Someday soon I am going to get up the nerve to post a fitness update. My hesitation in making myself get up to take progress pictures should give you a good idea how it's going. It's going lazy. I have good spurts and then a day or two will go by where my workout just doesn't happen. Soon those days are weeks and here I am! Re-watching The OC like I'm twelve instead of squatting this butt into a shape that actually resembles a butt. At any rate, progress has been made, many pounds have been lost, and a new and exciting workout program has been found. More on that soon.



We're renovating our basement into an actual useable space. This means re-arranging my house a bit which is both thrilling and stressful. Pictures to come. I am more than overjoyed to have a place to shoo the lego, googly-eyed craft supplies and my children.



It's almost Christmas and for once in my entire life I can say that I have successfully finished all my shopping well in advance. This was mainly due to me realizing that online shopping is the greatest thing in the world. I just couldn't even with the actual mall this year. I basically step one foot in there, immediately feel overwhelmed, and start crying and blowing my nose on a stranger's sleeves. I thought I would do everyone a favor and stay home this year and I will never do it any other way! We have successfully forgotten to use our new Advent wreath every single night, my kids have those scandalous Advent calendars with actual chocolate in them, and we haven't made a single manger craft that wasn't arranged by someone else at a kid's program. So if you feel like an Advent failure, you're not alone. My cure is to stop pretending like it's going to happen and just accept that this is who I am. A big fat Advent failure who can read Christmas books, maybe make ornaments or bake cookies to give, send up some extra "HELP ME, GOD!" prayers and participate in the events the church is offering. Finally, I am ok with that and am a calmer mom for it. Feel free to stay off Pinterest and be an Advent failure along with me!



Well, I better go clean something so that someone can come and make a mess of it twenty-one seconds later!

She's Here! Ok, She's Been Here for a While...

Sorry for the interruption in your blogging services but that long break was brought to you by birthing a human being! And by lack of sleep. And by "I'll get to it tomorrow". And by sniffing her head and staring at her face and trying to absorb all the newborn-ness that's pretty much gone already.



I thought she would never arrive. For real. I mean, they tell you to enjoy those last few days and that you won't be pregnant forever. Let me tell you though that at eleven - ELEVEN - days overdue, you really do feel like the baby is stuck in there for good or was sleeping when the How To Leave The Womb baby instincts were handed out. I also did what I sagely advise every single first-time mom friend not to do which was to allow myself the hope that I might possibly maybe be early. So of course that means when your helpful phone app tells you, hey, you're 37 weeks and you could pop at any time, you say oh, I know it probably won't happen but mayyyyyybeeeee it will! . This led me to feel like I was waiting for an eternity and beyond. Of course, the classic encouraging "ANY DAY NOW!", "WOAH! IS THAT BABY GONNA FALL OUT ON THE FLOOR!" "ARE YOU GOING TO MAKE IT THROUGH CHURCH!", "ARE YOU HAVING TRIPLETS!", "HAVE YOU TRIED JUMPING ON A TRAMPOLINE WHILE EATING SPICY FOOD UPSIDE-DOWN YET?" comments were not helping.

At any rate, when labor did start, it was the strangest labor so far. I was sitting there with a friend panting a picture for my bedroom when I felt something that definitely seemed like the real thing! Imminent baby arrival! I even kept painting for a while to make sure I wasn't jumping the gun. When it got to the point where it was literally painful to carry on a conversation, Matt and my friend were all, "time to call the midwife, lady!" (It was just like the show only less British!) The midwives came and checked and it seemed that nothing was was really happening. Call back when contractions were closer together, they said. Get some rest, they said. So I tried to sleep and no luck. Things were bizarrely painful for contractions that didn't seem to be getting any closer together. This went on all night. The next day, I decided I felt bad keeping Matt home from work if this wasn't the real thing. So off to work he went and my friend came back to stay with me because I was too in pain and nervous to be alone. After a lot of Friday Night Lights episodes, things were only getting more painful and I could no longer move because that seemed to put the baby in a position that simultaneously put me into more contractions and made my tailbone feel like it was stabbing me. Fun times! By two pm, it had gotten to the point where I had to have a big crybaby meltdown because I was in so much pain, which would be fine if things were moving along but if this was going to carry on for days, I didn't know what I would do. The thought of drugs was starting to sound really good. I was doing everything you were supposed to do and trying to stay calm and breathe and yadda yadda, and I was starting to lose it. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen! It was supposed to be a speedy, peaceful home birth and progress like the last time. I called the midwife to see what kind of magic she could conjure up to help me cope. She said I sounded pretty exhausted and was starting to talk about the option of me going to the hospital to get some morphine, if things weren't moving along. My inner hippie must have heard that because I started to get the contractions close together. Lucky for her, she got to hear the pain sounds of a thousand dying cows over the phone. "OH HONEY," she said, "I'm sending someone right now!" So I called Matt home and, shortly after, my other midwife arrived. When she wanted to check how things were progressing, I was terrified that she would find that I was still at the dreaded two cm. Surprise! I was at 8! My mood changed considerably. I was almost done! The pain wasn't for nothing! I was suddenly a birthing star, all happy and smiling and in control!

See, that's the key right there for me - staying in control. After that, it's a breeze. From this part to the part where the baby pops out is when I was considered to be in actual active labor. Everything before that was just for fun and giggles! The real labor part would end up being just short of three hours. The midwives filled up the birthing pool and got everything all laid out and ready. As I had suspected she would be, that stinker baby was sunnyside up, so they made me walk up some stairs to help turn her around. I couldn't believe how amazing these ladies were at their job. They were so knowledgeable and encouraging and knew exactly what to say to keep me from having another tantrum. Matt has become an impressive birthing assistant as well so there was a lot of hip-holding on his part for which he should really get a medal and a beer. There was hand-holding and water-breaking and then it was time to push! Last guesses, they said. Was it a boy or a girl did we think? Matt said girl, I said boy. It was time. I could do this, the midwife said, and there was going to be pain either way so I should just embrace it and make it work for me. Great, I said. Let's not mess around! No sad pitiful pushes for this sweaty wild-haired lady! Next thing I knew, there was head! There was a whole baby! They put the baby right on me and it was the most amazing unforgettable moment. You carry a baby around for nine months but it never gets less mind-blowing that that tiny person was there all along. I was so euphoric about it all that it took me a moment before I said, "Oh! So is it a boy or a girl?" Since everyone else was otherwise occupied, I took a peek and was shocked. She was a girl! I was 0-3 for guessing my children's genders. I was so thrilled about the whole experience that I didn't even dwell on what that says about me as a mom.

The midwives were so wonderful. They tidied everything up, helped me have a bath with the baby, fed me a sandwich while I fed my new baby (I'd had a mean deli meat craving, of all things, all those months), swaddled my baby, and tucked us into bed. They explained all the tests they had run on the baby and me why we were cleared and healthy. They asked if I needed anything and said goodnight - they would be back tomorrow to check on us! And so they were. They were back the next day and a couple days after that and then again a couple days after that. One of the things I was especially grateful for is that, with midwifery, you don't feel alone. I could call them with any questions and they would come right to me in my home if I needed. It was the complete opposite of my experience with Theo, where the doctor sends you home with pretty much zero idea of what you're doing and the lingering sarcastic whisper of "good luck with that" ringing in your ears. Okay so that didn't really happen but you know what I mean. Anyway, I will now never do it any other way!

We named her Clementine. Clementine was a name I had loved for some time now and it fit all of the naming criteria but I wasn't sure how Matt would feel about it. I had a couple other names that I was thinking of but when Matt heard Clementine, he said he loved it and wanted that for her name. I was pretty surprised but thrilled about it. It suits her perfectly and comes with a plethora of great nicknames!

The kids are delighted with their new little sister. I was relieved to not see any signs of jealousy and instead get to witness the whole lotta lovin' they heap on her. It's a trial to get them to stop slobbering all over her face with their kisses and waking her up with their high-pitched squeals of "SOOOOOOO CUTEEEE!!!!" Life with three is wild and busy and I'm loving it. Clementine is completely beautiful - no, really. I'm like 92.999% sure that I'm not just another one of those moms who thinks their kid is cute. I get told by a stranger that this girl is a doll a minimum of a thousand times every time we step out in public. I have to try to hide the cute under hats and such so that random people will stop touching her already wild mane of hair. She has these big gorgeous eyes and kissable cheeks. She's big on chatting and beaming smiles. The long and short of it is that we're all in love and I don't know what we ever did without her.

Tallulah Talks Ed. 3

The more pregnant I get the less I seem to be posting! You're lucky actually because you're mainly missing out on a lot of whining. Everything was going so well and I thought, hey, this isn't so bad! This is easier than I remember it! I'm tired but I can deal! Well, that was before even going for groceries made me want to roll over (preferably in the Nutella aisle so I can grab a jar on my way down) and die. I'm at the point where I don't think I could possibly be more tired and then, oh look, I am. I'll spare you any pathetic further details.

To confirm that I am in fact alive, here are some hoots from the last little while....



Tallulah presented this to me after preschool on Groundhog Day and proudly announced, "Here's my warthog!" She lives by her own rules, that girl.



Playing Chopped ...

Lu: One...two...three...Step back! I look at my plate and it's delicious.



After meeting a toddler...

Lu: Hey, you know that little guy was speaking Spanish!

Me: I don't think so, Lu.

Lu: He is! Because I could not understand him.

Me:.....

Lu: Ladies and gentlemints! I gotta tell you something.



Lu: When the baby gets here, are we going to keep him for a bit and then give him away?

Me: ....No.

Matt: You can't hide things under the couch, Lu. That's not cleaning!

Lu: UGH!

Me: What did you get from this talk, Lu?

Lu: I don't know. We talked about a lot of things!

Lu: Where are my slippers?

Me: I think they're in your room. Go have a look.

Lu (dramatic moaning) : I can just not go up and down, up and down!

Me::......



Lu: Ugh. You is stupid.

Me: Lu, you can't talk like that to me. Say sorry.

Lu: Sorry...that you is stupid!

And a few gooders from Theo...

Theo: Daddy, let's watch Star Wars...while Mama is on a trip.

Matt:.... HAHAHA

Theo: Is a booby trap where monsters jump out and attack you with their boobies?

Me: .....

Theo: Ok, who is your boyfriend?

Lu: Um...you!

Theo: Actually no. You have to pick a stuffie.

Me: Do you want me to eat that for you?

Theo: No....nice try.

Name Talk

Oh where to begin. I love names! I want to ask everyone about their names and their kid's names and their kid's doll's names and all the names! My baby stalking habit on Facebook is getting a little creepy. I spend far too much time on naming sites, checking name popularity stats, and reading birth announcements like only a true fellow name-lover could understand. I could probably talk about baby names for hours and of course they've really been on my brain these days. As with nearly everything I do, I'm always obsessed with making the most perfect decision ever known to man. If I make a mistake, I'm sticking my kid with it for life!

When I was younger, I sometimes wished that I had been named Emily or Ashley or something that ten of my friends were named. Now I don't mind having a different name and I actually kind of like it. Ok, my name doesn't seem all that different but the Irish way my parents pronounce it is different than the regular pronunciation. That part gets a little annoying but I've just stopped correcting people. The introvert in me doesn't think it's worth the mortifying moment of having to correct someone. At any rate, my parents put alot of thought into their decision and I've always appreciated that and the story behind it.

There are so many things to consider and I think that the motivations behind choosing a name are different for everyone. For us, it started out as

1. A name we both liked.

2. Something recognizable but different. Nothing popular or requiring our child to be known by first and last name to identify them.

3. A nice meaning is always good.

4. Family name for a middle.

With Theo, we didn't have any trouble at all. It's a name we have both always loved, we definitely didn't know any other Theo, it means "gift of God" (being 18 and pregnant, it never hurt to shove this fact in people's judgy faces...oops, did I just say that outloud) and we gave him my dad's name for a middle, which just happened to be a name that we both liked as well. We weren't sure if calling him Theo was too nick-namey, so we gave him the full name of Theodore, just in case he wants to use it when he becomes a doctor. No eyes were really raised with this one. I mean, maybe a few but I was completely sold and didn't care. We had to forbid a few people from calling him Teddy but no blood was shed. He's such a Theo and it was a perfect pick.

Then came Tallulah. To this day I cannot tell you how that name came about. I've always liked it but I had sort of forgotten about it until I was pregnant with her. If Theo had been a girl, his name would have been Norah. Tallulah wasn't even on the list. Somehow, I stumbled across it again and loved it. Loved. It. The look of it, the sound of it, the spunkiness. To me it was a unique but easy-to-say name that was a little retro, full of personality, and pretty. I didn't actually think it was all that out there until I tried it out on my husband. He thought I was nuts and wanted to "just call her Sarah or something." I tried to fall in love with a more conventional name but it just wasn't going to happen. I spent hours on the millions of name sites I pour over and nothing felt as right to me as that. So I started to try it out on my baby bump to see if I could turn Matt around. At first there was a lot of "stop calling her that!" but when she finally arrived, he said "So let's name her Tallulah then?" and the rest is history. It suits her perfectly. I had originally thought she would go by Lulah and wasn't a huge fan of Lu or Lulu. As names do, it changed with her and now she goes mainly by Lu or Lulu and a whole bunch of other nicknames that I never could have predicted. In the end, Matt seemed alright with Tallulah, so that sort of fit the first criteria. We definitely haven't met any other Tallulah's but people never seem to mishear it, probably thanks to Bruce Willis and that actress Tallulah Bankhead which I have tried to avoid finding out too much about because I heard she was rather wild and didn't wear underpants or something. Again, not about to look that up. Tallulah means "lady" or "princess" which seems to suit how very girly she is. Matt chose her middle name which honors his grandmother, so that box is checked off as well. Bonus: it's also super satisfying to say when she's in trouble AND I know that when she's running away from me, she knows exactly who I'm talking to!

I would say that I don't usually share my babies names before they are born but I don't think that that's actually true. My lack of self-control usually leads me to tell a few people and there are always a couple of close friends who I try it out on or corner to make them listen to my pro-con list. I think the problem with this is that if you put it out there for opinions, you actually get opinions. Duh. This can be really great and help you to think of things that you haven't thought of. It can also be really confusing and make you doubt your choice. Sometimes, there are good reasons to re-think (i.e. naming your kid after a Game of Thrones character, taking a normal name like Jake and turning it into Jaiyyke with a silent X, naming your kid something you completely made up on drugs at the birth, etc) but sometimes, it comes down to personal taste and I think you really just have to go with what you think is right for your kid. I put on this whole you-can't-tell-me-what-to-do air but really at heart, I think I'm a huge people pleaser and when it comes to something like this, I really really want everyone to love it as much as I do. I'm realizing this time around that a baby name that absolutely no one could have a problem with just does not exist. Which is great actually, because if that name did exist, everyone would be called the same thing and how boring would that be!

Our criteria has changed a bit over the years. When we picked a name for the baby we lost, we realized we had unknowingly added

5. No more T's. (Complete coincidence the first two times. I loved Tallulah's name too much in spite of the T but it irks me to this day.)

6. Full, possibly three syllable name with a nickname is a good option.

We ended up choosing Augustus (Gus) Matthew. Another name that seemed so very right to us and it meant a lot to me that we gave him a name that reflected his siblings'.

So what do you name a sibling for Theo, Tallulah, and Gus? I feel like we have really parked ourselves into a naming niche now. We almost need to add:

7. Kind of quirky or retro.

8. Something that goes with our other children.

Sibsets might not be important to everyone but they are too me. I've always sort of done a (hopefully sneaky) head tilt when someone says their kid's names are Peter, Anne and Jagger. What happened there? How is Jagger going to feel about his name being the one that doesn't go with the others? My feeling also extends to having an Isabella, Sophia and Sloane. It doesn't seem fair to give the two daughters such girly names and have Sloane stuck with a more masculine sounding one.

Plus, you can write off all the names that rhyme with your kid's names and anything that doesn't go. For example, we will never have a Theo and a Leo. Naming a child something like Lila wouldn't make much sense either because that's a lot of of L when you're calling Lulu and Lila across the playground.

Do you see what I mean?! It's like a name spiral. It makes my head hurt but I can't stop thinking about it! With this baby, we also don't know the gender so I really have to be on my game. My first instinct for a girl's name was actually much more of a classic choice than the one we seem to be heading for. Surprise! That was actually Matt's doing. I couldn't believe my ears. I'm trying to love our more classic choice and get Matt on board as well because, depending on how many future children we have, I'm going to have a really hard time coming up with many more individualistic names. We're still sort of waffling around but we seem to have at least solidly landed on a boy's name, much to my relief. I was worried for most of this pregnancy that if it was a boy, he would be nameless. Once again, when we found the name, it just fit. I mean, I hope it fits! We always have a few backups, just in case....

A Baby Nook

I've been trying to listen to everyone who keeps telling me to relax about baby prep (actually, that's a lie. I've just gotten really good at smiling and saying mmhmmm while still going over my to-do list in my head). I knew though how fast this due date was going to sneak up on me and here we are, just over five weeks out. It's not that I'm one of those wishful delusional people that thinks I'm going to have the baby early or whatever. It's just that I don't want to be spending my last few uncomfortable weeks organizing blankets or waddling and sweating around the mall looking for the ever allusive perfect first outfit. Even running errands has gotten ridiculously frustrating because all I want to do is accomplish something but the amount of time it takes me to do anything is laughable. Can you tell I'm getting grumpy?

Anyway, this weekend I managed to actually complete a project I have been working on for way way too long now - the baby nook. After many a roadblock with the making of the mobile (damn it, overly-expensive Michaels! How can you not have double-sided gold paper?), among other things, I put the finishing touches on with the aid of my best friend that I always sucker into helping me.

As usual, when I started this project, I got too excited to remember to take any before pictures. Basically it was a closet with mirrored doors in a boring vanilla work-in-progress master bedroom. That's all.

We are reusing our old change table and to make that more interesting, I did a small knob upgrade which made a huge difference. We took the bulky top off eventually as well.

This before photo is of half the dresser because I had already replaced the knobs on the other drawer before I took the photo. I wasn't about to put those cheesy little animals back on, so this is what you get!

We are lucky to have a large master bedroom which was easily divided by one of my favorite and most versatile pieces of furniture - the Ikea expedit. We didn't know where we were going to put this when we turned the playroom into a bedroom but I was really excited about using it as a room divider and baby storage. I never know what to do with all the tiny socks and washcloths and such so the bin system works really well for me.











There you have it! Simple, calm, and pretty. I was really happy with how it came together. Matt was looking at it the other night and saying, "You know, we've never had a room to decorate for a baby." He was right! Every time we have had a newborn, there was some sort of weird circumstance that meant our baby got the ugly sad end of the stick (ie. a bassinet at the end of our bed. Oh the tragedy!) The baby won't have their own room for a while, on account of their siblings needing to be kept apart in their own rooms so that we can at least pretend to get sleep over here. It was a great feeling this time to prepare a space while we wait for this little one to arrive and undoubtedly have a poop explosion all over that nice white crib sheet.

Two Despicable Parties

I survived another year of birthday-Christmas-birthday and lived to post about it in an untimely manner! As you can tell when you look very closely at my eyeballs, which are hanging permanently out of their sockets from me making my stress face, every round seems to come up even more quickly than the last.

Now, you may be asking yourself, what in the heck is wrong with this crazy pregnant lady? Just get a cake mix, some balloons and call it a day. I too have thought this exact same thought and though I've tried to convince myself, I just can't stay away from the siren song of the DIY birthday party. I love it! I love to bake things like cakes but I can't allow myself to have treats in the house on non-special occasions because I will eat them. All. No, like actually all. The crumbs of the crumbs will be slurped away. I also love to craft but the opportunities to make giant floating puffs of tissue paper and attach them all over your house are limited. I used to tell myself that I did all of this to save money as well but in reality, you can get decorations for so cheap these days that I don't think that's actually true. I suppose my biggest reason is that it makes me heartily pat myself on the back and feel like a fantastic mother, which doesn't make a lot of logical sense because truly alot of the moms I admire are the ones who just don't give two toots about this kind of thing. I think I just tell myself things such as "Well, I may be terrible at keeping baby books, playing games that involve lying on the floor, and I don't allow markers in the house, but I can make a mean streamer waterfall." And so, my friends, on birthdays I go all out. It is truly a time of celebration and near-divorce, as I run around the house throwing tape and hollering orders at anyone who is forced to help or listen.

This year, much to my cringing horror, Theo wanted his very first trademarked character birthday. Minions. I love Despicable Me probably even more than the next person but I just have a really hard time getting on board with this brand stuff. I can't help it. I don't care if I'm the last person standing who doesn't love these types of things but I just...don't. I decided to take inspiration from O Happy Day to try to minimize my pain but keep my kid's heart happy. Her advice was to throw in a couple key items but to just make the rest of the party your own. And that is what I did.

No party guests were harmed in the making of this photo. I just figured their parents probably don't want them associated with this madness.

I could not believe how easily this cake came together. It was absurd.

What always feels like much to soon after purging my living room of bits of candy canes, a billion baby Jesus's, and the inevitable styrofoam explosion that happens when you try to force your unwilling Christmas ornaments in the box, Lu's birthday shoots around the corner and surprises us. Just like her brother, she was thrilled to give me a half heart-attack and ask for a party to the theme of the fluffy unicorn from, yes, Despicable Me. Luckily for me, the people who make money from making plates out of these sorts of things haven't figured out just how marketable fluffy unicorns are, so this theme was left much more to my interpretation.

Just so everyone is aware, if Matt's first career choice doesn't pan out, he's well on his way to becoming a professional garland maker. Alright, so he only really twisted some things here and there and held up the string for me but I think he gets a B for effort. If he had toned down the noises that make it sound like he needs to get his appendix taken out, I might have have given him an A.

These tassel garlands had the bonus of sort of resembling unicorn tails.

There was alot more food than this sad bowl of chips, but I didn't have time to put it out before I took the photo. On special occasions, I do actually need to make getting out of my pajamas a priority.

Matt also helped with the streamers. By this point, he had stopped trying to fight me. What a stellar job he did too! We're quite a team. Me dictating, him hanging. Me getting frustrated at his slow pace and joining him on the hanging. Profesh.









Ok, so this is where I need to confess my deepest shame: I used a cake mix. From a box. The horror. Lu wanted a white cake because "dat is more like a unicorn" but I hadn't practiced my white cake making skills enough to trust myself to successfully create four layers. So we went the box route which felt a lot like cheating and tasted a lot like sponge. It looked pretty though! The cake topper was brought to you today by Matt, a tiny pony toy, a toothpick, a can of spray paint, and the word "Damn it!".

Look at those adorable fluffy unicorns! I made the horns out of a headband, foam paper, wrapping paper, and a stapler because my glue gun is no where to be found.

So there you have it! The nutshow is over for another year. My marriage is still intact (we even had a moment hanging up the garlands where Matt sincerely told me that he realizes that I am completely crazy and he still really loves me. So. Sweet!) Two extremely happy children have repeatedly thanked me for their parties which they "just loved" and have informed me that they have already started planning for next year. Hurray! Hopefully anyone planning a Despicable Me party of any kind will feel inspired by all of this, but as for me, I'm ready to hang up the scotch tape for a while.

This Is It and It's Ok

Well, this baby is due to pop out in 10 weeks which is both exciting and semi-terrifying (almost as terrifying as when a little friend of Theo's, who was over to play, got talking with with us about our new baby and piped up with, "Babies don't really 'pop' out though, right?" I said "Not exactly...Oh look, a distraction!") I realize that I've had two kids before so this should be like riding a bike, right?

I'm hoping this will be a much easier bike than I have had to ride in the past. When Theo was born, I was nineteen, fresh off the marriage boat, living in my in-laws' basement, and though I didn't know it I was struggling with depression and anxiety. Our possessions were basically second-hand baby clothes, one year's tuition for a journalism program I would no longer be attending and whatever generous people had given us for wedding gifts. I remember one night, in between HGTV marathons and breastfeeding, crying my eyes out while kissing Theo's little nose and telling him it was going to be ok. I could do this, even though I had no idea what that was going to mean. It turns out that it meant moving into a sketchy teeny first apartment and eating a lot of chocolate Costco muffins and chicken drumsticks because I was still learning to really cook. We would cuddle on the couch to the smells of the neighbours' pot haven across the hall. Life was frustrating but somehow it was ok. Theo was a sweetheart of a baby and made things really easy for us. We were totally in love with our wild-haired little boy.



We found out we were pregnant with Lu pretty quickly - read: Theo was still five months old. At the same time, Matt had been looking for a company to start his plumbing apprenticeship with but it was the recession and nobody was hiring. Friends of ours in Edmonton put him in touch with a neighbour and next thing we knew, we had leapt at a job offer and we were moving. When we told our parents all of that news at once, there was some happy talk but also some speculation that we had really hopped on the train to the town of cray. Looking back, I can completely understand the mixed reactions but at the time, I was feeling a little lonely staying at home with my tiny baby so I figured one more would really liven things up. I had friends in Edmonton, we wouldn't be there forever, it would be ok.



Fast-forward to another terrible apartment in one of the sketchiest parts of Edmonton, where I would spend my entire day alone because we only had one car. Still, I tried to make it as pretty as possible in that small small space and to fill the long days for Theo and me. After experiencing what I thought was gas turned oh-yeah-those-are-definitely-contractions and an almost car crash, beautiful Tallulah was born. Lu had reflux which meant the poor girl was in pain and cried alot. Feeding her was challenging. Actually, doing anything was challenging because she had to be on me at all times. My mom came to stay and help for a few days and when it was time for her to leave, I was more than a tad worried about how I was going to handle a 14 month old and a newborn. I remember making it through the first day on my own and going, I can do this. I can really do this. I have to wash my newborn's clothes at the laundromat but I can do this.



Matt ended up getting an even better job offer soon after and we moved into a much nicer neighbourhood, in a townhouse with quite a bit of space, an area for the kids to run around outside, and - thank God - a washer and dryer. I got a job at a gym down the road in the childcare department which really helped break up the still lonely and still long days. Matt would go to work before the sun came up and would often be gone until after dinner. We were both exhausted and, without our parents around, we didn't really get a break. Still, I loved being a mom and I tried really really hard. I learned about healthy eating and my cooking slowly improved. We sang and we read and made faces at each other, like good moms and babies do. I tried to be patient and I tried not to yell. I told them I loved them and kissed their sweet faces multiple times a day. Still, nothing I did was perfect enough to please myself and the depression and anxiety steadily got worse. Life got nearly impossible then but that's a story for another day. The point is, things were much much harder then than they are now and my first two experiences of babyhood were a complete whirlwind. Sometimes, I wish life had been easier then so that I could enjoy what fleeting time I had while my babies were small, but I know I did the best I could with what had been thrown at me. In the end, I suppose that's all any mother can say.



At one point, I had hoped that my third baby could be sort of a do-over. A chance to have that perfect mom experience. We have our own home now, we live close to the support of our parents, we have a washer and dryer and even a dishwasher, and I'm better. You know what? It's still not going to be perfect and that's ok because perfect is not real life. I'm going to the enjoy the crap out of this baby, even if it still has to ride around in some clunky cheap stroller, wearing some hand-me-downs from its siblings. I might be a bit scared of doing this again and it might be hard. Hopefully, things will never be as hard as they once were but I know that I can do scary and I can do hard. All I really have to remember about a baby is that cliche old ladies say on repeat about how fast it goes because it's true. You have to enjoy those speeding moments that you get because they aren't ever going to slow down. No matter where you're at or how your life is packaged, this is it. And most of the time, it's pretty wonderful.

Tallulah Talks Ed. 2 (heavily feat. Theo)

Lu: I like to sing more louder so that everyone can hear it.



Lu: Honey, do I look good?

Theo: ....



Lu: Oooh, mama, you're getting too big for this couch. It's not gonna fit you anymore.

Me: ....Thanks Lu.



In the last little while, Theo was the one who I was trying to hide my laughter from most often.

"Mama, this is a picture of you getting married. You're saying "AHHHHHHHHHH!"

Theo: Tallulah, if you keep yelling at me, you're gonna be k-l-p-f-e-y-. And that means no yelling!



Theo: Time to get the big black scissors! We need to cut your hair.

Me: No.

Theo: Aw, please? Just the hairs that are sticking up?

Me: No.

Theo: Awwwww mannnnnnn.



Me: Theo and Lu, what are you doing up there?

Theo (in a very loud whisper) : Quick Lu! Keep her busy!



On babies in Mama's tummy....

Theo: I don't think I want this baby. I heard they whine a lot for food.



On babies that used to be in Mama's tummy...

Theo: Remember Gus? Wouldn't it be funny if Jesus had boobies so that he was feeding Gus up there?

Me:.....

Lu:.....HAHAHAHA



On race...

Theo: So, when am I going to turn brown like Uncle Si?

Me: .....



Theo (after sitting awhile in silence, pondering and sighing) : Aw Mama, I wish you were white like us!

The Little Things: Door Updates

Since we bought our place two years ago, we have been slowly but surely bringing it into the modern world. We know that this isn't our forever home and also that my part-time job of hoping a rich stranger will feel sorry for me and hand us wads of cash has not been particularly lucrative. So we have had to work with what we have. You would not believe how quickly things that, in a spoiled way, you had previously thought were sort of a given, such as baseboards and light-switches, add up. So instead of buying replacements, we have done some DIY upgrades that we've been really pleased with.

One of these upgrades was our doors. We had the standard brown builder doors that you find in most homes built in the 80's. They were so blah that I wanted to fall asleep looking at them and they were really bringing down the style that I was trying to achieve in our home. What we ended up doing was gluing trim on them to make them look more current and then we gave them a fresh new coat of white paint. I (very badly...I was excited and have no patience) spray painted the door knobs black for some extra drama. What a difference! Our house instantly looked less dated.



One of my next biggest "ews" were our mirrored closet doors in the master. Nobody wants to have to see full-body views of themselves eating Ben and Jerry's that often, ok? Besides that, in the picture I had in my mind of my future bedroom, the mirrored doors stuck out like a granny in Forever 21. Sadly, new doors were not in the budget and frankly did not seem worth it in the big scheme of all I hope to eventually do to this house. I realized that the biggest problem was the really bad finish on the doors and that I could deal with the actual mirror part.



So I recruited my husband and brother to carry them down to the garage. They are much heavier than you'd think and those two practically gave me a heart attack with their lack of concern for my helpful "WATCH IT! BE CAREFUL! YOU KNOW THERE'S A WALL THERE, RIGHT?!" comments. Once they were in the garage, Matt put the doors up on a sawhorse and we got to work on the most essential part of the process - taping and covering the mirrors. This must be done well or your project is a bust.



Next, we spray-painted them with a primer and then a few coats of white paint. Ok, actually Matt did that. I'm realizing that his resistance to these projects is because he's probably catching on to the fact that he's really doing most of the work. I'm pregnant, ok! At any rate, we bribed my brother with beer to come back over and help move the doors back up. Ta-da! Instant update!

Now to get rid of that horrid carpet....I can already hear Matt sighing and saying, "No, Tara" in my mind but don't worry. I'm distracted by another project for the time being. This is the project where I purge our master of two out of four mirror closet doors that did not get painted, leaving a wide open space to create a baby nook AND creating the opportunity to re-do our entire bedroom. Updates to come!