Friday, April 17, 2015

Acronyms

"Take me to church, I'll whistle like a dog on a Saturday night..." -Elise, singing her interpretation of Hozier

"ELISE is an acronym. It means Eggfart Leprosy Idiotic Stupid Elephantitis." -Will, apparently unaware of wet-lab immunoassay ELISA

"Oh yeah? 'WILL' stands for Whalepoop Idiotic Lame Loser!" -Elise, without missing a beat

Monday, April 13, 2015

You've Got Male

I have no idea whether we're having a boy or girl this time.

Might be finding out the baby's sex in a week, when I have my regular doctor visit, if they can squeeze me in between regularly scheduled ultrasounds. But if they can't, and I'm still in suspense, I am not waiting until 20 weeks, y'all. I'm gonna go blow $100-150 on an elective 3D u/s because this is my last time doing this whole pregnancy thing and I refuse to be reasonable.

Besides, I need a way to mark the passage of time other than puking.

My dad is here visiting, and yesterday Elise asked him what he was going to dream about that night. He said, "I think I'm going to dream about your [baby] sister!" I promptly reprimanded him; she is already putting on a brave face and saying she's cool if the baby ends up being another brother, but dude. That is gonna be, like, too much to bear if she is hearing that "sister" ish and the baby ends up being brother #4 for the poor girl.

Oh well. Elise's teacher (wonderful lady) has been busy telling her about how she grew up with FIVE brothers and everything turned out okay. Thanks, Mrs. DeChellis. We love you!

Friday, April 3, 2015

Ish My Kids Say, Tween Edition

Some of my kids are getting kind of mean-ish and tween-ish.

Examples:

Will called Elise a "can of butt juice" yesterday, inciting me to gag (stupid pregnancy-related nausea).

Less benignly, James called a fellow fourth-grader at school an "ugly lesbian" and chased him off the playground. When I heard about this incident from my good momfriend, I gave him a stern, for-ten-year-olds version of a lecture on hate speech and took away the computer (travesty). Then, today, he informed me that all I do is "drink Coke and nap all day." Oh, how I wish that were true, mine-angry tween-ish child.

And to top it off, Elise is really fond of making catty comments about James' birthmark within his earshot. That's all I need, for him to develop a massive complex about your standard-issue hyperpigmentation, because we aren't all neurotic enough around here.

That's pretty much it. Zach hasn't hit the mean comment phase yet, just the literal one where he says, "hit!" and hits you (hard). New baby is being a little bit mean, making me a little bit sick still, but that I can abide.





Saturday, March 21, 2015

Dear Baby #5

Dear Baby #5,

I can vividly remember writing this letter to your next-oldest sibling, who is now a toddler. I was in dire straits in the days I was expecting him--off my antidepressants, ill with hyperparathyroidism, guilt-laden, catastrophically stressed, supplicating to the pregnancy gods that things would work out. All is much better now (knock on wood). Nevertheless, there are some things I would like to ask of you.

1. Could you please stop making me vomit so much. I know that sentence is supposed to have a question mark, but it is a firmer request than that. We are coming up on 12 weeks. The broken blood vessels in my eyes tell me that this much heaving (in addition to this much Zofran) can't be good for either of us.

2. Could you please try to avoid making your grand entrance to the world on Will's birthday (September 19th)? Will shares so much with everyone; I don't think he will want to share his day. Any other day is preferable, even the anniversary day of the 9/11 tragedy. I assume you will stay put through James' (8/5) and Zach's (8/22) since you aren't technically due 'till 10/8.

3. Could you please, please allow me to have some energy this weekend, when your dad will be out of town, sailing to Catalina the Channel Islands with his buddies (cue ominous Gilligan's Island theme music: "a three-hour tour")? It'll be just me plus your four sibs, until Meryl and Aunt Kay and Uncle Chuck and get here to visit and help. Have mercy, little plum-sized fetus.

4. It would be awesome if I didn't pee my pants when I cough, sneeze, or puke (see #1). I know this is outside of your control, but it can't hurt to ask.

5. Please don't develop complications or give me delivery surprises of the unpleasant kind. I'll try to keep my liver and other organs happy as best I may.

Thanks. I love you.

Mom

Tuesday, March 17, 2015

Interlude

I feel better today, all of a sudden.

The puking has momentarily ceased. "Puh-raise God for vittory!" exclaimed Granma Joad.

I think I may actually put on non-bathrobe clothing, emerge from the house for the first time in weeks, and do the thing that we Californians love best: purchase something.

There's a fairly long list of "crucial" items to buy (with apologies to the Joads)--

For Will: t-shirts "that aren't crappy"; new football cleats
For Zach: toddler motorcycle, and toddler potty (He's been telling me when he's pooped in his diaper; I'm SO not ready for this, but here goes.)
For James: non-fiction book "that isn't crappy"; new football cleats
For Elise: I can't even remember but I know she needs something.

Wednesday, March 11, 2015

Poem of the Day

Or, In Defense of Naming a Baby Before She is Born

My Baby Has No Name Yet
by Kim Nam-Jo (1927-)

My baby has no name yet;
like a new-born chick or puppy,
my baby is not named yet.

What numberless texts I examined
at dawn and night and evening over again!
But not one character did I find
which is as lovely as the child.

Starry field of the sky,
or heap of pearls in the depth.
Where can the name be found, how can I?

My baby has no name yet;
like an unnamed bluebird or white flowers
from the farthest land for the first,
I have no name for this baby of ours.

Friday, March 6, 2015