Dear Annie Bananie,

Or, to use your full name, Annie Bananie Cuckoo Katanie:

I'm sorry.  I've really dropped the ball on this blog.  The last year and a half have been really busy, I just lost steam, and figured who cares.  But then I look back at the stories I've written down about Mabes, and realize you've kind of gotten the shaft.  You are a such a fun little girl and I don't want to forget the little things that make me smile every day.  So I'm writing this down so that when you're older and ask about what kind of kid you were, I can tell you.  At three years old, you were:

HILARIOUS.  You make me laugh every day and you know it.  Your sense of humor is much more subtle than your crazy older sister's, but you've been funny for as long as I can remember.  As a baby, there was something in your eyes, and now also the way you raise one eyebrow, your little half-smile with dimple, or the way you give me the side eye.  Your timing is fantastic--you know when to crack a joke and when to reel it in.  I'll ask you to make a silly face and it's a different one every time.  You do silly walks for me, though my longstanding favorite is the penguin: arms straight down, hands flared out, legs straight, chin tucked in, eyebrows raised and you shuffle around the room.  

(the stink eye)

Sweet.  You give the best hugs.  My favorite is our hands free hug.  I wear you like a front pack and you cling to me for as long as you can (this isn't long if you're giggling) until you get tired and yell "Yes hands!"  and I wrap my arms around you.  After a break, you yell "No hands!" and I let go and you're back to being a little koala on me. This game lasts until you are tired or I actually need to get something done.  And you give the best supersqueezes.  It's much easier to start my day after I've had an Annabelle supersqueeze.

You adore your siblings.  You're such a good big sister.  You help me with Bubs, you comfort him when he gets hurt, sing and dance for him, make him laugh, even share your beloved Littlest Pet Shop toys with him.  And he lights up when he sees you.  You insist on trying to hold him, but refuse to acknowledge he's almost as big as you are.  You think you're almost as big as Mabes, or as you sometimes call her, Mabes-a-doodle.  You have been counting down to "summer bacation" and now that it's here you are thrilled to have Mabes home every day.  You guys are silly and crazy and sometimes get a little out of hand, but you love each other so much. 

Imaginative. You can entertain yourself for hours.  I love listening outside your room during quiet time and hearing all the fun your toys are having.  I didn't put you in preschool this year.  Over the summer and at the beginning of the school year, I was dealing with a colicky baby and the thought of scheduled preschool was just one more thing and it seemed too overwhelming.  Besides, you're not going to kindergarten until fall 2015, so I figured we have time.  Apparently, you decided to go to school anyway.  Each day, you would tell me about your preschool, the things you were learning, the kids in your class, the food fights (daily!), the painting fiascoes, the turtle class pet, and your teacher Miss Kinsey who is really fun and sleeps on a bench (you weren't clear as to whether it was a park bench or some bench in her house...but it kind of sounded like a park bench).  You've told me about your friends Fossa and Kinsa and Moussa, and sometimes they tag along when we run errands.  We've had as many as 10 of your friends go with us to Costco, Hobby Lobby, and the grocery store, and you've assured me that they are all properly buckled into carseats and will behave.  They're kind enough to bring their own snacks, and you're quick to point out that they won't make messes of their strawberries and apricots.  When they're with us, you are exceptionally well-behaved, presumably to set an example for these friends.  I hope they stick around. 

Self conscious...at times.  If you're trying to do something challenging, you don't want me to watch.  You like to exercise with me, but I'm not allowed to look at you while you do squats with your Lincoln Log weights.  Since you've been potty trained, every time you go to the bathroom you tell me I can't say "good job." 

And confident at other times.  You firmly believe you can do everything Mabes can. Last night, she was jumping in the pool and though you had been timid at the pool a couple of days earlier, you decided you could jump in, too.  After a few jumps you turned to Dad with excitement in your face and said "Dis time, I'm going to jump in by myself and it will be AMAZING."  You did, and it was.  A couple of weeks ago, you were painting and as you put the finishing touches on your work of art, you surveyed it with obvious satisfaction and with a smug smile whispered, "I'm the best Annabelle ever!"  I smiled and agreed with you, but that snapped you back to reality.  You shot me a look and said, "No, Mommy, you don't say that." Oh, okay.  "You just say, 'I love you, Annie.'"  Got it.  I love you, Annie.

Fun to watch sleep.  Yep, it makes me sound kind of creepy, but sometimes when I check on you before I go to bed, I just sit and watch you.  You're so peaceful and sweet, and sometimes you giggle.  Just an FYI--I'm not sure when, if ever, I'll stop.  Hopefully by the time you're in high school?

Even more fun to wake up.  Aunt Laura and Aunt Becca have this running joke about how cute babies are when they're sleeping, so let's wake them up and play with them. It was so difficult for Mabes to fall asleep and stay asleep that even joking about waking her up was enough to send me into panic mode.  On the other hand, you often wake up when I come into your room to close your curtains or turn off your fan, and when you see me, your face lights up and I feel like a celebrity when you smile and squeal, "You checked on me!" as you realize I'm holding up my end of the bedtime bargain.  The other night, I missed bedtime so when I came to check on you, I kissed your forehead, adjusted your blanket, and tried to sneak out.  As I made it to the door, I heard, "Hug me, mommy!" I was happy to oblige.  We hugged and I whispered "I love you so very much, Annie."  You smiled, laid down, closed your eyes, raised your eyebrows, and whispered, "I love today so much...swimming...bubbles...super MEGA bubbles...I love today."

 You're not perfect--you whine, throw fits, scream, ignore me, make your sister mad...you're three.  But you're a little ball of amazing; you're a smart, precocious little girl and I'm so grateful I get to watch you grow up.  Time goes by way too fast and I know that all too soon, you'll be grown up and I'm going to wonder where this sweet little three year old went.  My heart aches just thinking about it.

But I won't dwell on that.  Instead, I'll go check on you tonight and look forward to a supersqueeze in the morning.

I love you, puppy.

Easter

 

Mabes & Annie: She said smile.  Let's give her the cheesiest smiles we can.
WP: Whatever, I'll smile for the lady.  I'm just glad she ran out of time and couldn't make that vest and bow tie to match your dresses.  Easter dresses for you, Opening Day sweater vest for me.  That's the way it should be. 
 

 WP: Annie, you create a diversion, I'll make a run for the jelly beans!

 WP: She's doing the bunny ears again, right?  Yeah, those are hi-lar-ious.

 Silly picture!

 Mabes: "Annie, you're supposed to be doing bunny ears!  You can't have a silly picture without bunny ears, and I've already got my fingers in my ears, so YOU have to do bunny ears!"

Annie: Fine.  I'll do the freakin' bunny ears, but they are dumb.

 

Happy Easter!

Oh, hello there

 Fancy seeing you here.  Or me, for that matter.  One of these days I'll catch up.  Or start over.  It's been forever since I posted anything, and Dave pointed out that the aunts might want to see pictures of these kids--I can't believe how fast they're growing up. So here's a quick summary:
 

 We're back on dairy, and have been for some time. Colic has passed, he's been off reflux meds for a few months, and he's really just the happiest little guy.  As long as he's not supposed to be sleeping; he's not a big fan of that.  I hate to say it, but his sleeping has been similar to Mabes'.  Heaven help me.  Having a 2-3 year old on top of the sleep issues has been difficult, but on the upside, he is WAY more chill than Mabes was during waking hours.  Mabes constantly demanded attention (shocking, right?), whereas he's pretty content to just watch the mayhem.

 Annabelle is 3 in every way.  She is adorable, sweet, cuddly, and a complete joy, and she also manages to be a shrieking, demanding, whining terror.  But the hugs outnumber the tantrums, so she's doing 3 pretty well.

 Seriously, I love this little guy.  It's been at least 9 months since I got more than 4 hours of unbroken sleep (usually it's 3 hours, though), but look at those cheeks!  I can't hold a grudge.

Mabes is 7 and a half (that half is very important), a great big sister, and loving second grade.  Both Annie and William are very happy when Mabes gets home from school; she is a crazy personality, but of course they love it.  And yes, that's Ricecake.  She's doing well, too. 

I love you more than cheese

My sisters and I have often argued over what would be harder to give up: cheese or chocolate. My sisters vote cheese, I said chocolate, but the argument always ends with "Thankfully, we don't have to make that choice!"

1 month old

Liam has been a bit of a spitter. No big deal, so was Annabelle. But he's also been colicky, so the doctor put in on Zantac for acid reflux and had me cut out dairy. So cheese AND chocolate.  I googled the heck out of "milk protein allergy/intolerance," and while I'm quite sure it's not a full-fledged allergy, apparently milk/dairy can aggravate reflux, so it's out of the diet for now. Which sucks. Also, after a brief spell of him doing better, I began to wonder if he really had reflux or if he had just been fussy and was now outgrowing it, so I decided to skip a couple of doses. Big mistake. I'd rather not talk about it.

Two months old

They talk about the depth of a mother's love, and to me, this is it: Liam, I love you more than ice cream. More than chocolate milk. More than buttered popcorn, lasagna, pizza, quesadillas, cream filled donuts, cheeseburgers, milkshakes, yogurt, M&Ms, and cheesecake brownies.


The good news is that he's doing a lot better. He's very smiley and quite talkative (shocking, as my other two children are veritable mutes), though I think he is justifiably concerned that I might take a bite out of his cheeks or thighs.

After his blessing. And yes, those cheeks are as delicious as they look.

And at the risk of sounding like I'm complaining that my diamond shoes are too tight, Dave's paternity leave is officially over and he heads back to work (upstairs) tomorrow. It's been great having him around and we'll miss him, though with a super emotional postpartum wife, screaming baby, and 2 crazy girls, I'm sure there were many days he would have preferred to go to work.

Skater moves!

It's Booty Time again!

This is Dave here and I am commandeering the blog again for a moment to let you know about an awesome event that I'm participating in in less than two weeks and to ask for your support. For the second year I will be riding in the annual 24 Hours of Booty bike ride in Charlotte. It's a 24-hour bike ride that raises money for national and local cancer initiatives. 

I don't have to remind you how much cancer sucks, but through events like this, through the stories we hear and see and through the people we meet, I feel blessed to be reminded how much good is out there, especially when you see so many rallying together to support and push forward.

Allison provided a great recap of last year's event on the blog.  So what came of the money raised?  Many of you helped last year and one of the key results of these and many other donations was the creation of a special, dedicated workout facility to allow cancer survivors to get back to activity at their own pace, not feeling self-conscious about their recuperating bodies.  This facility has received great reviews from those who use it and the goal is to create another such facility in a different area of the Charlotte Metro area this year and to further extend the physical and occupational therapy options for these fighters as they get back on their feet.

So far as a team we've held a 24-hour garage sale, a semi-formal gala, food events and more and now we're coming down the home stretch and I just want to ask for a little more help if possible to meet my personal goal of $2500 raised and to reach for our team goal of $100,000.

You can help here by making a donation of any size.  Your support is greatly appreciated and if there's any way I help you feel more a part of the even, no matter the distance, let me know.

24 Hours of Booty is a registered non-profit that has raised more than $7 million in the fight against cancer. Funds raised are divided among local cancer initiatives and LIVESTRONG.

Introducing...

Magnus Falcon Danger Whitley

To appease the birth certificate people, it's actually spelled William Patrick. But it's pronounced Magnus Falcon Danger.

There's a long version of the birth story below, but for those that want the short version: Magnus was born at 3:02 am on June 20, ten minutes after arriving at the hospital. It was painful and chaotic and crazy, but also completely awesome. In hindsight, I'm glad it went the way it did. He was 9 lbs, 8 oz and 21" long. We're completely smitten with this little dude.

To make a short story long...

The birth--it's long, but I'm writing down the details for me:

I can't decide if my labors are fast or the longest labors ever. After three kids, you'd think I'd know when labor starts and frankly, I'm still not sure. I start getting Braxton Hicks contractions (painless, irregular contractions, though they get pretty regular for me) in the second trimester, and they slowly get more uncomfortable as the pregnancy progresses. They were pretty regular in the evenings the week before we closed on our house, but after we closed, they eased up for a few days. As I mentioned in the last post, at my appointment on June 12, my doctor said I could go any day. By Friday, I felt like I was having hour-long contractions. These continued over the weekend, and after sweating it out in the bathroom at church I was ready to find the anesthesiologist in our ward and ask for the epidural right then. Then it passed, and I felt fine again.

I woke up Tuesday (June 19) determined to have a fun day with my girls, since my doctor was REALLY sure I could go any day now. We went and got donuts, took them to a friends house, ate, laughed, and had a great time. The scheduling nurse called and I turned down the induction--we'll let him come when he's ready. I was having irregular contractions all day, but not bothering to time them, since I could walk and talk through them. They started getting more uncomfortable as the afternoon progressed, but dangit, I was determined to have a fun pizza dinner with Mabes and Annabelle! We did, but I was feeling pretty crappy by the time dinner was over. I took them upstairs, showered them, and Dave put Mabes to bed while I put Annabelle to bed. I had a pretty strong contraction while singing to her (who knew "Take Me Out to the Ball Game" could feel so long?), but hey, I could still sing, so it must not be a real contraction, right?

Just in case this was the start of labor, I decided to take a shower. "They" say that can slow or stop contractions if it's not real labor, so I figured it was worth a shot. I felt great...until another contraction would hit. But maybe they're spreading out. I crashed on the couch and emailed the friends that had volunteered to watch the girls, in the off chance this was labor. I was not convinced. I called my mom. I was timing them, and they'd be 5 minutes apart for a while, then they'd go 6 or 7. And then 4, but then back to 5 or 6. Besides, I really didn't want to bother anyone in the middle of the night, and I didn't want to drive all the way uptown to be told it was just false labor. I was hoping the contractions would die down for the night, resume the next morning, and then my doctor (who wasn't on call that night) could deliver the baby.

I went to bed at 11, and slept off and on between contractions. Finally, I got up around 1:45 to use the bathroom and after timing a few more contractions, I decided that even though they were 4-6 minutes apart, they were hurting enough that I should probably go in. Then my water broke. I just said, "Dave! We've gotta go!" and he was up. I called Julie to let her know and she said she'd be right over. I got dressed, called the doctor's answering service, and threw things in my bag as I answered the nurse's questions. That call took ridiculously long. She asked when labor started...um, I don't know. But I hurt now. She put me on hold to call the on call doctor. At this point, I just wanted to go outside and get some fresh air and just kept thinking, "don't throw up in your front yard...don't throw up in the neighbor's yard--you haven't met them yet!" Dave started the car and I just collapsed in the front seat with the air blowing on me. Finally, the nurse came back on the phone and said, "Okay, the doctor says you can head in to labor and delivery..." I wasn't waiting for permission, I was calling to tell you I'm on my way! "...is there anything else I can do for you?" "No, I need to go now" I whimpered and hung up. Julie drove up, and I had wanted to give her instructions or a hug and tell her thank you, but I couldn't move. Dave talked to her, though, and she understood.

As we headed off at 2:30, we decided to forego the freeway and head up sidestreets--my GPS said it was faster at 34 minutes. 34 minutes?!?! That sounded like an eternity. But thankfully, at that time of night, lights were in our favor and we were making really good time. I just kept watching the line where it said how many minutes left until the hospital. Focusing on that got me through each contraction, which were probably 2-3 minutes apart at this point, and pressure in my back and tailbone were building. During each contraction, I was praying we'd make it to the hospital in time; during each (short) break, I'd convince myself they were slowing down and maybe I wasn't in real labor yet.

We pulled up in front of the hospital, but had a red light where we needed to turn to get to the parking garage. There was another car and cop on the other side, but as soon as the cop turned the other way, Dave gunned it through the light. I would have kissed him had I been able to move. We made it to the "moms in labor" parking and Dave asked if I wanted to wait while he got me a wheelchair. I said something like "get a wheelchair, but I'm not waiting here!" I staggered out of the car and up the steps to the lobby while Dave grabbed my bag and followed. As soon as we walked in, the security guard got us a wheelchair and started giving Dave directions to L&D on the 8th floor. This suddenly seemed incredibly far away. As I collapsed in the chair, the guard asked how far apart my contractions were ("on top of each other") and if I was feeling the urge to push ("yes!"). He just said, "Okay, I got this" and he quickly took us to the elevator, used his badge to call it immediately, and then practically ran to L&D. When he got to the nurses, he explained and asked what room I was supposed to be in. A nurse there had a gown ready for me, and it didn't occur to me to go to the bathroom for privacy (I *think* the security guard left immediately, but I don't really know)--I just stripped in the middle of the room, put the gown on, and curled up on the bed.

They put the monitors on me, one nurse grabbed my left arm to put an IV in (really?!?!), and another nurse (Ashley) came and checked me, "She's fully dilated, +2 station--call the doctor. Allison, just breathe through the contractions." This was all too familiar; I had to breathe through contractions for 15 minutes with Annabelle and it hurt. I was still in disbelief that it was actually happening, so I asked if it was too late for the epidural. The nurse just laughed and said, "The baby will be here way before the anesthesiologist!" At least there was hope the pain would be over soon. I was curled up on my right side breathing through another contraction, but when the next one hit, I said "I can't stop him--I feel like he's coming out now!" IV nurse told me to hold still, I wanted to yell "You hold still!" but didn't have the energy. Ashley said, "Okay, Allison, go ahead and push...lift up your leg..."(I was still curled in a ball on my right) "push again..." another nurse swooped in, "Here's your baby!" I just stared in disbelief, and looked over at Dave, who had the same look on his face. And IV nurse finally finished placing the IV.

With Ashley, the nurse that delivered him.

As I watched them dry him off, cut his cord, and remark on what a beautiful healthy baby he was, I was amazed at how much better I felt. The contractions had stopped, pressure was gone, and I just felt amazing. One of the nurses took the monitors off me, looked at the contraction/heartrate printout and laughed--"We put this on you as soon as you got in here at 2:59, and he was born at 3:02 am! I think this is the shortest printout I've seen!" He weighed in at 9 lbs, 8 oz and is 21" long. He has dark hair (for now; both my girls did, too), chubby cheeks, and is absolutely perfect.