Since I just wrote something about Justin’s logic, it seems only fitting to include something about Andrew’s logic.

Today I was walking them down the stairs for breakfast.  They both decided they wanted my hand to hold.  

Me:  “I’m lucky I have two hands for both of you!  What am I going to do when the new baby arrives… I don’t have three hands.  I guess we are going to have to take turns.”

Andrew (looking up at me very earnestly):  “Mommy, when the baby comes out of your belly, you can just grow another hand out of your belly”

Problem solved.

Today was our Day Off.

This means that I have outings planned everyday this week, and they are awesome things.  Fun things that the boys are looking forward to.    Monday we went to Happy Hallow.  Tuesday we went to the park, and then made pizzas at Pizza My Heart with about 20 other 2-3 yr olds.  Thursday we are going to an Aquatic park.  Friday we are meeting friends.  So today, I decided we needed a ‘no plan’ day:  a day to rest and store up energy for the rest of our fun events this week.

When we woke up this morning, the boys were behaving and playing nicely.   I figured, I might as well take advantage of it.  So I started de-cobwebbing my house.     Soon they were pitching in and helping with the task.   They were the spotters and looked for the cobwebs, and I was the cobweb eliminator.   We are now cobweb free.

Next I did some dusting.   Sure enough, they started dusting too. 

Next I tackled making beds.  There they went again… pulling up their covers and folding them over.  Andrew even started fluffing it.   In a matter of minutes, rooms were picked up and looking nice.

Vacuuming seemed like the natural next step.  They got their toy vacuums and went along side me.  When they needed to get into tough spots, they would borrow my ‘attachements’ and get the corners.

Then I went for the big one.  The toilets.   I showed them how I squeezed fun blue toilet soap into the bowl… and 5 minutes later I got to scrub it out.   There was immediate interest.   Over the next 5 minutes they kept checking on the blue soap.   And after the time was up, they insisted upon watching how to do it.  Sure enough, I had my two boys scrubbing the other toilet bowls for me - with minimal disgustingness going on. 

Things are going so well that my next task might be world domination.  Right now, I think we could pull it off… one toilet at a time.

Today Justin wanted to build a fort with the couch cushions.  Here is our conversation:

Justin:   Get OFF the Couch Mommy!

Me:  No I won’t.  That is not a nice way to ask.  

Justin:  Get. Off. The Couch.  Mommy.  PLEASE!

Me:  That still wasn’t nice Justin.

Justin:  I said “Please”…. that’s a nice word.

How do you argue with that!

As I am getting ready for bed every night I think about the same thing.   It’s always right after I put my pajama top on.    It’s nothing you might think of…  but every night it makes me laugh.

This video sums it up:

Right about now, I look a lot like Chris Farley in that video.  I put on my top… made for my pre-pregnant body… and the shirt barley covers my chest and doesn’t cover my stomach.  It’s ridiculous looking, but so comfortable that I don’t care.   In fact, I revel in my ridiculousness because it makes me laugh. Every. Single. Night.

I tried explaining this to my husband.  He simply stared at me.  I guess he doesn’t see the humor… he just thinks I should buy some pajamas that fit.   Too bad for him… he’ll just have to keep looking at this scene for the next 5 weeks. 

Goodnight, I am off to my closet to put on my little pj’s.

Pregnant lady in a little shirt…. Pregnant lady in a little shirt… Pregnant lady in a little shirt. 

For some reason I can’t stop giggling.

Starting tonight, I am hosting my own prison.   My children are to be considered my prisoners.  I am now the warden.

Lately we’ve been having some prison breaks at night when some ‘un-named 3 foot people’ are supposed to be going to bed.   It’s been getting worse & worse.  I’ve been doing some reading.  I have been polling friends for advice.   But last night was a breaking point, it ended up in with some shouting … which resulted in crying… which resulted in a re-evaluation of our strategy.

Tonight our new plan has been put in place.  After our normal bedtime routine, we explained to our prisoners boys what we expected of them:   they would stay in bed, they would only leave one time to go to the bathroom, that bathroom trip would be by themselves, if at that point they needed water… they had better get it, afterwards they were to go back to bed by themselves.  If they deviated from such plan, they were going to be escorted back to their cell room.  This would be in silence.   I would not be speaking with them and I would escort them back to their beds as many times as it took, taking away offending items that might be preventing them from staying in their bed.

During the first hour there was lots of talking, but no escape attempts.  I think they were making plans for a break.   I heard some discussion about having babies in their bellies.. and making poofs… and how BIG their babies in their bellies were.  I took no offense, understanding that prisoners often insult their guards & wardens.

Prison Break Attempt #1:     Showing the warden how they really viewed her

In this attempt both captives dressed up like the warden by shoving their stuffed animals under their shirts claiming they had babies in their bellies.   The warden was not impressed and silently escorted them back to their cell.

Prison Break Attempt #2:     Offering bribes

In this attempt, one prisoner offered a bribe to the warden with the assistance of his cellmate.   He very genuinely offered to give up his pacifier for the night, hoping for an early release due to good behaviour.  The warden was not tricked and silently escorted them back to their cell.

Prison Break Attempt #3:     Prison injury

In this attempt, one prisoner claimed to have been in a prison fight.  (Yes, the same sneaky one offering the bribe before.)   He seemed to want to see a doctor, yet no blood was shed and there was no evidence of wrong-doing.   The warden turned a cold eye and silently escorted them back to their cell.

Prison Break Attempt #4:     Setting the record straight

In this attempt both captives used their free right to speech to tell the warden how they felt about their captivity.  They were eloquent and direct.   Prisoner #1 “I don’t like you gone.” (indicating a wish for more visits with the warden)  Prisoner #2 “We are mad at you.” (indicating a desire to irritate the warden)   The warden is clearly a cold hearted person, and silently escorted them back to their cell.  

Prison Break Attempt #5:  Requesting to use their one right  

Both captives used their charm and guile to request their free pass to use the toilet.   They waved at the warden as they skipped to the toilet together; and they giggled at their one chance at freedom.    The warden pretended not to notice, as this was a task that had been deemed to be one that they should do on their own -with no supervision.   When they were finished, they skipped back to their cells waving their ’good-nights.’   The warden felt they were taunting her, however, they did follow the rules, so she kept silent. 

Prison Break Attempt #6:     Changing their approach

Both captives realized that they did not seem to be making progress with their escape attempts.   After conversing for a while, they decided to try to gain some points for tomorrow’s prison break plans.    They sucked up to the warden by asking for kisses and hugs, and promptly told her that they were her friend.  The warden remained quiet, but accepted these tokens of goodwill willingly.     She is not fooled, but did appreciate their attempts.

Finally…. lights out.  

All in all it took about 1.5 hours.  The same amount of time that it usually takes.  Probably the same amount of escape attempts.  However, this time, the rules have been set.  Action has been taken.  There were no tears, and there was actual cooperation.   I think we are making progress. I might have this jail running smoothly once again.  I might also be kidding myself.

Justin:    “I want to be a man, mommy.”

Don’t worry you will be honey.  Soon enough.

Andrew:   “I don’t want to be a man…. no, I don’t want to be a man.”

Don’t worry honey, you have a LONG way to go.

Brotherly differences… and the eternal struggle of childhood all rolled up into two sentences.

The scene:

I am sitting in the lounge of the Mommy Spa.  As the name implies, 90% of their business is pregnant women who need a little nurturing.   It’s my first time here.

The conversation:

Hi, are you Michelle?   (I nod as I move to stand up).   You are here for our pregnancy massage… (she pauses) wait, are you pregnant?   (I stand up)   WHOA!   You are definitely pregnant. 

He he he.

I am taking it as a compliment, not that I look like I might give birth on her couch.  However, apparently, I should stay sitting more often. 

 (by the way, I had to use the word … dissed… it was too much to pass up)

Most of you have watched that scene in Aliens when the alien comes out of the actors belly.    It is freaky.

However, if we are being honest… sometimes pregnancy is like that.

A few weeks ago I was sitting at a table with my family having dinner and realized that my parents and grandparents were all staring at my belly.   Apparently it was moving of it’s own volition.   And I mean MOVING.    Like something was burrowing a hole in there, trying to find a way out.   I looked down and was waiting for the alien head to pop out any minute. It’s odd to feel like a science exhibit in the comfort of your own family.  

Last week I was on the couch with Nathan watching TV.  (It’s my nightly decompression routine.)  Suddenly the couch started bouncing up & down.  Literally my body was being rocked from side to side.   I looked down - there was baby again - stirring up a ruckus.   It was kicking so hard that it could move my body against my will, and was shaking the cushions. 

And last night I reached the “I want out of here phase”…

This is the phase where sometimes I think a hand is going to shoot out of me and start clawing it’s way to freedom.   It is these times when I hope I don’t sneeze because I fear that I might shoot the baby across the room.    I have about 5 weeks to go, and I think the little one is getting a bit claustrophobic.   It definitely has grown it’s nails, because I can feel it chipping away at me like a prisoner in a cell….  I can almost hear it say “just a little further and we will be free men… let’s push on!”

Well, listen here little prisoner:

I AM NOT READY YET.  

Please feel free to stop filing at my uterus for a few more weeks and stay put.   I have a few things I would like to finish up before you arrive.  

Since my kids learned to talk and they decided they had minds of their own, most of my embarrassment has flown out the window.   They say WAY too many things in public that I would prefer that others don’t know.    So my blushing glands simply gave up trying to keep up with the onslaught of childhood honesty.

Today I thought that I might want to start sterilizing my bottles and breast pump accessories for the new baby.   I got it all out, when the kids suddenly realized that some of these things are really cool tools.

Thus, this:

became this:

And of course, they had to take their ’sanders’ with them everywhere they went for the day.  This included taking their handy flashlights so that they had extra light for their sanding jobs. 

I am sure the men at Home Depot really appreciated seeing my breast pumps … I know that I got a lot of long looks (and I am not fooling myself into thinking that it’s because I am looking so hot these days in my too tight maternity clothes).

…the two white middle aged guys who were sitting with lawn chairs on the Almaden Expressway overpass yesterday at 4:30.

They were in short, t-shirts and baseball caps with some sort of drink in their hands. 

They looked like they were sitting at a tailgater at PacBell Park, waiting for the big Home Run to win the game.  

Except their view was simply the cars driving by underneath them on the freeway before major rush-hour traffic.    And no, they didn’t look like they were workers for the city - counting cars or monitoring traffic.  They just looked like they were hosting their own private BBQ above Highway 85.

I have no idea what they were doing, but it sure was a weird place to be getting a tan.

I am definitely not THAT crazy.