Whoa, we’re halfway there...

...Livin’ on a prayer

Take my hand and we’ll make it, I swear

Livin’ on a prayer

-Bon Jovi, Living on a Prayer

20 weeks, people.  Halfway to arrival for little Guacamole, and I have finally hit the sweet spot where I actually feel good and am enjoying pregnancy.  Please feel free to avoid pointing out to me that I will feel something approximating awful when I develop the waddle, the heartburn returns, and my feet swell up like sausages  Until then, life is pretty damn fantastic.

I am still tired as all hell, but at this point I need to stop blaming the baby and start blaming a bit of laziness, my lack of exercise, and the fact that I stay up too late watching Orange Is the New Black (which, if you’re not watching, dear Netflix subscriber,  you should start immediately).  Last Sunday I sent the fellas to church while I worshiped at our sister congregation, the Church of the Neverending Laundry Pile.  God and I had some good quality time together over a growing stack of folded towels. And the boys might be able to go to school all week - wearing different underwear every. single. day.  See?  Miracles abound at CNLP.  Too bad visitors to our home can’t even see a dent in the clothing piles to be put away.  I’m told that this sudden urge to do laundry is “nesting.”  We’ve got a long way to go before this nest is ready for a new chickadee.

I am trying to clean out clothes that are too small for the boys and finally admit to myself that I should let them go.  I know intellectually Miss Guac probably won’t need to wear cargo shorts and polo shirts every day.  And she definitely won’t need size 2T boys’ underpants – I mean, even the boys don’t really use the pee hole, but at least it seems logical to have one for them.  Unfortunately I still have just a little teensy tiny bit of a hard time letting the boy stuff go.  I have not, however, had any difficulty shopping for pink stuff.  She already has her first bathing suit.  Okay, she actually has 2 bathing suits, a coverup, AND a sun hat.  What can I say?  There still a kernel of swimmer deep down under the layers of lazy. 

In other news, the boys are boys.  Jay has had a fantastic start to Kindergarten and is generally rocking it in the academic realm.  We had a brief Ferris Bueller incident where he got “sick” and needed to come home, but I quickly determined that the illness was not contagious and instead was his testing of the elementary escape route.  After an unhappy afternoon spent in his room doing homework alone, I think we’ve nipped that one in the bud.  Just for the record, if someone wants to send me to my room for 4 hours and tell me my only options are sleep and reading books, I would cry tears of joy.

Luke is as cute and mischievous as ever.  Unfortunately, his current focus is on the mischief side rather than the cute side.  Let me give you a sample from last week:

Scene One – Me standing on the curb talking through the open car door.  Luke still buckled into his booster.

J – Okay, buddy, I know you can have a better day at school than yesterday, right?

L – Right!

J – When Miss C and Mrs. D ask you to do something, when will you do it?

L – Right away!

J – And how do we use our hands?

L – I will *not* hit my friends!

J – Great!  Now let’s go in to school.  Are you going to run?

L – No!  I am going to walk nicely.

Any guesses what happened as soon as the seatbelt came off?  You got it!  A sprint through the parking lot for the door of daycare, slowing only to pick up a handful of mulch and chuck it into the road. 

Scene Two, 26 seconds after Scene One – Me sitting just inside the door, looking eye-to-eye with the Mischief Man.

J – (sternly) We already talked about running.  When we walk down to your classroom, are you going to hold my hand, or are you going to walk beside me?

L – I’m going to RUN!

J – Running isn’t a choice.  Do you want to walk beside me, or do I need to hold your hand?

L – But I want to run fast!

J – Do I need to carry you? Or will you walk nicely?

L – No, I can run!!

J - Sigh.

And, as was reported on facebook, his new fave song goes like this:

"I’m gonna be mean and disrespectful, ‘cause I am not a super friend.” 

(Repeat x 37)

Yes, people.  Word for word, that’s the song that he was joyously belting out during timeout last night.  How could I make this stuff up?!  That is a string of 13 words that I never, ever EVER expected to come out of the mouth of my sweet babe.  What 3 year old uses the word disrespectful in a grammatically appropriate fashion?  Answer - one who hears the word way too often.  I’m trusting the sweet babe will re-emerge eventually.  And praying to the dear Lord above that Eventually = Soon.