Flashback Friday- Kitty Loves Fat Foot

Here I am, just a few days shy of 30 weeks pregnant. Which basically means, that I eat, breathe, and sleep hormones. I wake up to every little sound in the night, a bird chirping (they like to start up at or around 3am) or my husband breathing too loud (I tell him to roll over at least once every two hours). I know the kicks and punches of Bean's daily routine. I drink water by the buckets and eat crunchy gorilla munch cereal like its the only thing that God put on this planet for nutrition. I am, pregnant.

I missed my morning walk (again), this morning, due to some "come in and let us monitor you" adventures I got to go participate in at the hospital. It was my own fault, really (ahem), but still- very unpleasant and chaotic for the entire family. So this evening, after we had all eaten dinner (peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for the babies, egg sandwiches for the grown ups), I decided we'd brave the evening heat and walk up and down Virginia Street as many times as we could stand to.

"Are you sure you're ok?", my husband asked me every 5 seconds.

Just because I'm huffing and puffing like I'm climbing a mountain, does not mean anything- ..."Yes, I'm ok". Towards the end of the street, we were greeted by some donkeys at a fence line. Rather than take the kids off roading, even though they would have loved it, we waved at our new friends from the path, talked about long ears and long tails, and then continued on our way. With all of the snakes that I've seen laying on the roads recently, I'd rather not risk the 30 feet of unknown grass. Donkeys are cute and all, but- snakes are no joke in my book.

We walked up an down Virginia, one and a half times. Once we got back around to our street, we had to make the decision to keep going or take a right down Indiana. My skin felt like it was burning, the heat was unbearable. The biggest mosquito I've ever seen in my life (seriously, wow), was on Christopher's back, stealing a meal through his shirt (I hesitated before knocking him off with my hand, I was literally afraid). Both of the babies, who had been sitting not so patiently in the double stroller, had bright red faces and were in need of baths and bedtimes, so ...home we went.

When I got inside (Christopher was on his own getting the babies out of the stroller and into the house. I hauled it straight to the air conditioning) and untied my shoes, the sock marks indented in my swollen skin reminded me of one of my very favorite pictures. And because I just blogged about my sweetheart Kitty Bomber, my (not so) Wordless Wednesday post this week, I thought it would be fitting to post this picture...

I'd like to introduce you all, to my good friend "Fat Foot".

This picture was taken when I was pregnant with Charlie, right around the 27 week mark- so not far from where I'm currently at. And yep, thats about what my foot looks like right now, minus the adorable kitty paw prints that you see in the picture.

I had been laying on the couch, all stretched out and comfortable, when Kitty saw something across the room that distracted her and made her stand up and really focus. In the 60 seconds or less that she used my foot as a pedestal, before jumping and attacking the fly on the window sill, she managed to leave perfectly formed little kitty cat finger prints on my severely swollen right foot.

While it was kind of gross how much my body had transformed itself into a water bed, Kitty Bomber knew just how to make me see the bright side of things.

Edema has never looked so gosh darn adorable.

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Nigh-night, Charlie

My kids, are not the kind of kids that can fall asleep anywhere. You know how you see kids slung over shoulders, snoring loudly and drooling down the back of their parent's shirt? Not my kids. Or maybe you've got a picture of your toddler fallen over his or her bed, still holding their favorite toy, halfway into their pajamas, but having fallen asleep before they could get that second arm into the arm hole? Not my kids.

For some reason, my babies like to keep a strict routine. They refuse to sleep, unless snuggled with their lovies, in their beds. And thats that.

But the other day, after running 203,089 errands and exhausting every outing opportunity that we possibly could in one day, Eleanore shouts from the kitchen "Oh no! Charlie!".

My imagination assumes the absolute worst, and I instantly picture my baby boy choking on his avocado (likely, right?). I jump up quicker than any pregnant woman in the history of third trimesters, and leap from the living room the dining room, the same room really, in a single bound.

..."awwwww", is what came out of my mouth next.



The sweetest thing ever. For the second time in his life, Charlie fell asleep somewhere other than his bed or car seat. He managed to finish all of his lunch first, leaving only a few spare crumbs around the edges of his mouth, and then closed his eyes and drifted off to dreamy land.

He must have been one very tired boy.