Number Three's Big Ultrasound

We found out this week, at our 20 week ultrasound, that baby number three is a boy! I feel so happy that I almost feel guilty. As if somewhere the girl-that-might-have-been is crying tears of rejection in response to my happiness.

When the ultrasound tech found the gender for us, I cried. I was just so happy. I wanted it to be a boy, but it just seemed too good to be true. The King and I both went in pretty much expecting it to be a girl. I mean, that's what we do. We parent girls.

We had a newbie for the first part of the ultrasound. She was great, and I don't mind student techs or doctors, but I was really hoping for an experienced tech to find the gender. We lucked out. For the last few minutes, an experienced tech came in to finish up. She found the gender, not once, but twice. And in getting shots of other anatomy, she said a couple of times, "Oh! There he is again. He's not a shy little guy." Here's a tip, pregnant ladies. I ate an oreo and a pack of fruit snacks in the waiting room just before going in so that the baby would be active. It worked. He moved around like crazy the whole time.

Oh, yeah. The ultrasound also showed that the little guy is very healthy. No red flags appeared. In our excitement we kind of forgot that this is an actual medical test, not just a chance to find out what gender your baby is.

Both girls were excited to find out the gender. Squiggle was happy because she wanted a brother, and Squeeze was happy just to know. After the hullabaloo of telling everyone, and making a little video to tell our friends online, Squeeze said to me, "Can we open it?" I didn't know what she meant until she patted my tummy and said, "The baby. Can we open it now?" I told her we couldn't open the baby until Thanksgiving. She then promptly asked if she could go back to bed.

We watched the video of the ultrasound, which I realize is not fun for anyone except mothers and grandmas. Squiggle said, in her most grown up voice "My baby brother is so adorable." A few minutes later she followed up with, "Whoa. This is kind of creepy." I feel 'ya, sister. Most of the time, babies on ultrasound look like ghosts and aliens.

Squiggle also said recently, "We have to get our baby some trucks...and some warrior guys." As we passed the toy aisle in Target, she saw some typical boy stuff and said, "Mom, when the baby comes out...when we're coming home from the hospital...we'll have to stop and get him some of those toys."

We're so excited to meet our little alien!

The Training

 The King and I have been planning to adopt our third child through the foster care system. We haven't been waiting long, honestly. But remember how I wanted a due date so badly? Well, now we've got one. November 27, 2013 baby number three will join the family, biologically.

Without getting too personal, (who am I kidding? Of course, I'm going to get too personal) I'll just say that we still feel we have children who will join our family through adoption. Or, The King might say, a child will join us through adoption. We're still silently fighting that one out. We decided that if I wanted to be pregnant once more in my life, we should try to make that happen while I'm 31 instead of five years down the road when I'm 36. We've put ourselves on hold with our agency, which means we no longer receive calls for available children looking for placement. Our foster care license is still active, and we plan to renew it. But other than that, we're not quite sure what the future will bring, aside from the newborn baby at Thanksgiving. We're taking one day at a time, one kid at a time, and see what happens.

The girls are super excited. It is fun to be able to tell them when the baby is coming, and tell them how big the baby is in my tummy. They both, especially Squeeze, love to talk to the baby. She also randomly announces to the world, "We gonna have a baby!" Squiggle went with me to see the midwife and heard the baby's heart beat. She said it sounded like a giraffe eating leaves. Which, crazily enough, it kind of does.

I feel extremely blessed right now. Blessed to have two awesome girls. Blessed to be pregnant. Blessed to have The King making life decisions with me. We're in a happy season, and I'm soaking it up.

Art Station for the Girls

Look! I actually accomplished a domesticated idea. I have been dreaming for a while about setting up a place for the girls with art supplies always available. I've found lots of great ideas on Pinterest, but never pulled anything off. But now I have!

I put a table in our piano room (it's the room you enter right away from our front door) and made it a craft station for the girls. It's a pub height table with counter height bar stools. They are both old enough to get up and down the stools on their own. I put a tension rod between two of the legs, got five "s" hooks, and hung five buckets from the hooks. I filled the buckets with their art stuff that they never use because it's always stuffed in a box or closet. They have oil pastels, colored pencils, paper tape, stamps, and crayons always available now. I'm pretty proud.

It was cheap two. We already had the furniture. The tension rod was maybe 7 bucks? The buckets are from the Target dollar spot so I spent 5 bucks. The five "s" hooks I got at Lowe's for less than 2 bucks. (Hint: If you walk farther down the aisle and buy loose hardware rather than prepackaged hardware, you'll save quite a bit. I bought five hooks for under two dollars, rather than buying a six pack for five dollars.) So I got this set up for around 14 bucks. I still need a cute solution for paper to be available.

I feel so proud of actually doing something in my home from the zillion ideas I pin on Pinterest. That place can be a black hole of gorgeous ideas with no accountability for follow through. Here's to domestication!

Christmas Season Random Photos from my Phone

Christmas jammies from Grandma.

Squiggle and me at the hotel in Kansas.

Squiggle missed the party in Kansas because of a fever. We hung out at the hotel all day.

Squiggle, her sweet friend, and Squeeze watch our church talent show "Carols & Cocoa".

Pappa and The King clear the snow off the driveway while the girls watch.

Grandma tells the Christmas story at our hotel get away in St. Joe.

Opening the daily December gift from Grandma. The King is excited. It's chocolate.

Visiting Santa at the Durham Museum. Highlight of The King's year. Sarcasm.

Sisters in winter coats.

Goodbye, Saint

We've had some trauma here lately at Casa Long.

We've had our dog, Saint, for about six years. The King and I got him from the Humane Society just after we moved into our house. He is a beautiful dog. Shiny and black, with the build of a lab mixed with a great dane. He's very big. He has all the typical annoying dog traits. He drools, he barks at bunnies out the window, his tail hurts LIKE THE DICKENS if you get in it's way, he sheds what appears to be all his hair every. single. day. But he is a comfort when I'm home alone. He loves the girls and has always been gentle and kind with them.

In early November, I was in my bath room putting on make up. I did not know that Squeeze had grabbed a bag of Halloween candy off the table and was going to town sitting on the floor in the dining room. Saint laid down beside her for his share. Squiggled walked in and saw Saint with the candy. Being the oldest daughter that she is, she reached to take it from him. And he growled, barked, and bit her. She ran screaming into my room. The kind of screaming where she couldn't catch her breath. I had heard the growl and bark, so I feared the worst.

Sure enough. Squiggle had blood on her lip, under her eye, and near her temple. It actually didn't bleed too much, but it looked scary. The puncture wound near her temple looked so deep I felt like I was looking at her skull. (I wasn't.) Under her eye was like a slit of open skin, and her lip seemed just like a little scratch.

After some phone calls to my mom, The King, and our pediatrician, I threw everyone in the car and we headed to the ER. Squeeze stayed with Grandma, and The King went with us. It was a long day, as it always is, at the ER. In the end, Squiggle got five stitches. It was traumatic. She was such a good little patient, but getting stitches in your face is no fun. There was lots of holding down, freaking out, and tears from all of us.

During all this trauma in the ER, in all our parenting wisdom, we ended up telling Squiggle that we probably would not be able to keep Saint. Her eyes grew three times their size, filled with tears, and her heart broken voice said, "Why can't we KEEP him?" I have no idea what we were thinking. It was terrible timing. We like to be honest with our kids, but there's nothing wrong with saving your honesty for the right moment.

It was a miserable week after that. Deciding what to do with our dog, and still having to take care of him was difficult. For the first couple days, every time I looked at him I cried. I was mad at him, and I was worried about what to do with him.

I cried a LOT that week. Home should be a haven. Pets should be life enriching additions to our families. My child was bit in the face, in our home, by our family dog. The trauma of it was unsettling for me. Squiggle appeared to bounce back well, like lots of kids do. We are thankful the bite wasn't worse, and thankful that he didn't bite Squeeze instead. Eight hours in the ER with a two year old would have been WAY worse.

Squiggle was a great patient.

We made the decision to say goodbye to Saint, forever (if you know what I'm saying). Our vet was supportive, our friends were supportive, it seemed the responsible thing to do. But a neighbor of a friend heard our sad story, and asked if we'd be interested in re-homeing him with her instead. She had experience with large dogs who needed rehabilitation, and was looking for a guard dog and companion. It seemed the perfect scenario so we did it. Sadly, it did not go well. So now we are really saying goodbye, (if you know what I'm saying). However, if Squiggle or Squeeze ask, Saint is at Joanne's house, (if you know what I'm saying).

Squiggle seems fine with the whole thing. She has said, "I miss Saint." But she has also said, "I'm glad Saint's gone. So we can get a new dog someday." Squeeze seems ok, too. I'm worried she will be afraid of dogs since I believe she witnessed the whole event, but so far so good. We have friends with a large german shephard, and we plan on letting her spend time with her to hopefully help prevent the fear. We don't plan on getting a new dog any time soon. Although I do have an entire Pinterest board called "Dogs".

The storm has passed and settled now. But, oi, it was a bit of a doozy. I wouldn't have expected it to be so difficult, but it really was. I'm so glad it's over. What kind of pet storms have you been through?

This Works For Me: Getting Out The Door

In place of sharing things I'd like to do with my girls, and then falling short on my plans and looking stupid, (here's one)  I thought I'd share some little mom tricks that actually work for me, because I actually do them. Not just plan to do them from ideas I found on Pinterest.

Getting out the door on time with a two year old and a four year old is tricky. Doable, but tricky. Sometimes when I show up at an event, I kind of expect an award to be handed to me as I walk through the door just for getting us all there alive. And dressed in more than Rapunzel panties.

Here's how I do it. I get the girls ready first. Clothes on, hair brushed, shoes and socks ON, extra clothes packed in my purse, faces wiped clean. Then I let them play or watch tv while I get myself ready. You see, I've been getting myself ready for thirty years. I know how long it will take me. I can manage that time well. Even when I'm short on time, I know what make up item to skip so I'm in the car on time, and if I need a pony tail instead of finished hair. My girls, on the other hand, are all kinds of unpredictable. I may think I can get them ready in 20 minutes or less. Some days that works. But other days, I can't find their shoes. Or Squiggle needs her hair brushed and that curly mess was rattier than I thought. Or Squeeze has an opinion on what shirt she wants to wear, and I have picked NONE of them. Or the book they are looking at is WAY more interesting than obeying their mother and coming to the bathroom. Or someone trips on carpet and smacks their nose on the little pink stool. Things happen.

If I am all ready to go out the door and am just waiting on them, things get frustrating. There are usually tears. I don't always use kind words. I get annoyed at them when they're just being kids. It's not pretty. A two year old and a four year old can not be trusted to be ready in ten minutes. Unless you're overly prepared, which I never am. Getting the girls ready first allows me to go more at their pace, and not freak out when something comes up. They still have to obey, but I am much more reasonable with them. Less yelling, and more peace. Always a mother's goal, right?

Heads up, this didn't work when the girls were babies. If I got them ready first, they inevitably pooped or puked on their cute outfit before we got out the door. But it works for my toddler and preschooler. How do you get out the door?

When You're Pregnant Without a Due Date

Being pregnant is no walk in the park. I was not one of those women who glowed through every trimester. I was sick all through the first, enjoyed the second, and hated the third. I wanted to be one of those women who loved it, but I wasn't.

You know what was great about being pregnant, though? Having a due date. Knowing this will all end, one way or another, at a predictable time. Feeling the baby move rocks, too. On those days when I felt fat, and exhausted, and rather whiny, all I needed was a little tiny flutter of a knee or elbow to remind me it was worth it.

I am not frustrated, not even antsy about our adoption. I am just wondering. Wondering with a little, tiny ache in my heart. When is this baby going to come? Don't get me wrong, I am enjoying the HECK out of Squiggle and Squeeze right now. They are both growing up so much, leaving babyhood behind them and becoming so much easier to care for. Squiggle and I have actual conversations. Squeeze can express to me what she wants. It's awesome. But when I walk by teeny, tiny newborn clothes at Target my heart aches for a baby to fill them.

This ache is two fold, I realize. The first fold is an ache I will always have. I think most women, for most of their lives, are either longing for, or remembering, tiny babies. Teeny tiny baby clothes will always be adorable, and will always make me think of when my girls were teeny tiny. They will always make me squeal on the inside. But the second fold of that ache is a tangible desire for our third child to join the family.

The ache for Number Three was really getting to me recently. So much so that I thought to myself, "You know...we could just get pregnant." (Yes, I'm oversharing again.) How nice would it be to know exactly when the baby was coming? And to know it would be a teeny, tiny newborn. And to be able to breast feed. And to know exactly what kind of in utero experience the baby had. And to spend two glorious days in that hotel of a hospital breathing in new baby smell.

*At this point I would like to point out how EXTREMELY personal this decision is. What we decide as a family, is simply what we decide. In the exact same scenario, your family may come to a different conclusion and it will be the exactly right decision for you. Also, I'm aware that this dilema is not extremely common among adoptive families. Many families who decide to adopt come to the decision from a place of infertility. I want you to know that I am aware that the fact that I could just decide on a whim to have a baby biologically is annoying to you. It's ok, you have the right to be annoyed.*

Squiggle at the zoo that day.

So here's how cool God is. I woke up one morning thinking, "I want to have a baby so bad. If we're supposed to keep waiting to adopt I need God to, like, give me a sign or something. I need some confirmation that we're doing the right thing." I didn't actually ASK Him for a sign, I just half thought it. And, you know what? God heard my half thought.

So am I pregnant? No. Did we get THE call from our agency? No. That would be a really great ending to this story, wouldn't it?

Nope. Here's what happened... That day I went to the zoo. And at the zoo I ran into a lady I met months ago at an adoption information meeting hosted by Kara Higgins. And not just that one lady. She was with two other adoptive moms. Between the three of them, they had five or six awesome boys from Ethiopia running around their feet. We didn't say much. I updated her on where we were at in our adoption journey. She was so glad I stopped her to say hi. That was it. And that was all I needed. When I told The King this story he said, somewhat disappointedly, "So that was your sign?"

Yes. Yes, it was. I know God led my steps that day so I would run into her...and feel my baby move.