Sweet baby girl

So, I've started this post in my mind a dozen times in the last three(!) weeks. Each version had a different beginning depending on my mood, the latest happenings at home, or something funny that had struck me. But since you can only have ONE beginning to a post, and here it is a whole three weeks since the baby has been born, I decided I had better just sit down and write it. Even though I JUST drew hot water to wash the dishes that have been piling up since yesterday and I can't stand washing dishes in lukewarm water so I'll end up draining it and refilling it, AND even though I was up late and slept half the night in the armchair so I should be napping during this blessed naptime, AND even though I have been dedicating every other awake (and coherent) moment that isn't filled with my children and all that entails to finishing the ranch's taxes so we can get on to filing our own. I'm still going to write this post.

*Disclaimers: Sorry for all those who have heard my story and this is a repeat. And apologies to anyone who doesn't like birth stories, you can skip the rest of this post and catch the next one, oh, probably in another month at my pace. =)

Monday, January 24th started with the regular rush of the day. We got the girls up and ready so Shane could drop them off at my parents while he did chores and we went to my appointment at 9:15 that morning. While he was gone I got ready and wondered anxiously what my appointment would tell me. All week I was secretly hoping that my water would break or at least start leaking, or I would be super dilated at my appointment, or I would start getting painful contractions. . . just SOMETHING that would give me a sign that it was time, that my body was ready, that the baby was ready, and that the end was near. I went a whole week after the doctor stripped my membranes with nothing happening (and no, it didn't hurt to get them stripped, at least in my case).

So, we went to my appointment to see where I was at this week. I was dilated to 5 cm. In my mind, I'm thinking, "What!? Only a 5? Seriously? I need more than that to go on." On the other hand, the nurse was saying, "Wow! That's great! Most women only get to a 2 on the exam table, and you're already halfway there!"

So the question remained: What am I supposed to do? I technically still had 2 more days until my "due date." Should I stick it out the remaining two days, or in the end, is it really not going to make a difference? I'm already a 5 after all. My doctor looked at me and asked, "So, what do you want to do? Do you want to set up an appointment to break your water on Wednesday if you don't go before then?" Gag. Can I really stick it out for two more days? If it was the right thing to do, of course I could.

Then the doctor continued, "Or we can go get you set up right now. I could break your water, and you'll probably have this baby by noon."

The proposition sounded frighteningly appealing. Maybe too appealing. It sounded so selfish to just say yes right then. Instead, I looked pleadingly at Shane for an answer, but his eyes only reflected my own feelings of I-DON'T-KNOW. So I said I would go home and think about it. "But I might be back," I finished lamely.

We went out to the truck each mostly lost in our own thoughts. So, I called my mom. I talked to her the whole way to her house to pick up the girls. I just poured out my jumbled thoughts, worries, etc. I wasn't sure if I wanted to pick up the girls yet because if I decided to go ahead and get my water broken, I didn't want to have to pack up the girls and drop them off again somewhere. It was easier to just leave them where they were, without even letting them know we were done "going to the doctor said". So, we just parked by the road leading to my parents' house while I finished talking to my mom.

She said, "You are the mom. You are the one doing the work, so you can decide. Don't let everyone else's opinions about what you should or shouldn't do sway you. You know your body and what is best. You are the one that has to do all the work, so you get to decide. And you don't have to decide right now. Go eat some lunch or something." It was good advice.

We stopped and talked to my sister. Shane called his mom (a nurse). I tried to call my aunt who had just had her baby. Everyone obviously had their own thoughts and opinions. Finally, we just went home and decided to talk to the one who really mattered. After talking together for a moment, we prayed about our decision. . . We were going to have a baby that day. I remember still having a lot of questions and doubts, but I felt a peace that told me everything would be okay.

Shane cleaned up the kitchen a little for me (I didn't want to leave a messy kitchen) while I finished packing my bag and called my parents to let them know what we had decided. I called my doctor to let him know I was coming in and asked where he wanted me to go. He almost sounded surprised and asked if I was having contractions. I said no, that I was just going to have him break my water, "unless that doesn't work for you." I added. He said, "Oh, well, let me see if they have a room for you."

That kinda shook my resolve for a moment. I had finally decided to do this and then it felt like I was forcing the issue. I waited while he called and sure enough, the (only) birthing room was available if I wanted to go in then.

After a quick stop at Subway (I was starving, okay?) we headed to the hospital. I scarfed down about a 1/3 of the sandwich before I gave the rest to Shane. I was still hungry, but I was trying to avoid any embarrassing moments during delivery. We went to the front desk of the hospital and the nurse asked if she could help us. I was a bit dumbfounded, "Uhh, we're here to have a baby today?" I said with a question in my voice, like can't-you-see-I-have-this-abnormal-bump-on-my-belly-and-I-would-like-it-removed. So then she asked if we had pre-registered. "Pre-registered? Uhh, no?" At this point, I was thinking it was a good thing it wasn't an emergency or I might have had a hard time remaining calm during the whole situation. "See if we have room for you?" "Pre-registered?" I just wanted to have a baby.
Finally, paperwork signed, yet another lovely hospital gown donned, IV inserted, monitors beeping their existence, table with instruments prepped and covered, and cue doctor.

1:00 PM: The doctor breaks my water. Liquid clear. All looks good. He says he will be back to check on me later. I get unhooked from as many machines as possible, braid my hair, and start walking the hall outside my room. It's always amazing the myriad of feelings that hit me almost predictably during labor. Before everything starts, it is a whole lot of anxiety and fear. Once my water it broken, I get a wave of "Let's do this!" and I start walking. With gusto. I am certain I looked like I was ready to run a maternity marathon or something as I made my circles up and down the hall, carting my IV stand with me. Shane gave up trying to keep up with me, so he sat down and called family to let them know I was at the hospital. I texted family while I walked to let them know there was no turning back at this point.

1:30 PM: Contractions start coming. Nothing major, I can still walk through them easily enough. Shane runs back to the house for my insurance card which I had forgotten and to stop at the hardware store. I'm sure whatever it was he needed at the hardware store was something very critical and desparately needed to help me deliver a baby. =) While he was gone, the contractions start to come in waves, one hard one, one or two small ones.

Shane gets back about the time I start slowing down for each contraction. I look at the clock on my cell phone each time a contraction comes--2:05, 2:07, 2:09, 2:11, 2:13, 2:16. I start to lean on the wall through each one and focus on breathing.

2:30ish PM: My nurse comes back to check on me. After a quick check, she says I'm between a 6 and 7. She hooks me back up to the monitors so the doctor can get a good reading on the feed that is monitoring contractions when he comes back. I lay in bed for awhile watching the contractions come and go and reading the numbers on the monitor. 20 is "zero". By the time it hits 30, I can feel the contraction growing. 80 is killer. I start to relax and look for the release at about 56 as the contraction ebbs away.

I'm not sure what to put here: "No, I'm not scowling at my belly," or "I didn't know Shane was taking a picture," or perhaps, "Just watching a contraction." You choose.

After getting some good feed on the chart, I get unhooked again so I can be mobile. Yay! Freedom! I try to stay out of bed and off my back as much as possible during labor. The pain is so much more bearable when I can move at will. My nurse offers a birthing ball, which I had thought about using if I had the chance. It was nice being able to roll through some contractions. I thought it helped sitting on the ball.  

3:50 PM: My doctor comes to check me. I'm an 8! I have to go to the bathroom. Again. While I am trying to accomplish this while dodging contractions, I can hear my doctor talking to Shane: "Probably another 45 minutes and we'll have a baby somewhere between 4:30 and 5:00." On the other side of the door, in my mind, I'm thinking, "Please don't put a timeframe on this. Don't tell me I have to do this for 45 more minutes. Just say, 'We'll have a baby soon' and I will keep holding on for one more minute, one more contraction. But don't tell me I have to do this for 45 more minutes!"

I come out of the bathroom and my doctor has been replaced with my nurse. She is actually from my ward and I was so glad she was my nurse from start to finish. I really enjoyed her. She had been warned that I deliver fairly quickly which was why the instrument table was prepped and covered right away, rather than waiting until I was "closer". She also kept telling me that if I "felt ANY vaginal pressure" to call her right away. She reissued the warning as she left the room and said she would be back to check soon. I decided to get back on the birthing ball and try to muddle my way throught the next "45 minutes". I walked from the bathroom door, but only made it the foot of the bed before another contraction hit. I gripped the handrail, and suddenly I felt a moment of panic, as an intense urge to push came and I literally felt the baby coming. In a moment of panic I put my hand between my legs and said, "Oh no! I think she's coming!"

If there was any doubt in my mind before about what the nurse meant when she said "any vaginal pressure," it was gone and it was pretty clear to me, this baby was coming out. Shane jumped up and buzzed the nurses who came rushing in. Like a whirlwind, they started prepping the room and one said, "Call the doctor. Get him down here right now."

I protested and said, "Well, don't bother him. He said it would be another 45 minutes. I don't want to call him for nothing." He had been gone barely 5 minutes, if that.

"Oh no sweetheart. It's better to be safe than sorry," the other nurse replied.

My doctor rushed in the room, smiling. "That was a quick 45 minutes! Let's check and see where you are at. Can you get on the bed?"

That was precisely my intention, but it was slightly challenging trying to get my body to listen when it was so focused on delivering the baby at that point. But we succeeded in getting on the bed.

My efforts were rewarded when the doctor checked me and said,"Yep, you whipped right open. You're there. Can you give me 30 seconds to get dressed?"

"I think so," I replied trying not to push. But the doctor was already trying to get garbed up for delivery. Within a matter of seconds, it was showtime. Off goes the end of the bed, out come the stirrups, and the last of my modesty goes out the door. But I didn't care. I was going to do this. And I was going to do it well. I wasn't going to fall apart between pushes like I did with Mesa. I wasn't going to stop holding my breath and pushing until my 10 seconds was up and I was going to focus. I could feel my contraction coming, so I verbally prepared myself: Chin down to chest, hold my breath and push for 10 seconds. Three times for each contraction.

So, deep breath and push. One contraction and her head crowned. The doctor asked if I wanted to keep pushing, but my contraction was leaving, so I said I would wait for the next one. He said, "I think we can get her here next push." I hung onto that thought. Sure enough, next push and her head was out. The cord was around her neck, so we stopped and cut that before delivering the rest of her.

Time of birth: 4:10 PM. A mere 20 minutes from the time the doctor checked me and said I was an 8, to baby born.

A little bit blue in the face from the cord being wrapped around her neck.

Brand new!

Hospital stats:

7 lbs. 15 oz.

21.5 in

We did it!

We did it! And I say 'we' because Shane was right there with me, holding my hand through each contraction and giving me strength when I needed it most.

I was so worried about so many things that really didn't matter in the end. She was a whole pound lighter than Mesa, even after two extra weeks of incubating. She just really wasn't ready to come out yet. It really reaffirmed to me that the baby and your body know best and that she really needed to wait those extra two weeks. 

Rain and Mesa meeting their new sister. What fun! Three girls: ages 3 and under!

The girls came to say hello (we found out later they weren't supposed to come to the hospital because of RSV season, but oh well).

Rain taking care of the baby.

Rain has quickly adopted the "mother" role and says she needs to take care of her. She loves to give her kisses and rub the hair on her head. She likes to hold her and always watches in case her binky falls out so she can put it back in her mouth.

Mesa thought she was interesting at first, but is struggling with relinquishing her "baby of the family" role. If I am holding the baby, she won't let me touch her. She will be crying and won't let me give her a hug until I "mose baby" (move baby). She also asks me to "care" (carry) her more these days. I hope we can adjust soon.

Meeting Paca and PacaMa - my parents.

And alas, we still have not named her. Shane could have named her at the hospital, but I am still having an internal struggle with feeling right about her name. She is so sweet and mellow. I have lots of feelings bottled up inside about her, but nothing that can translate into a name yet.

Getting bundled up and ready to go home!

Stay tuned: Up next--Photoshoot!

This had better be my last pregnancy update for this baby . . .

Next I hope to post actual pictures of this baby and not another frustrating appointment recap. Last week I was a 4, and this week, I'm a  . . . "stretchy" 4. Wow, that's exciting. Then comes the decision, do I just leave things alone or do I have the doctor strip my membranes? The way he put it was "75% of women who have their membranes strip have the baby within 75 hours. The other 1/4 don't." So, if your body is ready, it encourages it, but if it's not ready, it really doesn't make a difference. Still, I don't like interfering.

My first two babies came two weeks early and it was perfect. I'm almost 39 weeks (tomorrow) and every day makes me more restless and anxious. What if this baby is even bigger than the last one (8lbs 13oz)? What if I can't do it naturally again? Should I have stripped my membranes, or just waited? What if I can't do three children at all? Shane thinks the baby hasn't come yet because I am mentally keeping it in, because I am afraid of having another baby. It's partially true . . . who really wants to volunteer for labor and delivery pain, and let's face it, it's not easy having a little tiny baby to care for. I'm not saying it isn't worth it, because it totally is, but it's a lot of time, patience, and sacrifice. I feel pretty accomplished when I can get three square meals on the table, a load of laundry done, and a path through the toys cleared in one day. But that doesn't get you "ahead" anywhere. I'm barely holding back the tide and I'm afraid once the baby comes, I'm going to get pummeled.

Shane has hopes that since this pregnancy is so different, that perhaps it's a boy because "boys have to grow more." I think he is grasping at straws and is afraid to be even more outnumbered.

I am excited for the girls to have another sister to love and play with. Rain is making such progress in being the Big Sister and watching out for Mesa. She has made some super big steps in the past couple months: Giving up her binky and Potty training. She hasn't had an accident during the day for awhile now and she can go some nights and stay dry. She insists on wearing her panties to bed under her "special diaper" (Pull-up) so she can still be a big girl. Sometimes I worry that she holds it too long. She can go once in the morning when she wakes up, and then not go again for hours---like past breakfast, past lunch, through a 2-hour nap, and start playing again after her nap, before I MAKE her sit down and just "see" if her body has to go. She's like a camel. Maybe it seems like such a stark difference to me because I am constantly going and it is a miracle her body can last that long. Sometimes it's hard to let her be independent and do it all by herself. I cringe and hold my breath when she has to empty her potty chair by herself and I hope she gets it all in the toilet. But she does admirably and promptly asks if she can have a "pootsie roll" (tootsie roll) for going potty.

Mesa also wants to be a big girl like Rain and has to sit on the potty too. She will tell me "poo-poo" and "potty" and won't give it up until she sits on the toilet for 1.5 seconds (fully dressed or stark naked) and then she is done. She wants down and runs off to play. Oh, how I love my two little girls. One more is just going to add to the adventure.

Mesa loves to give Rain a hug before she goes "nigh-night"

Lest anyone think that Shane doesn't love his girls, here is a video to attest otherwise. It's long and the sound and motion aren't quite matching up (I can't tell if it's because my computer is super slow or if it has something to do with the fact that Shane rolled a horse down the mountain with MY camera in the saddle bags. Either way, my video clips are "special") but I ask you, how many dads are man enough to dance to Barbie with his girls?

Mesa is a bit of a Daddy's girl, definitely more so than Rain. Mesa insists on a kiss when daddy leaves for work, when I scold her she calls for Daddy, and sometimes only Daddy can get her more milk or blow on her food. On the other hand, Rain is the same way for me. If she wakes up crying and I've already had a hard night and I send Shane in to help her, she starts screaming, "No, I need mommy to do it."

The girls love to be cowboys like Daddy

I warned the receptionists at the clinic that I might not be a happy camper if I have to come in next Monday for my scheduled checkup. We were all counting on cancelling the appointment I had yesterday. They said not to worry and that they would have some chocolate on hand to console me. I guess I can look forward to that, right?

Disappointing

I had such high hopes for my appointment yesterday. I guess that should be a lesson to me: Never count on things going as you plan them.

Yesterday morning I was dilated to 4 cm. More progress from last week, yes, but disappointing at the same time. Last baby, I was a 7 at this point, so I went ahead and had the doctor break my water for Mesa. But here I sit, water intact, dilated to a 4, Braxton-Hicks contractions coming almost constantly, and still nothing solid to go on.

So, I didn't have him strip my membranes. I thought my body obviously needed some more time, so I'll sit it out some more. I have another appointment next Monday. If I make it that long, I will have surpassed my other two pregnancies in length. Not a pleasant thought. The doctor doesn't think I'll make it that long, but I am trying not to get my hopes up and be disappointed again.

I also got an ultrasound yesterday because when the doctor checked me, he was afraid he couldn't feel the head in the right position as it had been at all my previous checkups. He thought it was the neck, but the ultrasound revealed a VERY healthy, getting VERY chubby, baby, head down, but with no intention of leaving her watery home soon.



Not the best shot, but already stubborn!



Quick update

So I didn't post my last appointment's progression, so this is just a quick note about it. On Monday, I went ahead and had the doctor check me again, just so I had something to hang onto as far as "progress." I had dilated to 3cm and I suspect I am even more now. I'm 37 weeks and 2 days and would love to be done any day now. I guess I've started counting on coming 2 weeks early every time. Bless all you other ladies that last to 40 weeks and beyond. I'm ready to be done. My babies are big enough as it is at two weeks early. I don't need them hanging out and packing on the pounds.

I have an appointment on Monday again and I am anxious to see where I am at that point. I guess once I know for sure if my body is close to being ready, I can make a better decision as to having the doctor strip my membranes or not. I really feel that my body knows best when to have the baby and I don't want to interfere and make delivery any harder than it needs to be.

I picked up a nice head cold over the last couple days. Exciting! Hope I can beat that before D-day comes because that just complicates everything. I started taking the herbal supplement T-5W. I am curious to see if it holds up to everyone's high recommendations. Also, I washed our bedding and put on BRAND NEW sheets. Maybe that will encourage my water to break. Haha. And maybe I should go pack that hospital bag . . .

Pregnancy update

I decided it was about time to document the fact that I'm pregnant.

I wasn't as good as some in taking weekly photos to track my progress. But life goes on.

Here's one when I was a little past my halfway mark.

22-1/2 weeks



Here's 35 weeks. Somehow I've got to get my photographer to not take pictures where the shadow outlines me and makes me look twice as large as I already feel. This is three days before Christmas. I think the holiday to-do lists on top of being pregnant is wearing me out.



35 weeks

I had a check up on Monday, followed up with the Group B Strep test. Hooray! The doctor checked me and said that I was almost dilated to a 2. Hip hip hooray! Looks like this baby will come early like my first two. Three cheers for that because I don't know how much longer of this I can take.

November Recap

It seems the slower I move these days, the faster things overwhelm me. Now the question is how to recap the last two and a half months without overloading.

Rain helping Mesa finish her breakfast

Mesa had her 18-month checkup on November 5th. Her stats are as follows:

Weight: 32 lbs (98th percentile)

Height: 34" (99th percentile)

Overall, Mesa is just Big 'N' Tall (in a good way)

They measured/weighed Rain while we were there because she didn't want to be left out. I thought it was interesting to note that Rain weighed 38lbs--only 6 lbs more than Mesa. Mesa is already wearing Rain's socks and most of her smaller-end clothes. I guess that's what sisters are for, right? Wardrobe swapping at such a tender age. Rain does have some height on Mesa, though, so lengthwise, swapping clothes is a challenge in the height department.

Mesa had one shot and didn't even cry. Her daddy should be proud. After we left the exam room, both my girls went to the candy drawer. How do they always know where that is? Apparently their candy-homing devices are as well-tuned as mine. =)

The following Monday, November 8th, I went in for surgery on my wrist. Super exciting stuff for anybody's To-Do list, lemme tell ya. After getting to the surgery center, and straightening out some needed changes, they prepped me for surgery. After stripping down to my socks and underwear, I donned a lovely hospital gown and laid on the bed. Immediately the nurse put in not one, but two IV's, one for each hand. YAY!!! --since I love needles and all.

Since I'm pregnant, they wanted to check the baby's vitals before and after surgery, so they had to call in a "special" nurse. And then I got to wait . . . and wait, and watch as patients were wheeled in and out for colonoscopies and prothetics. I was STARVING. I had been fasting since midnight the night before, except for the small glass of apple juice I had to beg for them to allow me to drink that morning at 6AM. And what show do they have on the TV in the patient prep room but a cooking channel. Cruel irony, I'd say.

Disclaimer: Don't read further if surgery stuff makes you squeamish.

After waiting for over an hour, they came to wheel me away, leaving Shane behind. Due to the pregnancy, they didn't want to do a general anesthesia, and nor did I. They started a local anesthesia and antibiotic. So in order to the local, they put a tournequet on my arm midway above my elbow. Not only do I detest needles and shots (which are technically quick and relatively painless--in and out), I abhor IV's where they stay in your flesh and twist and tweak with movement. I hate that feeling. I usually hold my hands still or move like a robot to avoid feeling the metal object impaled in my hands moving around. But in order to get the blood out of my left arm, one attendant had me make a fist with my left hand, and then he put his hand over my fist (and IV) and squeezed. Then they took one of those wide surgical stretchy bands and starting with my clenched fist, wrapped it around and around all the way up my arm, choking all the blood out of my arm. I started to get that lovely feeling where you've slept on your arm wrong and it's asleep, but you start getting those painful tingly jabs as it wakes up. However, I could still feel them messing around with my hand as they painted it with a beautiful orange iodine once the rubber band was removed. I kept wiggling my fingers to let them know that I could still feel and control my hand. I didn't want them getting too anxious about cutting before it was all the way numb. Unfortunately I couldn't see the surgey since they had a drape over the rest of me, as if I was having a C-section or something.

Then they started cutting. There were a couple interns there and I could hear them talking and observing the procedure. "Oh, wow, so is that bone?" Super consoling, believe me. My doctor was explaining this and that, which was interesting to me. I wish I could have seen what he was pointing at as he spoke. "See, here is where a cortisone shot should be given in the tendon. Now you can see where they missed the tendon by 1 millimeter and it caused all this fat atrophy here. They were close, but they still missed it."





The only angle I could get that the picture turned out clearly.



More straight-on, but blurry. Two pathetic stitches and some bruising. Boo!

The procedure is called a DeQuervain's Release where they slice along the tendon sheath, opening it up, allowing the inflamed tendon inside more room to move. They also ground off some bone spurs built up around that area. Then two stiches and I was done. I think the whole thing took 10 minutes or less. Feeling was starting to come back in my arm, but my control was still considerably MIA. As an assistant was bandaging me, I was trying to help by lifting my arm this way and that way as he wrapped it. Once, I tried to straighten my arm and it shot out uncontrollably. It's a good thing I didn't knock the assistant out. I think it would have really hurt my wrist. He laughed and told me to be careful because my arm was my enemy right now, and to not knock myself in the face with it.  They bandanged me up in a full-arm wrap and wheeled me away. After meeting up with Shane at the patient-receiving room, they gave me some juice and had me sign lots of paperwork with things such as "Don't operate a vehicle or machinery" and "Don't sign any legal papers". Little did I know that following lunch (because I was still starving) I would spend three hours on a car lot, trade in the ranch truck for a different one, and then drive the truck home from my parents after picking up the girls. So much for following doctor's orders.

After making arrangements for Shane to be home for a least a week to help me out, of the following five days, he spent three days in St. George, and one day looking for some cows that got out.

I couldn't wash dishes, change a diaper, tie my shoes, fasten my bra, fix my hair, or fold clothes, although I did manage to peel three potatoes with one hand, and drive my car (a stickshift) with one hand.

The first day home, I burned my good arm trying to take a casserole out of the oven one-handed, and within minutes, while I was running my arm  under cold water, the girls had each bloodied some part of their anatomy. The whole scenario was rather comical.

And it would only be fitting that Shane be gone during this whole ordeal AND when Rain was struck with a two-week string of diarrhea, which put a serious kink in potty-training progress and created an interesting situation where I had to clean up an accident which was all over Rain, the potty chair, her clothes, and the cream-colored carpet. Several times. One-handed. Perfect.

But life rolls on and I am getting more and more movement back and less pain. I believe they left part of a stitch in and so I am waiting for that to fester and come out.

Halloween recap: Rain was a princess

Rain was a princess

Mesa was "a cowgirl in her long-johns and boots" or in other words, Mom-didn't-have-a-costume-for-me-but-this-outfit-kept-me-warm.

You can also see our improvisation for halloween candy bags. They actually worked quite well.

Can you say 'honey'?

How can you resist a face like this? Rain loves to eat candies that turn her tongue colors so she can look in the mirror at her brightly-colored mouth.

Recently Rain had a pretty serious urinary tract infection (UTI). I was at a loss at how to help her. We ended up in the hospital on a Saturday morning, trying to get a urine sample from an un-potty-trained-youngster. She got a shot in her leg and a round of antibiotics. But for days we had alarmingly bloody urine in her diapers and VERY unhappy little girl. Everytime it started to burn she would say she wanted a band-aid on it. I honestly wish it was that simple. I never want to do that again.  

One day I was napping after church when Rain needed help getting a shirt on. After I helped her, she brought in her tricycle and said she needed help fixing it. I wasn't sure what she needed fixed, and I wasn't ready to get up from my nap, so I asked her if Daddy could fix it. To this she responded, "Can you say honey?" This seemed an odd response and so I rephrased my comment and told her to take her tricycle to daddy and daddy could make it work. Again she said, "Can you say honey?" I thought I was hearing her wrong until it clicked. When I want Shane's help with something, I say, "Honey, can you  . . . ?" In essence, she had picked up that Honey=Help. So she was asking me to call Daddy to help us. Now her comment made sense: "Can you say "Honey"?

The other night Rain wanted me to lie down with her after her stories. Next thing I knew it was 10:30, I was asleep on Rain's bed, with every one of her stuffed animals next to me and Rain was playing happily in her room. I am forever finding dolls and animals tucked into my bed such as the picture below. I'm glad they are developing some motherly instincts.

The girls are having a picnic with a friend. Here they are getting ready to say the blessing on the food. It was too cute not to snap a picture.

Until next time!