Ventilation

1. the act of ventilating.


2. the state of being ventilated.

3. facilities or equipment for providing ventilation.

4. hormonal release; my husband thanks you.

Blogging, for me, is #3 all the way.  It is a facility or equipment for providing ventilation.  And you, poor reader, are the one who takes the proxy for my husband.  Aren't you lucky?

Even luckier for me is that the people I'm going to now vent about don't read my blog.  If it wasn't for the prospect of facing an eternity with me, they wouldn't know I exist at all.

Which brings me to the opening and bulk of my venitlation.

Let me ask you this: how hard is it to say hello to someone when they walk into a room?  Even if you loathe that person so that the thought of their insides turning scurvy brings you overwhelming joy.  Really?  I can even say hi to those people.

But what about a congratulations?  I am, afterall, carrying another adorable, perfect child.  I mean, these people should be throwing me a party for the gift I'm about to give them.  (I am in no way a biased mother, and am perfectly aware that everyone I know, will know, or will ever meet will think that my children are the perfect darlings they are =)  Hold for laughter...and go.

So anyway, to those people, who don't read my blog or say Hi or congratulations and walk out of the room when everyone else sings happy birthday to me (another vent for another post) I say pooh on you.  Pooh.  Big fat raspberry with lotsa slobber.  You suck.

Thank you.  And goodnight.

Finding Out

With your first, you hover over the stick.  You hear each and every click of the second hand.  You're sure it hasn't been three minutes, and yet...and yet...positive?

With your second, well, with our second, you're a little disbelieving.  You're just doing it to rule out that option.  There's no way, afterall, your first is only SIX MONTHS OLD!  How is this test positive?  How in the world is this even possible?  How are we going to do this?  Turns out, with much joy.

The third time, you've been trying.  Your youngest is now 3 1/2 and thinking she's the center of the universe (it turns out she is) and it's time.  You take the test, not really hoping, not really expecting...

Three minutes, when you already have two kids, is valuable time.  Time not to be waisted listening to the tick-tick of the second hand.  Three minutes is enough time to get lunch served, to sit down for a few seconds, to think about the list of chores you must get done.  Pretty soon, as is always the case, three minutes turns into five, then ten, and suddenly a few hours.

That's when Brett comes out of the bathroom with a giant grin on his face.  "Do you know yet?" he asks.
"Know what?  No, I just turned on my computer," I say, thinking he's refering to something on Facebook.
"No, your test.  I saw it."
Holy crap!  How could I have forgotten?  It's not every day I pee on a stick to see if my future will change forever.
"What does it say?!" I ask.
He only grins.
"You're grinning.  You're happy.  It must be negative."
He laughs.  He really seems happy.
"It's positive?  It's positive.  It's positive!"
I run into the bathroom. 
+
HOLY CRAP!

Here we go again!

Numero Tres Is On The Way

I think Jen is the only one who, for some reason, scrolled all the way down to the bottom of our blog and saw the announcment last week.  Anywho, I'm not creative, or silly, or fun, or anything along those lines.  But like Bethany, I cannot keep a secret for long.

So, there ya have it!  Kembry is going to be a big sister!  They've both put in a request.  Cohen wants a brother and Kembry wants a sister.  Someone is going to be very happy, and the other bitterly let-down. 

Now if I could only accept the inevitable: fatigue and morning sickness are here to stay!

Kelly Out
(and off to the bathroom...again...)

We Have This Neighbor...

...who is driving us nuts.

First off, we live in a circle, which, if you 've ever lived in a circle, you know you're a part of a tight-knit mini-community.  You don't go rockin' the boat.

But they race around the corner at at least 30 miles an hour, and speed UP until they're in their driveway.  Now, my perfect children know not to play in the street, but that doesn't mean they're not going to one day accidentally find themselves chasing after a ball without thinking straight into the road...and into the path of a wanna-be vehicular homicide maniac.

Next, they listen to "thump thump" music.  Anyone who has ever met me knows how much I LOATHE thump thump music.  More than the music itself is the TIME OF DAY in which these wonderful neighbors decide to BLAST their crappy music.  6 AM, every single morning, while warming up their car.  Please explain to me why you need to keep your music at max volume while you're warming up your car, AT 6 IN THE BLOODY AM!

How about 2 a.m.?  Or Sunday afternoon, when that traditional sleepiness overcomes you, but alas, Jay-Z doesn't exactly produce Lullaby music, does he?

I have earplugs, but base, my friends, travels through vibrations in the ground.  And there is no magical earplug out there that drowns out base.  (Or is it "bass"?  I'll have to look that up...)

Sooo....I don't know what to do.  We've talked to them SEVERAL times about it, and they glare at us like we're the ones being rude.  I very much dislike contention, arguing, fighting, etc.  And in a circle, it's very important to be diplomatic.  But I'm about to put Salt Lake County Police on my speed dial. 

Ever seen "The Burbs"?  I should be so lucky...

Princess Kembry, Ruler Of The Universe

You love to twirl and sing.  You put your dainty little hand on your chest and twirl and twirl, it is so precious!

You bat your eyes slowly, and put on a shy face, and then get anything and everything you want.

You worship your older brother, and he adores you; how can he not?

You have the funnest personality, and you're all about having a good time.

You are 110% girl.  You love dress up, make-up, nail polish, doing your hair, and flirting with boys.  You make me fear for my future, and Dad is thinking about buying some guns...

Everyone who meets you falls in love with you.

You're fascinated with the Temple, and keep telling us that one day you're going to marry Cohen in it. 

You give the best hugs and kisses.

It is impossible to be mad at you.

You tell me you love me all the time, and melt my heart.

You're not very interested in much aside from Princesses and girl things, but I think that will change when you start school next year!

You were the greatest surprise in the world.  Grandma bought a dress for you long before we knew you were a girl.  You love little babies, and one day will make the greatest big sister.  I'm so grateful to have you as my daughter. 

Everyone who meets you falls hopelessly in love.  It's the eyes...

Oh, PS, you're gorgeous.  Just beautiful.  How do you do it?

Cohen, My Cohen

You have an excellent imagination.

You're a fiercely loyal friend.  You call all new friends that you really like, your cousins.

Your mood swings are epic, but as a mother, I love that you have a tender side.

You love knowledge.  You love to read, do math, and learn every chance you get.

You have a red personality, just like your mom!

You love your mom, but are strictly a daddy's man.

You love hanging with the boys, engulfing yourself in testosterone.

You're great at sports, and have an amazing stamina to run for a long, long time.

You love Church.  You will tell anyone who will listen that you are in CTR, and your sister is a Sunbeam.

You are your sisters best friend.  She adores you, and you always include her.

There is so much I could say about your kindness.  You're always polite, and always make sure that everyone around you is happy.  You love helping with anything, you love playing the piano, and you have the most infectious laugh I've ever heard.

You're 4 and a half years old.  You have feet the size of a first grader, and you start Kindergarten in September.

I waited  22 months for you, and it was well worth the wait. You're my best friend. You make me laugh so hard, sometimes I cry.

I love you.

Love,

Mom

Calling All Insomniacs

There are two types of insomniacs: those who can't get to sleep, and those who wake up earlier and earlier.  I fall under both catagories.

I don't think my poor husband can grasp this strange phenomena.  He says things like, "Just go to sleep."  Yes, I don't think he quite gets it.  That's okay, I still love him.

I used to take sleeping pills, but they gave me HORRIBLE nightmares.  Finally, I came to the conclusion that "quality sleep" is much more important than "quantity sleep".  Right now, I'd settle for quantity and call it good.

Everything is effected by lack of sleep.  Your emotions are more tender.  Your thoughts are slower.  Your moods are shiftier.  Your body is heavier. Your tempers shorter.  And the smallest of tasks loom over you like Mt. Everest.  And, especially for me, the nearer it gets to bed time, the crabbier you get, because you know you won't be enjoying that much needed slumber.

I haven't tried everything, I'm sure of it, but I certainly have tried a long list of things.  Melatonin.  Warm milk.  Bedtime scheduels.  Napping.  Not napping.  Reading.  Breathing exercises.  Sleeping pills.  No caffeine.  Valerian Root.  Unisom.  Tylenol PM.  Massage.  Witch craft.  Sacraficial ceremonies...

Is anyone out there in the world wide web that struggles with sleep, too?  What do you do?  And if you haven't found anything, how do you cope?  Are you seeing things?  Do you hear voices? 

My kingdom to the person who can cure my insomnia.

Disclosure: My Kingdom consists of a 3 and 4  year old, a space heater, a cute beanie, and a half made scarf.

Kelly Out

What Its Really All About

I bet our New Year's Eve was better than yours.

First of all, there were Aunties-a-plenty for Kembry. 

She needs more estrogen than I can give her.

Awww, lessons on lipsticks. 

Thank Aunt T, for taking away the burdensome task of lipstick application.

To the point...this beautiful woman became my new step-mom!

She's a natural grandma. 

She spoils at a level-seventeen. 

That's pretty good, people.

She married this ol' curmudgeon. 

Papa Tim:

Elder Vampire

This is the worst picture of Cohen, ever!  I didn't know the boy could take bad pictures!

Congratulations to my new mom.  (Thanks for taking him off my hands!)

Love,

Your new step-daughter

Kelly-Out

(Sorry.  That's just my name on this here blog.)