Beat it, April.

To put it lightly, April has been a doozy. In case you were wondering, based on my lack of posts after a flurry of yuck earlier in the month, the answer is, "No. Things have not settled down here at the Welsch residence."

Seriously. How do we go all winter in relative good health and then get completely bombarded by April? I have never before in my life had a least favorite month, but now, thanks to one round after another of total blech, April has earned that unfavorable title in my mind. I was wrong when I said Tuesdays can suck it. APRIL can instead!

To keep it short and not too whiny (OK, I've already been too whiny), our last two weeks have involved more random "spits" and a Strep diagnosis for HD and then a separate flu bug for RL (but thankfully no Strep). I guess this is what you call paying your dues as a parent but I've more than earned my keep in regards to spit up clean up for the month (if not the year), thank you very much. What I would really like to see is a week of no pukes, a little sunshine, and everyone eating with a normal appetite; really - that's it. Or maybe I would just like it to be May so we can move on from this icky April. Yeah, that might be the answer.

Now, there have been some bright moments this month thanks to sweet gifts from HD and actually, finally accomplishing a project that makes this house feel like our own. Over the weekend, with the help of both our moms, we were able to get Harrison's room painted, and let me tell you, it is a literal Bright moment. His trim and doors and windows are no longer blue but sparkling white instead (after three - three! - coats, mind you). His walls are no longer goldenrod yellow but two and two of two rather bold (but natural) shades of orange. In reality it probably looks like a giant creamsicle, but we're pleased with the final product and the fact that we pulled it off during such a whirlwind of a month. And did I mention that I passed my glucose screening for the first time ever? No three-hour-poke-test at the hospital for this mama! Hooray!!

Of course, in the last couple weeks there have also been a few returns of Captain Cranky Pants, especially after RL pulled my favorite Pampered Chef pan from the cupboard, only to have it split down the middle upon contact with our tile floor. That was not a bright moment kind of afternoon. But, it is (was?) just a pan and no little toes got broken, so once again, we pick up the pieces and we carry on through the next moment/day/week, through the brights and the darks and the sort of in betweens.

And if we just keep doing that, well, there is no way this month can win. By God, we will see May! It will be a better month!!

An HD Original

Occasionally we will do, as a family, the Happy/Sad game, also known as High/Low or Rose/Thorn. We'll go around the dinner table and ask what made each one of us Happy and what made us Sad that day. Because Harrison is just three-and-a-half, he still doesn't really get the concept of today versus any other day, so often we'll hear about the same sad for many, many, many days. For example, his very sad today was the splinter he got in his big toe (that happened right before Christmas). But, we carry on and figure that as our family unit grows (and grows up), this will help us all process and communicate more about our days.

Here is my Happy for the day:

That would be a marvelous paper and plastic bead on yarn necklace that Harrison came home wearing today after making it this morning at preschool. Isn't it fabulous?!

Normally I'm in charge of drop off and pick up, but Ben collected HD both times this week, so it was a fun change of pace for me to greet HD at home instead of in the hallway at school. Today I got a big hug and a, "Will this fit on you, Mama?" when I noticed and complimented his fine neckwear. He pulled it off, handed it to me, and was very pleased to see that it did fit around my (rather big, it's true) noggin. I was happy, too - so much so that I haven't taken it off since. I wore it around the house all afternoon and to an appointment; even now, in my comfy clothes, I'm still wearing it proudly.

Little Man was pretty pleased tonight when I told him that what made me Happy today was the necklace he shared with me. But the Happy got even better after his bath and before bed when he came up and gave me a big hug, saying, "Goodnight, Pretty Mama" which has to be the best nickname ever and is totally to the credit of my husband because he calls me that in front of our kids all the time.

So, yes...we had our crappy mid-April snow and a few cranky moments today, but we also had some awesome paper and plastic beads, and some sweet, sweet reasons to smile.

The Designer and his Pretty Mama 

Captain Cranky Pants

Yesterday afternoon I wanted ten minutes. Just ten minutes where I could sit before heading out into the frozen tundra to teach a night class. And not play. And not answer questions. Or talk. Or think at all, actually. And, let's be honest, just ten minutes where I could eat some flippin' cookie dough in peace and quiet (shush. that is what starting your third trimester can do to a girl).

To get those ten minutes, I locked myself in one of our back bedrooms and flopped in a chair, snack in hand. Yes, locked the door. In my defense, Ben was home from school, so it's not like I left the children running loose or anything (although I've been considering it). But I really wanted just a little time for me after what has been the longest, most exhausting week we've had in a really long time, so I tried to guarantee it by barricading myself in that bedroom.

Know how far I got into those ten minutes? C'mon - guess!

About four is all I managed. And then, a curious and loud little peanut by the name of Raegan discovered a shut door with light peeking out from under the crack and decided she'd found the jackpot. "Mama? Mama?! Mama!!!" she squealed. And then, I could tell, she put her face down by the floor to try to peer underneath the crack, because I could see her sticky little toddler fingers poking below the door, trying, trying, trying to get me. When that didn't work, she stood back up and started knocking beating on the door, all the while calling yelling, "Mama? Mama?! MAMA!!!!!!!"

Ben, who was playing in the living room with HD, came to get her just as I finished inhaling my treat and was opening the door. He said the look on Raegan's face when she "found" me was the ultimate expression of joy and elation. She was so proud of herself.

And my face? Part amusement, part bafflement, part exhaustion, part I-love-that-they-love-me-but-why-can't-they-just-leave-me-alone-oh-look-at-that-sweet-face-wait-who-smeared-peanut-butter-on-the-pants-I'm-wearing-to-teach-tonight???

A friend once described motherhood to me as a type of schizophrenia and I've gotta say, I'm a believer. Sometimes I am all in and I am good. Great, even. Others I am one foot out the door, pulling my hair out, trying (and failing) to keep my snarkiness to myself and I am not-so-good. Stinky, even. I hesitate to say "bad" because I know deep down how much I love my kids and that I would never harm them and would never actually leave them (at least not for good - maybe just for a few minutes, but even that tends to work against me because they're so little and get into trouble so fast, but maybe someday I can just walk away and breathe when they start to drive me bonkers?), so I know I'm not a bad mom. I'm just a mom. And moms have sunshine and rainbows AND Captain Cranky Pants moments. Not just days - moments. So therein lies the schizophrenia, because some days I move back and forth between the great and not-so-great too many times to count.

But let's face it, the last day and a half has been far more Cranky Pants than sunshine (although I might put some of that on Mother Nature and her snow and ice in mid-April - not so helpful after a week of illness, you know?). During this time I have been trying and trying to start over and not be so fussy with the children or myself or Ben but then something happens and Captain CP returns. Sometimes it is small, like Harrison coughing into his glass of milk instead of drinking it which in turns sends milk flying everywhere (yeah, yeah, yeah. don't cry over spilled milk. got it. still annoying when it is the third spilled milk of the morning). Sometimes it is big, like stepping away for one minute to blow my nose because of course I'm getting a head cold now, and coming back to find that the ONLY things on my dinning room table are now MY CHILDREN, who start laughing hysterically when they see me see them. For seriously?!?!

Long run, big picture, and all that, things are fine. I know that right now, in this moment, I'm just worn the eff out and my patience is low. They know it too and are therefore (literally, I'm afraid) climbing the walls. That's life. I can try to "this too shall pass" my way through it and drink as much coffee as my OB will allow and eventually, in tens years or so, people in this house will sleep. And they will not ask me 1,000,001 questions in a day. And they won't want to be held from sun up to sun down or only want to eat cheese (I'm talking to you, RL!). And I suppose a little part of me will actually be sad because I'll miss this time when they wanted me all.the.time. However, perhaps by then, we'll also have fewer appearances from Captain Cranky Pants and I don't think any of us would miss her much.

But who am I kidding?! Parenthood will forever have both sides and I've just got to deal with that. I'll be sunshine (Thanks, Sweetie, for volunteering to give me your last Teddy Gram from your snack) and I'll be cranky (WHY can't you listen!? Oh yeah, you're three.) What I can celebrate, perhaps, in ten years, is no more peanut butter on my clothes. That'd be cool.

Obstacles

You know, I come from the great land of South Dakota, and pretty much the only (PG) word that fits the last week is: Oofda. I may have started out thinking just Tuesdays were a pain, but wow, I underestimated the longevity and extremity of Tuesday. (I'm fairly certain that is an improper use of "extremity" but whatever; it fits the week, so I'm going with it.)

So after HD and RL had awful 24 hour stomach bugs last week, we thought by the weekend that we were finally in the clear and on the road to recovery, just in time to enjoy some spring weather (that's now turned back to winter, which is really so flipping fitting...). However, I should have known, based on our experience last year, that health and spring are not synonymous for our family. In fact, we seem to do worse at this time of year than any other.

After getting both kids healthy, we had a nice Saturday together with everyone feeling fine. Flash forward to 4 a.m. on Sunday and one. SICK. Mama. Ugh. I'll spare you the details, but it was awful. 6.5 months pregnant and sick with the stomach flu is terrible. For the second time in this pregnancy I thought I was going to have to call my doctor and be put on an IV! But then I started keeping down Gatoraid and staying awake for more than 20 minutes at a time and eventually, by yesterday afternoon, I was sort of functioning again. And, by luck, I had a regular OB appt. scheduled for yesterday, so I was able to see my doctor and find out that Baby was doing just fine and somehow I had managed to avoid dehydration. Yay, me?!

During all of this, Ben was a trooper. He stayed home to take care of the kids yesterday which was such a blessing because wow, I could not have done it on my own. This whole time, we've been saying that we hoped we wouldn't get sick, but then when I did, I told him he could not follow suit until Tuesday because I absolutely needed him until then. And, like a good hubby, he listened. But perhaps a little too well, because last night it was his turn to get the icks. Seriously. I know no one enjoys being sick, but this is a whole week of it now here and this whole drug out ickness is so frustrating.

So anyway, Ben is now the one sleeping and Gatoraiding the day away while I take care of the kids. And while I may still be tired and a little cranky after the last couple days, I'm managing today OK.

Enter the blessing of preschool. Last month Harrison came home one day all jazzed about an obstacle course that they'd done that day. While he still won't answer questions about his days at school, when he volunteers information, we actually learn quite a bit about what he's been doing or learning. And the obstacle course was obviously a highlight because he was so excited to tell me about how he got to go first and it was so much fun and so on. And I was impressed because he was sharing and using the word "obstacle" and it was all just good.

And thankfully that good came back to us today. Seeing as how this Tuesday brought a return to winter weather conditions and a continuation of our sick house status, I decided we needed some fun and run around time after lunch. Enter our very own obstacle course:

To the reasonable untrained eye, this is a messy playroom. Very messy. But that's why I love our house. We have a room that is dedicated strictly to play and it really doesn't matter how messy it gets. Occasionally we sort it out and pick it up, but for the most part, it looks a lot like this. But this mess actually has a purpose because this is our new obstacle course. Let me explain. My seat is Raegan's Anywhere Chair (man, I love those things, even if they are pricey!) where I holler out each stage of the course. The white pillow is the start/finish spot. The patchwork pillow is a jumping pad used twice, once early and once late, in the course. The wagon's box is for crawling in and crawling out before grabbing an animal friend (they are now all piled up by my/RL's chair) and scooting through the tunnel. After the tunnel is a bag full of baseballs for throwing into the cream-colored basket and then an oversized blue tennis ball for holding while running two laps around the Exercauser. The end, after landing back on the white pillow involves delivering the animal friend to me.

Whew! Are you tired yet? Me too, but Harrison totally loved this totally random arrangement and must have run the course at least 8 or 9 times in a row. Raegan even got in the fun at times, although she's still too little to follow precise directions in order. She mostly liked to chuck the baseballs at the basket and walk around clinging to a stuffed sheep. Hey - whatever works, right?

HD can't wait to show Daddy his new tricks when he gets up from his nap (his meaning Ben's, of course - HD and I are hanging out with PBS while B & RL sleep). And seeing as we've faced our share of obstacles in the last week, I'm glad we found something today that made obstacles fun (and kudos to the Y for the inspiration!).

Hop Along or Lil' Bunny?

Dear BWNo.3,

So I've been wanting to write to/about you for some time now as you've been on my mind quite a bit lately. I know it might seem like I'm pretty distracted chasing your big brother and big sister around day in and day out, but of course you are in my head and heart already, just as much as you are growing every day in my belly. That, and you're pretty hard to ignore!

I may not know much as a parent, but this I know is true - every child is unique. And you, Baby, have already proved to be an individual. Your first trimester alone was one for the books (or in this case, the blog), and that right there tells me that you will forever be paving your own way in this world. Considering that we already have two pretty strong characters in HD and RL, I can't wait to see what sort of beauty, laughter, and eyebrow raises you and your personality will add to our family.

Another reason you're never far from my thoughts is that I feel you all the time. Earlier detection of movement has to be one of my favorite perks of each pregnancy. I'm pretty sure I started feeling flutters from you by 12 or 13 weeks and full on motion by 16 or 17. With Harrison, I had no idea if a kick was really a kick until 24 weeks! But you, my soon-to-be-littlest-one, you've been kicking like crazy for a couple months now. So here we are, right at the end of the second trimester, and already I know your wiggles and jiggles quite well.

And dare I say it? I think you've been the most active one yet! When people saw your brother as a baby, they thought we couldn't have one more active. Then your sister came along and proved them all wrong. And you, you might just have a little bit of the Moore/Welsch/Jansen competitiveness in you because based on the way you literally make my belly bounce, you're set to outdo them both. But that's OK, honey. Mama's learned to love coffee in the last two years; she'll do what she has to in order to keep up with her active little brood.

In our family we have thing for presidential names (don't worry - we won't Garfield or Nixon you) and animal nicknames. The nicknames have come organically for all of you. Harrison became our Little Monkey when he wore the cutest little monkey clothes, shoes, and PJs as a baby, and he later sealed the deal when he picked a monkey as one of his bedtime buddies. It also didn't hurt that he was an active little bugger, just like a little monkey climbing and swinging through the trees! Raegan became our Little Owl because of her big, big eyes and her night owl tendencies for the first (too many) months of her life. Like it or not, she's stuck with it because we've collected too many cute owl clothes and room decor pieces to turn back now. And you, Baby? Well, I think you've kicked your way into an animal nickname before we've even seen your face or picked your POTUS.

Clearly you're going to be our Little Frog or Little Bunny. I like both not only for their potential cuteness factor in clothes and plush toys, but also that they fit your legs-a-hopin' belly mode. You are our little jumper, so it only makes sense that we'd pick a bouncy little animal to be yours. And while I'm not huge on traditional gender roles (hello, we still don't own more than five pink toys), I want to reserve the frog OR the rabbit, depending on if you are a boy or girl, respectively. I think Carter's and I will continue to be best buds if I go this route and you might appreciate it more in your teenage years, too. As if any of you are going to want to hear about your baby animal nicknames when you're teenagers! See how funny your Mama is?! No wonder you kick all the time - I'm just so entertaining!

But boy or girl, frog or rabbit, we simply can't wait, Little One. Well, I mean, of course we can wait and we will because we don't want you coming out too early (or too late!). But we are all so excited to meet you. Your daddy and I can't wait to hold you and snuggle you and love on you. Your big brother can't wait to see if you really are a boy like he thinks you should be (based on the pattern of our family thus far, of course). And your big sister? Well, OK. She has no idea what is going on, but she will never really remember any different than having you as part of her life, so of course you are already a part of each other.

So, my Little Hopper...keep on a kickin'. Each time you do gives me a reason to pause, think of you, and be both grateful and elated for your impending arrival.

Love,
Mama

Tuesday Continues

When Harrison got sick in the middle of the night on Monday/Tuesday, my first thought after feeling really, really bad for him was, "OH. NO! I hope I don't get this!" I did the whole 6 months pregnant and sick with a stomach bug when I was pregnant with him four years ago and once was more than enough on that front.

Then, as the night/day/night of yuck continued, my thoughts changed to, "OH. NO! I hope Raegan doesn't get this!" Because I realized, pretty quickly, how hard it is to get a super sick three-year-old to understand what it means to be sick and how hard it is to contain that mess. And that realization led me to understand that dealing with a "spitting" 17-month-old would be so much worse.

Turns out, I was right. Our Tuesday was doozy and unfortunately it has resurfaced today.

Yesterday we woke to surprising calm and a little man who was actually feeling much, much better despite ending his Tuesday with a 103 degree fever and more spits. Granted, we were all really tired from the previous 24 hours, but we were also very grateful that it had only last 24 and not 72 like the nurse over the phone had warned me it might.

Harrison went all day and night with no fevers or anything else super troubling, so we decided to let him try preschool today. We even told him he could do the scheduled swimming lesson this morning, if he felt like it. And you know what? He was fine. Just fine! He went to school, he swam, and he's doing great. Well, he wouldn't really eat his lunch for me, but that is just par for the course these days.

The one who is not fine, not great is Raegan. Twice now, since midnight, she's been sleeping in her crib and made a funny, gurgle-y cough. Twice now that has resulted in a great big mess all over her, her sleep sack, and her bed. And so, again, we are having a Tuesday - more spit, more laundry, more OH. NO!

But remember how I mentioned HD and preK? Well, since I didn't know what else to do/had no other choice, I had to bring RL along for pick up and drop off. Just like I do every other preK day, even when she's got a drippy nose or it is cold or windy or whatever. She has to come along for the ride and into the school with me because I can't stand to leave her alone in the van.

Drop off was fine. Got him delivered safe and sound and then got her back home so she could take a nice long nap (that unfortunately ended in the second of the above mentioned messes). Pick up, however, was not so good.

I gave Raegan a sippy of water before we left the house because she's had nothing but 4 oz. of formula today and clearly that didn't stick with her. She sucked it down in what my gut told me was probably too quick a manner, but again, I had no choice but to bring her in with me to wait for Harrison (I just typed that the first time as "bring me in with her" which is actually a pretty funny error in light of what happened).

We were standing there chatting with another preK mom when I noticed Raegan was making these weird little urppy sounds. I should have run for the door right then and there. But OH. NO! I didn't. And thirty seconds later, Little Girl spit all over me and herself. And a little on the floor of the Y. As the class of big kids was just lining up in front of us in the hallway. And other parents were arriving to pick up their own preKs. *Sigh* *And Ew. Just Ew*

Thankfully the teachers who were around shepherded us and our mess inside so we could wash off with a couple towels, collect HD a minute early, and then flee as I apologized quickly to the other mamas and papas for leaving our germs in the hallway. I stripped her as best I could before putting her in her carseat and did my very best not to be bothered by why my own shirt and pant legs were damp as we hurried home to change clothes and put in what has got to be my 25th load of laundry this week.

After holding her for much of the last hour and a half, while attempting failing to get HD to eat his lunch, Raegan's now back in her crib, down for her second nap of the day. I haven't heard any cough/gurgles yet, but based on how the rest of this day has gone, I wouldn't be surprised if another mess awaits whenever I go back up to collect her.

Seriously. I'm grateful that they weren't both down with this at the same time, but this extended dealing with illness is driving me batty. And it still has me pretty darn paranoid about getting sick, myself. So here's to not avoiding Tuesdays so much (resistance is futile, no?) as hoping that this one eventually, finally ends!

The New Monday

Based on my experiences with the last three of them, Tuesdays can suck it. Sorry. I've tried all day to come up with a more adult and mature way to tell off Tuesday, but "suck it" is really as far as I can get. Now, in the poor day's defense, last Tuesday was my birthday and the day part of it was truly lovely; I turned 31 surrounded by sunshine and roses (well, not roses, but cupcakes and that's better anyway, I think). Really - a great day. But then came Tuesday night when I was supposed to be all sleeping the night away and resting my weary head and that, my friends, is where Tuesday can take a hike.

Last week, like the Tuesday night the previous week, I could not fall asleep. As in, children snoozing peacefully and quietly in their rooms, hubby catching ZZZs next to me, and me, WIDE flipping awake. For no apparent reason. Thank you, Pregnancy Insomnia!

It was after 2 a.m. the first time and after 3 a.m. the second before I could sleep. And you all know how late my children like to sleep, so the last few Wednesdays have been interesting as I've been trying to function fake my way through them on 3ish hours of sleep. So what I really should have said in my opener was that Tuesday nights can suck it because, quite frankly, they have sucked the wind out of me for two weeks in a row.

I was determined that this Tuesday would be different. I would go to bed super early to guarantee that I'd be asleep at a decent hour and would wake up on Wednesday feeling refreshed and bouncy. Stupid Tuesday. It saw me and my good intentions coming.

Instead of catching me on the downhill side of Tuesday night (8-12), this week caught me at the onset (12-8). Just before 1 a.m. this morning, Harrison came in our room asking for Daddy and coughing. And just one cough was enough to tell me he was going to puke (one proud moment for parental intuition, but ewwww all the same), so I shoved rushed Ben out of our bed to go help Little Man in the bathroom. Fortunately, all he did there was cough some more. Unfortunately, when Ben took him back to bed, he realized that the "spitting," as we call it in our house, had already occurred. Yuck. And more yuck because it continued the rest of the night with Ben and I getting very, very little sleep. (Raegan, bless her heart, slept through it all even though doors were opened and lights were turned on and off about 50x in the middle of the night)

I'll spare you all the gross and dirty details. If you already have kids, you probably know this disgusting song and dance. Somehow, we're still pretty new to it. This is the first time Harrison has had sustained spitting that has made for many, many messes, loads of laundry and pajama changes in a 12 hour time span. And it's awful. I mean, the cleaning itself is awful, but what really bites is seeing my active little run around guy stuck at home from preschool and so out of it that he hasn't even asked about why he didn't get to go. He's been limp on a chair or couch ever since he came downstairs after Raegan woke up this morning and even took three naps throughout the day. THREE naps! I couldn't hardly get him to do that when he was a baby! And although he keeps trying to drink fluids for us, we're still not convinced he'll be able to keep them down. And his sad, I don't feel good face is really breaking my heart. I just want to make it all better rightthisveryminute. Thankfully, there have been no major fevers, though, so for now we're just riding it out, hoping he starts to keep something in his system soon and can maybe even eat something. But who knows. This is a Tuesday we're talking about!

Evening Update: Not good. The non-existent fever came on fast and furious and just like that, it was all the way up to 103.6 degrees! I repeat, Not. Good. And then there was the whole spitting all over me and the couch and himself when I tried to give him medicine for said fever. Oy. Haven't been brave enough to try more medicine yet, but he has nibbled on a little banana bread (please, if this is terrible to feed a sick child, don't tell me - it was the only thing all day he's agreed to try eating) and sipped some more Gatoraid, so fingers crossed that all sticks with him. Fever has gone down a teensy bit, so fingers also crossed that that trend continues. After HD's four naps today, I'm not sure what the night will be like, but clearly we all need some sleep.

So. Tuesday. You had darn well better redeem yourself quickly and help us all get some rest and recovery going in our house! We need it!