Boy #4 is a go! (And thank you, higher powers that be, for an apparently healthy baby!)
Elise was a little sad that it's not a baby sister, yes. But she is okay now.
OMG, what am I going to do with FOUR BOYS running around my house?!?!
Monday, April 27, 2015
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
"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!
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.
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)