Swamp Things

Living in Michigan has taught me to appreciate the things I hated while growing up in Idaho and Utah, but living in a desert is the thing I took for granted the most. Yesterday we had torrential rain for six hours. Normally, I would have been elated to open the windows, smell the fresh, cool air, and snuggle up with Adam to enjoy the sexiness of a rainstorm of that magnitude. This storm, however, had no cooling effect on the 88-degree temperature and the air was anything but fresh. In weather like this, showering seems utterly pointless as one can never actually dry off afterward. Fixing my hair is also pointless because despite using the best in anti-humectant technology, it hangs in the same, shapeless and frizzy mass only moments after I unplug my flatiron. I must say I cannot stand amphibious living any longer!

The 80%-plus humidity also wreaks havoc on my laundry, and I am falling victim to what I deem the most horrific domestic odor: sour towels. I suffered from this travesty for the better part of my childhood and vowed that when I had my own house, my towels would never have a discernible fragrance. I have, up until this point, been able to maintain wonderfully clean and fresh towels, but last night I experienced a terrible shock when I emerged from the shower and grabbed my newly-washed towel from the bar. As soon as it touched my wet face, the acrid, sour odor blasted into my nostrils and nearly knocked me out. I frantically thought to myself "How could this be happening to me?" After all, I use bleach and baking soda in every load of towels that I wash, and I am the from-washer-immediately-to-dryer Nazi of the Clark home. The only explanation is the cursed humidity; the towels don't even get dry in the dryer. They hang in the bathroom to dry but don't have a chance in heck, hence we are stuck in the awful, disgusting cycle of towel stench. Save us!

Nothin' But a G Thang

Here are some of Rex's best tricks--the gang signs he's learned from five weeks of living in the ghettos of Lansing. He's a 'hood figga; he even has the saggy shorts-for-pants. Word.

Adventure in the 'Hood

Last night we had yet another brush with crime and punishment; of course, we wouldn't be able to have a normal week at The Arbors without a visit from the police.

At 11:00 p.m., Adam was lying down by Amber and Rex in our room and I was working in the office. We heard a knock on our door and assumed it was our beloved upstairs neighbor coming to chat with (lie to) us about the goings on with her multiple lovers and roomates. Adam jumped up, threw on some clothes, and retrieved the revolver from the top shelf of our closet. He carefully opened the door to find a young black male (I'll affectionately refer to him as Suspect #2; you'll know why in a moment) trying to push his way past our neighbor, Ken, into their apartment.

Adam said, "Did you knock on our door?" and #2, feverishly out of breath and looking horrified, told Adam he had just been jumped in the parking lot. Suspect #2 proceeded to pull out a $10 bill (convenient after being jumped, no?), hand it to Adam, and say, "I need to come in and call my girlfriend." Adam said, "There's no way I'm letting you in my house, but I'd be happy to call the police for you. Wait here." #2 said, "No, that's o.k." and walked away quickly.

An element which makes this event even more bizarre and creepy is the wailing of several police sirens heard in the area. Adam shut the door and told me about the conversation. We started wondering if QD, the gas station on our corner, or one of the adjacent liquor stores had been robbed again. Adam decided to go check it out and left me with the loaded gun and the kids.

Shortly thereafter, he called my phone and said, "Lock it up!" I could hear police talking to him on the other end and then he said he had to go but would be right home. At QD, Adam told police what had happened. The officer asked for our address (to which he replied, "Oh yeah...you have a problem neighbor in #5, huh?" See what we deal with?!) and asked Adam if he could identify Suspect #2 if he needed him to do so in a line up. Adam said yes, gave the officer his phone number and an offical statement, and returned home.

An hour later, the midnight need for a Monster emerged and Adam headed back to QD to see if the robbery had been cleared up. The clerk said they hadn't been robbed, but that there was a horrbile accident on I-96 (a block southwest of our apartment) and that someone had been hit while trying to cross the freeway. Adam drove over to the scene to find crime tape, ten cop cars, and numerous emergency vehicles. Upon his return, we anxiously waited for a news report to crop up. At around 5:00 a.m. (I finally gave up at 2:00, but he managed to stay awake), Adam told me the whole story. Check it out here: http://www.lansingstatejournal.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20080603/NEWS01/80603001

We believe our visitor last night was Suspect #2. Needless to say, we felt like we were living in an episode of "Cops." Who needs movies when you have real-life crime drama unfolding at your door?

Precious

The other day, Amber and Rex interacted so much that they tuckered right out on the couch. It was adorable!

The New Normal

I never believed that having strict schedules and enforcing routines was all it is cracked up to be. Yes, I know, many of you are frenetically gripping your mouses (mice?) and uttering horror-filled gasps of disgust, but I liked having a bit of flexibility in our family's procedures for two reasons: 1) We operate on a student's clock, which means we steal family togetherness time whenever we can (generally between nine and ten-thirty p.m. and lately around four a.m. for a fun-filled session of whining, eating, whining, movie watching, more whining, and back/tummy/arm/leg/foot tickling) and 2) Spontaneity is something I have always loved. Those were the good old days!

Now, since the feeble daily structure that we maintained pre-Rex is shattered, I yearn to Stepfordize my family's activities for the sake of my fleeting sanity. I never knew I had it so good as far as accomplishing basic tasks goes. My whole method of living is unraveled and I wonder if I'll ever find a 15-minute window of time to actually work out again. I guess I'm almost there, though; I do manage to put on my work out clothes before someone needs a diaper change, a meal, or a load of laundry washed--needless to say, I've been wearing the same work out clothes for a week because they never get worn during a work out.

Ironically, I see that even I, the non-routinist, did in fact employ a schedule that worked fairly well until May second rolled around. I'm taking bets on how long it will be before I regain a livable mode of functionality.

Random Things That Make Me Happy

People always tell me it's the small things that make life wonderful and I agree. I find it funny that once in a while, the small things are SO small, no one but ourselves would be able to notice them. Hence, the purpose of this post. Here are two of my very small things:

1) I finally made a complete batch of sugar cookies (dough-making, refrigeration period, cooking, cooling, frosting-making, and decorating always seems to be way too much of a process for me) and actually had them turn out. They were so cute that I indeed hesitated before I ate each cookie in nearly the whole batch. It did help me, though, that two of our neighborhood kids walked right into our apartment and helped themselves to a few without asking. :) My inner Martha was very satisfied with the darling (if I may say so myself) 7-minute frosting job.

2) As I prepared to take a shower this morning, I noticed the bottom of my ribcage for the first time in about six months. To some, this may seem trivial to the point of ridicule, but to all of you who have been pregnant, this is a reason to rejoice! I must admit, the ribs are still covered in an abundant layer of loose skin and fat, but to see the mere shape--even a suggestion--of a ribcage made me smile.

Despite the six loads of laundry to fold, a filthy bathroom to clean, and three sinkfuls of dirty dishes to wash, today is going to be a glorious day!

Sexy Rexy

Rex is rarely awake, so anytime he opens his eyes I reach for the closest camera I can find (usually my cell phone...which explains the bad resolution and lighting, sorry!). Here are a few shots of the handsome little devil:



Yes, yes...that is a nightgown, but I swear it's a boy nightgown (what!?). Despite the problems that may arise down the road involving Rex's sense of gender identity, the boy nightgowns make 3 a.m. diaper changes much easier on mom (try snapping up a sleeper in a dark room without contacts in).

Obviously, Rex is not starving. Some of his newborn clothes are already tight around his tummy and he's only three weeks old. His cheeks are even more kissable and squishable (Amber and Karli's preferred method of displaying affection) than they were a just a week ago. Rex has been a joy and we really like having another male in the house. He only cries when he's hungry and he's been smiling a lot (o.k., fine, it's a polite way to say he has gas a lot). We love him!

Cutie Pies

My friend Jeanette Neal is a photographer and took some great shots of the kids right after Rex was born. Here are just a few; there were too many wonderful pictures to post them all. I highly recommend her services, so check out her blog (it's the Neal Family in my list of links). For all of you who are interested, let me know if you want me to send some to Wal-Mart to be printed for you (size, black and white or color, photo selection, etc.).

Man Naps

Today Adam put Rex down for his morning nap. He said, "Hey Rex, should we take a man nap?" and they both dozed off. Apparently, a man nap involves two handsome guys sleeping in a big bed with blue sheets and a couple of very masculine, extra-pink Dora and Hello Kitty blankets.

The Midnight Shuffle

I'm sure every parent can relate to this...here's a rundown of the sleeping arrangements that comprised last night:

9:00 p.m. Rex falls asleep in his pack & play (in the family room)
10:00 p.m. Karli falls asleep in her crib (in the bedroom)
11:15 p.m. Amber and Natalie fall asleep in Adam and Nat's bed (in the bedroom, too)
3:24 a.m. Adam moves Amber to her toddler bed (also in the bedroom) and climbs in to bed with Natalie
3:25 a.m. Karli wakes up and gets in bed with Adam, Natalie, and Rex (who is eating)
3:31 a.m. Karli gets relegated to Rex's pack & play (in the living room) because she won't stop screaming
3:39 a.m. Rex gets put in Karli's crib
4:48 a.m. Amber jumps from her bed into Adam and Natalie's bed
6:30 a.m. Adam gets out of bed and ready for school
7:03 a.m. Karli climbs out of Rex's bed and crawls in bed with Natalie and Amber
7:12 a.m. Rex needs to eat again, so he joins the crew in the big bed
7:30 a.m. Rex goes back into Karli's crib
7:31 a.m. Natalie takes her blanket to the couch for 29 minutes of uninterrupted sleep

I have to say that I am most excited for Adam to graduate simply because we can move to a place that has more than one available bedroom! We have quite a circus each night. :)

Intellectual Atrophy

I always thought mommy brain syndrome was a myth until I had kids. It seems like after each of my children was born, I had a period of about three months in which my brain could not handle even the simplest non-child-related process of information. The sad thing about this condition is that it seems to worsen sequentially. This must mean I'm in for a lifetime of staring blankly at adults who try to communicate with me, thinking of nothing but diapers, spaghetti-o's, and sippy cups, and absently responding with a confused "huh?" to everything said to me by anyone older than three.

Yesterday I tried my hand at some of Adam's advanced writing problems and I was stunned to know that I, a devoted grammarian and English major, couldn't even attempt three of the problems, let alone complete any of them correctly. I actually came down with a splitting headache after ten minutes of trying to simplify a sentence full of legalese.

Yet another manifestation of my degenerating mental capacity emerged today as I helped our neighbor make her prom dress: I had to sew in and remove the zipper three times before it looked remotely presentable. Despite reading the instructions four times and having sewn in close to 20 zippers in recent months, I could not figure out how to get the right sides of the zipper to lie on the right sides of the fabric.

Even writing this blog post has taxed my feeble cranium to its limit (I had to use spell-check and found several mistakes!); perhaps this severe and embarrassing mental degeneration is actually a blessing in disguise to help me not realize how absolutely crazy it is to have three kids under three years old. I am lolling along in a blissful daze, my numb brain allowing me to thoroughly enjoy my new baby and become more and more immune to my toddlers' recently implemented blood-curdling-scream reactions to every little irritation they face. For the sake of all you readers, my poor husband who must feel like he has four children to whom he speaks instead of three, and myself, I hope this case of mommy brain syndrome goes away soon!

Hip Hop Hooray

Amber and Karli love to perform for our friends Derrick and Leslie. Whenever we see the Larsons, the girls break out their yoga moves, their funny lines, and everything else that's hilarous. The latest routine features both of the girls waving their arms above their heads and singing "Hip hop hooray... ho... hay...ho...hay...ho...hay!" and shaking their booties. It's pretty darn funny!

Third Time's a Charm

We are so excited to have Rex here! I think all my complaining during pregnancy paid off, because this delivery (sorry to all you moms out there) was a breeze! I feel blessed and very lucky to have had such an easy delivery without complications and a recovery that has been going uncannily well thus far.

I woke up on Friday, took a shower, fixed my hair, did my makeup, and we all headed to the hospital. I checked in at 8:00 a.m., but wasn't hooked up to the pitocin until about 10:15. Before my contractions were too painful, I had a successful epidural and was able to sneak in a nice little nap while Adam took the girls to pick up my mom in East Lansing. As soon as they returned, I had dilated to 8 centimeters (6 centimeters in 45 minutes isn't too shabby, 'eh?) and got the go-ahead from the resident doctor to try a "practice push". She wasn't ready to deliver, and my doctor had just peeked in to see what was happening. I pushed and Rex's head began to emerge!

Doctor Russell yelled, "Go get dressed!" to the resident who was frantically donning gloves, a robe, the sweet deflector-glasses with pink frames (like they really need those, right?) and all the requisite garb. She ran back and told me to push one more time. The baby's head came right out, along with a profusion of amniotic fluid that squirted in a cartoon-like arc directly onto Adam's shirt and arm; I've never seen a look of sheer disgust more telling than his (I was keenly impressed by his controlled tongue, however, when he stopped short of letting the expletives fly), nor a more repulsive display of fluid spraying in every direction that immediately illustrated the necessity of those dorky glasses after all. One more push was all it took before Rex was lying on my (much smaller...ahhhh) stomach and whimpering quietly while sucking his fingers. Poor Adam was again forced to be involved beyond his desire when the resident doctor thrust the scissors into his hand and said, "O.K., dad, cut right here." The whole ordeal was over by 2:00 p.m., just in time for me to have lunch! :)

Rex weighed in at 8 pounds and 1 ounce (90th percentile...I'm so glad he was a week early!) and is 21 inches long. He's so mellow and adorable and looks just like Adam. Amber and Karli can't stop kissing him, holding him, honking his tiny nose, and placing (forcing) his binky in his mouth. They are great big sisters and already love to spoil their baby brother. We are all thankful for this wonderful miracle and new life in our family, as well as the love and support that our families and friends give us. We are so blessed!

18 Hours and Counting

I'm being induced tomorrow morning at 8:00 a.m. and can't wait another minute! I'm so excited to be rid of this gigantic, heaving, automatonic belly I've been hositing and carrying around for what seems like an eternity. More than that, though, I am thrilled by the thought of meeting a new child. I think it will be such a blast to see who he looks like and be reminded how tiny newborns actually are.

Here are the final stats on total damages sustained over the past 40 weeks:
Weight gained - 35 pounds
Inches gained around waist - 17.5
Seconds of mild activity before becoming winded - 12
Cans of Diet Pepsi consumed - 126
False-alarm trips to hospital - 2
Ultrasounds - 3

In the end, I feel like it will all be worth the trouble, but I'll definitely need an abundant period of time before I even want to think about pregnancy in any way, shape, or form again!

Karli's Haircut

Karli is definitely a free spirit; she loves to be naked, she hates wearing shoes, and she absolutely detests having her hair fixed. Since she made a daily routine of removing her hair accessories only seconds after I wrestled her to the ground, pinned her on the floor and combed her hair after each bath, finally her poor, pregnant mom had enough!

In a huff, I decided to cut Karli's hair into a fierce little bob--the kind that looks best when it's not fixed. Karli loved getting her hair cut and I felt grand knowing that I wouldn't have to fight with her every morning or have a daughter who looked as if she emerged from the world's nappiest trailer park. The A-line shape really compliments her features, I think, and matches her feisty personality.

Of course, I didn't ask Adam if he minded, I just did it. When he woke up from a nap, he was stunned, and not in a good way. He immediately started calling Karli "son" and let me know he felt bad that I made our child look like a dork and didn't give him the chance to intercede on her behalf. I felt terrible, and spent the rest of the evening regretting my scissor-frenzied escapade.

This morning, I love the haircut and don't feel too bad about doing something so drastic. After all, it is just hair and it will grow back (very soon, undoubtedly, considering Karli's rate of hair growth). If I can convince Adam, everything will be grand: he'll know that her haircut really is in style and girlish and I won't have to fruitlessly fix her hair every day of my life!

Six Great Years!

Today is Adam's and my sixth anniversary. I can't believe how quickly time has passed (time really does fly when you're having fun) and how much has happened in the past six years. They have definitely been the best six years of my life!

I always get nostalgic, sentimental, and even (big surprise) weepy when I think about how fortunate I am to be married to Adam. He has enriched my life beyond imagination and I feel so blessed to be able to call him my husband. I always heard people say that married life gets better and better, but had a hard time perceiving the concept when I was first married; i thought things were already fabulous enough. Now I know what those people meant...Adam is my best friend and I feel like all of our experiences together have made every day since our wedding better than the one before it. I love being able to live with someone who makes me laugh all the time, takes care of me so tenderly, and is handsome to boot. I'm truly a lucky gal!

So here's to Adam on this special day for us: thank you for being the light of my life! Your patience, kindness, and love mean more to me than anything else. I look forward to spending eternity with you. You're the best!

we so fly

Since both of our girls have grown up in the culturally diverse area of South Lansing, it seems only natural they've coined the following phrases that would make even Lil' Wayne think they were ghetto:

Amber: I'm a hood figga!

Karli: Oh dang (with a head roll and hand push)

Amber: Oh snay-ap! (with a head roll and snap)

Karli: Whatty do, baby boo?

Amber: Step off, girlfriend!

Here's the disturbing part, though: they learned all of these phrases from my sisters who, obviously, are as white as can be. Fo shizzle.

Lil' Mama

Today Karli woke up around 6:30 a.m., so I took her out to the couch to see if she'd fall asleep again. She did, as did I, and I woke up three hours later to Amber gently tucking her special "big blankie" around Karli (who was, of course, [un]dressed in nothing but a diaper). I said, "Good morning, Amber" and she said, "Karli is really cold and she wants to use my big blankie." It was adorable. What a good little mother she is!

Love Thy Neighbors?

As some of you know, we have a bunch of interesting neighbors. Between high-decible XBox all-nighters, drunken displays of loud and lewd language, domestic violence, and illicit drug purchase, sale, and usage among parents with several children, we feel like we've seen the best of Lansing right outside our door (and sometimes we don't even have to leave the apartment; we can hear/smell all of it from the comfort of our own living room!).

Our upstairs neighbor has been particularly annoying; she and her live-in boyfriend--who isn't supposed to be living here in the first place--fought incessantly. By fighting, I mean wrestling, pushing, hitting, clawing and kicking to the point that my pictures fell off my walls. Add to the physical element a low-class vocabulary (it consists of three words: stupid f*$@!#% b&$@!) at unbelievably high volumes and we had a situation on our hands.

Since Adam is the tenderhearted protector that he is, he went upstairs one night to see if our neighbor was o.k. He was hesitant to even get involved, but humanity won over. She told him to please call the police if any of us saw her boyfriend around--that she had been trying to get rid of him for ages, that he kept coming around, and that she even filed a protective order against him. After calling the police once, we were informed by the officers that our neighbor told them she wanted him to stay, that everything was fine, and not to worry about the situation. The police then let us know that there was no protective order...our neighbor lied through her teeth to Adam, who was just trying to make sure she was safe.

Needless to say, we were stunned that she could be such a liar, so we decided to wash our hands and ignore her as much as possible. Since then, the police have been to her apartment several times and we didn't even have to call them. After an arrest a month ago, she's finally being evicted. Being the sweetheart that she is, she left us a hate note on our door yesterday. I couldn't believe how ridiculous it was:
To Whom it May Concern:
You are a #!%@$. %&*# you and your whole life you dont have to keep calling the police.
Again you are a #!%@$ and i just thought you might want to know that. If you have a
problem come see me about it, but I guess thats to much to ask from a #!%@$ like you
Have a %@!$%# life
-You know who
P.S. If this letter does not pertain to you, disregard it

I guess she got the eviction notice! We're excited that our XBox-playing side neighbors will be out of here in eight days, and hopefully our upstairs neighbor will be gone soon, too. It's always an adventure living here...just ask my mother-in-law who visited us last week. :)

False Alarm

Yesterday I started having annoying contractions at about 4:30 in the afternoon. I thought for sure they'd stop after an hour or so; I didn't worry about it and proceeded with my tasks. After two hours of progressively painful episodes, I started to wonder if I was actually in labor (yes, after two pregnancies, I still don't know what spontaneous labor feels like...inductions are the only way to go!) and figured I should go to the hospital. Adam and I loaded up the girls, who had not taken naps and were beyond grumpy, and headed up the street to check in.

Naturally, as soon as I was hooked up to the monitors and had endured thirty minutes of questions regarding my smoking status, etc., the contractions stopped completely. The best part of the whole experience was at the check-in desk when all of the women working said, "Oh, you're probably a pro at this since you've had two already. You must really be in labor!" I felt like such a dork. The only redeeming moment came when I walked out to the car where Adam and the girls were waiting: Amber asked if the doctor took my baby out of my tummy and Karli said, "Mommy, O.K.?"

To put the finishing touches on an especially irritating occurance, the girls didn't sleep at all last night. It was not my idea of fun to wake up to make three trips to the bathroom in the night and see two little heads poking up from toddler beds each time. Finally, at 5:30 a.m., they were awake for good. I got them out of bed and was treated to a symphony of whining, fits of rage, and Amber climbing on all of the kitchen countertops, stealing things from the cabinets, and dumping them all over the kitchen. She did, however, decide to tidy things up a bit by emptying the bottle of liquid dish soap all over the floor and using her sippy cup's contents to emulsify the cleansing concoction into a big, bubbly disaster.

I hope I can survive motherhood! :)