Autumn life and readying for Baby

And... snap, just like that, it's autumn out there.

While I know so many people are mourning the loss of summer, I am completely entranced by the beauty of late summer / early autumn. I am a sucker for cardigans, crunchy leaves, tea, and pumpkin-spice muffins (but not pumpkin spice lattes... they're yucky... and too trendy) so I say bring on Fall!

Of course, this fall brings the wonderful, miraculous event of having a baby, so I am decidedly eager to say farewell to summer.

But what a wonderful summer we had. Trips to the lake almost daily, a visit from the paternal grandparents (where the children got to go white-water rafting... {they are living a more exciting life at their combined age of 6 than I am at... much older!}), backyard explorations, gardening attempts (we harvested all of three potatoes and adorable dear Noah said "I think this was a good crop! Let's try again next year, too!") and general merriment.

Patrick took the last week of August off work, and we decided to spend it completely at home. We did a few projects around the house, arranged for a visit with some friends, and hung out at the Madonna House Heritage Festival where Noah tried his hand at quilling and they each got their own balloon animal. Kid-bliss.

My bliss, however, was this -- a new tea pot from the gift shop at Madonna House. 

It's very tall, which is needed, because tea is consumed in ridiculous amounts around here, and it's also pretty. 

A friend saw me in line with it and said "You're pretty brave for buying something so beautiful with little boys in the house." 

I countered, "Sure, it might get broken, but don't I deserve something beautiful anyway?" 

Our wood arrived for the cooler fall days and the long, long days of winter (sorry, I can't stomach saying that right now) and Patrick and the boys got to stacking it straight away.

I love seeing them at work together. 

Meanwhile, I stayed inside and made bread and listened to country music. Gender roles, much?

Speaking of gender roles, nothing delineates the sexes more than gestating. 

When Isaiah and I discuss the baby, he turns to Patrick and says "

you have a baby in your womb, too?" 

So we explain to him that only women have wombs 

and only women can grow babies inside. 

What a darling he is, because when I told him that he used to be inside my womb, too, he looked completely in awe and said 

"thank you for letting me live in your womb, Mama!"

Yup, I'm pregnant and I know it.

So pregnant, in fact, that my feet are no longer visible.

I'm 33 weeks today, which means there's a whole lotta baby in me, and not much lung capacity anymore. Trying to sing at Mass, I gasp for air and give up after a verse or two.

I had to lean way over to photograph my feet, but by cracky, they are still there, with a still-visible flip-flop tan line. 

And here I am. 

If I look exhausted, it's because I am. 

I am wiiiide awake at 4 am and I am unable to get back to sleep, 

despite eating a snack, using the bathroom, praying for more sleep. 

So I have been going to bed at 8:30 lately. 

Suffice to say, I spend little time interacting with Patrick without the kids around

 and the time I would normally devote to putting away laundry 

(after they go to bed... which is because I find it such a peaceful activity to do in silence) 

is rather truncated. 

Never fear, though, the laundry does get done.

And here are my little sweethearts hard at work making play-doh creations.

They have become the best of friends.

Because even complete strangers need to butt in with their negative opinions and observations, every piece of affirming advice or encouraging word I receive needs to be documented.

For instance, the mom who had 7-under-7 smiled at me and said, "You got this, mama!" 

She reminded me that the boys have each other to play together while I sit and nurse the new baby, making it much easier than when I had a toddler and a new baby to look after.

(And for the record, since so many people warned me how terrifying having two kids would be, 

I can confidently say that one child is much, much harder to mother than two. 

Never fear, Mom of One!)

Also, just yesterday afternoon at our local Farmer's Market, I was stopped by a man who told me I was "so blessed" and that I had "beautiful children." 

These moments matter.