Conversations with 5 Year Old Lola

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At Target, Lola says that she would like to buy some nail polish. "Why?" I ask her. "Because when I grow up, I want to be an auntie," she says.

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At preschool, Lola sits down at the phonic work table. A parent asks, "What word would you like to spell?"  Lola replies, "Prisoner."  Without skipping a beat, the parent helps Lola spell "prisoner" out of magnetic letters.  "What would you like to spell next?" the parent asks.  "Jail," says Lola.

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A series of poorly timed events resulted in Lola attending my annual Pap smear.  I wanted her to sit in the chair next to the medical table, but she insisted on being in the trenches and the nurse, who was so thrilled to have someone fascinated with female anatomy by her side, encouraged the entire ordeal. Since the appointment, Lola has insisted that there is an airplane inside my body. I asked if she was referring to the speculum tool, but was met with opposition. "No, Mommy!" she yelled, annoyed by my suggestion. "I said, an AIRPLANE, not a SPECULUM."  I have no idea what she is talking about and I'm too scared to google it, so I'm just going to be believe her.

A Huge Flatbed Truck Full of Excuses

I feel terrible for neglecting this blog. I feel almost as bad about the fact that I have accomplishing nearly none of the goals that I had for my maternity leave (watch the all 8 (?) seasons of Madmen, finally finish creating my digital photo albums, get back into super awesome shape.)

Instead, what exactly have I been doing? Well, for one, there has been a surprising abundance of sleep in my life.

Beau has decided that he would like to be known as the Best Baby in the Entire Universe and to prove that he is worthy of such title he likes to sleep for 9 hours in a row, then nurse and sleep for 3 more hours, then nurse and sleep for another 3 hours, and it just goes on and on. Lola, upon realizing that Beau was quickly becoming my favorite child, decided that she must join him and will now go to bed and not wake up until morning.

Let me repeat: Lola is now going to bed and not waking up until morning. This is the first time in her ENTIRE LIFE which has so far spanned 4 years and 10 months (or 1,760 days for that matter) in which she has not gotten up at least once to yell for me. This means that for the first time in 1,760 days I have slept for a consecutive 9 hours.

If I would have known that she needed a little sibling rivalry to stay in her bed, let's just say she would of had a sibling a lot sooner.

Other than sleeping, we've spent a lot of time at the park. I infiltrated Josh's park-mom group, and can say that since September I have spent HOURS sitting on a blanket under old oak trees soaking up as much sunshine and friendship as I possibly can.

We've also had lots of visitors. Both of our families came up to visit right after Beau was born, and then we had a full house for Thanksgiving. Not to mention that I've taken the kids (so weird to type "kids!" I have "kids!") on a few day trips. First to San Francisco, then Apple Hill, and also out to Oakland.

(Lola "testing" to see if the bear at Apple Hill is real. Luckily for her hand, it's not.)

And, of course, it's now Christmas. Technically, post-Christmas, but still, the days have been busy with all sorts of winter activities.

My maternity leave ends in exactly one month. I'm terrified of the transition, but that's a whole other blog post. In the meanwhile, it's time to get started on those photo albums.

The Past 40 Weeks

When I went into labor, it was like I had this song on mental repeat.  It's a bit moody, but yet oddly, I think it fits.
 

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Things she says

Things that I should have blogged about while pregnant, but never got around to doing:

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Lola:  "I wonder if the baby will have pink cheeks like me and Daddy, or if he'll have brown cheeks?  I think he's going to have brown cheeks."

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Lola: What's he wearing?
Me:  Who?
Lola: The baby.
Me: Oh, he's naked right now. There are no clothes in the uterus.
Lola:  I think he needs to put on some clothes.

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Lola:  "I hope my baby brother's Daddy likes my Daddy."

(!!!!)

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And, a video of Lola explaining the function of cervix and how babies are born:

Yes, I am a Crazy Pregnant Lady

Last weekend, we flew down to San Diego. This, in and of itself, is not crazy. However, given that I was 37 weeks pregnant, I knew there was the possibility that I could go into labor and risk being 500 miles away from home with a newborn baby. (And that, I think, might qualify as crazy).

Luckily, the baby decided to remain in utereo for the duration of the trip.  (I believe this might be his first attempt to earn "favorite child" status, to which I say, keep it up kid.)

While we were in San Diego, my sister Louanne, almost-sister-in-law Therese, and dear friend Amy, threw a baby shower for us.

Even though the weather was very non-San Diego (hot! humid!), it was wonderful to see so many friends and family members. I felt incredibly loved knowing how many people traveled down to San Diego just to spend the afternoon with me and the Duck.

My mother-in-law Dawn and sister-in-law Andrea drove out from Palm Springs.

Myself with Liz, Andrea, and Amy.

The next day, Josh and I celebrated our 6th wedding anniversary. It was an extra special anniversary because we attended the wedding of our friends Curtis and Shirley. I usually want to get dressed up and go out to dinner for our anniversary, but we never do it. This year, Josh was forced to put on a suit. Thank you, Curtis and Shirley!

On our last day in San Diego, we tried to escape the heat by going to the beach. Lola was thrilled, as she loves few things more than sand.

We had a great trip, but I am thankful to be home with this baby still in my belly. 

Ahoy, It's a Boy!

A few weeks ago, Maria, my good friend and Duckie's godmother, hosted the most delightful baby shower.

 The party had a nautical theme, and Maria used the cutest seaworthy details!

 

 

The food was amazing. AMAZING.

Inside these adorable treat bags were macaroons. YUM.

I felt so spoiled. There are few things better than spending a Sunday afternoon with friends. Maria even made me a special peach-ginger sparkling soda, which I am still thinking about today (obvi!). In an attempt to capture the crowd, I asked Lola to take a photo of us. While slightly off-center, it's not too bad.

Because THIS girl knows how to party.

Oh, my dear Lola Jane.

On August 2, my sister, Lola's beloved Auntie LouLou, got married and Lola was thrilled to be the flower girl.

For weeks, Lola talked about how she was going to wear her "beautiful flower gown" and she even expressed excitement over the glittery mary janes that I picked out for her.

But then, during the procession, right as the bridal party began to walk down the aisle, her eyes widened and she whispered, "My tummy doesn't feel good." 

I rushed her off to the bathroom, hoping that using the toilet would provide her with relief. It didn't. Bringing her back to her spot in the procession line, she whispered to me again, "My tummy doesn't feel good."  I squatted down as best I could, and said in my most confident voice, "I'm sorry that you don't feel good, but you need to walk down the aisle with your flower petals, and then sit with Daddy."  Then, I stood up, turned, and walked down the aisle, trying to smile for the photographer while praying that Lola would follow behind me.

And, she did. Actually, she walked down the aisle backwards as she dropped her flower petals, ensuring that she would not step on them. It was adorable. She made it to the alter, gave a high-five to Uncle JoeJoe, and went and sat with Josh, just as previously discussed.

To top it off, she quietly sat through the entire twenty minute ceremony, not even wiggling once. Afterwards, she exited, and when I met her and Josh, he leaned over and said, "She says her tummy doesn't feel good."  We briefly discussed what could be wrong, but were quickly herded by the photographer to the designated photo spot. 

Lining up the bridal party, the photographer placed me next to my sister, and then put Lola in front, slightly between us.  As she lifted the camera to her eye, she counted, "1...2...3!" As if on cue, Lola spewed orange vomit. In a sequence of slow motion images, Josh lunged forward with his hands cusped in attempt to catch the liquid, while I picked Lola up and held her at a downward diagonal angle away from my sister and hoped that nothing touched my sister's beautiful dress.

Somehow, the contents of Lola's stomach didn't come into contact with anyone, other than Josh's hands.  As I set Lola on the floor, she looked up at all the concerned faces staring at her and she calmly said, "I vomited at Auntie LouLou's wedding. I feel better now." 

The photographer, not at all phased, whisked my sister and Joe away, and the party went on as planned.