Eliot Rebarchik

He's here! And he's oh, so very precious.

Birthday rundown? You got it!

March 5th, 2014. I went in for a non-stress test at the hospital since the little guy wasn't feeling his normal chipper, kick-me-in-the-ribs kind of self. As it turns out, his heart rate was dropping every time I had a contraction so they decided to induce me, and I was like, "sweet. Finally."

Luke was with the kids that afternoon, and all the nurses thought I was a single, teenage mom and would come hold my hand despite my insistence that I had a husband who was going to come hang out with me eventually.

But I was totally chilled out and groovy throughout the afternoon. Third kid? I got this, yo.

Eliot's heart rate was still pretty no bueno come evening, so they decided to do a C-section to avoid risking any further complications during labor. During this discussion Luke had gone home to help my wonderful neighbor and BFF Marilyn put the kids to bed...so once again I got a lot of skeptical pity from the nurses. Luke made it 10 minutes before they rolled me into the OR. Good timing, hubs.

I will spare you the gnarly details, but 10 minutes after rolling me in, we were happy to see the safe arrival of this little guy:

 6 pounds 7 oz, and 18 inches of love, right there.

Luke watched the whole thing. And from the sounds of it, C-sections are an intensely shocking thing to witness. All the while, the medicine they gave me made me shake so badly that they had to strap my arms to the table.

It was a legit Frankenstein's monster scenario going on.

But guess what, guys? 10 days post-partum and I HARDLY HAVE A SCAR. I am so bummed. Sliced open, and no scar.

But a baby! (And thankfully, recovery has been easy, breezy)...

 2 days old

He is a wonderful boy. Extremely mellow (so far), a good eater and not the worst sleeper we've dealt with (cough, cough, Isla, cough).

I must say, for never ever expecting to have 3 children ever, I am immensely glad that he's here with us. He's a beautiful soul.

Finn loves to hold him and Isla goes so far to not acknowledge his existence that she tries to sit on my lap while I'm holding him at least 3 times a day.

Because she's the middle child now. And damnit, it's time to start acting like one!

All of this happened, however, less than a week after she was hospitalized with RSV for two days (something I want to write about but am having a hard time doing...it was a surprisingly emotional experience) So we'll cut her some slack.

9 days old

My List of Stupid Things I Do Right Before Having a Baby:

Oh, we're getting down to the wire over here. The waddling has commenced. The patience has worn thin.

The baby feels like he's trying to suffocate my lungs from the inside.

All of this is happening. Labor is not.

But, do not fret, because I have compiled my list of stupid things I tend to do right before having a baby. It's a doozy. And hopefully will make you all feel smarter and better about yourselves at my expense! That's why I'm here, people!

You're welcome.

#1. Ignore everything they teach you in Lamaze class. I was told to compile a list of soothing, calm, classical music to help empower me through a hopefully natural and pain-filled labor (< that should probably be #1 on this list, actually). And then I was like, "Sorry, Ludwig, but Symphony no. 5 isn't going to cut it." My list, recently completed, is jam packed with Macklemore, Lorde and Miley and I'm not sorry about that, yo.

But is it weird that I feel super empowered and ready to conquer life when I listen to Thrift Shop or White Walls?

It is? Ok, but you have to admit that Wrecking Ball is uncomfortably appropriate for childbirth, right?


#2. Become a hopeless optimist. Last night I bought three(!) pairs of size 2(!) J. Crew short-shorts. To wear. This summer. Which means I better stop eating so many peanut butter cookies and hot dogs....like, now. (This is not a new development in my life. Weeks before having Isla I bought 2 bikinis. For swimming in. I live in a land-locked state with unbelievably questionable swimming pool facilities.)

#3. Start saying stupid things to people. The big question thrown at me these days is, when am I due? And I should say, "in 4 weeks." Done. Instead I go on about how really it could be ANY day now. Or maybe next week! But soon!...

Guess what I'm doing to myself? I'm jinxing myself to have a baby at 44 weeks. Or in a year.

#4. Forgetting that I'm actually pregnant at all. Last week I planned to take both the kids ice skating. By myself. Which would have been a dumb idea if I weren't bursting at the seams. But I don't even think they let people like me even GO ice skating. And then I was surprised and bummed out.

#5. Beautifying. Remember when I fried my bangs off while attempting to beautify before Isla? Did I ever mention how I chopped half of my bangs off weeks before having Finn? Well now I've got a burn mark that looks suspiciously like a hickey on my neck from trying to learn how to curl my hair. Because apparently now is the time to start experimenting with tools I've never used before in my life.

#6. Writing this instead of my grad school papers...

That's it guys. Don't worry, these aren't my only pregnancy faux pas...I do stupid things everyday (I ran a mile the other day and I think my kneecaps fell off).

But I've got this girl to cheer me on!

And this boy!

With a bruise on his forehead from (yes, really) falling out of THIS new stroller!

But he can still write his name! Twice!

Well, I Guess It's Time To Talk About This Baby...

Other potential titles for this post included:

Hot Dogs: An Obsession, Why I Bought Sweatpants From Wal-Mart, That One Time Varicose Veins Made Me Feel Super Sexy...

...the list goes on.

Oy. This baby. Let me give you some details. Maladies first! Because those are the most interesting...

So this dude is NOT curled up in a nice little ball like Isla was...which means I've got a mass of baby legs constantly hanging out by my lungs. Which means that eating, laying down and basically existing makes me wheeze.

Wheezing. Super attractive, non?

I have also been fighting conflicting urges to never eat anything ever again (there is also a mass of baby legs jamming into my stomach area) and to eat a lot of really weird things...I was pretty happily mostly vegetarian before this boy rolled into town...today I drove 20 minutes to get a hot dog. By myself. And I'd already eaten lunch.

Seriously.

Sometimes he kicks and/or punches me in internal organs that ummm...I don't know what they are, where they are or what they do...but by the level of pain inflicted, I'm guessing they're important.

Spleen, maybe? Where is one's spleen? Do I need it? Can it be broken?

And last but not least, I've got varicose veins running down my leg (yep, just one leg), which make it look like I've been bitten by a poisonous monster and the venom is spreading. When I asked why this is happening, the nurse assured me it is because my body is just giving up on life after being pregnant for basically the last 3 years but should return to normal STAT.

I don't know what STAT stands for.

But on the plus side (and there are many!), I am super ready to meet this boy. He's got a name picked out, a closet full of his brother's adorable clothes, a bed, and lots of blankets that I can't stop making. I'm really quite excited.

Finn is excited too.

Isla is not in the loop yet.  (I feel bad for her. I feel as though I need to sit down and explain that she is about to become the dreaded middle child and she and her middle-child-father should set up a support group)

I even packed my hospital bag. Cute. I know.

And finally...today I went over my 20 weeks ultrasound pictures just to confirm that he really is a he. For now, we're all still pretty positive that there is a boy chilling out in my uterus.

Other things:

Number of times someone has said the following when I'm out with the kids, "Oh bless your heart.", "You don't look old enough to have 3 kids!" or "How will you ever manage?!": About 20. Apparently the world has no confidence in me.

Here I am, still going to grad school and all that business, at 35ish weeks!

 Luke always candid shoots me looking ridiculous...

That picture is a little misleading in the belly-department. Sigh. Here is a more accurate representation:

I love hot dogs.

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.