If You Give a Mom a Muffin...

**WARNING: this post is NOT for the feint of heart...or stomach...**

Today is one of those days.  At 6 weeks along I am in the throws of the lovely experience called "morning sickness."  Really it should be called "Feeling awful all the time sickness."  That would be more appropriate!  What has made today especially unique is that my other children have realized that if mom is indisposed because she is hugging the porcelain throne again, then they have free reign in the house!  What a day its been so far!  The goals I set for myself were, I thought, not too lofty.  I wanted to get the 4 loads of folded and cleaned laundry that have been taking up my living room put away, and then I really really wanted to vacuum.  This means that the older 3 kids have to help clean up their toys first.  Realistically I figured I could accomplish these two chores before lunch.  Well, its after lunch now.  I managed to get the laundry away - but the house still desperately needs to be vacuumed!  This is because I have been living out my own version of the book"If You Give a Moose a Muffin," called "If  You give a Mom a Muffin."

See, my problem is this: I ate a muffin this morning.  A healthy (well kind of) muffin.  But Baby Tu-Tu (the nickname my 3 year old gave to the baby) does not want to share his or her space with anything else! (namely food)  Apparently the teeny tiny little human doesn't want to be bothered by me eating, even an innocuous muffin, so anything that I have attempted to ingest today, makes a reappearance. This has not been fun.  You see, while I make a run for it, I am unable to keep an eye on my other 4 kids.  This is not ideal.  Every mom knows that at the end of the day, if you have kept your children alive and relatively unscathed, you have been a successful parent.  This is most especially true if you have boys.  I have 3.  So I coined a new prayer today.  In my head I sarcastically call it the "Puking Prayer."  Its really short, and it goes like this:  "Lord, please keep my children alive and safe while I am...." you get the idea.

I decided this prayer was necessary when I emerged from our bathroom to find my 1 year old had scaled his brother's bunkbed and was running back and forth on the top bunk - dumping out a water bottle as he went.  Have to change those bed sheets now.  Changing the bedsheets made me nauseous again and I ended up back in the bathroom.  When I came out I discovered that the 1 year old had emptied the bottom pantry cabinets and dumped out a box of cereal.  At least I hadn't vacuumed yet!  Cleaning up the pile of crunchy cereal made me once again have to run for it.  This time the 1 year old followed me and proceeded to imitate my wretchedness (literally) by pretending to throw up too.   Thank goodness he's so darn cute!  When the two of us left the bathroom I discovered that the 3 year old really, really wanted chocolate cake.  Since mommy was busy revisiting the food I had just eaten, he helped himself.  How industrious of him.  How very, very messy of him...so messy that, yep you guessed it.  The one year old didn't follow me this time, instead he decided to try to eat a marble that his brother gave him.  I emerged in time to fish it out of his mouth and scold the 3 year old.  (this is where it starts to sound like  If You Give a Moose a Muffin by Laura Numeroff)

By now I was starving so I attempted to eat some cereal and drink some mint tea.  While accomplishing this feat I organized the older 3 kids into a "clothes putting away" team.  Yes!  Victory!  The laundry is away!  While finishing my tea my 3 year old decided to get mad at me so he ran into me, spilling the tea, burning my hand and yep, inducing the dreaded nausea!  So much for my cereal experiment.  Before tossing my cookies, er, cereal, I reminded my kiddos that they couldn't play outside until we had cleaned up and vacuumed.  Then I dutifully headed to the bathroom, praying my prayer.

When I came out I noticed a breeze blowing through the house...which could only mean that the kids had exited the house and were playing in the backyard.  So much for my reminder.  I headed out back in time to see my now naked children plop the now-naked 1 year old into the sandbox!  How in the world had they managed to remove all their clothes and the little guy's clothes?  I hadn't been THAT long!  I have little Houdinis, I decided, silently thanking our neighbors for not being home to see my bare bottomed kids, and went to collect the 1 year old who thought it would be fun to eat the sand he was sitting happily in.  As I grabbed his grainy little body I discovered that a sand covered 1 year old boy will make a Mommy queasy.  So he and I headed to bathroom where I was ready to deposit him in the bathtub.  I fought successfully against the queasiness and discovered that most of the contents of my pantry was now in the bathtub!  So before plopping my sandy son in the tub I had to remove all the food and canned goods!  Looking at all that food made fighting the queasiness quite difficult, yet I was once again victorious.  So I grabbed the sandy child (who was gleefully running all over the house, making vacuuming even more imperative) and landed him in the tub.  As I was hosing him off (and he was loving every minute of it) he got so relaxed that he decided to relieve himself - of everything.  What would normally have gone into the diaper, went all over the tub (as you may know, it floats).  That was all my poor stomach could handle.  At least I was already in the bathroom.  Cleaning out the bathtub was perhaps a great opportunity for me to knock off some major purgatory time, and the advantage I did have was that by now my stomach was beyond empty.

At last the tub and my son were clean.  I dressed him in a cute, little, preppy outfit just to make myself happy, gave him his sippy and tucked him in.  Those little snuggles on my shoulder before I put him in his bed made all his messiness float to the back of my brain and fizzle away.

Next it was off to the land of sand to collect my other kids.  I ushered them into the house, gave them baths as well, and then made lunch.  By now I had a hankering for an omelet with lots of onions in it.  Why not?!  So we had omelets for lunch, followed by chocolate cake with cream cheese icing.  Strangely enough, Baby Tu-Tu doesn't seem to mind that food combination.

Now I have children who are clean and fed.  I have a relatively full tummy, that seems content to remain that way.  Do I dare attempt the vacuuming.....?

"Mommy, can we read a story?"

The vacuuming can wait.

Strangers

If you have been pregnant before, have you ever noticed that strangers seem to think that your pregnancy gives them the leeway to say the most inappropriate and outrageous things to you??  If you are pregnant for the first time, or hoping to be - consider yourself warned!

I was musing about this earlier today because I am, of course, not showing yet (I'm only 5 weeks along here, folks!)  and I couldn't help but wonder what insane comments I am going to hear this time around!  This got me reminiscing and amidst my reminiscing about all the crazy things people have said to me, I had the idea of writing them here for your amusement!  So here are the top five:

5) "Wow, you're huge!"  (I was only 6 months along, and our parish priest hadn't seen me in a month because he'd been traveling)

4)  "Oh wow, are you having twins?  Or are you due any day now?"  (neither - I was 5 months along, with ONE child)

3)  "You need a hobby."  ( random stranger saw that I was pregnant with my fourth child)

2)  Me and one other person were waiting for an elevator in the mall.  When it arrived and the doors opened the person waiting with me looked at my belly, looked at me, looked at me belly again and said, "That's OK, I'll get the next one, there will be more room."  (But I was the only other person getting on the elevator!)

1)  This one takes the cake: I was pregnant with my 3rd child and walking with my oldest 2 (at that time ages 1 1/2 and 3) in Washington DC.  Suddenly a man starts coming toward me yelling, "Shame on you!  Shame on you, girl!"  I was somewhat stunned and thought maybe he mistook me for someone else.  Nope.  He marched right up to me (as I am gripping the hands of my kids very tightly) and says, "You already have your two!  A boy and a girl.  What do you need another one for?!  Shame on you!  Don't you know what kind of carbon footprint kids leave?  It's people like you who are responsible for global warming!  You should be ashamed of yourself!  Global warming is YOUR fault!  All that carbon from more kids! Shame on you!"    

I was quite stunned, and had to fight my protective-mother instinct to inflict bodily harm on this man who was insulting me and my children!  So I took a deep breathe and calmly said, "Sir, if you saw these kid's diapers, the LAST thing you'd be concerned about them emitting is Carbon.  Have a good day!"
and away we walked as fast as my pregnant self and my two kids could go!

Hmmm.....all this reminiscing is making me wonder just what is in store for me this time around - as I go out in public with my four children and a pregnant belly!  One thing is for sure though - it is a great opportunity to witness to the fact that Life is a Gift.  I have taught each of my kids (well the 1 year old can't talk yet)  that "Babies are gifts from God."  They LOVE to remind rude passers-by that "Mommy has a present from God in her tummy."  Who can argue with that?!

The Introduction

I stare at the EPT.  Actually I stare at both EPTS...yes I took two pregnancy tests...just in case the first one was confused.  "Pregnant."  The first one announced.  "Pregnant" the second one echoed.  Oh boy.  Or girl. Here we go again!

Those first few moments, in the bathroom, alone (well not really!), are unlike anything I can ever adequately describe.  Feelings across the emotional spectrum run through my body, racing thoughts, and a slow realization that I can no longer discard my already swollen feet, increased forgetfulness, inability to balance, or grip firmly, mild queasiness, and very sensitive nose as "coincidences."  No, at this point the two EPTs aren't so much a shock as they are a confirmation.  I can no longer give into denial or mind games: the incessant "Am I?  Am I not?" of the past few weeks.

Zoom.  Back to the present.  One more good hard look.  Yup.  It still says "Pregnant."  So does the other one.  Then I stuff them into the garbage.  Deep breathe.  Look into the mirror.  Smile.  "I am pregnant."  Say it again, "I am going to have a baby."  Then come the tears.  Tears of gratitude, (for children are after all gifts), relief (after-all those few weeks of not knowing are killer for a control-freak like me!), fear, (oh my goodness FIVE children!), nervousness (I hope I don't get morning sickness.....I hate labor!), trepidation (I wonder what people are going to think of us!).....then I stop myself.  I laugh.  Yup.  The crazy hormones have already kicked in!  But now is not the time for indulging in a hormonal roller-coaster.  I have something far more important to do.

The introduction.  This is a ritual that I began when I went through the whole EPT saga with my first child.   I quietly placed my hands on my lower abdomen, right about where I imaged the teeny tiny little person was growing.  "Hello," I whispered, "I am your Mommy.  You are my baby.  I love you."

Then the tears start again.  So I get down on my knees and say a thank you prayer.  I have done this for every one of my children as well.  It doesn't matter if they were "surprises" or or if I was scared to death at the time.  Every one of our children is a gift - and it's always polite to thank the Giver.  Sometimes the Giver of all likes a good surprise party too!

My prayer of thanksgiving, (followed by a quick petition for extra help and patience!) done I get up off the floor, take one more quick look at my smiling and tear-streaked face, and exit the bathroom - knowing that I am, once again, forever changed.

As I walk into our hallway I am nearly run over by a 4 year old boy pretending to be a train.  Then comes the almost 3-year-old on all fours, who barks at me, "I am a cute, cute puppy, " and he crawls off.  My 5 year old (soon to be 6) daughter is in the living room twirling around and dancing, "I'm a princess,"  she informs me.  I glance into the kitchen.  Yep.  The rustling sound is indeed my 1 year old son judiciously emptying the Rice Krispies  all over the floor.  He looks up at me and smiles a big toothy one-year-old into mischief smile.  I place my hand on my lower abdomen and I smile too.  Then I glance at the pile of cereal on my floor.  I shake my head and sigh, "this is my life, and I wouldn't change a thing!"