I do believe, little baby, that you have indeed dropped. My belly has gone from a basketball-shaped mass to more of a Pinocchio-nose-shaped mass. You make me look a lot pointier now, and while it's not as cute as a basketball, it means we're making progress. Keep it up!
I lost a pound this week. Of course I'm not trying to lose weight, but since I've only gained weight for the past 9 months, it was kind of nice to hear that I lost something. I'm sure it's due to being outside more thanks to the lovely weather we've been having.
Daddy and I are packing our hospital bag this week (shame on us for not having it done earlier!). I've packed four outfits for you: two pink outfits in different sizes and two blue outfits in different sizes. I'm assuming you'll be too big for a newborn outfit (Smith babies are anything but small and dainty), but I'm bringing two, just in case. I cannot believe you'll be here soon. Like for REAL soon.
I'm pretty sure that Daddy and I have finalized your name. We have our #1 boy name and #1 girl name - and we also have backup names in case the #1 name doesn't suit you for some reason. And funny enough, they happen to be Natalie's favorite names for you.
Oh, and according to SLPA, you're the size of a Swiss chard. A 6.5-lb Swiss chard.
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Friday, October 21, 2011
Weekly Natalie - Week 145
Maybe it's because I'm very pregnant and very emotional, or maybe because she's becoming a big sister in a few short weeks, but she looks so gigantic in this picture. A gigantic baby-faced munchkin. Who I love so, so much.
Friday, October 14, 2011
Weekly Natalie - Week 144
Natalie's latest favorite thing is for me to take a video of her and for her to watch it afterward. She calls the 'Natalie video' a 'show'. As in, "Yet's watch da show, Momma!"
Here she is 'reading' Pat the Bunny to me.
(Yep, you heard that right. She asked if Paul and Judy were healthy. Silly kid.)
Here she is 'reading' Scuffy the Tugboat to me.
In case you're having a hard time understanding her, here's what she's saying: Scuffy was sad. He [something, something] loud things. My arm. The teddy bear came into the storm. And one day, they catched the polka-dot tie with the man with the hair with the boy's hair. With the bathtub. With the water things. And, uh, and the end!
Here she is 'reading' Pat the Bunny to me.
(Yep, you heard that right. She asked if Paul and Judy were healthy. Silly kid.)
Here she is 'reading' Scuffy the Tugboat to me.
In case you're having a hard time understanding her, here's what she's saying: Scuffy was sad. He [something, something] loud things. My arm. The teddy bear came into the storm. And one day, they catched the polka-dot tie with the man with the hair with the boy's hair. With the bathtub. With the water things. And, uh, and the end!
Friday, October 07, 2011
Weekly Natalie - Week 143
We've had some amazingly top-notch weather here recently, so I took full advantage of it by visiting lots of parks. Being 8 months pregnant doesn't allow me to be the most fun park buddy, but Nat didn't seem to mind. Let's hope this trend continues!
Singing "Jesus Loves Me" at the top of her lungs
Boingy, boingy, boingy!
(Braided PIGTAILS!!)
Boinging with Daddy
Where did my tiny, tiny baby go?!
She scares me to death every time she does this.
In my mind, she's gonna swing too far and launch herself off the slide.
In my mind, she's gonna swing too far and launch herself off the slide.
Singing "Jesus Loves Me" at the top of her lungs
Boingy, boingy, boingy!(Braided PIGTAILS!!)
Boinging with Daddy
Where did my tiny, tiny baby go?!
Tuesday, October 04, 2011
Weekly Buzz - Week 34
So Super Lame Pregnancy App (SLPA) continues to baffle me in its description of you. This week marks 34 weeks. And to what did SLPA compare you to? Not just a cantaloupe, no sir, but an average cantaloupe. I can assure you, dear baby, that you are anything but average. Team Smith doesn't contain any average members. Kooky? Yes. Spazzy? Sure. Mind-blowingly awesome? You betcha. Average? Ha.
Onto other you-related news, you are now head-down. I think you must have moved this morning, because I was pretty sure you were still lying sideways last night. And birthing a kid who insists on lying sideways ain't happening. You're too young for an anatomy lesson, but trust me: sideways != good ... head down = good.
And you are definitely your father's child. Because while your body is measuring at 34 weeks, your head is measuring at 36w+2d. If you decide to come on your 'head due date', you'll be here before Halloween. That's in just a few short weeks. A. Few. Short. Weeks.
I think another holiday baby would be awesome. I was just thinking of Veteran's Day.
Onto other you-related news, you are now head-down. I think you must have moved this morning, because I was pretty sure you were still lying sideways last night. And birthing a kid who insists on lying sideways ain't happening. You're too young for an anatomy lesson, but trust me: sideways != good ... head down = good.
And you are definitely your father's child. Because while your body is measuring at 34 weeks, your head is measuring at 36w+2d. If you decide to come on your 'head due date', you'll be here before Halloween. That's in just a few short weeks. A. Few. Short. Weeks.
I think another holiday baby would be awesome. I was just thinking of Veteran's Day.
Saturday, October 01, 2011
September 2011 - Recap
My dear sweetness,
Have I mentioned lately how you're good for the ego? Because you so are. When you belly-laugh at something Daddy or I do, it's the best thing ever. Even when your belly laughs are super-fake, it's still the best thing ever.
I'm big on giving you choices. "Do you want to wear your pink shoes or brown shoes?" "Do you want to brush your teeth first or second?" "Do you want to run to the car or hop to the car?" If you don't want to do something (which is happening a lot, actually. Knock it off.), you've started saying "I don't want to do ANYSING (anything)! I just want to go home and take a bass (bath)". Um, okay, what?
We moved you to a big girl bed this month. And I literally mean 'moved'. From December 2010 until March-ish 2011, you slept on the floor, as close to the entrance of your room as physically possible (you practically had baby gate marks on your face from being so close to it). You didn't want a mattress and you were barely okay with us putting a blanket on the floor for your to sleep on. You had a toddler bed to sleep in, but I think when you got your first ear infection, you associated the pain of that to your new toddler bed (since the ear infection and the transition to the toddler bed happened within days of each other). So in March, you finally got okay with us putting your crib mattress on the floor by the door. So you slept on that until August. We tried to be sneaky and slowly start to move the mattress further and further away from the door, but you were on to our little games. You insisted that wherever we put the mattress wasn't close enough to the door unless it was physically touching the baby gate. We took the toddler bed out of your room and bought you a twin bed with some extraordinarily cute bedding (polkadots, paisley, butterflies, and plaid - oh my!). You were STOKED. Until ... you realized that the big girl bed was where your crib was (ie: in the normal place where a bed goes, NOT by the door) and that we weren't moving it to be closer to the door. We explained at length about how your big girl bed was too big and heavy to move, and that you didn't need to sleep by the door anymore. You weren't 100% happy with our explanation, but lo and behold, you stayed in bed all night. I was convinced that you'd get up multiple times during the night and fuss about your new sleeping arrangements, but you surprised me, Little One. You don't always stay in your bed, though. On several occasions, you've woken up and brought your pillow to your trusty spot by the baby gate and fallen back asleep. But you do it without fussing or crying. And in the mornings? Instead of squawking for us to come get you as soon as you wake up, you read your books and play with your toys for at least 10 or 15 minutes. Many times, I've come to check on you and you're laying down on the floor by the baby gate, with your feet propped up on the wall, reading to yourself. You'll look up at me and say "I'm not weddy for bweckfast. I'm still weeding my books." It's awesome.
Speaking of your big girl bed, you insist on showing everyone your big girl bed. This includes people who have already seen your big girl bed. Multiple times. Like Bob and Pep. And even Daddy. Often, when he comes home from work, you run up to him and squeal "I got a big guhl bed, Daddy! Come yook at it!" Your favorite thing to show people is how you can do somersaults on (and often off) your bed. I think gymnastics class is definitely in your future.
With many thanks to Dora the Explorer, you can now count to 10 in Spanish. It's muy cool-o.
You still say that school is 'scawy', although each time I've picked you up, you tell me how much fun you had ("I pwayed wiff a BALL at da GYM!" "I ate a peanut butter and jewwy SAMMICH!" "I colored a PICTURE!"). And you're not shy about saying "I did cwy a yiddle bit, Momma." You're always curious if I cried during whatever I did while you were at school. "Did you cwy at the gwocery store?" or "Did you cwy at Bible study?". When I tell you that I did not, in fact, cry, you giggle and say "Noooo, dat's siwwy (silly)!"
You were in your first wedding this month. One of my dearest friends got married; you were the flower girl and I was one of the matrons of honor. When she first asked me if you'd be the flower girl, she said she completely understood the inherent risks associated with asking a two-year-old (in particular, MY two-year-old) to take part in a wedding. She said that whatever you did (or didn't do) would be fine, and that kids make weddings funnier. (God bless her!) We figured the easiest thing would be for you and me to hold hands and walk down the aisle together. Two minutes before it was our turn to walk, you decided that you didn't want to do it. Instead, you wanted to play on the stairs in the lobby of the chapel. I loudly whispered that we could NOT, in fact, do that, and that we DID, in fact, have to walk down the aisle. You got all huffy and protested a bit more, but then you finally let me lead you to the entrance of the sanctuary. When it was our turn, you grabbed my hand and we started our walk. One footstep into it, you decided you didn't want to hold my hand. You wrenched your hand from mine and said "Don't hold my hand, Momma. I can do it mySELF!" To me, it sounded like you yelled this. But nobody else said they heard it. Daddy and I had already decided that after you and I got to the front of the chapel, I would lead you to him and he'd take you out of the chapel to play outside. Because you being still and quiet during a wedding? Yeah, not gonna happen. So we got to the front of the chapel and you decided you wanted to sit on the floor. I tried to get you to sit at my feet where I was standing with the other bridesmaids, but you had another idea. You wanted to sit right where the bride would be standing. As I was trying to quietly but forcefully suggest you scoot your booty, Daddy swept in, scooped you up, and got you out of the chapel before you could pitch too big of a fit. All in all, I was really proud of you for how you handled the day. And baby girl, you couldn't have looked cuter if you TRIED. Bob made your flower girl dress (a sweet pillowcase dress made out of a gorgeous white paisley fabric with eyelets) and the bride's aunt made you a flower crown to wear.
I don't necessarily think of myself as having a strong Southern accent, but you have picked up this insanely Southern accent from SOMEwhere. Maybe we watch too much Paula Dean on TV. You pronounce milk like "MEE-ulk". You pronounce "gazelle" (you have a stuffed gazelle; otherwise, I assure you that the word "gazelle" probably wouldn't enter our vocabulary much) like "guh-ZAY-ul". And if I wasn't suffering from severe Pregnancy Brain, I could rattle off loads more words. But trust me, you sound like you could star in Steel Magnolias.
You've gotten really good about telling me about your feelings, and I'm trying to make sure we talk about your feelings, why you're feeling a certain way, and if there's anything we can do to change your feelings (if they're bad). You often get really "fwustwated" at me when I fuss at you for doing something you shouldn't be doing. Sometimes you tell me how "fwustwated" you are with the tone of a grousing, sullen 13-year-old girl. Sometimes you come up to me with your head lowered, looking all pitiful, and telling me you're "fwustwated". I love that you tell me how you're feeling (even if you don't always know why you're feeling the way you are), and as much as I'd like to tell you I'll work on not "fwustwating" you, alas, I cannot. I'm your mom. "Fwustwating your daughter" is the first item on my job description. In case you're wondering, the second item is "Blubbering your daughter's belly." I'm also awesome at that.
Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Headlines for October 1, 2011:
Have I mentioned lately how you're good for the ego? Because you so are. When you belly-laugh at something Daddy or I do, it's the best thing ever. Even when your belly laughs are super-fake, it's still the best thing ever.
I'm big on giving you choices. "Do you want to wear your pink shoes or brown shoes?" "Do you want to brush your teeth first or second?" "Do you want to run to the car or hop to the car?" If you don't want to do something (which is happening a lot, actually. Knock it off.), you've started saying "I don't want to do ANYSING (anything)!
We moved you to a big girl bed this month. And I literally mean 'moved'. From December 2010 until March-ish 2011, you slept on the floor, as close to the entrance of your room as physically possible (you practically had baby gate marks on your face from being so close to it). You didn't want a mattress and you were barely okay with us putting a blanket on the floor for your to sleep on. You had a toddler bed to sleep in, but I think when you got your first ear infection, you associated the pain of that to your new toddler bed (since the ear infection and the transition to the toddler bed happened within days of each other). So in March, you finally got okay with us putting your crib mattress on the floor by the door. So you slept on that until August. We tried to be sneaky and slowly start to move the mattress further and further away from the door, but you were on to our little games. You insisted that wherever we put the mattress wasn't close enough to the door unless it was physically touching the baby gate. We took the toddler bed out of your room and bought you a twin bed with some extraordinarily cute bedding (polkadots, paisley, butterflies, and plaid - oh my!). You were STOKED. Until ... you realized that the big girl bed was where your crib was (ie: in the normal place where a bed goes, NOT by the door) and that we weren't moving it to be closer to the door. We explained at length about how your big girl bed was too big and heavy to move, and that you didn't need to sleep by the door anymore. You weren't 100% happy with our explanation, but lo and behold, you stayed in bed all night. I was convinced that you'd get up multiple times during the night and fuss about your new sleeping arrangements, but you surprised me, Little One. You don't always stay in your bed, though. On several occasions, you've woken up and brought your pillow to your trusty spot by the baby gate and fallen back asleep. But you do it without fussing or crying. And in the mornings? Instead of squawking for us to come get you as soon as you wake up, you read your books and play with your toys for at least 10 or 15 minutes. Many times, I've come to check on you and you're laying down on the floor by the baby gate, with your feet propped up on the wall, reading to yourself. You'll look up at me and say "I'm not weddy for bweckfast. I'm still weeding my books." It's awesome.
Speaking of your big girl bed, you insist on showing everyone your big girl bed. This includes people who have already seen your big girl bed. Multiple times. Like Bob and Pep. And even Daddy. Often, when he comes home from work, you run up to him and squeal "I got a big guhl bed, Daddy! Come yook at it!" Your favorite thing to show people is how you can do somersaults on (and often off) your bed. I think gymnastics class is definitely in your future.
With many thanks to Dora the Explorer, you can now count to 10 in Spanish. It's muy cool-o.
You still say that school is 'scawy', although each time I've picked you up, you tell me how much fun you had ("I pwayed wiff a BALL at da GYM!" "I ate a peanut butter and jewwy SAMMICH!" "I colored a PICTURE!"). And you're not shy about saying "I did cwy a yiddle bit, Momma." You're always curious if I cried during whatever I did while you were at school. "Did you cwy at the gwocery store?" or "Did you cwy at Bible study?". When I tell you that I did not, in fact, cry, you giggle and say "Noooo, dat's siwwy (silly)!"
You were in your first wedding this month. One of my dearest friends got married; you were the flower girl and I was one of the matrons of honor. When she first asked me if you'd be the flower girl, she said she completely understood the inherent risks associated with asking a two-year-old (in particular, MY two-year-old) to take part in a wedding. She said that whatever you did (or didn't do) would be fine, and that kids make weddings funnier. (God bless her!) We figured the easiest thing would be for you and me to hold hands and walk down the aisle together. Two minutes before it was our turn to walk, you decided that you didn't want to do it. Instead, you wanted to play on the stairs in the lobby of the chapel. I loudly whispered that we could NOT, in fact, do that, and that we DID, in fact, have to walk down the aisle. You got all huffy and protested a bit more, but then you finally let me lead you to the entrance of the sanctuary. When it was our turn, you grabbed my hand and we started our walk. One footstep into it, you decided you didn't want to hold my hand. You wrenched your hand from mine and said "Don't hold my hand, Momma. I can do it mySELF!" To me, it sounded like you yelled this. But nobody else said they heard it. Daddy and I had already decided that after you and I got to the front of the chapel, I would lead you to him and he'd take you out of the chapel to play outside. Because you being still and quiet during a wedding? Yeah, not gonna happen. So we got to the front of the chapel and you decided you wanted to sit on the floor. I tried to get you to sit at my feet where I was standing with the other bridesmaids, but you had another idea. You wanted to sit right where the bride would be standing. As I was trying to quietly but forcefully suggest you scoot your booty, Daddy swept in, scooped you up, and got you out of the chapel before you could pitch too big of a fit. All in all, I was really proud of you for how you handled the day. And baby girl, you couldn't have looked cuter if you TRIED. Bob made your flower girl dress (a sweet pillowcase dress made out of a gorgeous white paisley fabric with eyelets) and the bride's aunt made you a flower crown to wear.
I don't necessarily think of myself as having a strong Southern accent, but you have picked up this insanely Southern accent from SOMEwhere. Maybe we watch too much Paula Dean on TV. You pronounce milk like "MEE-ulk". You pronounce "gazelle" (you have a stuffed gazelle; otherwise, I assure you that the word "gazelle" probably wouldn't enter our vocabulary much) like "guh-ZAY-ul". And if I wasn't suffering from severe Pregnancy Brain, I could rattle off loads more words. But trust me, you sound like you could star in Steel Magnolias.
You've gotten really good about telling me about your feelings, and I'm trying to make sure we talk about your feelings, why you're feeling a certain way, and if there's anything we can do to change your feelings (if they're bad). You often get really "fwustwated" at me when I fuss at you for doing something you shouldn't be doing. Sometimes you tell me how "fwustwated" you are with the tone of a grousing, sullen 13-year-old girl. Sometimes you come up to me with your head lowered, looking all pitiful, and telling me you're "fwustwated". I love that you tell me how you're feeling (even if you don't always know why you're feeling the way you are), and as much as I'd like to tell you I'll work on not "fwustwating" you, alas, I cannot. I'm your mom. "Fwustwating your daughter" is the first item on my job description. In case you're wondering, the second item is "Blubbering your daughter's belly." I'm also awesome at that.
Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Headlines for October 1, 2011:
- 'Let us go!': More than 500 arrested in Wall Street protest
- Official: Al-Awlaki's death will make al-Qaida afraid
- Snow already? Chill falls across eastern half of US
- Christie buzz increases
- Medic: Info from Jackson doctor didn't add up
- Eat This, Not That: Worst kids' meals in America
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