Sunday

I’m fairly certain that our entire little town has come down with some kind of awful plague.

My children and I have been inside all day, snuggled up in blankets and watching Disney movies on Netflix. Did you see the new movies added to the streaming plan? Pocahontas! Aristocats! Rescuers Down Under! The list goes on…
Two nights ago, my son woke up coughing. I immediately proceeded to flush his system with water and not let him do anything but lie down. Last night, my daughter’s voice turned croaky. She joined her brother on a water flush and lie-in.
Today we didn’t take any chances by leaving the house.
I might have left had I not been contracting all the live long day.

The contractions have stopped, by the way. The baby thinks she’s SO funny.

Yesterday we ventured out exactly twice: once for a baptism (love my primary kiddos!) and once to pay Santa a visit.
As we pulled up to the fire station (where Santa comes once a year), my daughter was in awe, “I wonder where he parked his sleigh!” she gushed.
“This is my most favorite time of da YEAR!” My son said, wriggling in my arms.

The girl asked Santa to please bring her a blue dress.
“He said he thinks he can find one for me!” She said when we got home.
The boy asked Santa for “Avengers Stuff” and Santa replied, “Ooo… kay!”
(which is Santa code for “I have no idea what you just said, kid, but you’re really cute and I’m pretty sure your parents have it covered”.)
Speaking of Santa, my husband took my daughter on a date last week (? the week before? Time is all blurred together these days). She had earned a personal pan pizza from school through her reading, and her Dad took her to go get it. She was VERY particular about her appearance. She dressed up as FANCY as she possibly could. She even put on sticky earrings, folks -that’s a five year old’s way of pulling out the big guns.
She wore a thick strand of pearls I keep on hand (for her, but don’t let on… the minute she know they’re “hers” they won’t be fun anymore. It’s so much more fun to steal Mom’s fancy jewelry), and a few minutes later I caught her standing on her bathroom sink, smiling at herself in the mirror. I snuck a picture and her expression is priceless. After taking it, I said, “Lace go stand by Dad so I can take a picture of both of you.”
“Wait!” She called out, dashing down the hall, “I haven’t got any lipstick on!”
Ah, my GIRL.

Her Daddy is so handsome.

As their date came to a close, Daddy took her to a Redbox and they came home with “Arthur Christmas.” We ended up keeping it for 7 days, and we should have just BOUGHT it from them because it watched it so many times and plan on buying at anyway.

image via imdb.com

Have you seen it? If you haven’t, you should. You REALLY should.

We would have watched it again today if we still had it. We settled for Netflix, like I said. My husband has been taking care of so many things around the house. Today he made Sunday dinner: baked chicken, green beans, and corn. He took a well-deserved nap and I cleaned the meal up.
As Dad fell asleep, so did my son.
Take away the male presence and what do you get?
BROWNIES!

I left her alone while the brownies were cooling and I came back to find:

I’m pretty sure my daughter is one of the most adorable creations on earth.
Seriously.
This afternoon, she asked me “What does it feel like to have a baby?”
“It hurts,” I said, “It hurts REALLY bad -it hurts worse than anything I’ve ever felt before. But when it’s all over, it’s all worth it because the first time I did it I got YOU and the second time I did it, I got BROTHER…”
“And the last time you do it, you’ll get sister!” She finished for me.
“The last time?” I asked, “But don’t you want another little brother?”
**We interrupt this short story to bring you an quick explanation: I strongly feel like there’s another boy waiting for our family. And you have NO idea how much it hurts to know that and feel the truth of it at 39 weeks pregnant. But I digress…**
“No,” she shook her head.
“No? Why not?”
“Welllll, he can just stay up there,” she pointed toward Heaven (I’m hoping, since the roof would be a scary place to leave an unborn child), “Because that’s where he could just be.”
“You don’t want him here with us?” I asked.
“Wellllll, we could send a rocket…”
Suddenly it all made sense.
“You want to send a rocket to get him instead of having me grow him in my belly?”
“Yeah,” she smiled.
“You don’t want me to have a baby in my belly again?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re always so MAD… Mom! Your belly jiggles when you laugh like that!”
Which only made me laugh harder.

My son is still going with his Big Fat Mama jokes… only he’s completely ignorant of the fact that he’s making jokes at all. I snuggled up with him this afternoon, and as I tried to get up to get a few things out of the kitchen he watched in wonder.
“That is one Big Fat Mama,” he chimed in.
My belly jiggled again.

If we do get the little boy I strongly feel like wants to come to our home (he must be nuts, NUTS! He’ll fit right in), I surely hope he’s a lot like Trenton.
Trenton is awesome.
Lacy is awesome.
Baby No-Name has awesomeness potential, I’m sure… but she sure is stifling right now.
GET OUT HERE, BABY!!!!
Mama’s body is nearly 100% comatose at this point. If you wait any longer, I swear I’ll die.