Stating the Obvious

Finally, as promised, George with Jude in ERGO.

On that note, I just have to go ahead and state the obvious. I can think of nothing on this Earth more attractive than a good Dad. I am sure so many Mothers, Grandmothers, Great-grandmothers, etc. out there can agree. It does it for me.

And this brings to my mind a quote I mulled over many times during our Indiana summer. My Mom had it taped to her bathroom mirror, there for the taking. I read over and over, seeing more and more in it each time I took it in.

"A good man leaves and inheritance to his children's children"

(Proverbs 13:22)

We couldn't ask for anything more.

And no, this is not going to become a religious blog, but I did have to ask Elsa to borrow her Bible so I could look this verse up. Thanks for sharing Elsa.

Halloween Recap

I will just get straight to the point. Breast or "milk" as they are referred to around here are a pretty big deal in this family. They are kind of the center of our universe since one kid or another seems to always be nursing. Nyah talks about my "milk", her "milk", and George's "milk" constantly and loves to reminisce on the days when she drank milk (though I don't think she actually remembers) and the days when Elsa did the same. Elsa just constantly has her hand down my shirt rubbing them, and well Jude, his 17 pound little self says it all. 


So when Nyah discovered The Little Mermaid in her stories this summer, she immediately fell in love with the nice sea shells covering Ariel's "milk" and has been planning her mermaid Halloween costume since. She often reminded us that she wants "these" (pointing to Ariel's sea shells). 

Am I worried about her fascination with this part of the body? Do I think she is growing up too soon? Absolutely not. I can see no better way for Nyah to learn about the female body and her body then by seeing it used for its ultimate purpose. In my mind, her fascination it is only natural.

And though the shells weren't quite like Ariel's, I think they worked perfectly for her. She wore the costume proudly the entire day, first to school then out on a hay ride trick or treating with her dad.

We were going to have another little mermaid but Elsa ditched the costume at the last minute but inherited a witch hat at some point in the night.

The girls really seemed to enjoy their first Louisiana Halloween. Little guy and I hung back and handed out candy but he passed out about an hour in. Maybe next year.

Afternoon Under the Oaks

I think we found our park.

A Dad Hair Do

It's their new nightly ritual. After getting pajamas on, George takes whatever contraption I have put in her hair out, runs his fingers through her hair and gives it a good shake. 

She loves it and giggles the entire time and by the end, her contagious presence usually draws the whole family in to join in the laughter... 

...and to check out the new awesome hair do.

After more of the nightly ritual, she finally lays her head down in her own room and in her own toddler bed with the comfort of her blankly and proceeds to sleep the night away. Alone. 

And I often find myself shaking my head because I just can't believe how old, independent and wildly awesome this little girls is. Everyone should be so lucky to have a little Elsa in their lives, to make their days (and nights) a little brighter.

40 Weeks!

I/We made it! I am ten months pregnant today. Meaning I have been pregnant for two months shy of one year. Isn't something supposed to happen today? Anything? Today would be a perfect due date. It's a really dark and rainy day around these parts, making for a relaxing, peaceful mood. Hope bruder is feeling my vibes because I am so eager to meet the little dark haired cherrub. 


If he doesn't make his appearance today, we get to see him via ultrasound tomorrow to check up on his size. I am feeling he is pretty much a perfect size, but thats just be, I am biased. I am getting my big girl pants on so I can stand strong against those oh so horrible words, induction. I have a feeling they will be tossed around tomorrow by the well meaning doctor. Trying to remain positive and have faith in this old body that it knows whats a going on and can handle birthing just one last baby, without help, thanks though.


So, instead of posting embarrasing photos of my huge body today, I opted to share these even more embarassing, super revealing photos of a body cast George and I did yesterday. Serioulsy, all pride is gone. This is your official warning. Hide your eyes if you must. 

This belly casting kit has been sitting in my room since the days Nyah was enjoying the comfort of my womb (as she likes to call it), a perfectly thoughful gift from my oh so wonderful brother and sister in law. I never got around to casting myself (what fun is that) and so I saved it. And out it came the other day. When I presented the idea of casting my big ol' belly to George he gave me that look like, you tree hugger, but in the end complied with my wishes out of fear pure sweetness. He really came around to the idea when he found out the nude body had to be prepped and rubbed down with Vasoline prior to casting so a good time was had by all. 


I of course couldn't let him have all the fun. After much begging and convincing, he finally let me. 

I am not sure what we will end up doing with our casted bodies. George suggested we put them on our mantle but I don't think that will happen. Don't want to frighten the guest. My original idea was to let the girls go crazy and paint our casted bods, but I kind of like them. If you are prego and have the chance, I would suggest trying this activity, and do your man/husband/significant other too. It's really fun.


Now off to test drive minivans. I wasn't kidding when I said all pride is gone.


Hoping my next post will be photos of our sweet baby boy. Until then...

Carwash

George sold his Jeep this week, the ultimate island ride, but not before the girls had one last go around with her.

How can a car (a mere material possession) become so synonymous with a person? This Jeep was George in an odd way, what he rode in daily or for fun since I met him way back when. As old couples begin to look like each other and complete each others sentences, to the girls and I, George and his Jeep had this going on. It was all him.

The girls knew the unique hum of the engine to an eerie perfection as he would turn our corner, arriving home. The sound of the door cuing Nyah to assume her usual position, hiding under a sheet or something and Elsa to run to the door shrieking. Same thing. Everyday.

It's a shame I had to crop the bottom half of all these pictures out. Nothing more adorable than to see these bare little ba'nas hard at work. The concentration and true sense of purpose and determination the girls showed while washing their Dad's beloved Jeep was priceless, their love for him shining through in their labors. I am sure to the girls, Dad will always drive a red Jeep (but Nyah could only dream it was a rental car).

Elsa was obviously just happy to have her clothes off, finally. 

And the Award Goes To...

Remember what a great time I mentioned we had with George's parents watching them sing and celebrating St. Lucia? Well, there was just one minor bump in the road that I failed to mention. I thought I would share the fiasco so hopefully someone can avoid making a similar mistake as me, though even at the moment, I didn't want some idiotic move on my part to overshadow the beautiful day we were having.


It all began as we were attempting to sit through the church service, something we don't do often which was made blaringly obvious my kids' behavior. They have obviously not been trained in proper church etiquette. Nyah insisted on talking in a regular tone of voice (which was loud) and Elsa, well I am sure you know what she wanted to do the entire service...run.


So I finally accepted defeat and shlepped all of our coloring books and snacks and stuff outside to spend the rest of the service in the open with the calming breeze. All was going well, many other mothers outside, a friend I have known since moving to the island with her kids and calm and no need for formality. Have at it kids. 


Nyah, the angel (seriously?) spent the rest of the service gazing wide eyed at the older girls of the group, following their every move. Elsa, oh Elsa, just had to prove to the other kids there that she had more energy and stamina and could out run them. She succeeded.


So I spent a good thirty minutes chasing her repeatedly to the parking lot, which was far away. Repeatedly, did I mention this? How do these other kids her age sit so still? Am I missing something?


So once again, I accepted defeat and began to head to the truck for the strolller to strap her down. Enough is enough. Off Elsa and I went to journey across the church grounds, to the parking lot for the stroller in the truck, leaving Nyah under the watchful eye of my friend and the older girls. Honestly, I don't even think she knew I left. Elsa and I passed the old men ushering and guarding the door, or getting fresh air, whatever.


We reached the truck and I put Elsa in one of the two strollers we had in the bed of the truck, the nice stroller, the cadillac, the one that lies down. Would she sleep? Maybe. I strapped her in and then I discovered it, cat hair, all over the stroller. Out precious outdoor siamese cat Samba decided to make a bed of her stroller, which was stored on the front porch. Awesome.


Out of that stroller Elsa came and I decided to put her in the front seat of the truck since I had some work to do, putting the nice stroller away and and getting out the other one and setting it up. So before I left her I decided to shut the door to the truck. This is Elsa we are talking about, a child who would think a flying leap from the high seat of the truck would be a great idea. Safety first.


After I had gotten the stroller situation under control, I went to get Elsa out of the truck. Wait, let me try again, and again and oh f*#$, the door was locked. I looked to the other door, locked too. I look at Elsa, precious Elsa, and there she was, sitting there with the keys with the remote lock in her hand smiling like, "Look what I've got, Mom!". Deep breath, stay calm. "Push the button Elsa, yes, push it, you can do it." Nothing, just laughs. F#$%. Sun blazing, window up, absolutely no air circulation. Must act fast to get her out.


Someone drove by, I stopped them to ask to use their phone. They said they didn't have one. Right. Who doesn't have a cell phone and what about me says, she looks crazy, don't lend her our phone?


Time was ticking and Elsa needed to get out and I knew the fastest way to get her out was to get George there who was at work with the extra key and remote lock on his key chain, or should I call the police? No, what could the police do and it would honestly take them an hour to get there, no joke. My final decision was to call George but phone was with Nyah at the church. F;#$!


So I decided I had to do it. I check Elsa one last time, she was exploring the keys, still happy as could be though I could see the sweat beads forming on her head. I had to do it. I kicked off the Payless church shoes and ran as fast as my six month pregant body would carry me. I ran and ran, past the gentlemen guarding the door, who's heads just follow me like a typewriter. I think one mentioned, "Were's the baby?" No time to explain. I reach Nyah who was coloring, oblivious of our absence, and crouched low, grabbed the keys and turned to go, calling out to my friend, "Locked Elsa in the car, watch Nyah". And I was off again in the other direction across the rocky parking lot. Rocks in my feet, ouch, uterus cramping, ouch.


I finally reached the truck after what seemed like an eternity. Elsa was fine and not choking or doing any of the other horrible things I imagined could happen to her while I was running. She was still smiling. She wanted to give kisses through the glass.


I dialed George, still out of breath, feeling the effects of the last four months or so of no running. "Elsa, locked in truck, no air, come now." He asked maybe think one question and he was on his way. And at that moment, I realized that was the first, OH SHIT phone call we have had the pleasure of sharing and hopefully our last.


So I waited and played with Elsa, she was fine. She discovered the center console and was now jumping on it. Freedom in the car, what could be better.


George, Super Dad, arrived maybe seven minutes later and the "Beep, beep" of the truck unlocking was music to my ears. He later told me he broke every driving rule possible even heading the wrong way on the highway momentarily to reach a short cut. He opened the door to get her out and she ran to the other side. She didn't want out, she was having too much fun. Silly girl. She finally leaped into her Dad's arm and all was right again in the world.


So off George went to work and I put Elsa in her clean stroller and we moseyed back to the church like nothing ever happened. "Who me, running past you, barefoot like a mad woman?" I have no idea what you are talking about. We reached Nyah, who was still coloring and didn't even acknowledge our return. Nyah's Aunt later told me that she took a break from singing and came outside to get a drink of water and found Nyah sitting without me and Nyah quickly requested her Aunt take her to the restroom. When she asked Nyah were her mom was, Nyah nonchalantly replied, "Oh, she locked Elsa in the car."


Elsa drank some water and finally took a break for maybe a second and then chasing continued. The cramping continued but quickly went away later in the afternoon after lots of water, some rest and good food. The guilt sitting deep in my chest is also slowly disappearing. I felt so horrible making such a careless mistake putting my baby's health in danger. 


Definitely earned Worst Mom Award for the day, I humbly accept.

Birthday Land

We have been stuck in birthday party-ville for the past couple of weekends, well, actually George has. He is awesome and takes the girls to all of the Mommy clad parties while I work on Saturdays and he does it with a smile. The girls hair might not be fixed perfect, or combed at all, but he excels in dressing them in the cutest ensembles. All of the Moms report back to me later how wonderful he was with the girls and how impressed they are that he comes to the parties. Not to brag, but I have to agree with them. 

We (George) had a double header this past weekend, parties on Saturday and Sunday, so I actually got to participate in a party where Elsa debuted her new pony tail. 

The kid parties here are great, good food is usually served maybe even a little libation and is a good excuse to hang out with friends. Parties are getting better for us because we can finally breathe and don't have to be on edge with sense keen, afraid of taking our eyes off our child and ready to jump at moments notice in case our child decides to be "that" kid who stick their hand in the cake, fights the birthday kid for his or her gifts, or throws a tantrum. Nyah is older and totally gets the party etiquette thing and can be set free to do her thing. We just have to chase Elsa, or child who is in constant motion, but George usually heads up this duty so I can mingle. 


But look out this weekend, I don't have to spend Saturday in the ER and we don't have any parities on the calendar. The future is ours.

Long Day

I'm am still not quit sure how long he was reading to himself before he realized she was wasn't listening. Long day for the little girl. 

Conch Water

We bundled up Sunday and headed West to check out the Village, equivalent to the 4-H fair I would roam growing up and my father dominated as a child (minus the smell of manure and other agricultural treats). Just music, food, and jenky rides brought to St. Croix each year around Carnival. 


Nyah decided to stop her protest and break her hunger strike while we were there with of all foods in this world- conch water. I have tried everything to entice this girl's appetite, I even got serious and resorted to introducing her to the good life, the life of Nutella. I thought this was a sure new food obsession, but no, she simply took a few licks off her toast and went on with her business. 

George bought the conch water for himself, a kind of rare treat because I think we all know I have no clue how to make it, which Nyah happily consumed for him. Chewy conch and dumplings in a seafood fishy broth, interestingly tasty and delicious to Nyah. A true Cruzan she is, eating food with her Dad that even I haven't acquired a taste for. 

Nyah has made a habit of this, downing any food George has, no matter the rare or meaty contents.  I think she has figured out that Dad always eats flavorful food, not boring, raw veg like Momma. More power to my brave and adventurous girl.

Survive and Thrive

We managed to ring in the New Year without any ridiculous diet plans, bangs, kick offs, or serious life changing resolutions, besides the daily mission to try to be our best. Strictly in survival mode here. 


We spent the eve of the New Year at the beach with friends trying to save baby turtles who didn't make it past the rough breakers during their mad dash to sea the night before. 

The noble life of a sea turtle. Hatch and then immediately head towards the light of the moon and try to make it in the endless sea. Such brave little guys and girls. 

These baby turtles are the truly define survival mode. Not making a silly resolution to do what they need to do to succeed in life, strictly doing what they have to do, making my concerns insignificant in comparison. Growing to be a big old turtle their ultimate life's success.  Hopefully these precious babies were strong enough to make it past the breakers to begin their journey in life and one day return to the launching point, as old tortugas, where George gave them their second chance (because I wasn't about to get in that cold water). 

The Christmas winds are whipping here and we are really enjoying the slight drop in temperature, proving my point once again that the seasons do change in St. Croix. Nyah was the only brave soul to take her clothes off at the beach, well, she, George, and all the tourists. 

And I keep coming back to the baby turtles, hoping they are out in there surviving, thriving, instincts in motion. No doubt every mothers' wish for her baby venturing from the nest.


Happy New Year! Much love.