Thanksgiving and Random Kid Updates

I've been wanting to do a general update post and both boys have now had official weigh ins. Dalton is 34 pounds and Royce is 25! That means if I run with the double stroller, or, more likely, if I pick them both up because meltdowns come in pairs, it's just about 60 pounds of toddler love in my arms. 

So far, age 3 has hilariously ridiculous. Dalton is officially in that "kids say the darnest things" phase and Eric and I are constantly in tears laughing. It's probably not worth sharing in a "only a mother finds it funny" sort of way but I will share an example anyway. 

Me: It's Friday! 

Dalton: FRY?? Fries are at Chick-Fil-A! 

It's also worth noting my devotion to cooking has declined a bit. But if Chick-Fil-A is wrong, I don't want to be right. Next thing you'll be telling me it's wrong to "bribe your kids with munchkins" or "send them downstairs with the tablet so I can sleep for another 20 minutes". (Please note these currently only work for 50% of my children but holding out hope we can get to 100% any day now.)

Dalton has also taken to yelling "Alyssa!" over and over during his "naptime". I guess he figured he wasn't getting any answers from "mommy" or "daddy". He has fought sleep since the moment he entered this world. Seriously, one of the first comments we got, after noting his eyelashes were super long, was how alert he was for a newborn. 

#proof #lashesfordays

At Royce's 18 month appointment, I asked the doctor if it was normal that he always seemed really tired when it got close to bedtime/naptime. She looked at me like I was crazy, which, I then realized, was probably true, because what a dumb question. But I swear Dalton has NEVER acted tired in his life, barring a few times when he was really sick. During special occasions he's gone hard with no nap, until like 10pm. So a child not only approaching, but embracing the idea of sleep because he accepts that he's tired, well, that's a new one for me. 

Royce is now on the backside of one and, just like his older brother, never stops moving. I can never find any good pictures of him, he's just a blur. And smiling pictures? There's no way. While he's definitely a happy kid, and we get to see his beautiful smile all the time, his typical expression is just pure concentration as he wanders around, touching, looking, and climbing on everything, just trying to figure out this crazy world he lives in. 

He's still solidly in that parallel play stage, and when it's just me and him sometimes I feel like I don't know what to do because he is perfectly happy just wandering around, doing his own thing. He'll occasionally bring me something, and, lately, he's wanted a little more affection and begging to be picked up a lot, but mostly, he just wants to explore, preferably from the highest vantage point in the room. 

When he's around his brother, it's a different story, because he just wants to do whatever Dalton does. The other day Dalton was having a mini meltdown and laying on his back on the kitchen floor. We were ignoring him and Royce went over and laid down next to him, and he just had the hugest smile on his face and was so proud and excited. Then yesterday, Dalton was helping me unload the dishwasher (please please let this love of household chores continue forever #yeahright). Royce was kind of watching, checking it out, and finally came over and started handing me silverware, again looking just so proud. He always wants to be involved with everything, and he usually struggles to totally figure out what's going on, but he tries! 

Always helping

We got to spend some one on one time together on a sick day when he had an ear infection last week. We bonded over our shared love of pickles in the grocery store while waiting for his antibiotics. 

The sibling love is still going strong with these two. The other day I came out of the bathroom and they were just sitting like this. I mean...I can't. 

When I try to say Royce can't do something with us because he's too little (ex. swim class) Dalton insists he's big, and says he misses him when he's napping. They constantly gravitate to each other and Dalton is the only person that Royce truly "plays" with and his smiles when he does are to die for. Whenever one of them is crying, the other one will bring over some sort of comfort item. 

They both loved being involved in kitchen prep for Thanksgiving, sometimes being more helpful than others. Like when I tried to make apple pie and they both just started devouring sugar covered apples. 

 We had our traditional fried turkey.

It was just the four of us, so we had a simple spread. Turkey, mac and cheese, stuffing, cranberry sauce, and mashed potatoes. 

With a side of fire truck.

Centerpieces brought to you from daycare crafts.

And obviously, apple pie a la mode for dessert. Then we attempted, and I believe, nailed the family self timer picture.

Attempt #2

We have plenty of seating, but there's no seating as good as Dad after a huge meal.

I was way too lazy for Black Friday shopping, and anyway I usually don't get my ducks even in the same pond to buy gifts until at least Christmas Eve. However, I was adamant we had to set up the tree. Dalton was SO excited and kept saying "It's just perfect!". He loved putting the ornaments on almost as much as Royce loved taking them off and throwing them. 

"Who, me?"

And that's what's going on with us! Personally I'm psyched it's the most wonderful time of the year and I can (continue to) play my Christmas music without being judged now.

Baltimore Marathon Recap: DNS

So I trained for four months, ran a 20 miler, was totally prepared to run a marathon and then....it didn't happen. I didn't run. I didn't even show up to the start line. It was a bit of a bummer.

The week before the marathon, I had a bad cough, but nothing that I thought much of. But in the days leading up to the race, it was getting worse, my chest was hurting, and coworkers were starting to run in the opposite direction when they saw me in the hall. My marathon prospects weren't looking good when I felt like I couldn't even handle going to the expo to pick up my bib. Sure, I probably could have pushed through and maybe even finished the race, but I wasn't interested in bronchitis or pneumonia.

The truth was, even before I got sick, I had been fairly sure I wouldn't be completing the marathon, although I thought I could at least do SOME of it.



Two days after the 20 miler, I found out we are expecting baby #3! Unlike the common stereotypes for a third pregnancy, I have not been laid back or nonchalant AT ALL about this. Starting with finding out. When it comes to getting pregnant, there are two types of people. If you can understand this sentence: "I got my BFP on a FRER at 12po.", then you are my type of people. If it makes no sense to you, you've probably never gone down the rabbit hole of TTC (trying to conceive) websites and general obsession that comes with desperately wanting a baby and not having your body cooperate immediately. In that case, you definitely will not identify with the following story and definitely will think I'm crazy (which I am).


I felt good during the race, so I had pretty much written off that month for a positive pregnancy test. But then, that Tuesday at work, I started to really suspect I was pregnant. I had implantation bleeding, which I had also had with both boys (bleeding when the fertilized egg implants in the uterus). One of my wise friends, who is also my level of pregnancy crazy, told me to check my heart rate in my FitBit. Since the day I had ovulated, my daily average resting heart rate was consistently up at least 2 bpm.

That seemed pretty auspicious, so as soon as I left work I went to Walgreens, bought a FRER (expensive pregnancy test, considered to be the most accurate and gets the earliest positives). I had cheap amazon test strips at home, but my period wasn't due for 3 more days, so I needed the big guns if I wanted to get to the bottom of this. Plus I'd been holding it for hours at this point, attempting to save up pee for testing needs.

I took the test in the dirty Walgreens bathroom, and it was...inconclusive. With pregnancy tests, even the faintest hint of a shadow of a line means a positive. But I kept getting confused - sometimes I thought I saw that shadow of a line, sometimes not. I spent a good ten minutes sitting in my van staring at it at various angles, in various lights, etc. I couldn't tell. I used an app to invert the line, and sent pictures to friends. Still inconclusive. Some saw it, some didn't.

I maintain that the line is clear as day on the inverted picture. 

See, you can't just take another test because my pee had already been diluted during the first test so any further tests would just have the same problem. (Pregnancy tests test for the presence of HCG, a hormone your body produces when knocked up, and it increases in amount the further along in your pregnancy you are. That early on, before a missed period even occurs, it's a very minimal amount which is why it's so hard to detect on a home pregnancy test.)

Sure, I could test again in the morning, but if you are thinking that then you do not understand a potentially pregnant woman's need to know NOW not in the morning NOW NOW NOW. It was torturous. Eric insisted there was no line and I was crazy. So I woke him up at 5am the next morning to show him an extremely clear, unmistakable POSITIVE test!! 

Yep, it's my third rodeo and my hand was still shaking seeing that second line for sure. It's pretty amazing and I don't think I'll ever get over the idea that my body is actually creating a human being as I type this. 

However, there are some differences in a third pregnancy. With my first, I was instructed to drink x o ounces of water an hour before the first sonogram. I set an alarm to remind me to drink at work, drank that exact number of ounces exactly an hour before the sonogram. 

With the third, we were walking upstairs to the Perinatal center and I was like "oh shit I was supposed to have a full bladder, give me some of your coffee". 

My anxiety has been off the chain this time. Of course, I'm always worried about losing the baby when pregnant, but it's been much worse this time. The older I get, the more I know, and the more I realize how much it's truly a miracle to conceive and carry a healthy baby to term. There's a LOT that can go wrong. It's gotten harder and harder for me to feel confident things will go right. And I still have a long way to go. Up until we saw the heartbeat last month, I was a nervous wreck. But, we saw it! It was beautiful and I cried. This is one of many reasons it drives me crazy when I'm asked if we are "trying for a girl". I don't care, I just want to see a healthy heartbeat on the sonogram!

A couple basics:

Due date: June 9 (likely a scheduled c section a week or so before that)

How far along: 8.5 weeks and counting

Feeling: completely  miserable, by far the worst of all 3, I just started Zofran yesterday and so far it's a Godsend. 

Sex: Keeping it a mystery again! We won't know until June. We are not "going for a girl" and will be thrilled with a healthy baby either way. (Can you tell this is a pet peeve?)

Do the boys know: I mean, technically yes, but do they care or understand or show any interest? No! They are live in the moment types. 

So, in a nutshell, that's the story of the marathon I never ran! I'm not posting a social media pregnancy announcement just yet, so I'm just posting this blog post quietly, not on Facebook or anything, so only the very few people who still have me in a reader (THANK YOU) will even see it (if anyone).