Mothers and Moms

I must confess this is not my own. I got it in an email...and I had to pass it on. Bring a hankie, and Happy Mother's Day.

This is for the mothers who have sat up
all night with sick toddlers in their arms,
wiping up barf laced with Oscar Mayer
wieners and cherry Kool-Aid saying,
'It's okay honey, Mommy's here.'
Who have sat in rocking chairs for hours on end
soothing crying babies who can't be comforted.

This is for all the mothers who show up at
work with spit-up in their hair and milk stains
on their blouses and diapers in their purse.

For all the mothers who run carpools and
make cookies and sew Halloween costumes.
And all the mothers who DON'T.

This is for the mothers who gave birth to
babies they'll never see. And the mothers
who took those babies and gave them homes.

This is for the mothers whose priceless art
collections are hanging on their refrigerator doors.

And for all the mothers who froze their buns on
metal bleachers at football or soccer games
instead of watching from the warmth of their cars.
And that when their kids asked, 'Did you see me, Mom?'
they could say, 'Of course, I wouldn't
have missed it for the world,' and mean it.

This is for all the mothers who yell at their kids in the grocery store
and swat them in despair when they stomp their feet
and scream for ice cream before dinner.
And for all the mothers who count to ten instead,
but realize how child abuse happens.

This is for all the mothers who sat down with
their children and explained all about making
babies. And for all the (grand)mothers who
wanted to, but just couldn't find the words.

This is for all the mothers who go
hungry, so their children can eat.

For all the mothers who read 'Goodnight,
Moon' twice a night for a year. And then
read it again, 'Just one more time.'

This is for all the mothers who taught
their children to tie their shoelaces before
they started school. And for all the mothers
who opted for Velcro instead.

This is for all the mothers who teach their sons
to cook and their daughters to sink a jump shot.

This is for every mother whose head turns
automatically when a little voice calls 'Mom?'
in a crowd, even though they know their
own offspring are at home -- or even away
at college -- or have their own families.

This is for all the mothers who sent their kids
to school with stomach aches, assuring them
they'd be just FINE once they got there, only
to get calls from the school nurse an hour later
asking them to please pick them up. Right away.

This is for mothers whose children have gone
astray, who can't find the words to reach them.

For all the mothers who bite their lips until they
bleed when their 14 year olds dye their hair green.

For all the mothers of the victims of
recent school shootings, and the mothers
of those who did the shooting.
For the mothers of the survivors, and the mothers
who sat in front of their TVs in horror,
hugging their child who just came home from school, safely.

This is for all the mothers who taught their
children to be peaceful, and now pray
they come home safely from a war.

What makes a good mother anyway?
Is it patience? Compassion? Broad hips?
The ability to nurse a baby, cook dinner, and
sew a button on a shirt, all at the same time?
Or is it in her heart?

Is it the ache she feels when she
watches her son or daughter disappear
down the street, walking to school alone
for the very first time?

The jolt that takes her from sleep to
dread, from bed to crib at 2 A.M. to put
her hand on the back of a sleeping baby?

The panic, years later, that comes again
at 2 A.M. when she just wants to hear
their key in the door and know they
are safe again in her home?

Or the need to flee from wherever she is
and hug her child when she hears news
of a fire, a car accident, a child dying?

The emotions of motherhood are
universal and so our thoughts are for
young mothers stumbling through diaper
changes and sleep deprivation...

And for mature mothers learning to let go.
For working mothers and stay-at-home mothers.
Single mothers and married mothers.
Mothers with money, mothers without.

This is for you all. For all of us...
Hang in there. In the end we can
only do the best we can. Tell them
every day that we love them. And pray
and never stop being a mother...

'Home is what catches you when
you fall - and we all fall.'

34 weeks

This is from Sunday. That's 34 weeks, and one day. So, here are some photos for you. Enjoy.

Laundry at 3 am

Why? Because Caleb was still in our bed. Had a pull-up malfunction and wet OUR bed.

Brant decided last night would be a good night to leave Caleb in our bed after our "snuggle" time. (that's Caleb and MY snuggle time). He made up a little cozy bed for himself in Caleb's room. Who knows why. Maybe because Caleb is 35 pounds of dead-weight when asleep...and ... so who knows.

Anywho, Caleb woke up at 3 am saying the side of his pull-up was wet... as was his pajamas, the sheets, quilt, everything. So, I stripped the bed and am currently WIDE awake. Caleb is passed out in his own bed, dry pull-up, dry bed. I am sure that I will just stay up until the sheets are done and I can remake the bed and make up for the lack of sleep tomorrow...errrrr....today.

Nothing new

Nothing new to report from the appointments today. That is good.
(He's still measuring 2 weeks ahead, I am doing fine, bp was 100/70).

Except... I am such a planner. I would LOVE to know when this beautiful boy is going to make his appearance. Even knowing that it'll happen within a week's time period would be nice. But, it's not meant to be.

And, so I bake...knowing that this little miracle is going to be strong and healthy because of it.

Today's appointment

Today's appointment was good. Here are the stats:
Lost 2 pound since Thursday.
BP was 110/70.
There was less protein in the urine.
Owen did good on the non-stress test.

So, we go on Thursday for an ultrasound and another non-stress test.

So, maybe no baby this week, either. Hmmm.

It's FIVE am

And I am awake.

This is ridiculous.

My mind is working in over-time. And, Owen, is not taking bed rest as rest time... but, I'm not complaining.

I even took a warm bath last night, AND a benadryll... to help me sleep.

Out at 11:30, shot up at 3:30.

I guess this is God's, oh-so-fun-way, of telling me my FULL nights of sleep are nearing an end? He's preparing me for my blessing... and telling me to sleep during the day, right?

I've put off reading Jenny's latest two installments for today. I wanted to be able to do something with my mind while all of you friends are doing that work-thing.

I've also put off the two movies from Netflix. 27 dresses and Things to do in Denver When Your Dead. The last is my hubby's choice. I finally caved. Juno is coming either today or tomorrow.

Dad got me THREE Nora Roberts books. I'm halfway through the first. I will say that picking up reading her books again has *ahem* aided in nice dream sequences, and a longing for things *adult* that are against doctor's orders. *blush* ... it's about time for that!

Yesterday, I spent over 4 hours on the blasted computer typing in awards information. I over-did it. I know it...but I'm done. I hope. Thank the Lord for Sabrina. She's taking over and doing it without complaint. I just don't have the energy.

Well, I guess I could go wash my hair. Or finally grade those papers. Or not. Email me if you are bored. I'm sure I'll have the Internet up and web mail running ALL day. Thanks my friends, for keeping up with me.

How to say thank you?

I am not that good at etiquette. I am very appreciative and thankful, but don't quite know what to do. Some very special ladies I know are bringing my family dinners. I say thank you and we heartily eat up the vittles...but, I want to make sure that my thankfulness is obvious. I've got an idea of what to do with the dishes they will need returned. But, is it enough? Time is also a concern right now. I am supposed to be laying down (nearly all the time) and can't get out to get the items I might need to "refill" the dishes. I guess it could wait until AFTER Owen arrives...but that seems crazy, too. I guess, for now, a thank you and maybe a card of some kind will be in order...

Any thoughts?

5/2 Non stress test

All is well. So, hopefully no surprise appearance from Owen this weekend. But, you could surprise me...hint, hint. :)

Owen responded fine to the few contractions that I had during the non-stress test this morning. I had two pretty good ones...still didn't feel them, but you could actually see them on the monitor as contractions.

I was sitting up at one point, and started to get nauseous and dizzy. So, I had to lay down on my left side, again. The little stinker was probably on my vena-cava, again.

My blood pressure was good: 130/80. I'd lost a pound since Tuesday.

My next appointment is Tuesday morning, Thursday morning, and an ultrasound on Thursday, too. I'll keep you updated...but for now. My bed is calling me...and so is the Spiderwick Chronicle book #3. Ta-ta!

A funny from my seester

This was on her my space blog. The title was: "Why men shouldn't do laundry."

Please assist me in the punch line...should it be:

1. This gives a new definition to Clean-ex

2. I knew I should have taken the Kleenex out of the box before I stuffed my bra...and now look what happened?!!

3. Men shouldn't do the laundry, they always forget to clean out their pockets.... (is that a Kleenex box in Jeff's flight suit, or is he just happy to see me?)
the set up:

Only took about 20 min to clean it all up, out of the washer, off the floor, and then to start the load of laundry all over again......bless his sweet little heart! :OD

Washer 1 BOX OF KLEENEX 0

Good thing we buy Kleenex in bulk.

Escape

Say that word, again...but think "Finding Nemo."

That's better (ESSS-Cahp-ey).

:) Made you sound it out, huh?!

Brant came home today after trying to study for his Lab final. He offered to take me out to Albertson's. I wanted Dreft. Needed Dreft. WANT TO WASH TINY CLOTHES IN DREFT. So, I escaped...say it right: ess-cahp-ey-duh.

That was pure delight. Simple, pure delight. I was concerned, though. I could hear my heartbeat in my ears...just walking from the car to get a cart...you know, the old, fat, or pregnant people motorized kind.

But, I saw sunshine, and no bed for 15 minutes. Bliss, I tell you.

Anywho. Brant is taking a nap---on the ENTIRE bed...so, I am at the "Big" computer leaning back as far as is pregnant-ly possible.

And, smelling the sweet smell of dreft washing my baby's first (second, third-hand) clothes. Yum.