Speechless-- just like the little mermaid!

As last week was winding down, I found myself looking out our windows at the airplanes taking off from Reagan Airport. And for the first time in 8 months, I wasn't dreading the possibility that I might be on one soon. I wasn't quite excited, but I was ready to tackle our upcoming trip.
"Wow, you really chose the wrong lifestyle," a friend told me when I told her how much I hated traveling. And it's not so much that I hate exploring new places and seeing the world. I love that! I just hate the actual traveling part of it. It's like saying, "Oh, I hate having kids." Well, I don't hate the kids, but the actual birthing part and the months of dazed stupor afterwards leave something to be desired. But they're a necessary evil if you want the sweeties afterwards.
The weekend rolled around, and I started working on all the packing we needed to do before the movers arrived. Kevin and I went through all the girls' clothes and got rid of the too-smalls, too-wintries, and too-uglies. Our next baby is a boy, and there's no reason to ship giant tubs of baby girl clothes around the world when I'm not planning on needing them soon, if ever.
And that's about all I got done. By Saturday night, it was clear that I was getting sick. And on Sunday it was clear that I was SICK. The movers came on Monday, and while the fever wasn't too bad, I had completely lost my voice. Kevin did 98.9% of the packing and directing, while I curled on the couch in fetal position-- until the boxes were off my bed, and then I transferred there. The 1.1% of work I contributed was to go through the kitchen and say "yea" or "nay," by opening or closing cupboards. The system wasn't completely fail-proof, and our oregano did wind up getting shipped. (They train drug-sniffing dogs by using oregano, so they tell you not to ship it. I hope it doesn't hold up our shipment!!) Also, a big cupboard of baggies, tin foil, and towels must have gotten kicked shut, because it wasn't packed. But you know what? I had more important things on my mind ("Unnnnnggggghhh..." to be precise). Kevin took care of the shipment, sent our car off on her cruise to Brazil, watched, fed, played with, and entertained the girls for the rest of the next three days. I just lay in bed being sick, and also wondering why Ariel didn't just whisper when the sea witch had taken her voice. I mean, a lot could have been cleared up!
By Thursday, it was inevitable: we had to travel. Most people look forward to trips to Hawaii, but we had a 14-hour travel day starting at 4:00 a.m. Kevin took care of everything while I just took rounds of Tylenol and Robitussin and tried not to keel over. And it turns out, while my family now think it's normal for me to whisper to them, random people on the airplane and in the airport do not. Oh well. At least I don't use a fork for a hairbrush.
Thanksgiving: We moved the meal to Friday, and I was in charge of cooking a "simple" meal. I am really glad I revised my original plan and decided to use canned cranberry sauce, whipped cream from a bottle, and store-bought rolls. All that really needed to be done was the potatoes, sweet potatoes, turkey, and gravy. No big deal, and Kevin helped me out big time! I'm starting to realize there is nothing this man cannot do.
The girls are having a great time with their cousins. I can hear them playing, hollering, and bossing them around even from up here in my sick room upstairs. It makes me happy to know they get that from me-- though you wouldn't know from this week!
I'm hoping I eventually get my voice back. I'm hoping I just plain get better! But most of all, I'm hoping that I don't spread this joyful experience with anyone. Because I can't understand my kids when they whisper.

Baby Boy!

I gave away the punchline in the title, now didn't I? Well, it's true. We're having a boy! At this point I'd like to go back and erase my previous post and just state now for the record: I knew all along it was going to be a boy. I just had this feeling about it. (And 50-50 odds aren't too shabby, either.)
I'm super excited to have a boy! Two girls are great, and it will now be fun to add some variety to the mix. I went to all the local thrift shops to find some cute baby clothes, and for about $1 a pop, I got a smattering of clothes to cover the first two years. And it turns out, I'm way more picky about boys' clothes than girls' clothes. Who knew?!
There are so many cute girls' clothes, it's hard to make them ugly and lame. I mean, there are overly-sparkly Princess shirts that I try to avoid (though Penny's favorite shirt this day is a pink t-shirt with Belle on the front covered in sequins.... shudder!). And occasionally there will be a slogan printed on the front saying something like, "It's my brother's fault!" or, "I'm a girl so I love shopping," or whatever. But in general, girls' clothes are pretty and cute.
Boys' clothes, on the other hand, are decidedly lame. In size zero, there are two varieties: sweet little lamb and ducky prints, or miniature man clothes. It's either cutesy, pale, and reminiscent of a smocked Christening gown, or it's dark blue and red with rugby stripes. There are some cute ones in the middle though, with animal prints or what have you. It's a good compromise.
Then apparently once they're three months old, baby boys are all future all-star athletes. All the onesies have parades of baseballs (does anyone play baseball anymore?!), footballs, and basketballs, sporting sayings like, "Little slugger," or, "Future MVP." Um, I'm all for my kids playing sports, but I think it's safe to say that waiting until they can walk, crawl, or at least grasp a ball might be developmentally acceptable.
Then we have the vehicles. Cars, trucks, trains, airplanes, firetrucks. I know they're an unavoidable part of raising a boy, but wouldn't it be alright to take my son to visit a construction site and play with Tonka trucks WITHOUT also decorating him as one? And I know we'll probably wind up watching too much Thomas the Train, Cars, Airplanes, Dinosaur Train, and who knows what else. But I'm not going to precondition him to obsess over them.
So what are we left with? Well, animals. And a bunch of tropical stuff like surfing, monkeys, surfing monkeys, sharks, and cute bright-colored everything. There are some really cute clothes once you pick through the lame ones. And I'm excited to find more of those when we go to Hawaii next week.
And for everyone reading this who's planning on buying me something for the boy (hi, Mom!), don't worry. I'll love it-- even if it has ducklings or firetrucks, or (shudder) puppies all over it. I'll probably wind up with things I wouldn't have bought myself, like Penny's sequined princess shirt. And the kids will love it.

One or the other

Have you ever met those people who just "know" if their baby is going to be a boy or a girl? "Oh, I just had a feeling that Emma was going to be a girl." Or, "I was just so sick with Jayden that I knew he had to be a boy."
Um... I don't want to rain on everyone's parade, but I've noticed that people are right about their feelings, oh, about 50% of the time. You just don't hear people crowing about it later if they had to eat their words.
So here's where I tell you: I have no idea if I'm having a boy or a girl. I'm leaning towards it being a boy, since we have two girls, and this would add some variety. Penny has already chosen her baby names, and I like Jack better than Olivia. But these aren't very strong inclinations.
My pregnancy with Penny was very different than with Naomi. And they're both girls. I'd say so far that this pregnancy is more like Naomi's, so it could be that this baby will-- boy or girl-- look more like Naomi than Penny. But beyond that I'm hesitant to guess.
I'm honestly having trouble imagining liking a baby boy. I have two fantastic girls who are just so sweet and beautiful, and I can't imagine loving a boy as much as I love them. But rewind 4.5 years, and I couldn't imagine loving a baby as much as I loved my beautiful, sweet cat. And I soon got over that.
Tomorrow we go in for an ultrasound where we hope to find out the sex of the baby. I'm giving it my best guess: I think it will be one or the other. I'll let you know tomorrow!

The unavoidable future

All the clothes I own are strewn in mounds in my bedroom. There are mountains of toilet paper, cleaning supplies, and random canned goods looming in every corner of the house. We have a dishwasher in the back of our car. In a normal person's life, I'm not sure what this would mean, but for us there's only one explanation: we're moving again.
Costco should be very thankful. Several times a week for the last month or so, I've been heading over there, spending ridiculous amounts of money, and pushing an overloaded grocery cart home through the streets like a bag lady.
We bought a baby swing and a portable dishwasher on Craigslist. Everything in Brazil is way more expensive than here in the US-- especially if you're talking about Craigslist, USA.
And speaking of being cheap thrifty, I'm really excited to find out the sex of our baby this Thursday. That will give me a couple of days to go buy thrift shop baby clothes before our stuff packs out next week.

My my, Naomi

Naomi is a hoot. She can say her own name, which isn't new news, but it's cute to hear a 2-year-old say their own name. She used to say, "Yomi," but now she quite clearly says, "Naomi."
Since we've been in Washington DC, she has been excessively clingy. I swear, she would spend 90% of her waking hours within about a foot of me. If I dared leave that circle, she would cry and generally throw a fit. Joy! My favorite was when I'd be in the kitchen, either chopping something at the counter, or especially cooking something at the stove, and she'd come wedge herself between the counter and my legs and push on me, trying to reach my arms to climb up into them.. Yeah, you try sauteing anything like that.
One thing I love, though, is that the moment she wakes up, she'll stumble into my room and climb into bed with me. Occasionally she would go back to sleep all snuggled in my arms, but usually we would just slowly wake up together. If it was before 6:00 (like occasionally when she'd wake up at 4 or so), I'd just take her back in her room and tell her it was still nighttime and have her sleep in her own bed.
While we lived in China she wasn't very snuggly at all, so I've really appreciated this development. Last week she stopped coming in every morning, but now she'll come every couple days or so. It makes me happy.
Naomi's kind of hilarious and likes to laugh. She makes me laugh, though, when she has a runny nose, because she will wipe her nose directly onto the carpet. I mean, it's gross and we have to clean it up, but it's hilarious to see her little pigu up in the air while she's wiping her face on the floor.
She likes to play pretend, and she has a special squeaky voice that she saves for her toys when they talk to each other. She'll play with her sister, and occasionally she gets her feelings hurt when Penny (or other kids) don't want to play what she does. So her lower lip comes out, the tears start, and she comes running over to me to make it all better. It's very sweet, and it means a lot to me to have her trust like that.
One more thing. Naomi loves to say prayers. If we say prayers at the table or before bed, she enthusiastically volunteers to pray. And it goes like this: "Heavenly Father, of the name of Jesus Christ, Amen." Usually someone else gets to pray after her, but sometimes we'll let that do the job. Either way, it's wonderful to hear her.