It's A....Nursery!

A nursery/big boy room. Ok, it's a bedroom. 'Nursery' certainly isn't a cool enough word for this space.

So Finn and this baby boy are going to be sharing a room because that's what trendy kids do, right? We have a downstairs bedroom, but until Finn is old enough to use it to his advantage for sneaking-out-purposes, it shall remain not-a-bedroom.

Confession: I've never shared a room in my life (besides with that tall guy I live with...).

Confession: Luke has never not shared a room in his life.

So, while I am confused about how two people (especially siblings) can share a room in peace and harmony, he is there to reassure me that no one is going to implode as a result.

None of my children implode...check that off my parenting bucket list.

So to prepare for this confusing and exciting development, I painted the room (by myself. Because yes.), decorated, re-decorated, deemed it my pièce de résistance and wam, bam, thank you m'am, here it is.

(Here's a before picture, first so you can all get a handle on the transformation):

 That's cool and everything, I guess...

But this is way better! I made that blanket. And it didn't make me cry. Also, astronomy poster on the wall? Because 3 is a perfectly acceptable age to learn the lunar cycle. Duh.

The baby's side of the room! 

Top of the dresser!

 Details I love: the striped crib sheets that took me forever to find, and the baby quilt that I should probably take more pictures of. I painted the room navy on a whim but I'm super stoked with how it turned out. Combine with the more sophisticated elements of the room (the bedding, poster, etc) and I don't think it looks too little boyish. Because let's all remember that this cool kid had the room first:

As always...pictures of Isla's room :)

With a backwards crib so she won't climb out...that's my girl :)

That Time I Gave a Delta Flight Attendant The Finger Behind Her Back...

I'm back for good this time, I swear. Sometimes the old gray matter just decides to quit and for the past few months I have been willing, urging and basically just begging and pleading my brain to get its act together.

And it ain't just blog-related either. The last month of last semester felt like my brain was wading through a sloggy marsh of simple concepts that I just needed to write down on paper but had the hardest time doing (still got A's in both my classes. Bam. I eventually show my brain who's boss...).

So. Now that I've sufficiently excused myself and you guys aren't mad at me anymore for going MIA (you're not mad, right? I would feel awfully obliged to make you cookies if you were...but honestly, I'd probably eat them before they got to you. Whoever you are), let's catch up.

Thanksgiving is where we left off! After Thanksgiving, the kids, my belly and I went to California on an airplane. Two seats, basically four people (the belly counts).

My children were angels.

The Delta flight attendant was a real bitch.

Isla got some crayon on the seat back and the lady came and told me that if I didn't get it off right now that I was going to have to pay for damages....

...two things:
1. You're having a bad day. I get it. I'll roll with you but;
2. I've puked on plenty-a-plane (I suffered and still suffer from awesome travel sickness) and I don't ever remember having to clean that off the seat back in front of you while in-flight. So this is seeming a bit ridiculous.

...onwards. She stood there, shaking her head exaggeratedly at the other attendants while I scrubbed, Cinderella-style, and got it off. When I told her it was all gone she shrugged and walked off. Whatever, lady.

California! We left the day it snowed two feet in Utah and enjoyed 5 days of sunshine and beaches and playgrounds and short sleeves. Glorious. And as always, my apologies to Luke, who had to stay home and hold down the fort. Ahem.

After that trip we did Christmas which was fantastic and Christmas-y and noteworthy only because Luke, Finn and Isla got a bout of the flu right after and I stood there like the lone survivor in a zombie flick.

Finn still likes to brag about how he barfed that one time. Because kids have great memories for things you'd rather forget, right?

As for me, I'm 32-33 weeks pregnant with this big boy at the moment and loving every quiet minute of it. Because by baby number 3 you realize that babies cry and eat once they enter the big, wide world and frankly, that's kind of a hassle.

And I'm still going to school. I'm taking a class on Modern Irish Nationalist Literature from a teacher who; a.) doesn't seem to care much about Ireland; b.) professes that he does not care much about Ireland and finally; c.) cannot pronounce Yeats correctly and has confessed that he does not care to remember the correct pronunciation.

Which really makes for an exciting and motivating class to get into. Right.

Next post: All about this big belly and the impending fiasco it is threatening. Plus, maybe I'll get some tidbits in about those two ragamuffins I call my children.

(Also, I got an iPhone. Feel free to welcome me into the twenty-first century...)

Pictures!

Still sporting the reminder of his last terrible haircut...and being so cheesy it hurts :)

32 weeks. Whoa belly...whoa.

 

Isla loves a swing...

Holding Nachos? Drop 'Em and Run...

First let's reflect on the glorious holiday season which is allowing me to eat with less guilt than otherwise would be happening.

Let's also reflect that for the past few days I have been merrily running every morning!

Running?!

Jogging is more like it!

Merrily!

Thankfully the workouts are going pretty consistently because I am hungry. Or this kid is hungry. Either way there is a lot of eating going on. And eating of the strangest of things. One day I'd tackle someone for a plate of sriracha covered nachos, the next I'd tackle 'em for a sausage sandwich.

I don't know who would withhold food so staunchly that I need to tackle them...

It got close, though...the other day, Luke and I were at a restaurant and I dropped an angry F bomb so loudly that the manager came over and asked what was wrong with my food. To which I politely responded, "Ummm, I wanted a rare steak. This is well done."

Food. It's apparently a big deal at the moment.

And while I'm regretting most gastronomical decisions and smelling like Taco Bell, baby boy just does a little happy dance and calls life good.

25 weeks!

As for the rest of the Rebarchik clan, we are all handy-dandy. The kids BOTH got haircuts yesterday. A decision unwisely made. I took them by myself, Isla pooped on me, then insisted on sitting on my lap with Finn while he got his hair cut. And the lady doing his hair was super bitchy. Like, come on lady, he's 3, he's going to move a little bit.

Then she CUT HIM WITH THE CLIPPERS AND SAID: "Well, that's what happens when you don't listen"

Wait, why don't you listen...because I'm pretty sure I just heard your tip sneak out the door.

Bam. (I still tipped her a little...)

Isla got her curls trimmed because she was getting mullet-licious (as my kids seem to do...). I think it suits her though :)

And finally, Finn is going through some pretty heavy-duty three-year-old tantrums at the moment. We're talking foot stamping, back talking, heavy sighing and all that eye rolling business. Apparently it's emotional business being three...and putting on pants to go outside is a big deal.

Favorite phrases now include, "because yes." and "because no."...because those are acceptable answers to any interrogation.

For more explanation, ask Finn because I have no idea what's going on with that lovely kid.

I Did Terrible Things This Halloween...

I’m back to being the Halloween Grinch, guys. We had a good run last year though, right?

I think that maybe today I saw too many adults dressed up as Disney princesses and other immature drivel. 

So alas, here I am, disillusioned once again.

I did some terrible things this year, too. Terrible, deliberately terrible things. Sigh.

In our neighborhood they follow that quaint, somewhat obnoxious trend of putting a sign on your door with a plate of treats and direct instructions to leave the damn sign on your door and pay it forward by making treats and stamping signs on other neighbor’s doors.

Sign on your door = you’ve been hit and there are no more treats coming your way.

Confession: We got hit and I didn’t leave the ghostie sign on our door. So we got hit again. Which meant we 

got two plates of delicious treats. I was so happy.

Confession #2: Not only did I not feel bad about it, I didn’t even make treats or signs for anyone else.

My heart shrank two sizes that day.

Next up, our neighborhood is absolutely swarming with the younger set. Kids run this place. And I only got one bowl’s worth of candy and I’ve already eaten a tidy portion of it. Because it’s delicious.

And those kids are going to get tons of candy anyway, right?

Right.

I did, however, make sure my kiddos had fantastically DIY costumes for the trick-or-treating/pre-school festivities going on this All Hallow’s Eve. Luke made Finn’s costume this year and it turned out brilliantly! 

I didn’t let Finn decide what he was going to be because his three-year-old brain can’t settle on any decision for more than a minute recently. I had to take matters into my own hands. Thankfully, he totally dug it. He was super stoked to show it off in the pre-school parade today.

I made Isla’s costume because I’m crafty and handy with a glue gun. I made the ears and a fluffy tail and she has no idea what’s going on but she knows that she doesn’t want to wear the ear-headband unless I bribe her with food and distraction. Bribery? My forte!

She seriously is so cute as a cat. I can’t even.

Last and least, I’m sad to say we didn’t get pumpkins. Not a single one. The only pumpkin we have is the one Finn was given and decorated at school. He did so well! Feathers! Eyes! Red paint! It was my favorite pumpkin ever.

Will my Halloween grinchiness subside next year? I doubt it, but stay tuned!

Oh, hey there baby.

Baby #3! It's a....(!)

Oh baby, oh baby. Yes, I guess it’s that time again…we’re having another baby!

Holy surprise, batman.

I should probably mention that when Isla turned about one, I got rid of all of my maternity clothes and a whole load of baby clothes and gear. 

I was free, man. Free. Done having kids forever.

Well, anyway.

Baby #3 is a boy!

We’re so super stoked about this. Isla is such a little tomboy that I think this family dynamic is going to work out frenetically, if not fantastically. 

At about 21 weeks, I’ve certainly gotten over the shock of this little unexpected bundle of joy and I’ve fully moved into the realm of overly excited. Plus, the little guy is getting wiggly and that’s just so thrilling.

We’ve taken to calling him Big Bob because my belly is like, out of control. I know it’s the third time my uterus has hosted such a creature, but really…it didn’t need to get that big that quickly, now did it?

That's a mere 19 weeks!

Now onto Finn’s reaction(s)…first, he was confused and thought Isla was in my belly. Then we moved on to just calling the baby Isla whenever I asked. 

Finally, he’s convinced that he IS having a baby brother but its exact location is a little unclear. As he told me, Mommy, your baby brother is in my belly! And it’s stuck!

Oy vey, Finn. Your baby brother is stuck in my belly and good gracious I will never tell you how that baby is going to be unstuck. Ever.

Ever. 

Isla doesn’t know, nor does she care, nor will she care if I know her (which I’m moved, I do). 

That girl is interested in one thing: doing her own thing whenever she feels like it. Climbing up on top of the TV? She’s doing it sneakily. Crawling under chairs at a restaurant? That happened today and I didn’t even know it was happening. 

Here are the lovely ultrasound pictures we got yesterday for all those interested!

 He's already a looker, don't you think?

I'm the Tim Gunn of This Household...

Let's just start this off by saying that Finn really loves the color red. So much so that this morning he picked out these awesome jeans, a red t-shirt and a red sweater. Needless to say I had to tone that down ASAP:

Oh man, things are busy around here. With my school and Finn's school and life being crazy and whatever, I am so tired. And, to enhance my children's chances at becoming amazing artists I made a craft box. A box. Full of crafts. The kids are all over it all the time. Glitter, paint, masks, pom-poms, GOOGLY EYES. It's tops, man. It's also exhausting...I'm cleaning up neon colored craft paraphernalia all the time.

And then there's Isla (who is thankfully submitting to pigtails more often, lessening her urchin-like appearance a little more:)). She is such a scoundrel. She's been religated to wearing a backpack with a leash on it any time we go out. Because she loves to run away from me. And climb out of large shopping carts. And talking to strangers. And hiding in department stores. And escaping her stroller.

She drives me crazy. But I love her, so I'll take it. And Finn's caught on, because he knows that if I'm distracted he needs to grab her shirt. And if she tries to run away he pulls her over. It sounds cruel but I actually think it's very noble of him. Isla trying to run into the street? Not on his watch!

Oh, and it's my birthday next week!  And to celebrate the universe decided to schedule the Pretty Little Liars Halloween special the day before so I could get my party on early. Thank you, universe.

And now, I must get back to writing a paper about something that I'll figure out hopefully soon. It's all seeming a bit futile at the moment, but I shall persevere!

I'm Pretending to Type Class Notes Right Now...

And now I’m not writing in this blogsome blog because I have too much going on.

Go figure.

Let’s get down to brass tacks, shall we (you wouldn’t want to sit on those. That would hurt…anyone who gets that reference gets a high five and the knowledge that they spent their high school years well)?

Finn turned three. To prove it, here is a picture of Finn being three:

And to celebrate that magic number he had three parties. Like a boss. A spoiled, spoiled boss. 

To be fair, we had a neighborhood party, a family party and then he won a gymnastics party in a raffle and we couldn’t give that up, could we?!

And because he’s going to be a sports superstar (I’m not so confident…he ran into a door twice this weekend. Coordination and awareness are not his current forte), he got a basketball hoop, a soccer net and the requisite balls to go with them. 

AND he got a twin size bed. He looks so little in it that it is hilarious. Since he moved up to the big bed leagues I got down to serious business and made him a twin size quilt. I’ve never tackled a quilt of this magnitude and it was a challenge. Last night when I finished it, I believe I compared it to sewing a live octopus. Truly unmanageable but the result was fantastic:

 

Isla is cute, right? 

 Her hair is so unmanageably curly that we tried putting her hair in pigtails and as you can see it was fabulous. She tears them out at first chance. Every time. Attempt: failed.

And me? Today, moments ago, I finally got a sugar cookie from Einstein’s that I was lamenting in my last post! I may not be paying attention in class right now, but success! Success all around!

Last but not least and sad but not devastating, we sold our sweet puppy Jussi. That dog needed to be indoors and loved a lot more than we were willing to deal with her hair and slobber. She went to a fantastic home. And now that the weather is nice and there is no dog bowling them over, the kids have absolutely taken to the backyard. 

We’ve got a playground, a kid’s picnic table, all Finn’s new sports gear. The other day they played outside, by themselves in the backyard, while I made dinner.

Glorious alone time. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.

I’ll leave you with this picture of Isla’s hilarious selfie. She loves the iPad camera and dang, the camera loves her back  :)