My Baby is a Kumquat

"Hey Mom, remember how you told me to pray and ask God if we could have another baby in our family?'' An enormous smile erupted on my face as I thought, Ok, she is the cutest thing ever. Then, I nodded. Yes, I did remember encouraging her to do that. ''Well guess what?!?” she replied, “God said YES! He told me yes in my heart that we can have another baby!! And...it's gonna be my sister!!' At this point, I burst out laughing. I couldn’t help it. Still shocked at her decisiveness I said, ''Well sweetie, if God does give us another baby it might be a girl, or it might be a boy. Would you be ok if it was a boy?'' She didn't hesitate with her answer and said ''Noooo no. If it's a boy we'll just say Hi God. You actually gave us the wrong baby. Here you go! Can we have our baby girl now?’'

Well, she was right about the first part. When this conversation happened I was 5 weeks 4 days pregnant. I had only just taken the pregnancy test about a week before. My husband, Seth, and I decided to wait until I was 10 weeks to tell the kids, but my discerning little girl figured it out right away. Over the next few weeks we had many (many) hilarious conversations in which she kept telling me that she was so excited about the baby in my tummy. One afternoon I was just a little over six weeks and feeling terribly sick. I was resting on the couch while I watched the kids play in the living room and mostly just focusing all my energy on not throwing up (again). As Grace danced around the room in her typical Gracie way, she fluttered over to me and plopped herself at the foot of the couch. She had the biggest smile on her face so I grinned back, tilted my head, and raised my eyebrows as if to ask what she was smiling about. She caught on to my question and exclaimed, “I’m just SO excited about my baby sister!!” In one smooth motion she lifted my shirt just barely past my belly button and kissed my tummy. Then as quickly as she had arrived, she bounced back off towards her toys, completely unaware that I was frozen, wide-eyed, and had nothing but shock on my face.  

So here I am. 10 weeks. My Baby is the size of a kumquat (whatever that is). Sealed inside that tiny fetus are the hopes and dreams of completing our family. There’s a line in my favorite movie, About Time, where the main character is trying to decide whether he and his wife should try for a third child. He contemplates for a moment and then says, “You know, my dad always said he wished there had been more of us.” When I heard that line my body tensed and I subconsciously leaned in towards the screen holding my breath. Is that how I would feel if we decided to stop at two children? Would I have always wished there had been one more? To test these prompting questions as to how I would feel about stopping at two kids, I pictured myself dropping off my youngest, Emmett, at his first day of Kindergarten. As I walked back to the car would I feel an overwhelming sense of freedom and accomplishment? Would I even be a little relieved that my season of life of being a full time stay-at-home mom was now over? In my mind, I saw myself climbing into my car and instead of feeling ready to throw myself into the next season of life, I felt lonely. Unfinished. I glanced to the backseat, saw it was empty and my heart sank. As I tried to figure out what these emotions meant, I pictured once again dropping off Emmett at school for the first day and this time I left the building holding hands with another child of mine. A lively toddler who was skipping along and singing some made-up version of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. I bundled this last little one into the car, wiped a booger, kissed a forehead, and took off from the parking lot with a feeling like, yes, this is what it was supposed to be. That third kid was supposed to be there with me.

Very soon after I had these revelations I retold them to Seth. I already knew that he was open to the idea of having one more child, but we hadn’t yet confirmed that this was the path we felt God leading us toward. When I finished telling him my story he kept his head down and I saw the slightest smirk begin to curl on his lips. He then slowly looked up at me and said, “You know, to be honest I really have always pictured us with three.” 

That was the moment we decided to start praying for God to bless us with another baby. We were a bit surprised that initially God’s response was, “wait”. It wasn’t a yes or no, it was wait. To greatly fast forward this next section of our lives, we had been told to wait because God led us to sell our home and purchase a different house. The entire process took nearly a year and after we took a few months to settle into our new house, God then answered our heartfelt question with a yes. We actually found out we were pregnant when we were on our anniversary vacation back in June. (see that post here ----> My Babies' Mom was on Vacation) What a fun gift that was to find out on our trip! We got to sit and relax on the paddleboat in the afternoon and suggest potential baby names. Our mornings were spent sipping coffee on the deck and talking about how our kids would adjust to this new addition. We didn't get interrupted every five seconds, we didn’t have to fight to have time alone to talk and dream. It was very special. 

So...my little girl was right. We asked God for another baby, He said yes, and we are so thankful. Obviously, it’s too early to know if she was right about the baby being a girl, but we are thinking we will probably have to find out the gender so that we can prepare her. I think the cupcake reveal where there’s pink or blue on the inside might be the best way to go. That way if it’s a boy, maybe we can salvage her broken heart with chocolate and frosting. 

Now that our secret is public, may I ask something of you? As you know, life is a gift and it is fragile. Will you please pray for us and for this new little one? Being pregnant is definitely a huge blessing and a very beautiful thing. But it can also have its moments where fear and uncertainty threaten to cloud our focus. 

Please pray for us as we begin this new journey of being a family of five. We are thrilled beyond words and feel blessed beyond measure. 

Blessings,

Shantastic

My Baby Did Something Gross

And the award for best (aka worst) parenthood story goes to….

When we were pregnant with Grace, one of our friends gave us some great advice about how to approach parenthood as a couple. She said, “Don’t keep score with your spouse.” She went on to explain that parenthood is not a situation where you and your spouse are competing or keeping score. Like, if you were the one who was home when your infant projectile vomited all over your church outfit and you had to clean it up by yourself, you can’t hold that over your spouse’s head and be like, “Now you have to change the poops for a week.” Parenthood is messy and we all get our fair share of having to be the cleaner-upper. It could have easily been Seth who ended up being 25 minutes late to church because he had to change his outfit at the last minute and then realized that the outfit Grace just threw up all over was the last clean “church outfit” he had that fit his post-pregnancy body…But it wasn’t him was it. It was me. And you know what? That’s not his fault. 

But on the other side of it, I can say with a proud sense of accomplishment that I have never been peed on by one of my kids. There’s been the occasional leak that seeped out onto my pants (that time it happened when I was AT church…) but he’s the one who has gotten the bare bottom spray of pee all over his shirt. Miraculously enough, he’s also the only one who has gotten the privilege of cleaning up all the bathtub poops. It’s fine though because since I stay home with them that means I get to do all the daytime poopies, so we’re good. We’ve got a good balance and know how to “take one for the team”.

We tried to take my friend’s advice and not keep score in an unhealthy way. However, we were still able to joke with one another if we ever felt like we needed just a little acknowledgement or credit for the most recent gross thing we had to do. For example, there was a time right before Christmas when I was about to walk out the door and enjoy un-interrupted adult alone time. I had barely taken one step outside the frame of the door when I heard Seth cry out from the bathroom that he had yet another bathtub full of poop. I hesitantly turned back in toward the house (the poop-filled side) and as I was about to offer to stay back and help, he popped his head around the corner and said with an overdramatic flare, “Just go babe. Just go.” He knew that we would be joking about it for the next week and that he had been the hero to take the fall alone while I got to go eat Chick-Fil-A waffle fries ALL BY MYSELF. So, I made sure to give Seth some much deserved credit for tackling PoopGate 2016 and being the hero who saved Mommy’s magical Christmas shopping day. 

Even though he appreciated the adoration, we both knew there was nothing that would ever dethrone me from what happened last spring. It would take a lot more than a floating turd to relinquish my crown. Those fateful seconds last May forever solidified my ranking as the one in our marriage who has the best (aka worst) parenthood story. No bathtub stink or pee soak would ever top “the incident”. 

Seth had taken our daughter out for a date and I remember I had been attempting to finish the last few dishes in the sink. But of course, my babe who never wants to be more than five feet away from me wasn’t havin' it. He came waddling over and started pulling on my leg, begging for my attention. As I looked down at his little face that was beaming back up at me I realized, wait a second, I have JUST Emmett right now which means I can give him one-on-one attention and just ENJOY his presence. Peace out dishes. I’ll see ya later. I instantaneously melted down to the floor and he crawled up into my lap. As I sat down I felt my phone dig into my side so I quick grabbed it out of my pocket. I started to set my phone on the counter and then thought it would be funny to send a couple Snapchats to my family. Emmett seemed to be relishing in his recent victory for my attention and was in the perfect mood for a couple silly videos. As I started recording little ten second clips of us I kept laughing hysterically as he hammed it up. He was feeding off my laughter and started slobbering and squealing into the screen. I giggled even more as I realized that he still had leftover peanut butter smeared on his cheek from dinner. He was quite the sight. 

I glanced down at my phone to select the people I was going to send the Snapchat to. I was a little distracted as I clicked the different names and right before I pressed the “send” button I felt something lightly brush my cheek. I thought to myself, oh gross. Emmett probably just wiped some spit on me..or worse, some of the peanut butter that was smeared on his face. Ew. I quickly sent off the snapchat and as I glanced up at Emmett I saw him standing face-to-face with me…with his hand down the back of his pants. He then pulled out his hand and extended it to me. 

It was in that moment I realized…. I had poop on my face. 

The award for best story goes to me.

I forever and always win. 

Blessings,

Shantastic aka Poopface

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What’s your best (aka worst) story?? Does it top mine?? Share it below in the comments or find me on Instagram @TotallyShantastic (Or if you know me on Facebook, let me hear it! Do you get the crown in your family for the best story??)

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My Baby is Probably Going to MIT

I had a complete epiphany this week. Grace walked up to me in the kitchen, paused, and then just froze staring up at me. Her neck was craning so she could see all the way to my eyes. I stopped what I had been doing and was mesmerized by how calm and mature she looked. And then the realization smacked me in the face. Where did my baby go? It seems like all in one moment my baby is gone and has been replaced by this little person who can think, run, and have opinions of her own. She’s accomplished so many things for the first time in just a few short months.

Many of a child’s “firsts” are very memorable, surreal moments. I’ll never forget the night when Grace took her first steps. Her eyes were beaming as she caught the proud gaze from her parents. As she carefully took her hands off the side of the couch she squealed gleefully while tottering from one foot to the other. For us parents, the ‘firsts’ are our opportunity to see our once completely helpless infants begin to experience the world on their own. The first time our children do something is also extremely crucial to their development because they are constantly watching us to see how we react. They want to know if what they just did was a good thing or a bad thing. Our doctor described it as “baby scientists.” She said everything they do all day is just one experiment after the other. How does mom react when I hit the dog? If I use sign language to say, “Please” will I get what I want? So, when our children have their “first” moment, they may be initially proud of themselves for discovering something new, but ultimately, they are looking to us to decide what the outcome of their experiment is.

Sometimes it feels like my little scientist is a pint-sized genius. I wouldn’t be surprised if she grows up to be a real scientist someday after all the experiments she performs on a daily basis. One morning in particular I will never forget because she concluded one of her greatest experiments yet. We were all in church together during worship time and Gracie’s dad had lifted his hand to praise the Lord. As Gracie was being held in her dad’s arms I literally saw her eyes go from him, to his outstretched hand, and then to her hand as she tentatively raised it in the air. The second I saw her worshipping the Lord for the first time it made my heart leap with hope that one day she would knowingly understand what she was doing. As I watched her little hand gently sway back and forth I gave her a smile that immediately told her what she had done for the first time was a very good thing. Now whenever we go to church and the music starts, her hands go up in the air and she gets a very proud look on her face.

Some of her ‘firsts’ were incredibly easy to decide how to respond because they were undeniably awesome achievements. A few that will forever be on my top favorites list are her first words, first steps, and first time dancing. Another exciting first happened recently when Grace and I were out running some errands. A woman who was walking by stopped to wave at Grace and admire her toddler cuteness. Grace just stared at her for a moment trying to figure out what she had done to warrant such praise and attention. She hesitantly chewed on her finger as she assessed the woman’s face. She had no clue the woman was just admiring her for being a little one. When she finally realized the woman was excited about something she had done, without any warning, Grace took a deep breath and exclaimed, “HIIIIIIIII!!!” It was quite endearing because her voice did this roller coaster of inflection as she elongated the word. It was her first time greeting someone and based on my applause, she will be sure to do it again.

This week I got to add one more milestone to my ever-growing list of favorite “firsts” but I wish I could tell you I had responded differently. Sometimes I can be proud of myself for helping to teach her to praise the Lord or say "hi", but I’m definitely not perfect. As she continues to explore and experiment, there are just going to be some times when I may accidentally teach her something that is not necessarily socially acceptable.

One of these “failure” moments turned out to be pretty hysterical, and if it comes back to haunt me someday I hope I can just shrug it off and chuckle. I was sitting at the kitchen table enjoying my Kashi cereal while Grace made her usual morning rounds to check in on her “My Little Pony” stuffed animals. Her favorite thing is to carry all of them at once and weave in and out from under the table. As I ate my cereal, enjoying a rare moment of uninterrupted peace, I caught sight of Grace from the corner of my eye. She had paused momentarily directly under the center of the table because she had dropped Twilight Sparkle. As Gracie bent forward, her tummy was just barely protruding from the bottom of her shirt. She had to bend pretty far over to reach Twilight because she was already carrying such a load. As her tiny fingers finally reached Twilight’s purple mane, I could hear her audible grunt as she reached with all her might.

Her exertion proved to be just a little too much for such a tiny body, and right there under the table, for the ‘first’ time Gracie farted. Not just a harmless, infant-sized puff of air, no. The sound that came from her with such a force was something that sounded like it should have only come from an adult-sized person. I could have chosen that moment to simply ignore the offense and hope she didn’t catch on that she had even made the noise. But of course, that’s not what happened. The large bite of cereal that I had just plopped into my mouth came hurling forward as I burst into a fit of laughter. I can still feel the sensation of the cold milk dribbling down my chin as I tried to catch my breath.

The second Grace realized I was laughing at her she edged herself closer to the side of the table. She wanted a way to claim what she had just done and solidify that I was encouraging her bodily function. Her comedic timing was perfect as she popped her head out from underneath the table and giggle-screamed, “HIIIIIIII!!!!”

Is it the end of the world that I just taught my little scientist that loud farts will be rewarded with fits of laughter? Probably not. I have a false hope that she’ll keep her flatulence within the comforts of our home, but even if she does decide to extremely embarrass me by farting in the grocery store or during a sermon at church I suppose I’ll just have to bank on the hope that everyone, deep down in their heart of hearts, thinks toddler farts are funny.

What have you accidentally encouraged your toddler to do? Let’s hear it!

Blessings,

Shantastic

Week 22: Channeling my inner "Pooh"

So far this week I got stuck on the couch and balanced a bowl on my tummy.
The other day I was telling Seth a story and he kept looking at my belly and smirking. I was trying to ignore it and continue with my story but my curiosity eventually won. When I asked him what he was smirking at he quickly apologized, let out a suppressed laugh and pointed at my tummy saying it was so cute he couldn’t help it. I looked down to find that my shirt was in a “Winnie the Pooh” situation where it had gotten stuck on the top part of my belly and couldn’t go all the way down! Thank goodness we weren’t out in public! That shirt might have to go in the ‘post-pregnancy’ pile.

Also, if you look up a picture of Pooh you will notice he is without a belly button. I used to have a pretty impressive “inny” bellybutton. Now it’s just a tiny little dip across my tummy. It’s starting to look like Pooh’s completely non-existent one. My baby hijacked my belly button! However on the bright side, pretty soon I’m going to have the classic preggo belly button that sticks out!

Even when Seth and I were dating we had already talked about baby names. We learned from the very beginning that we have dramatically different tastes in names! Ever since we got pregnant we have been just a little obsessed with figuring out what our child’s name will be. At the heart of it we believe God will ultimately reveal to us our child's name. Nonetheless, we’ve played ridiculous games such as, “You have to pick a boy and girl baby name from a Disney movie” or “If our child had to have a superhero name it would be…” Amidst all our frantic searching and silly games I completely neglected to realize our baby won’t be the only one getting a name that day. I’ve had quite a few different names and titles in my life: Shan, wife, babe, daughter…In a few months I’m going to be named mom and Seth will be dad! Just like any name or title, part of your identity can be found in it. It's crazy cool to think about how much our identities will be changing. I will be Mom: the soother of nightmares. Seth will turn into Dad: the ultimate fort builder!

Thankfully, getting this new name has been a life-long ambition of mine. I’ve been looking forward to being a mom since I was in high school. My senior year I had to fill out a questionnaire that was read to the entire school. One of the questions asked what I want to do with my life. At the age of 17 I wrote down that I was planning on getting a degree in Elementary Education but I really just wanted to be a mom someday. Is that what a normal 17 year-old says?

Not too long ago I came across an old journal entry from 2008 that made me smile. I was 22 at the time and still had the same feelings about one day becoming a mom.

Today in class one of my students nonchalantly called me mom by mistake. I was surprised as to how good it felt. In all my years of working with young children I have never once been mistakenly called mom: the term given to the ultimate female caregiver. Maybe I'm taking this a bit too seriously...but it really felt good. Then I realized why hearing that name made my heart swell up like a giant balloon. Someday, I will be mom to someone. How exciting.

“Someday” is now only four months away! I'm ready to be this little one's mom.

To those of you who have been reading this blog every week, I’d like to thank you for allowing my inner-monologue to have a voice. It's been really fun.

On the right side I added a poll to see if people think little one is a boy or a girl! So far 95% of people have been verbally telling me the same guess. What do you think?

I also added a tool on the right to make it easy to share my blog with your friends on Facebook and Twitter!

Blessings,
Shantastic