Tuesday, June 7, 2011

What does all this mean?

1. My house has gone to pot. (So did my blog for a month or so). I feel like I can only keep up with one floor at a time. Yesterday the laundry was out of control and I couldn't walk around the loft without stepping on a toy. Ever notice how pointy kid's toys are? Anyway, I told Brynn the night before that we could have a royal ball at the end of the day if she was really good and helped me clean and do laundry. All. Day. Of course Brynnie went all out and picked out the perfect ragged outfit in which to play Cinderella. It worked fine for me, though. She is as distracted as can be, but I am telling you. Yesterday EVERY time I said, "CIN-derella! You must...!!" She'd put her head down and say, "Yes, Step-muver." And then DO IT. Which is a big deal for her. I also had the pack and play set up for something else, but every time a batch of laundry came out of the dryer I'd banish her into it and throw all the shirts in there to hang up. It was awesome. Laundry has never been so easy. Please don't call CPS. I think it built character? Well, I was so proud of her that we did have our ball that night and sweet Daddy (I mean, Prince Charming) brought home ring pops for everyone that seemed so special they might as well have been encrusted with diamonds. So that's the story of how the upstairs fell to pieces and began to be put together again.

2. Afternoon naps. And a few more movies. And lights out at 8:30.

3. I've boycotted doing my hair and make-up.

4. I'm a total hermit. All at once I'll wonder why my kids are acting fussy and suddenly realize, "Wait a second...I haven't been out of the house in like...THREE days!!!"

5. More meals on wheels. For example:

This is a picture of us eating breakfast upstairs because I didn't get around to doing the dishes the night before. Gross. So I ran downstairs, grabbed bowls, silverware, milk, and cereal, and ran back upstairs to eat it. Also, we now have to move. Because I wanted to crock-pot something, but didn't want to smell it all day. So I put the crock-pot in my closet and shut that door, plugged it up, and shut our bedroom door, and plugged that up, too. Worked fine that day. But one week and two bottles of Febreeze later, I still have a hard time walking into our closet. Be nice. As Bryce's shirt says: "It seemed like a good idea at the time." Also...I have to stop talking about this.

And yet....

I walk around the house giddy. Singing. Saying unusually mushy things to my husband. I can't stop smiling. And then I tell myself, "Stop smiling weirdo, someone around you is going to notice that nobody told a joke." (Not that that helps.) Our whole family is united in prayer regarding the exciting (as well as sacred) adventure that we are about to undertake. Brynn and Bryce have both been practicing their diapering techniques on the baby dolls.

I feel so close to my husband sharing this secret. It's been the first time I've felt able to do so, and it was a special experience. In fact, I'm reluctant to let that go. But as it's gone from just a few who needed to know, to a few more who have come out and asked (I'm looking pretty obvious these days), I suppose it's time. So because I love you all, too....

I'll share....


Baby #3 is on the way!!!!!!!!

(I know, "You had me from 'house gone to pot' and 'naps.'")