Christmas Letter

OH, HAI!!

Ok, so the Internets is alive with the talk of the Christmas letter.  A letter that you send to everyone you know telling them about all of the exciting stuff you and your family did that year.  I gotta be honest.  I've never heard of this!  I thought maybe it was a new thing or something, but no!  Apparently this dates back to before the Internets where people did this thing called writing to one another.  Crazy!

I can't imagine that people have enough huge life events to make a whole letter, though, so what does the letter entail?  I mean, mine would be all "Eric and I had a baby.  Big Man turned into a little fish and is doing wonderful on swim team.  Little Man earned his yellow belt in Tae Kwon Do."  That would be the extent of our exciting news.  What do you fill the rest of the page with?

"The cats continue to poo in a box.  The boys clean the bathrooms every other Saturday.  I do a lot of laundry.  The bot needs her nails filed often.  Eric types on a computer all day.  This little girl on Supernanny looks like Justin Bieber."  Looks like my Facebook statuses.  I should probably reevaluate that.

The Birth of Paige London

Friday, October 12, I woke up feeling a little stranger than the day before.  Since I’d been having frequent, painful contractions for weeks, I didn’t think much of it.  Got the kids’ lunches made and got them on the bus.  Eric went to work.  I was feeling funny, so I laid back down.  A few minutes later, a rather large contraction hit, so I decided to start timing them.  They were frequent and stronger than I’d had them before, so I thought maybe we should head up to my mom’s to be closer to the hospital.  We took our time packing up and heading out.  On the way up, my contractions got even stronger.  Eric suggested I call my OB and see what to do, so I did.  They asked me to come into the office for a quick check.  Herein lies a series of events that led, ultimately, to the most wonderful thing I’ve ever done.

We got to the OB’s office, and the nurse checked me.  She said she couldn’t tell if I was really, really dilated or not dilated at all since the baby’s head was so low.   She said she was going to have the nurse practioner come in to do the check.  The NP came in to check, and her eyes got really wide.  She called it 8 cm dilated with a +2 station.  Basically, baby is gonna fall out!  They rushed me into a wheelchair and through the halls over to the hospital.  My mom and doula thought they weren’t gonna make it.  They were prepping the delivery room like crazy when I got there, and a resident who was in attendance came in to catch the baby.  My contractions were still crazy strong, but I seemed calm, so she checked me again.

I wasn’t dilated at all.  The NP made a mistake.  She said I was the same 1.5 cm I’d been for the last few weeks of contractions.  Uh...ok.  Huge disappointment.  I thought I was about to have a baby!  She said my water was broken, however, so I needed to stay.  That was 11 a.m. on October 12.  No tests for amniotic fluid were done since I was bleeding as well, and that would mess with the test.  At least my mom and doula had time to get there.  They had all the time in the world, it turned out, because when I was checked 12 hours later at 11 p.m.  I had only dilated to 5-6 cm, and that’s where I stayed.  Pitocin was started.  I labored unmedicated for 29 hours total, so 29 hours of concentrating really hard at staring at the wall or ceiling and breathing and trying not to scream.  My mom, Eric and Tonya taking turns rubbing my feet, head, back and shoulders for hours.  Taking shuffling walks, sitting on the ball and the toilet, getting on hands and knees, swaying and rocking through the most painful experience of my life.  At hour 29, I was checked again.  Still 5-6 cm.  No progression.  In fact, my cervix had swollen, and my effacement had thickened back up a bit.

I broke.  I could push through the pain.  I couldn’t push through the emotions anymore.  I asked for the epidural.  I could no longer relax knowing that for 29 hours I had just done absolutely nothing, even with Pitocin.  I was doomed to lie flat on my back, not feeling my legs, for the rest of the labor.   The epidural was placed, and another crazy labor event happened.  My BP and Paige’s heart rate dropped to dangerous levels.  Suddenly, AWKWARD!  My nurse, Maggie, who has been an L&D nurse for over 30 years, started arguing with the resident, a meek doctor all of about 27 or 28 years old.  He wanted my Pitocin shut off.  She did not.  He was all, “Last I checked *I* was the doctor here!”  And she was all, “Don’t you dare touch my machine again!”  “I DIDN’T!  Another nurse did!”  He’d had another nurse turn it off when Maggie wasn’t looking.  Yeah.  We didn’t see that resident again.  Also, Maggie called for a check.  Dr. Bolin checked and...broke my water.  Which was never broken at all.  *sigh*  Once my epidural was in and we were stable, however, I was able to relax and joke and talk with my family again.  For ten hours we labored like that, mostly with me on my left side.  They rolled me to my right, and Paige’s heart rate dropped again.  Dangerously.  For a long time.  Enough to freak out the on-call physician.  After a position change, she stabilized, but we had to start talking C-section.  Paige was in a dangerous position.

We let it go for another 2 hours before it was called.  I was STILL only 5-6 cm after 39 hours of labor.  It was time.  Time for the weirdest C-section in the history of C-sections.  First, I was scared to death.  I’ve never had surgery before.  So, I was making all kinds of stupid jokes.  The anesthesiologist told me I’m hilarious.  Thanks.  I’ll be here all week.  Literally.  So, he pushed the meds and they started the draping and...OOOOOOOWWWW!!!!!  Uh...I wasn’t supposed to feel that.  The anesthesia didn’t take.  They had misplaced the drape and ripped it off (really hard, dudes.  I have a sore.)  I felt it.  She pinched me.  I felt that, too.  OOPS!  My spinal catheter had fallen out.  Time for a new one.

Six new ones.  I now have a lot of holes in my back.  Eric had to root around in drawers to find a new kit.  Ready-made surgical assistant!  So, they finally get it going to where I can’t feel a dang thing.  The anesthesiologist takes a call ordering a pizza in the middle of surgery.  Then, suddenly, I hear, “Step back! Step back! SOMEBODY CATCH HER!”  Yeah.  Med student was helping to stitch me up and nearly fainted into my open body cavity.  Luckily she fainted backward.  She had to be taken care of before my surgery was completed.  It lasted twice as long as it should have.  Freaked out my family for sure, wondering where I was for this short, “routine” surgery.  Paige was stuck in my sacrum.  She was never going to progress.

In the end, though, we got Paige London Kachelmeyer, at 10:19 p.m. on October 13, 2012, weighing 8 lbs 8 oz and 22 inches long.  Super long.  Like her daddy.

Life From the Exhausted Mother

I haven't written a blog in a long time.  Reason?  Writer's block a little and a lot of exhaustion.  There just aren't enough hours in the day.  My calendar looks like this:

See?  When would I have time to do any bloggy blogging?  Today is crazy, too, but I gotta get off of my feet, so here's some random funny and some baby news.

This morning, the dudes were playing Star Wars in the basement.  I got Big Man a Luke Skywalker costume, though he informed me that it is really Obi Wan.  Whatever.  He looks awesome in it.  I got Little Man a Darth Vader costume.  It is five sizes too big.  They were used, and continue to be used, every day since I've bought them, so WIN!

Anyway, they were playing, and Little Man was using this miniature basketball for something.  Big Man took it and wouldn't give it back.  Here is Little Man's reaction:

"Nooooooooooooo!!!! GIVE IT BACK!!!!!  Fine!  I'm telling Yoda!  AND I'm not playing Jedi with you anymore!  I'm finding a NEW master, and HE will let me have a ball WHENEVER I WANT!!!"

Haaaaaaahahahhahahahha!!!  Then I decided *I* was the new master, and the dudes should put their laundry away and clean their bathrooms and scoop the cat litter.  They did so very quickly and without complaint.  I used the force.  If by "using the force," I mean Eric told them that if they did it super fast, then they could play Halo.

In baby news, there's a lot of baby news.  I'm 34-1/2 weeks and experiencing new things every day.  On the diabetes front, I suck.  I could not keep my sugars controlled with the diet the nutritionist gave me, so we switched it around a couple of days ago.  Things have been going better, although not perfect, since then.  My doctor doesn't wanna do insulin, yet, so that's good.  Needles.  *shudder*  I'm sick of poking myself four times a day.

I'm also sick of not being able to eat what I want.  Changing my diet has always been really difficult for me, though I found it easier to "stick with it" since I have to be strong for the Bot.  I'm not just trying to lose weight or something.  I'm trying to keep her healthy.  The second she's born I'm going to have to look at Eric and say, "Congratulations, Daddy!  Now get thee to Starbucks immediately for a pumpkin spice latte, and by the way, a cupcake from Le Dolce Vita and a Big Mouth sushi special from Sapporo needs to be on the way, too!"

Trying to keep her healthy means flu shot for mama, too.  I've never had one.  Needle.  Ugh.  I get the death sick every year, though, and I'm sure this year will be no exception.  The dudes are already bringing nastiness back from the germ factory that is elementary school.  Coughing, sneezing, and poison ivy all around!

Contractions.  My stomach is rock hard, and I can feel her head in my nether bits.  These are weird and odd things.  I've been having them for weeks, but now they are stronger and more frequent.  Not frequent enough to be considered preterm labor, but strong and frequent enough to be considered more than a minor annoyance.  I hope they give me abs.  That would be awesome.  It certainly FEELS like they're workin my ab muscles.  I'll be the first woman in history to leave the hospital after giving birth with 6-pack abs.  I'll find some way to make a million dollars with the "prodromal labor" technique.  There will be a video.  And an infomercial.

I panicked about a week ago and was all, "OMGOSH WE ARE NOT PREPARED!!!"  I'm not scared of going into labor or giving birth anymore.  I think I've educated myself enough on them that I'm just all OOOOHM about it.  But, I'm TERRIFIED of when she is actually here.  I went all crazy like, "We have no crib! No dresser for her clothes!  No pack and play! No car seat! Not enough diapers!"  I went on a crazy spending spree.  We have all of those things now.  I acted like she was going to be here in the next few hours, and we'd have nothing.  I'm calm now, though.  I got better.

Eric's ex-wife text me yesterday and asked how I was feeling and if there was anything else I needed.  I was all cool as a cucumber calm and just, "Nope. We are totally prepared to the max, and I feel allllll riiiiight."  So she was all, "Great!  Pack your hospital bag!"

PANIC! PANIC!!! OMGOMG HOSPITAL BAG, WTF GOES IN THERE I AM NOT PREPARED!!

She told me what goes in there.  It's not that hard, Karen, you idiot.  Calm the eff down.

It's a National Holiday!

Is it "do whatever you can to try to get your brother in trouble" day? How about "sneak around the house breaking rules and trying not to get caught" day? No? Then surely it's, "act like a know-it-all teenager and pretend your parents are stupid" day.

I mean, they haven't been unmanageable or insane or anything, just obnoxious.  They fought downstairs so much that I quit refereeing and just shut the door.  The rule is, if your brother is bothering you, you calmly come upstairs and say, "Hey, so and so is bothering me when I am trying to play XX."  Then, I go down and get said bothering brother to come upstairs and let calm brother finish whatever he was playing in peace.  However, they don't go this route, usually, because it means pausing their video game or stopping whatever they are playing for the 3 seconds it takes to come up and tell me.  So, for an HOUR, it was screaming, "OOOWW! STOP HITTING ME!" "STOP BITING ME!" "I DIDN'T!" "GET OFF OF ME!" "STOOOOOOOP!!"  The hope is that I will hear this screaming tattle and come down and automatically know who "started" it.  Instead, I always just end up going down there and saying "game over.  Separate." and BOTH of them get into trouble because how in the crap should I know who is doing what?  It's a giant cluster.  Then the arguments of "he started it!" starts.  I remind them AGAIN of the rule, and that if they are both screaming, they both get in trouble.  Then they stomp to time out for 7 minutes or whatever, and go back downstairs, and it starts all over again.

Today I just turned on some music really loud, shut the basement door, and tuned out the screaming.  Eventually, Big Man's video game was over.  After screaming at his brother and pushing him and doing lord knows what in retaliation for whatever annoying little brother thing Little Man was doing, Big Man then decided that he was gonna try the "come upstairs and tattle calmly, blaming everything on Little Man" approach.  It didn't work out for him.  I told him I didn't want to hear the tattle.  They were both fighting, and they'd be separated for an hour.  I didn't even let them eat lunch together.  After Little Man was done with lunch, I told him to brush his teeth and clean off his bathroom counter while Big Man ate.  After Big Man was done, he had to do the same.  I told them not to even look at one another until 1:00.  They can play with one another then, and sorry if they're bored, but that's what happens when you're mean to your friends.

Little Man happily played Candy Land alone in the living room.  Big Man, however, tried to pretend I was stupid.  He went over to stand right next to Little Man and stare at him playing Candy Land.  I told him he was not to bother his brother, and to get out of the living room.  "I'm not PLAYING with him.  I'm just looking at him."  *eye roll*  I told him to get out of the living room, so smarty pants stepped back two steps into the tile entry way connecting it to the living room and continued to stare at Little Man and tell him what colors to pick, starting Little Man on the, "Don't tell me what to do!" argument.  From Big Man, "I'm not IN the room now."  I told him to either go up to his room or down to the basement.  He doesn't even need to be on the same floor of the house as his brother.  He went downstairs.  Five minutes later, I'm cleaning my own bathroom, and I hear a whispered argument.  Little Man had moved to where Big Man was playing this time to play right next to him to try to get Big Man in trouble for being in the same room.  I sent Little Man upstairs to his bedroom with the game.

Five minutes later, Big Man decides HE needs to be upstairs, too.  Of course.  That's where the biggest chance of provoking Little Man into an argument by just being near him is."  I told him he can go in his room and close his door to play, but he isn't to be anywhere near Little Man's room or in the loft separating the rooms.  At 12:45, a mere fifteen minutes until they are allowed to play together, Little Man sneaks into Big Man's room and takes a CD.  Big Man sneaks back into Little Man's room to try to have a "quiet" argument regarding the CD so that I can't hear that they are together and fighting again. 

I stopped messing around, then.  No more free range of the house.  I told them they've added another hour of not playing together, and for this hour, they'll be in their rooms with the doors shut.  If I hear a door open for anything other than the bathroom, another hour will be tacked on.  I've had enough.

Sure has been quiet, though, and I've gotten a lot of cleaning done with some great tunes in my ears.  They are allowed out in five minutes.  Let's hope we can get some family fun in before their dad gets home.

HOOLIGANS!!!

....the definition of the dudes when Indiana is under drought conditions with a heat advisory for nearly the entire summer, and stepmama is great big pregnant.  Drought conditions means no sprinkler or slip n slide.  Heat advisory means no trampoline or digging outside in the dirt or playing tag or hide and seek or even going out for longer than a few minutes at a time.  Pregnancy means no going down the dangerously steep hill to the lake or going to the Children's Museum for hours of walking.  Hence, we are all stuck inside all day every day.

This...it leads to fighting and a LOT of it.  The dudes have separate interests and completely opposite personalities.  The Big Man wants to play video games or watch TV and movies all day.  The Little Man gets bored after 10-15 minutes of screen time.  He prefers running around the basement making noise and playing construction or trains.  Big Man prefers to be alone.  Little Man won't play unless Big Man will play with him.  Therefore, Big Man has perfected the terrible tween "get out of my face" persona, while Little Man has honed his annoying little brother skills to absolute perfection.  After 10-15 minutes of being in the same room together, it begins:

Big Man: OOOOOW!  STOP IT! STOP IT! STOP IT! OWSTOPIT! STOP! STOP! DON'T YOU DARE! STOP!
Little Man:  *shriiiiek giggle giggle*
Big Man:  O.M.GOSH.WHY.ARE.YOU.*insert yelling tattle here so that he doesn't have to pause his game to get up to tattle and instead yells so that he knows I HEAR the tattle*
Little Man:  *giggle giggle haha*
Big Man: STOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOP!!!! STOP IT! OOOOOOOW! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!  WHY DO YOU KEEP PUSHING ME?  *eyes never leave the TV screen but begins flailing hoping to connect with annoying little brother flesh*
Little Man: OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW!! KAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAREN!  HE HIT ME!!!

Abouuuuuuut 452 times a day.  So, I separate them.  And all is quiet.  Until they are bored being alone and try to play together again.  Then, lather, rinse, repeat.  I try to play games with them.  One always accuses the other of cheating, then one will throw the cards or the pieces across the board and declare, "I'm not playing anymore!" and stomp off.  I try to take them out.  Constant complaints.  It's too hot out here.  My feet hurt.  The water's too cold.  I don't care that I had a popsicle before we left the house, I want you to spend money on ice cream now!  The drive is too long.  He's on my side of the car.  He's touching my blanket.  His blanket is touching my leg.  He looked at my car.  He said I cannot pretend that my car is an airplane.

I had to pull over on the side of the road for them to get out of the car and stand in the grass in time out yesterday.  I know it's normal and that it's boredom and that a lot of it is that we just moved and they only have one another to play with until school starts and they make friends at the new school, but for real...I need a bicker break!

They were fighting this morning.  I was chatting with my friend Amanda and told her I needed to make them lunch.  She suggested bread and water because, "if they're going to act like convicts..."

"Here's your bread and water."
"After lunch, I'm going to put you out in the yard with a weight bench and a basketball."
"After rec time, we'll go ahead and tattoo you guys with Mom hearts using a toothpick and an ink pen."
"Craft time will show you how to make a homemade shiv."

Damage Control

I have to go behind the couch in order to open the windows in the house.  I can no longer fit behind the couch.  Generally, I like to shut the AC off and open the windows in the mornings before it gets too hot, and then I'll close them and turn it on when the heat starts showing up.  I was going through the other morning doing this, and I had to get behind the couch.  I didn't fit.  The dudes were on the couch, so I asked them to get up for a second so I could move the couch out an inch or so.  The comments for this were as follows:

Little Man:  Yeah, we have to get up because Karen's body is so fat.
Big Man:  (attempting damage control)  No!  Her body isn't fat, it's just her belly that is really fat!

Er...it totally is.  I'm at the stage in pregnancy where I don't fit places that I used to and where I'm kinda sore and tired all of the time.  I'm about 28 weeks along and starting to feel like an elephant.  My feet and lower back hurt all of the time, and I feel exhausted if I climb a flight of stairs.  There's heartburn and uncomfortable (non) sleeping.  I'm ready to meet the Bot and cuddle her and love on her.  I have around 2 to 2-1/2 months to go.

I hired a doula!  I'm totally excited about this.  I was really worried about having someone there that can help calm me down.  I'm going for an unmedicated birth.  I don't want to do anything to slow her down coming out, and I REALLY don't want to do anything that would slow down her functioning after birth so that she can breastfeed right away.  I know my family will see me in pain, and as soon as I say, "OMGosh DRUUUUGGGGS!!!" they will not want to see me in pain and demand drugs, too.  A doula will remind me of my birth plan and calm me down a bit to work through it.  Totally excited to the max.

I had other stuff to say in this blog, but the dudes started fighting, and Big Man woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning with a hellacious attitude, so I needed to send him back to bed.  Then Little Man accidentally erased Big Man's Mario game on the Super Nintendo, and Big Man was all of the way to the end castle, so TRAGEDY!  I've been trying to console a crying Big Man and find another Super Nintendo to put in Big Man's room that Little Man can't touch so that this doesn't happen again.

*sigh*  Oooooh, the tribulations of a SAHM.  *hands to forehead.  dramatic sigh.  faint.*

A New Look!

So, the bloggy blog has a new look thanks to my friend, Alex, and her amazing HTML knowledge that reaches much, much further than my own.

What do you think?

What's That Smell?

A fun game, to be sure.  WTF is that SMELL?!?  I've been playing it all morning.  Is it the kitchen sink?

GAH, YES!!!  *clean clean clean scrub scrub scrub* 

*sniff*

OMGOOOOOOSH, what is that SMELL?! It's still here!  Is it the TRASH? 

YES! *remove remove scrub clean clean* 

It still smells like moldy buffalo ass in here.  WTF could it BE?  I'm about to shove bleach up my nose.

-------

In other stinky news:

A lot of Aspies have a very acute sense of smell.  I can't really describe it.  It's part of sensory processing disorder.  It's not that we can smell BETTER necessarily, it's more like certain smells connect different synapses in our brains that cause emotional response (big words make me sound smart.)  As such, smells are a big emotional trigger for me.  Right now, I've Febreezed the house to death and lit a million candles, and it still stinks in here, and I can't figure it out.

On a daily basis, though, as anyone who has little boys will tell you, my house has the distinct smell of old, crusty urine.  I play "where's that urine" a LOT, too, to try to figure out what exactly HAVE they peed on, and how can I best clean it as to not dig my sinuses out with a spoon.  It's like they mark their territory.  The dudes use three of the four bathrooms in this house.  The master bath is a little-dude-free zone.  When you walk by any of those three bathrooms, you have to hold your breath.  Or die.  The dudes clean the bathrooms on the weekends they are here.  I refuse to venture into those and prefer to just keep the doors closed at all times and pretend those don't exist and that my dudes poop in the woods.

So, imagine my surprise when I was upstairs (the kids' domain) today and forgot to hold my breath as I walked past the bathroom (with an open door) that the Big Man uses and smelled....nothing.  No pee.  That bathroom hasn't been cleaned in over a week, and there was NO PEE SMELL.

Have we reached a turning point, dear readers?  Has the Big Man finally learned that pee goes IN the toilet instead of AROUND the toilet, on the back of the toilet, on the floor, on the walls, or in the sink?  Has he learned how to flush properly?

Stay tuned...

Why It's OK to be the "Evil Stepmother"

I wrote this for Circle of Moms, and they reviewed it but didn't pick it up to publish, so that means I can publish it here :)

I'm an Evil Stepmother.  There.  I said it.  I make my stepdudes (6 and 8) clean up after themselves AND do some other chores around the house like taking out the trash or cleaning cat litter.  Messes they didn't even make!  I also put them in time out, take away their toys and send them to their rooms if they are being disrespectful.  I do not wait for Daddy to get home from work to deal with the problem.  I'm not another child in this house, tattling to Daddy.  I am an adult who is to be respected.  I am responsible for the safety and well being of these two little dudes when they are here with me.

If I had birthed them, this would be called "parenting".  Since they came from someone else's nether regions, it's not parenting, it's evil and not my place.  I'm here to say, "Heck, yes, it's my place!" for two reasons.
One, this is my home.  My sanctuary.  I have every right to live in a peaceful, clean, respectful environment.  Stepparents have just as much of a right to this as biological parents do.  I absolutely refuse to be a hostage to children in my own home.

The second reason is the more important.  It's because I love them.  The dudes are not visitors here.  This is their home, too.  They also have every right to a peaceful, clean, respectful sanctuary.  One without a brother taking toys away, calling names and having screaming fits when he doesn't get his way.  My stepdudes have the right to happiness and a loving home.

As a stepparent, it is my job to guide these dudes to be the most amazing adults they can be, just like their biological parents.  We can't do that if we allow them to disrespect me and our homes.  Notice the use of "we".  "We" is key in the discipline situation.  In your home, you and your husband must communicate effectively to decide what punishments go with what crimes.  He must back you up.  The kids need to see you as Team Super Parentals (Dun Dun Duuuuuuuuuun!)  Don't think they don't know how to pit you against your husband (or you and your husband against his ex-wife) for maximum juvenile benefit.  If he doesn't back you up, undermines your discipline (i.e. ungrounds when you've grounded), etc. it's all over.  Your children (step or not) will see you as a peer rather than an authority figure. 

Eight Crazy Nights

We have just gotten back from a glorious 8-day vacation aboard the Disney Magic!  Here's a picture of a picture, since I got a new machine and can't figure out how to install the scanner.

This is a family picture for the Bot's room :)  The nursery has a Paris theme, Belle's French.  It's a stretch.  Whatever.  I was hoping for one with Tiana.  Not only is she French (New Orleans French), but her pale green dress would go better in the nursery than Belle's sunny yellow one.  We, unfortunately, could never get in line early enough to get a photo with Tiana.  One of my only complaints about the Disney cruise experience.  If you didn't get in line 20 minutes early for a character, there was no way you were getting a photo.

The family "babymoon" was LOADS of fun, though, with even a little bit of relaxation thrown in there.  Disney has the Oceaneer's Club, which we let the kids go into any time they asked.  It was like a day camp in there!  There were counselors and other kids and tons of games and activities to play.  There were two little phones per room, and once the kids were tired or done playing what they wanted in the club, the club would text us to let us know that the kids wanted picked up, and we'd go get them for family pool time or dinner or a show or what have you.  There were two aspects of it, too, the Club and the Lab, so if the kids were annoying one another, they just self-separated, and one would go into the Lab to do different activities.  AND the spaces were open for "family time" for a few hours a day, so we could go in and do activities with the kids.  We made cookies!  And Little Man learned a new song, which he sings all of the time.  "I like to mix it, mix it.  I like to mix it, mix it!"  We were on the Salt team.  We kicked Pepper's butt.  The cookies were amazing.

We DID hear the normal bickering, of course, and it was annoying but funny at the same time.  It was annoying because we had to keep saying, "For Pete's sake! Knock it off!" but it was funny because every time we walked down the hall, we heard the EXACT SAME bickering from every set of siblings on the boat.  "It's MY turn to push the elevator button!  It's MY turn to use the room key!  I NEVER GET TO DO IT!!!!!" haha

While they were in the Club/Lab, Eric and I got to sit at Quiet Cove (adults only/scream-free zone!), or play basketball, or watch a real live Iron Chef-esque competition, or go see a show or a movie if we wanted (we never did, even though The Avengers was playing).  Eric got second in a free-throw tournament.  I got last place.  Even though I asked for 10 points of handicap for pregnant status.  Even with the 10 points, I still got last place.  Turns out, I can't really throw a basketball all that far :)  I also got last place in an 80s/90s music trivia game.  I blame that on pregnancy, too.  I KNEW those dang songs.  I just couldn't remember the names of them.  Big an won a ribbon

IIIIIII....I just died in your arms toniiiiight!!!  Had that on record when I was a kid.  Still couldn't remember the name of it.

The absolute best part of the experience was dinner.  Well, it was stressful for me and Eric because it lasted a long time to keep kids occupied, but it was AWESOME for the kids because of Jimi and Anna, our serving staff.  Little Man was constantly asking when they got to see them again.  They played with the dudes and entertained them and showed them magic tricks and remembered their names and sang happy birthday to them and knew all of their favorite foods.

We had a port day in Florida with a bus ride to the Magic Kingdom that was a bust, unfortunately.  It rained all day.  We all came back cranky and wet.  All of the rides shut down.  We did climb the Swiss Family Robinson Tree House at my request, which I thought was neat.  We got to ride Pirates, and then the kids got to do their first roller coaster, Big Thunder Mountain!

Little Man even put his hands up!  That daredevil.  Anyway, after that, the rain really started coming down, and the rides all started to close up, so we went and built light sabers and hopped back on the bus, down a hundred bucks.  I did get a really great blueberry muffin and enjoyed people watching a bit.

The day we came home was 15 hours cooped up in an airport or on a plane on the Big Man's 8th birthday (sorry, dude).  The kids took that like a champ, and Little Man only acted up once we were at our home airport four hours after his bedtime and only for like five minutes before he passed out in the car.

I have one really AMAZING memory that happened on the cruise.  The kids were in the club and Eric was out playing basketball.  I was just hanging out in the room relaxing, watching a movie, when The Bot woke up and started Ninjitsu practice in my tummy.  She was hitting me really hard, so I lifted up my shirt, and SURE ENOUGH! I SAW HER!!!  My belly was jumping all over the place.  I laughed so hard and immediately called Eric on the little cell phone from the room.  It was MAGIC!

This blog post is long and unfunny, but I wanted to write down some memories.