The Making of M.O.M.

Wow. Das Not Funny! Friday again already? Guess that means if you're here you want some funny stories about things my family said or did. I'm sure that if you're here for a laugh, one of the following will surely not disappoint you.

It's two weeks' worth of funnies, so hold on tight and make sure your bladder is somewhat empty.

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The big kids are all into playing Mommy/Daddy/Child anything. Sometimes, it's just regular 'ol pretend play where Lucas is the Daddy, Elizabeth is the Mommy and Ashlee is the little girl. Other times it takes on a different spin where they are all horsies or dogs or kitty cats and they are a Mommy/Daddy/Daughter combo.

One afternoon Ashlee comes into the living room and says to me,

"Mommy, 'retend I am da Mommy and I'm weal-we sad and you gots to make me happy."

Since I wasn't really paying attention, I said,

"Oh Ashlee! I'm sorry you're sad. Please be happy..."

"No Mommy!" she corrected. "I'm a Mommy and I'z sad. Make me happy."

So, I speak to her a little differently, "Oh Mommy! Why are you so sad? Don't cry Mommy!"

She replies, "I'z a sad Mommy because someone killed me."

I look at her, puzzled and say, "Killed you? But you're standing right here talking to me. How are you dead and still talking?"

After looking at me like I'm insane, she replies "I need kisses. Kisses make Mommies feel better."

Yes they do sweetheart.

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On Monday, I went and picked up our new (to us) BIG van. (Which still needs a name, by the way, so if you're game for naming a silver, 15 passenger van leave a comment.)

That evening as I was preparing to leave for Bible Study, Luke and the kids were all sitting around the table talking about their evening plans while "Mommy was out."

Lucas asked if they could go out and play in the big van and Luke said that he thought that would be fun. Immediately screams and screeches followed.

"I wanna go play in the big van too Daddy!" Elizabeth squealed.

"Yeah! We can climb in it! I wanna go too Dad!" Lucas yells.

Then, Ashlee chimed in with, "Oooooo! I wanna go! I wanna go!"

(insert pause)

"Where are we going?"

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One morning recently the big kids were all playing their hand held V-Smiles. As Elizabeth stepped over Ashlee (who was sitting on the floor of our bedroom) Ashlee reached up and pinched Elizabeth right on the booty.

Naturally, Elizabeth did not enjoy her personal space being violated and Ashlee and I busted out laughing.

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On Wednesday I had an OB appointment. Elizabeth tagged along. As we are sitting in the waiting room, she leans over to me and whispers,

"Mom. Come close I need to tell you a secret."

I lean in and offer her my ear.

"Mom," she continues, "your boobies are really a lot smaller than your belly."

Yes, thank you, I know.

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We were putting together a puzzle of the human body last night. When we finished, Luke and I took turns reading the different descriptions of the body from the puzzle. After I read about the heart, I asked the big kids if they remembered what we had previously discussed about the size of the heart.

"Guys," I ask, "do you remember what Mommy told you about how big your heart is? It's like what?" After some prompting, Elizabeth remembered that I had told them that their heart is about the size of their fist.

So I ask, "Elizabeth, about how big is your heart?" She holds up her fist.

"Lucas, how big is your heart?" He holds up his fist.

"Ashlee, how big is your heart?" She proceeds to spread her arms as far apart as she can reach.

And, I happen to agree with her.

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And finally, I saved the BEST for last....

Elizabeth has always breastfed her baby dolls. So, when I looked over at her during lunch one day this week and saw a baby shoved up her shirt, I knew exactly what she was doing.

But then I see Lucas, who also has a baby shoved up his shirt.

"Lucas, Buddy, what are you doing?" I ask, already knowing the answer.

He responds with, "I'm feedin' my baby with my boobies."

"That's sweet Buddy," I reply, "but you know Daddies don't have milk in their boobies to feed their babies, only Mommies."

As scowl creeps across his face as his eyes dart over to his sisters.

"YOU GUYS TEASD-ED ME!" he yells.

And that's when I learned the importance of an empty bladder when you belly laugh at 34 weeks pregnant.

Y'all have a great weekend!

This past week has been pretty exhausting for me. I think being 34ish weeks pregnant and having 5 kids is starting to catch up with me.

Actually, I just think being 34ish weeks pregnant is starting to catch up with me. Seriously, I think God should have rethought the whole gestation thing. I mean, once you've had your 1st baby, I think He should have made each subsequent gestation period shorter. It just makes sense. I know what's coming, why drag it out?

Also, can someone please tell me why EVERY.SINGLE.DAY. for the last 6 weeks I wake up with a soreness that feels like I just rode a horse for the very first time the day before?

How I love my pelvic floor. NOT.

I blame Lucas and Ashlee profusely.

At any rate, I'm tired. I'm tired all the time. I'm tired when I wake up in the mornings, I'm tired when I pour bowls of cereal, I'm tired after I bend over to pick up the whatever I've just dropped for the 4,287th time.

I'm tired people.

But yesterday, for about 5 hours, I totally forgot how tired I was. I woke up yesterday, tired, and waddled to the bathroom. Then I waddled to find our laptop, opened it and found a note inside from my husband.

Tender words were written about how much he appreciated me.

"Awwwww," my little heart fluttered. So sweet.

I round up the troops and head them into the kitchen for breakfast. I pour bowls of cereal and myself a cup of coffee and reach into the cabinet to grab some new caramel flavoring I've fallen in love with. In front of the caramel is another little note, written in my husband's chicken scratch handwriting, telling me how much he appreciates me trying harder to keep the house picked up.

"Geeeee," my little brain thinks, "he sure is being a sweet man today!"

I continue through my morning of Occupational Therapy for Baby Girl and Elizabeth and I scoot out the door around noon to head out to my 34 week OB appointment.

When I get to the OB's office the secretary hands me a little envelope with my name written on it, in my husband's chicken scratch handwriting.

"Really?" I think, "How incredibly thoughtful!"

Did I mention that so far I've gotten a little teary eyed with each note (I blame pregnancy hormones)? Well, when I read the note my man left for me at the OB's office the tears start flowing.

Elizabeth asks me to read it out loud to her so I do, still teary and she says, "That Daddy! He's such a sweetheart!"

We both laugh and I tuck the card into my purse.

After the OB appointment, Elizabeth and I grab some lunch and quickly head over to the hair salon where I have an appointment. When I walk in, my personal beauty consultant hands me another card, again written by my husband.

I mean, he's earned about 1,157 gold stars for the day. I'm just so impressed with his thoughtfulness and care.

After my hair is cut an my face is melted off with hot wax, Elizabeth and I make one last stop for princess shoes and children's benadryl. While in the store, Luke calls and I thank him for his tenderness. He asks to speak to Elizabeth.

As I pay for our purchases (which ended up also including a stretchy plastic snake and a recorder - you know, like a flute) she finishes her conversation with Luke.

When we arrive home I remind Elizabeth of her conversation with Luke and she immediately launches into a full search of our laundry room. She recovers a note, hidden by my husband.

In the note I find directions to get dressed and be ready to leave our house at 4:45pm, ALONE. I spiffy myself up, pass off the evening's parenting duties to my Mom and Grandmother and crawl into my ~~little red sportscar~~ 15 passenger van waiting in the driveway.

I meet Luke at his office and think to myself that even if he takes me to Burger King for dinner it's been a wonderful date.

We have a NICE dinner and relaxing evening just hanging out together which also involved me crushing him in a game of NFL football on the Xbox display inside Best Buy. (He was getting trashed talked by a 8 year old who was watching our game. "You're getting beat by a GIRL!" the 8 year old taunted. And I egged on.)

We had ice cream at Cold Stone.

Then we drove home. It was awesome.

And, even though the kids and I skipped CBS today because I was so tired this morning, somehow today, I'm a little less tired.