And yet, they came from the same ingredients...

For the past couple of days I have been contemplating the differences between Riley and Cole. They both are my funny, smart, loving, and beautiful children, but they are so DIFFERENT. I remember while I was pregnant with Cole, imagining how he and Riley would be at this age...they would do everything the same--they would both be quiet and demure, and thoughtful and sharing...because that was how Riley was. She was such a good girl and she could entertain herself forever. She still is, but I just remember watching her, and thinking that I was going to have the perfect children, all the way around. That because I was a completely successful mother, Riley was so fabulous.
Then Cole came. He was a different baby--where Riley had been girly and quiet, he was loud and wiggly and peed everywhere. Riley liked to snuggle with Jeff, and Cole liked to snuggle with me. Instead of sleeping at night, for almost three years, Cole decided to take four to five hour naps during the day, and then wake up two or three times a night. Riley slept through the night after two weeks of her birth, with little naps dispersed throughout the day. Cole was impatient and would be screaming mad if he didn't get his way. Riley would just be told no, and deal. With a smile. She had her meltdowns, but I remember two or three of those a YEAR, and then she'd get over it. Cole's were two or three a week. I was doing everything the same, but they were so completely different. That being said, it sounds like I have only warm fuzzies for Riley and impatience for Cole. That's where things get weird. I love Riley, I love Cole...I love both my babies the absolute same. But they are different kinds of love. Cole is so physical...he has been since he's been tiny. He wouldn't need me the entire time but I had to be there, just so he could come up and touch me in twenty minute intervals. This is the only way he'd be perfectly satisfied. But it had to be ME. Riley was more like that to Jeff...and though when I first had her it broke my heart, I understood and appreciated the relationship that she had with Jeff. She knew that the sun rose and set for her, her dad made sure of it, and it was with that confidence, she was completely content. Riley and I have this peaceful existence. She comes to me when or if she needs stuff, she shares, she loves me and knows I love her. But we do have our riffs. She and I are a lot alike. We can read each other so well, that we know if the other is just being overly dramatic, or in real need.
Cole, on the other hand, is my alien baby. He comes up with these wild stories, and he's loud and he's stubborn and he is constantly moving. He's bossy--bossier than Riley. And Riley is the best BIG sister ever, and I know, because I was the oldest of four. Where she just looks at me and laughs about Coles antics, (or on occasion, tattles), I used to pinch, punch, slap and squeeze my siblings. Surprisingly enough, I never won any "oldest of the year" awards or anything. And if I were Cole's older sister, according to how I used to be, I wouldn't be nearly as patient as Riley constantly is. (Right Lora? right Muff?)
Anyway, my long awaited point is: How will this baby be?
Dim wittedly, I was surprised at Riley and Cole's differences. But now I suspect Sydney will be an entirely different entity, as well. How will she be? A mix of both Riley and Cole? She's going to be the baby...so she'll most likely be spoiled, and a bit on the bratty side. But I don't know what to expect at all. I know she'll be massively loved; Riley and Cole can't wait for her, and you all know that I'm ready for her to get here, like, now. Jeff feels the same as I do...I think it's also a bit daunting to him to see me visibly get fatter each and every day. (He's nice about it, of course. He has felt my pregnant wrath a couple of times since our marriage, and has found that being on my bandwagon is the safest place for him to reside).
But I'm excited to find out about Sydney. I think this is one of the best parts of parenthood, being able to laugh and scratch my head at my children's actions. I'm really grateful that Jeff is with me...that he's my partner in everything. That he loves our little ones just as much if not more, than I do. So I'll just wait...impatiently, for sure, but just wait until I can meet her myself. Any thoughts or ideas? And if so, no mentioning the possibility of her being an impossible child or stuff like that. Cause, remember the mentioning of my pregnancy wrath? It's real.

What FUN looks like.

We had told Riley when we first went to get our ultra sound of Sydney, that whomever was right about the baby being either boy or girl, would get ice cream. Our way of incorporating gambling into our everyday family life. Since we all just knew it was a girl, we were all happy to find that we were in store for a cool, refreshing treat. After the ultrasound itself, because we are big spenders and it was a treat for all, we ate lunch at Arby's, and Jeff got a shake to share with the kids. Riley said that that couldn't count as the special ice cream treat, so we said that we'd all go out on another day. Seemingly how my upcoming ultrasound is next week, officially making it a month since we promised the ice cream outing, we decided to go to Coldstone, to make good on our bet.
On a side note, I am now OFFICIALLY halfway there. 5 months and whatnot. (Happy Kass?) Anyway, Riley and Cole both try daily to see if they can still fit their arms around my stomach. Cole hasn't been able to do it since last month, and today, Riley told me quite loudly in the Walmart line, that I've grown a lot. Because last time she tried to put her arms around me she could grab her wrists easily. And now she can only grab her hands. Yay.
Also, Cole chose that time to start singing the song, "La Cu-caratcha". Only he's heard it on cartoons, and doesn't really know the word, only the tune...so it ended up sounding like, "La-La crotcha! La la crotcha!", for as long and as loud as he could possibly stretch it out. Basically, I was insulted and embarrassed simultaneously while I stood there, just wanting to pay for my stuff. Good days.
Back to the original story. Coldstone. You'd think that ice cream would bring out the best in others, right? I would. I'm usually happy about eating ice cream. Riley was happy about it. She knows the flavors she likes-chocolate, and she sticks with it. She's simple and no fuss. She enjoyed our family outing. But Jeff was in a bad mood...and apparently I was in a bad mood, (I was enlightened by Jeff), so we all sat there, eating in silence, with an occasional comment. If you'll remember back to one of my posts before the ultra-sound, Riley telling the doctor that she wanted a sister, because then they can go get ice cream together, and then Cole patiently and with no offense, telling the doctor that he doesn't like ice cream, when the doctor asked why you can't eat it with brothers. Well, this is more proof of Cole's aversion to what makes me so happy. (And just so you know, even though HE knows and I know that he doesn't like ice cream, that all changes when we get it. He conveniently forgets, and there's no talking him out of getting it, too. Even when substitutions are mentioned). First, he chose the flavor, Cotton candy. Now, while both my children love the actual stuff, they both dislike the cotton candy flavored items on the market: i.e., suckers, candies, drinks, etc. I don't blame them, and I tried to explain to Cole that he didn't want cotton candy ice cream. That he'd just think it was gross. Well, I had no sway over his decision, because the ice cream was blue...so obviously, it was going to be Delicious. I have a bone to pick with whoever the person was that decided to make blue stuff for kids and market it to the masses. For some reason, blue candies, yogurts, drinks, suckers...everything, screams to kids. It's a nice color, and therefore, they think that they are gonna love it. But the opposite happens. They taste it, they cringe, and say they are full. This happened with the ice cream that Cole himself had chosen. This is his face when he was told to suck it up, and eat it, cause we wouldn't allow him to waste. As you can see, for the first few seconds, he was really trying to hold himself together, and then he lost all emotional control. Luckily it wasn't a full-blown fit, because after some tears and panic, Cole decided it would just be faster to take the five bites left that hadn't turned into blue syrup, and it all worked out. But not before everyone in the shop saw what kind of parents we are to our children. The kind that make their kids eat the gross ice cream, because they picked it out; even though we told them they were making a huge mistake, and yet they still begged and insisted. Maybe if I were a better person, I'd feel more remorseful about that. But obviously, I'm just not that great, because Cole's ability to be stubborn is beyond me. He will argue for HOURS. And I just don't have the patience to endure it, so I really relish when he "learns his lesson". Like right here where you can see the tears, and the fact that he is NOT enjoying his so-called treat. ("And yet, you're having another kid?", you ask. It's a fair question, and FYI, I constantly ask myself the same thing...I just am thankful that they are so far apart, and then when the baby actually comes, I won't be pregnant anymore).
After that, we headed for home, where I came directly to my computer to post about the aforementioned gloriousness, and Jeff and the kids turned to Sponge Bob.
And that was our family night. It was nice and had all the usual elements: tears, argument, some whines and whimpers...and Ice cream. Obviously you can see that we are a family that cares. You're jealous, aren't you?

PS...why is it that as a parent, when you actually TRY to go out of your way to do something nice for your little ones, does it always blow up in your face? You feel guilty about not doing enough for them, and then when you actually take the time to let them have some fun, it seems like nothing works out? If anyone has the answer, please, let me know. Because seriously.

Cole says....

I was mad at Cole because he spilled Gatorade on his carpet. He went to look for a rag and the Woolite carpet cleaner we use. Riley found it first, and started cleaning the carpet, so Cole found some of my Lysol that we use for severe stink, which, sometimes happens at our house. He wanted to get it off of my armoire and so he used a trick he's seen his dad do, throw the rag to knock it down. (Something that pisses me off, however Jeff swears that it's a time-proven system). I came up in time to watch the Lysol crash to the floor, and said, "Cole, that's Lysol, it doesn't clean carpet, it makes smells go away". He looks at me and says, "I know, I need to spray your baffroom". No one had set foot in my bathroom for the past few hours, and so I said, "Don't worry about it, go clean your room". In his arguing-until-he-is-decided-right attitude, he looks at me calmly and says, "I'm gonna go spray your baffroom, because it smells like a dirty pig to me". I tried to hide my smile and said, fine go spray it. He goes in, sprays for like, two minutes and comes out gagging. "You're welcome, mom." He says as he's going out of my room. I tell him thanks, and I hear him tell Riley, "I fink I almost fro'd up in Mom's baffroom." She asked him why and he told her, "Because the spray I was spraying in her baffroom. It must be stinky poop smells".


For all of you that are wondering; Yes. When looking for a bathroom spray that will neutralize my smelly family, I ALWAYS go for the brand that boasts, "stinky poop smells".

Happy Fourth of July!

It was a good one. I woke up at 11:00, because my kiddies tried their hardest to let me sleep in, and then it was time to get up and bake brownies that I really had planned on no one eating...because that's just what happens when I make stuff for any potluck that I happen to be invited to. I always feel obligated to bring something because it's for absolute sure that I'll eat what's there. But my stuff, the fruits of my labor, remain lonely and untouched. Not this year, no. (FYI, my pictures this post are also fruits of my labor...only in different ways. They are much more enjoyed by all). My brownies were devoured, and I mean, completely gone. It's the first time in the ten years that I've been part of this family, and don't worry, I made a rousing speech to the Anderson's, saying just that. It was an occasion to be commemorated, much like the independence part. Anyway, Riley and Cole and I got there about 4:30, and the eating was scheduled to start about fivish. Seemingly how my children don't really think that food is all that fun and exciting, (a reason that, if I hadn't been there, giving birth to them, I'd seriously wonder where they came from), both Riley and Cole jumped in the pool and Cole didn't emerge until three hours later, while Riley was in there for two additional hours after Cole petered out. By then all the food had been put away and eaten, (Oh, and I couldn't give him one of my brownies, because they were ALL GONE..in case you missed that part). But Cole and Riley both were content with some Dorito crumbs and strawberries. This has to be the reason that my children are skinny. It doesn't come from my side of the family, that's obvious.
Anyway, I got to visit with sisters-in-law, and my mother-in-law and father-in-law. It's weird, because I don't feel like they are "in-laws", and for that, I'm truly grateful. I just always say that, to specify who's who. I get this really ridiculously happy zing when I see/hear my sisters-in-law refer to me as simply, their sister, and yet, even though I want to do the same thing, I have severe issues with it. I wonder if this is because I have both step sisters and step brothers and yet, they aren't but acquaintances to me...And that's not to be said in a rude way, even though I did...but we just don't have any type of closeness. I like them, but I'll never actually feel close to them, or like we are friends, not the way I do around Jeff's family. Does that make sense? Anyway, long, awkward story short, the Andersons (& those lucky enough to marry them), are really important to me, and totally considered my close family. So it's really a fun time for all of us when we get together.
Fireworks were provided by the usual suspects, and for that, I say a loud thanks. My mother-in-law and father-in-law worked the grill, ensuring meaty deliciousness for all...it was a good time. So thanks to all that made it possible for me to eat a lot, the kids to swim, and Jeff and I to have fabulous conversation and laughs. And don't forget that my brownies were eaten. Every one.

Fa-Rick

So I said I wouldn't complain about pregnancy anymore, and actually, I've done pretty well. Sure, it's been a little under a week, but ask Jeff...this amount of time can be considered in the "roll" category, as in, "I'm on a roll." Stoically dealing and accepting stuff just isn't my way, and yet, here I am. I'm okay with me. Someone should really get me something nice to commemorate this fantastic anomaly.
Now for the downside...because there always is one. I'm reluctantly guessing that all of you remember the big to-do I made about my hair...and how I was going to have something done with it. I didn't exactly know what, but it was going to be fabulous, and make me the envy of Utah Valley. Guess what? Instead of instantaneous possible fame or traffic-stopping beauty, I got a mullet. Now, traffic-stopping, maybe. However, as far as solving my not-wanting-to-go-anywhere, or alleviating my "insecurities" dilemma; not so much. (A personal note: In addition to my new atrocious hair, my brother-in-law caught me at Walmart the next day in sweats...not that that's too unusual for me, but my sweats were bright orange, my shirt bright blue, and my flip-flops bright purple...Have I just given up? Don't I remember the rants I've had previously about Riley's choice of clothing? The answer is NO. It was a Tuesday afternoon, I was there just to get some quick fixes and had to run into him, and my entire church ward, and my neighbors. I just had to specify in case someone else saw me, and was too appalled and/or worried to say anything. I'm okay, I just got severely caught). The question of my sanity aside, lets get back to my hair. Here's how it was before:


I think that for me, it's the novelty of just having long hair. It's not like it actually looks good. I mean, I can make it that way, with my curling iron, or my flat iron...but it always involves a lot of ironing, and then a lot of time, and I'm just too lazy. It's hair, for goodness sakes. So, in a ponytail it goes, or a bun, or braids...and then it looks like something that took me two seconds, because it did. Also, as I get older, my hair has gotten this wispy effect, and unless I use a lot of product, which I hate, especially in summer, it just doesn't appear smooth anymore. So I am well aware that it's not the dream hair that every little girl desires--the Rapunzel locks that are magnificent and flowy. Anyway, about my haircut. I went to Walmart "Smartstyle", expecting a miracle. I don't know what's more ironic, going to walmart for a hairdo, or expecting a miracle, but that's what I did, so I'm admitting that mistake, right there. I also always try to "scout" for the person that I want to do my hair...namely, the person whose hair is passable to cute and therefore, still has some link as to what's stylish. I zoned in on a cute girl that looked right out of hair school, and waited for her to get done with the guy that was fruitlessly flirting with her. But no. Out comes an older, and I know how terrible this makes me sound, obviously pregnant woman, with a not very cute 'do, and this is my stylist. This shouldn't surprise me, because in the lot of my life, this is status quo.
So she begins to ask me what I want. I tell her to remove five inches, tiny, minuscule, to no layers, and I wanted to try having bangs...as every other time I've chickened out. Then she begins. I get lulled into a false sense of security as she takes small, even snippets from my hair. We converse. We groan about the burden of children, and work, and womanhood, and all that stuff that amazingly enough, women, complete strangers, can dish about for hours. Then she's ready to do my bangs. She asks what way I wear my part, and I tell her I don't really have a way, but I want my bangs to swoop this way, and I show her with my hands. She says she's got it, and starts to work. Her first chop is like....I am reminded of trying to cut my own hair as a kid. It's just this blunt snip of scissors, and then there is no hair where there once was. I panic, yet remain quiet, because I don't know how to cut hair, and I don't want to cause unnecessary stress. An extremely long and painful process later, I had a mullet. She asked me how I liked it, and shocked, I said, "fine". While in my head I was just trying to will myself not to cry. And that was that. I went home, took a nap, showed the appalling results to Jeff and Kelli, because she happened to be there, and witness me get a bit teary-eyed about my situation. Jeff convinced me to do something I always do, wash my hair and try to style it myself. Without the obvious blunt frontal snips showing, I can manage. I'm still not overjoyed by any means, but it will grow until I can figure out what to do. There are always ponytails, right? Jeff likes them, so life is still livable. He says that no matter what I do, he still loves me...However, he also knows I'm crazy and obsess about everything. So this just may be a survival mechanism for him. BTW I told you my nose grows when I get pregnant. Why is this, does anyone know? It usually goes back down, but why does it happen in the first place? I'll probably dye my hair later this week, too. Darker. I know, I know. Will I ever learn? This is why I wish I could cut hair myself. That way, when and if I hate it, I can chalk it up to me being an idiot. Oh, and for those of you that loved my really short hair days, thanks. I appreciate the ideas. But I'm too much of a chicken, and the grow-out process is too much of a b!#@h. So baby steps for me for right now. (Also, with the nose, the jowls, and the belly? I'd be even more out of proportion than I already am....YOU know what I mean).

Chachachanges...

First off, BIG THANKS to those of you that gave me ideas for resumes. I want to let you know, I listened, and I will soon be putting those ideas to use. Now then. I've decided that I'm going to go outside my comfort zone. I'm thirty, I'm pregnant, and I'm gonna do some stuff differently. My first change? I can't wait...I'm cutting my hair. I was wanting to continue to grow it and then donate it, but I'm just done. Kudos to those that can wait it out, and do...but I'm not one of those. I'm so sick of it I want to scream--when I get like this, I seriously consider grabbing a pair of dollar store scissors and hacking it myself; something that never ends well. And I just do the same thing with it each day--a ponytail or some sort of something to keep it out of my face. (Granted, it is summer, and there's really no other logical way to wear it, but just try to feel my pain). So Monday, Riley and I are going in for some dead-end removal, and such. Hopefully this will encourage me to do stuff with it occasionally. Now for the whole "pregnancy" factor. Though I can't do anything about that, I can change my attitude about being pregnant. Riley asked me today what I liked about being pregnant...I told her because I know that eventually I will have a new baby. I really thought about my answer after I gave it to her. I am going to try to embrace this pregnancy, because it's my LAST ONE. (I'm so very serious that I'm looking into Jeff getting the final snips to take care of the possibility). Also, officially today, I am exactly halfway through. Of course I thought I was here three weeks ago, but I'm not focusing on that, because this is an "empowering post". Anyway, I don't know if it's because I'm off my meds or what, but I feel constantly 'down' about myself. And believe me, I'm aware of how selfish this all sounds..."Whaaa, I'm fat. Whaaa, nothing fits me and it's too hot. Whaa...I feel like with the acne, the extra sweat, the extra hair, and the overly tired and mannish looking face, I'm hideous to look at so I don't want to go anywhere or do anything." It's not like I'm trying to impress anyone, it's not like there's anything I want more than my husband and kids to feel loved and appreciated. However, I am feeling like I am the center of everyone's attention, and not in a good way. The opposite of good, actually. Blah, it's embarrassing, and frustrating. So I'm going to stop being overly obsessed with myself. Can I do this? It remains to be seen, true, but I'm going to try. From here on out, I'm going to really try to concentrate on me being a vessel for a beautiful little girl to grow and develop. That this time is hers, not mine, and I'm going to try to do it willingly. (Note: Five more months is a long time, so have patience for when I relapse).
Also, I've got about two more months before I get painfully huge. So I'm going to take this time and use it towards getting ready for baby, getting my home clean--deep cleaned, and getting rid of crap that for some reason, it seemed important to save at one time. I have a lot of that crap, and I think it's starting to overrun us. Oh, and speaking of, I was wondering if anyone has, or knows anyone that has, a twin mattress and box spring they could part with--I'm willing to pay. I just thought I'd throw that out there. My children have now been moved into the same room...phew. Jeff isn't as stoked about this as I and they are, but I wanted to make this adjustment before school starts. Also, they are still at the age where sharing a room is "cool" instead of a serious step down in the world, so we must take advantage, NOW.
We have vacated Riley's old room for the baby. Of coarse, she'll sleep in our bedroom for a while, but we want her to have a place where we can put her to sleep without having one of the kids go in and out at all times. Also, I still remember when my little brother would wake up in the night, and I had school the next day. He was only six years younger than I, and I know that it's going to be a hard adjustment for both Riley and Cole, so I'm trying to think ahead while I can still sort of think. Both of my children now don't like loud noises--unless they are making them. The baby's cry will be a hard thing to deal with...Riley used to sit in the back seat with Cole with her ears covered and her eyes closed as he'd cry because the rear-facing car seat is seen by my children as some sort of torture device. I fear that this time it will be worse, as Cole isn't near as even-tempered as Riley is.
So anyway, these are a few of the differences I'm going to try to make. Wish me luck and perseverance--because in reality, I'm a big fat baby that doesn't like it when things get hard. Just in case you hadn't noticed from previous posts. Toodles.

The pink widget had to go, and other stuff.

After a little more than 24 hours, I couldn't stand the sight of the pink monkey. Yesterday I saw Sydney on a dark screen, and she looked like she has the potential to be cute...now yes, I'm aware that sounds harsh and terrible. But let's face it...babies at this age are a bit frightening. You want to believe that they are the most adorable beings ever, simply because you made them, and you feel them, and you are stuck with the constant reminder that you are in charge of their health and nutrition, and so on, and so on. Does this sound harsh? Probably so.
The reality, however is this: A baby's physical appearance at this age is frightening. I mean, the frog body, and the ginormous head...the skinniness, and the alien features...quite scary. So, my last widget did nothing to hide these facts. I had to go back to what I had; what I know.
That being said, I now have my known and trusted widget to display Sydney's progress. I'm sure she would agree that this is for the best.
Anyway, I'm done with summer. You hear me? DONE! I hate the weather, I hate the sweating, I hate the fact that there is so much more of me when I want to wear less clothing...and it's really just not worth all the misery. So I'm ready for fall to begin. We have two more months, and I'm just really hoping that I'll be able to deal. The saddest part is that we've only had like, a couple weeks of true heat, and now I'm seriously ready for it to be over. Any suggestions? Anyone?
I need some help writing a resume. If anyone can remember how, or has a website that I could cheat off of, please let me know. I told Jeff that I'd set one up for him, however not only has it been six years since I've worked, but it's been even longer since I've tried to get one, and my memory is crappier than ever. Let me know, if you've got any ideas.
Okay, this is it for my post, goodnight.