What Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt Taught Me About Having a Newborn

The first week I was in a fog.

The second week I was in pain.

The third week I was absolutely and completely overwhelmed.

I am just past the three week mark of being the mom to three kids four and under and I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing. I am overwhelmed. I know that my situation is cake compared to other families. I mean. My husband has his own business and can work from home. He’s completely reworked his schedule the past three weeks so that he can help me with the kids. He stays up late so he can catch up on work. He lets me sleep in and he cooks for us and he lets me take a shower in the middle of the day and he’s just amazing. I really shouldn’t be complaining at all. I really shouldn’t. And maybe me telling myself that is what makes me feel so much worse about the overwhelmed- because-I’m-not-cut-out-for-this feelings.

What Kimmy Schmidt Taught Me

I think I forgot how needy newborns can be. Anna is on me 24/7. That is almost not an exaggeration. She eats non stop. That’s not true. She stops. She takes naps. But when she’s hungry, she’s hungry for HOURS. It’s this constant cycle. Feed her on one side. Burp. Feed her on the other side. Burp. Change her diaper. Burp. Still crying. Burp. Feed her what’s left on one side. Burp. Bounce. Still crying. Burp. Feed her what’s left on the other side. Burp. Change diaper. Feed her again. Bounce. Burp. Sing. Sleep. Lay her down. Crying. It’s non stop until it stops and then I just want to lay down and rest my boobs. But there are two other little ones who need me and so I try to give them my undivided attention, but it’s not easy. I’m tired. I’m cranky. I feel like a failure 289 times a day. Why is it taking me so long to get a handle on this new life? I’m not the first mom to have three kids. I’m not the first to have two in diapers. I’m not the first and the fact that I just can’t seem to figure this out drives me insane.

So I push myself to do things I have no business doing. Like taking a four year old, a twenty month old, and a 3 week old to the grocery store by myself. Like trying to make sure the kitchen is spotless and the dishes are washed at all times. I used to take pictures all day long and now I find myself wanting to hide from any and all cameras because my life is so out of control right now. I know it probably doesn’t look that chaotic from the outside, but inside my head, I’m a mess. I’m one diaper change away from a breakdown.

Zach and I are watching this new series on Netflix, Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt. If you’re not watching it, DO IT NOW. It’s so good. So funny. Anyway. In one of the episodes, she’s helping her friend get through something and she says, “Can you make it through the next ten seconds?” Her friend says she can so Kimmy tells her, “You just have to take it ten seconds at a time.” I can’t even tell you how much that has helped me the last few days with these crazy kids.

The other night, Jonah woke up inconsolable because we wanted his “brown blanket” (his blankie). It was in the wash, covered in puke, because of course my kids picked up a stomach bug and that’s always fun. We told him he couldn’t sleep with a puke covered blanket and all hell broke loose. He woke up Emery. Anna was mid feed-burp-scream session and I just had to take a million deep breaths. I kept telling myself, “Ten seconds. I can make it through the next ten seconds.” And then I counted.

Then when I attempted to take them all to the grocery store by myself, we made it just over the threshold of the store when Emery started yelling at Jonah to “YET GO! YET GO!” because Jonah had his hand on Emery’s side of the cart’s steering wheel. There was no fixing it. Try reasoning with a 20 month old and let me know how that goes. Anna was screaming because scream-feed-burp and I just really wanted to get some groceries. We had no eggs. No milk. No cereal. Nothing. I was determined. So I counted. I can get through the next ten seconds, right? I counted to 10 and realized that I was certifiable for trying to do a grocery trip with the stooges. Those 10 seconds of focused counting gave me the clarity to see the situation for what it was. So we turned around and went home and I had myself a good cry.

This season is straight up crazy. There is no “enjoy every moment” because I’m not even going to remember these days. I’m in a fog of exhaustion and spit up and poop and disciplining and I’m just content to get to the end of the day with my hair still attached to my scalp. Adding a human to your family is tough. It doesn’t matter if it’s your first kid, or your second, your third, fourth, fifth. Whatever. It’s tough. When we added child number two to the family, we all had a really hard time. Number three? Just me. Everyone else has transitioned seamlessly … but me? Crazy train — ticket for one, please.

I know it will all balance out soon. I know it will. I know I’ll look back at this and laugh at how much of a mess I was. I know I’ll figure it out. I know it gets easier. I KNOW. But until it does, I’m just taking it 10 seconds at a time.

 

This month’s sponsor : 

Letting Down the Right People

This blog has been intimidating me since around week 36 of my pregnancy. And now here we are, a month later, and I’m still kind of intimidated. I’ll open up my computer and then close it before I do anything on it and for no good reason except that I’m intimidated. I have no logical explanation for it.

I stare at the screen and my thought process goes something like this : “What am I going to write about? No, they won’t like that. What if I offend someone? I’m too tired to overthink this post. I can’t think about all the angles someone could get be hurt or offended. What if people like it, and they share it, but then the people they share it with hate it and put me on that forum thing again? What if it flops? What if that other post goes viral again? I can’t afford the hosting overages this month. whatifwhatifwhatif.” So then I just don’t. I know. It’s dumb.

It’s been two weeks since Anna was born. Something happened to me the moment she was born, that I can’t really explain and it may sound kind of dumb, but whatever. It is what it is. I guess I don’t really know if her being born is what caused this change of heart or if her birth just drew attention to it, but all of a sudden, I didn’t care anymore. I had no urge to rush to instagram or Facebook to announce her birth. I didn’t even read all of the comments and well wishes and congratulations until later that night. I didn’t want to take out my phone or fancy camera and take a hundred photos of her and edit them in the hospital so I could share them with the world and have everyone validate how beautiful she is and what a great job I did and whatever else people say when a new baby is born. I just wanted to hold her and take a nap and sing to her and soak her up.

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When we got home from the hospital, I had zero desire to get back to writing and blogging. I am SO glad I made the decision a few months ago to stop doing sponsored posts because it’s been so nice to actually have a break. I haven’t had any obligations to fulfill or pressing matters to attend to.  I’ve earned that. I’ve worked my butt off in the last year on this little blog of mine and deciding to take a break from financial commitments and contracts was the wisest decision I’ve made in a long time. Now, when I come back to this place to write, it’s 100% because of you guys. My When at Homies. The ones that really matter. You guys have helped me build this thing and knowing that makes it a little less intimidating to get back into the swing of things.

All that being said, I still feel the need to just enjoy this little family of mine. One thing that has been resoundingly echoed in every aspect of my life is that I need to make being mom my number one priority. I get my priorities mixed up a lot, but one thing that has been clear in my prayer life as of lately is that I need to be 100% mom. Not half in, half out. Not mom in the morning and blogger at night. But just mom. I need to be present with my kids and become a student of them so that I can be the mom they deserve. Having a third baby has really changed my perspective on things.This is the only time my kids will be this little. I’m going to blink and Anna will be crawling and then walking and then asking for the keys to the car and I don’t want to look back on this season of life and think, “Man. Why did I spend so much time on the internet?” You know what I mean?

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But then I get in my head and I’m like, “But my people are waiting for me! I haven’t blogged in two weeks! They’re going to stop following me. They’re going to hate me. I’m old news. No one will care anymore.” And then I think… so what?

Momastery had a post on her Facebook page the other day about how her 9 year old daughter told her that she’s traveling too much and she needed to spend more time with her mama. Instead of brushing off her daughter’s feelings, she talked to her team and decided to cut back on how much she travels every month and if she has to take an extra trip, her daughter comes along. She said she’s letting people down all the time, but she feels good about it because she’s letting down the right people. Let that sink in for a second. Letting down the right people.

I want to make sure that I’m always letting down the right people. Not my husband. Not my children. Not my God. Not myself. If I let them down, I’ve failed. Of course it’s gonna happen and it’s gonna be ok, but I know that I can make choices today and every day that will help me let down the right people. Will people be disappointed in me? Sure. Will my blog content suffer? Probably. Will people unfollow? Forget about me? Stop caring? Absolutely. But it’s ok. Because this is the only time I get to live in this season and if I’m going to let people down, it’s going to be the right people. 

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So bear with me, friends, as I adjust to this new season of life with my three kids and my husband’s new business, and trying to figure out what our next step in life is going to be. I have so many ideas and dreams and things I want to write about and do, but I’m trying to recognize and accept the season of life that I’m in. I don’t want to take on too much and sacrifice the wrong things. I’ll be back in the blogging swing of things in no time, but I need to figure out this being a mom of three little kids first.

Much love to you all.

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Her First Week.

We made it through the first week! Anna has been a part of our family for exactly a week now and it’s getting harder to imagine what life was like before she was here. She’s eased into our life and I’m so thankful for a much gentler transition this time. Going from one to two kids was earth shattering. Two to three? Not so much shattering going on.

HOWEVER.

I have never had such a hard time getting back on my feet after having a baby. HOLY. MOTHERLOVING. MOLY. My poor friends have been getting whiny and desperate texts from me all week. “Is this normal?” “Why am I so tired?” “Am I dying? Be honest.” “What essential oils help with XYZ?” It’s been rough. I don’t know if it’s because this is my third baby, or because I had two babies 19 months apart, or because she came so stinking fast, or because of the way I delivered her and the way she came out, or maybe it’s just a combination of all of the above, but MAN. I never knew recovery could be such a drag. Even after Jonah’s invasive, traumatizing, forcep disaster of a delivery, I was on my feet within three days. Flying across the country in less than 2 weeks. But this time? My body is kicking my butt, my face swelled up instantly after (or during?) childbirth and it hasn’t gone down yet, and I can barely walk across the room without grabbing my stomach in pain. Or my neck. Because I pinched a nerve on her second day home. Nursing neck is not a joke, you guys. Watch your posture when you nurse.

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Fortunately, the hospital sent me home with plenty of ibuprofen and purcosets, so those have been helping me be somewhat functional, but I’ve pretty much just been laying or sitting since baby girl was born. Against Zach’s better judgment, I went to church on Sunday and within 30 minutes was telling him I needed to go home. We ended up staying the whole time anyway (everyone was just so excited about Anna. I felt bad about taking her home early) but I think I was pretty short with people and I’m hoping I didn’t come off as rude and grumpy. I should’ve stayed home, but whatever. I am woman, hear me roar.

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I naively assumed I would be warrior woman again after natural delivery number 2, but I’ve been proven wrong. I am not invincible. I am weak. But Zach has been taking amazing care of me. I am SO thankful that he is now self employed and can work whenever because I seriously don’t know what I would do if he had to be at work every day. I can’t lift Emery at all without yelping in pain and Emery requires a lot of lifting. He climbs on top of all the things and it would be dangerous for all involved if I had to stay home alone with him. But week one is over and Zach needs to get back on a regular work schedule, so the rest of this week will be interesting. Maybe I’ll just put Emery on a leash.

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Anna is such a chill baby and the boys are in love with her. Jonah wants to hold her all day every day and Emery thinks he does, but he gets bored fast and tries to shove her off. (“Hode ha? Ah da!”) She doesn’t really like anyone but me right now (maybe because she eats non stop all day long) and Zach is so busy taking care of the boys and keeping them entertained and fed that he doesn’t get to hold her as much as either one of us would like. We’re definitely feeling the family size stretch when it comes to how available we can be to each other and to each of our kids. Neither one of us have had to man all three kids at the same time alone yet, but one of us always has two kids to pay attention to at any given time and it’s just strange. Not bad. Not stressful. Just strange.

And that’s where we’re at. First week DONE. Now to get back to reality and routine and the craziness that is having three kids four and under. I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.

help.

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Anna Catherine

She’s here!

Anna Catherine LaValley was born on Wednesday, March 4th at 8:58am. She weighed 6 pounds 13 ounces, 20.5 long, and came like a force of nature. She’s beautiful and dainty and one hundred times more perfect than I could have ever imagined.

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I’ve been having contractions on and off for weeks, so when I got a few really intense ones Tuesday night, I didn’t think anything about it. I knew things were going to happen soon, but I was guessing I’d go into real labor on Thursday night, since it was a full moon. I was mostly just uncomfortable and feeling really crampy. I laid down on the bed and Zach came and sat next to me and played a few Bethel worship songs (the new album — SO GOOD) until I fell asleep for an hour or so. I woke up a little disappointed that the contractions hadn’t picked up. Totally stopped again. Of course. So I got myself a snack and sat down with my birthing ball and turned on that new Lifetime show “Born in the Wild”. Zach was all “Why the hec are you watching this?? This is not helpful!” And it really wasn’t. I mean. Childbirth. I drank some pineapple juice, crossed my fingers and went to bed.

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I woke up once during the night because Jonah was climbing into our bed. After I sent him off to bed I thought, “Dangit. I was really hoping to wake up because of labor, not because of a pee soaked four year old.” And then I fell asleep.

A few hours later (around 6:30am), I woke up at the end of a really bad contraction and heard a pop echoing against the mattress. I wasn’t sure if it was my water breaking or the baby kicking. They sound/feel oddly similar. Or maybe I was just out of it? I don’t know. Almost as soon as the “pop” happened, Emery woke up and started yelling his typical “DADDY! DADDY!” morning chant, Jonah shuffled out his room to get us out of bed, and then the damn broke and the water came. I shoved Zach a couple times (he’s impossible to wake up most days) and said, “My water broke. Wake up. Let’s go.” He sat up and said, “Nuh huh.”

Every time. Every time I tell him I’m pregnant, that I’m in labor, or that my water broke, his response is, “Nuh huh.” Have I lied to you yet, babe?! Don’t answer that.

So we jumped out of bed, I went and took care of things in the bathroom and Zach ran upstairs and woke up my family to tell them what was going on. When I came out of the bathroom, Zach was telling Jonah that we were going to the hospital to get the baby out. Jonah said, “The doctor’s going to take the baby out today?” and Zach said, “Yep! We’re going right now!” Jonah said, “Oh. I’ll go get the carseat for you!” So he ran over to our little baby gear corner and got the carseat and brought it over and Zach said, “That’s so nice, Jonah! Thank you!” And Jonah said all sweetly, “I just want to help.” Sweetest. Kid. Ever.

We were out of the door and on our way to the hospital about 10 minutes after my water broke. The contractions hadn’t started yet. I had two intense ones during the 2o minute drive and in between I was just super focused trying to get in the zone and prepare myself for what was about to happen. It didn’t feel as rushed or panicked as Emery’s birth.  This felt like it could take a while and I didn’t know what to expect.

We made our way to labor and delivery and were greeted with papers and forms to fill out. I don’t remember much about that interaction because pain. Then came the best sentence a woman in labor can ever hear : “We’re skipping triage. Let’s get you right to a room.” holla. I hate triage.

When we got to my room, the nurse gave me a gown to put on and for whatever reason, as much as I hate hospital gowns, I started putting it on. I called Zach into the bathroom to help me tie it up and he was like, “Why are you wearing this? You said you didn’t want to wear this.” I said, “It’s fine. Whatever. I just want to be done.” He kept trying to tie it, but couldn’t figure it out, and he said, “I’m gonna ask you one more time. Are you sure you want to wear this?” No, I really didn’t. I took it off and he got my dress for me and I instantly felt so much more relaxed and ready to go.

The midwife showed up shortly after they hooked me up to the baby monitor thing and she checked to see how far along I was. At that point, I’d had about 20 minutes of 5 minute apart contractions, so when she said I was only 4cm and fully effaced, I wanted to cry. I thought for sure this was going to be a long labor and delivery and so I think I kind of just gave up in my mind. I knew I wanted an epidural but I didn’t ask for one yet. I got off the bed and got in the shower and spent about 20 minutes in there letting the hot water work my contractions. It was really nice. Glorious, even.

I got out of the shower and went straight to the birthing ball. Zach sat on the edge of the bed and I just leaned and relaxed into him with every contraction. They were getting more and more intense, but were still a few minutes apart. The midwife sat behind me and kept saying sweet and encouraging things like, “You can do this. You’re doing great.” Blah blah blah. During one really bad, almost losing it contraction, she said, “You’re doing amazing, Kristen!” and I said, “I bet you say that to all the ladies.” Thus began the episode 3 of the “Hilarious Things Kristen Says While in Labor” saga.

“I’m going to bi***h slap eve.”
“Sometimes the f word feels as good as a deep breath.” (I never actually dropped the F bomb. It was just a theory.)
I mumbled an answer to the nurse about something (can’t remember what) and she kept asking me to repeat myself because she couldn’t understand me. Finally she heard what I was saying and then I said, “Sorry. I was speaking woman-in-labor.” I guess I get kind of sassy when I’m in pain?

The contractions quickly got to the point where I started freaking out. Yelling into Zach’s chest. Demanding an epidural. STAT. Everyone was ignoring my requests. I was dead serious. I wanted an epidural and I wanted it right away. No one was even acknowledging it. Which I guess is a good thing. But it started making me mad. I grabbed onto Zach’s shirt during a contraction and said (through gritted, angry, laboring woman teeth) “Who do I have to pay to get an epidural? Pay them. NOW.” And then began my monologue about things that are wrong in our society with pain relief.

“Please tell me why with every other pain in life, we rush to give aid. Got a headache? Take some Tylenol! Scraped knee? Here’s some neosporin! Pushing a HUMAN through your vagina? You don’t need anything! You can do this! You’re a woman!!” Zach told me later they were all laughing behind my back pretty much every time I opened my mouth.

At one point, the nurse came over to put my IV port in, but she couldn’t get the needle in. She kept stabbing and stabbing and saying, “it’s not going in! Why isn’t it going in? I can’t break the skin!” And then she shoved it in and I jumped and blood squirted everywhere and she said, “Oh no. I don’t think I got the vein. I think I need to get another needle.” I looked at her and said, “Don’t you dare do that to me again, woman.” Luckily, she didn’t need to, but then she looked up at Zach and was all, “Are you ok, Zach? I got blood everywhere.” I didn’t let him answer, I just looked up and said, “Yea? Are you ok? Are you in pain? Do you need some neosporin? Some tylenol? Let me know, babe. I got your back.” (more laughter. I think.)

Finally the midwife acknowledged my request for pain relief and her first attempt to thwart my epidural cries was a bit weak. She sat in front of me and said, “How long did you push with Emery?” I laughed and said, “10 minutes. Maybe.” She said, “Ok. Do you think you can do that again?” I side eyed her and said, “Yea…but that doesn’t mean I want to.” She said something about how the pain is awful, but then I get to have a baby in my arms and it’s all over. I said, “Yep. And then a new set of pain starts. I know how this goes. You can’t trick me.” We laughed, but then she got practical. “Look at that bag of IV fluid. We have to get that entire thing into you before you can have an epidural.” I said, “WHY.” (not a question. a demand.) and she explained it to me, but all I heard was, “Blah blah. I’m trying to distract you because I believe in you and you can do this and all the women power and I’m not getting you an epidural so I’m just gonna keep talking to you to make you think I’m going to get you what you want, but really I’m going to make you do this thing on your own.” And that did not empower me, my friends. It ticked me off. I think she could tell I was getting angry so she said, “Look I’m not going to force you either way, but I know you can do this. At least let me check you to see if we even have time for one. My guess is that by the time we get the epidural in here, you’ll be ready to push.”

That was not an encouraging thing to hear. Neither was “You’re a solid 7 centimeters.”

SEVEN?? Shoot me. Just shoot me. Put me out of my misery and leave me here to die.

My demands for an epidural became more frequent (every contraction) and more insistent. I said “I can’t believe I’m having to advocate to get myself some pain relief! Don’t you guys just hand that stuff out here?” Zach finally said something to the nurse about how I actually really did want one and I told her to put the IV in me and to put it on fast drip. After every contraction, I’d look up at that thing to see how far I had to go before I could get the magic pain relief and I swear … that nurse did not put it on fast drip.

I’ll stop here and say that I really do appreciate that my nurses and midwives fought me on this. I really do. I knew from the beginning I wouldn’t have time to get an epidural. I really had no hope of getting one, but focusing on the possibility and arguing with them about it was actually really helpful. Probably super annoying to them, but it gave me something other than the pain to think about. Once the IV drip was in, the only thing I could think about when I was mid excruciating contraction was how good the epidural would feel. Zach told me to focus on how good it would feel to have the baby in my arms, but that just felt so distant and unreal. I couldn’t relate to it for some reason. But pain relief? That was a hope I could hold on to.

Once the midwife told me I was at 7 (about an hour and a half after getting to the hospital), the nurse suggested that I kneel on the bed and hold on to the back of the headboard. Once I got into that position, I couldn’t move. I was stuck there. This is the position where things started getting crazy. Where I knew I was going to have to finish this thing out on my own. A new midwife came in and took over and she was just as empowering and encouraging as the last one. (I say that as if it’s a bad thing. HA!) She was like, “Kristen. No one can do this except for you. And you CAN do this.” I said, “I know I CAN. But I don’t WANT to.” That was my mantra the whole time. “I don’t want to. I don’t want to. I don’t want to.” Like a two year old.

I’m a screamer and one who is prone to panic during labor and that is exactly what I was doing during the transition period. I’m not sure how long it lasted, but the poor nurses and midwives were trying so hard to calm me down and it just wasn’t working. Right before I started pushing, in between contractions, I heard someone praying over the loud speaker in the hallway. I immediately stopped whining and grunting and just shut up and focused on the prayer. Our hospital is a private Catholic hospital, so I’m sure it was a liturgical prayer and I honestly couldn’t tell you what it was or what they said, but it gave me so much peace. It was just a small reminder that God was with me, that I was in good hands, and that it would all be over soon.

The midwife checked me one more time and said, “Look, you’ve got some cervix left, but I can move it out of the way and you can start pushing.” That sounds good, right, Kristen? Oh no. Not to me. That sounds terrifying. “I don’t want to push! That’s the part that sucks!” Cue more “I don’t want to” rants into Zach’s chest. She told me to bear down and push just so she could move the cervical lip out of the way and that’s when I felt the baby start to move.

The next few minutes are a blur, but from my first push to baby in my arms, only 8 minutes went by. I think I pushed 4 times. Which doesn’t sound like a lot, in retrospect, BUT. Baby girl came out with her hand by her face, and that was some pain for real. I was still in the kneeling position with my face towards the wall, so I couldn’t see anything that was happening, but when I felt her head come out, I thought it was over. “Boy or girl? Boy or girl?!!” I couldn’t see anything that was happening behind me. The midwife said, “We don’t know, she’s still in there. Her umbilical chord is wrapped all around her. How did you get your chord like that, baby? Don’t push, Kristen! Don’t push!” The chord was wrapped around her chest and shoulder and neck, so it took a minute to get her free. And then I heard her cry. She was still halfway inside of me, yet I could hear her crying. Weirdest sensation ever. Finally the midwife said, “Ok push! One more and you’re done!” I gave it all I got, pushed that sucker out and heard Zach yell from behind me, “I CALLED IT!! I CALLED IT! IT’S A GIRL!”

I yelled, “A GIRL?? It’s a GIRL??” and then I screamed this crazy Xena-like womanly roar of relief and excitement and looked down and they were passing what looked to be a small alien in-between my legs. I turned around and collapsed on the bed and it was all over. Less than three hours after my water broke.

We still hadn’t officially decided on a name, but as soon as her body touched my hands and I looked at her face, I said, “Hiii Anna!” And that was it. That easy. She was just Anna. She was always Anna. Zach and I have been talking about having a daughter named Anna since we were 19 years old and now she’s here. Little Anna Catherine. Perfect and petite and dainty and so, so, loved.

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lavalley fam

Thank you all so much, from the bottom of our hearts, for all of your comments, messages and e-mails. We feel so overwhelmed and blessed by love this community has shown our family. I can’t keep up with the comments and questions and that’s just amazing to me. We love you all!

To the few that have asked for our address, our PO Box is listed at the bottom of the FAQ page. And YES we do have a “If It’s a Girl” baby registry. I went a little crazy one night when I was up late with heartburn. Here’s the link to that. Thanks for loving on our family. We truly appreciate every single one of you!

Things Jonah Says

The creepy. The sweet. The “what the … “. This is Jonah in all of his four year old philosophical glory.

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Jonah : Abby (my sister), I had a friend who died.
Me : what?! No you didn’t!
Jonah : yes I did! He died and it was sad!
Me : Jonah, what are you talking about? Who died?
Jonah : Yes he did! He climbed on a roof and he fell off!
Everyone in the room : ……..
Jonah : I kept slapping him, but he wouldn’t wake up.

After months and months of him telling everyone who would listen that he’s going to be jealous of the new baby …
“I’m going to be jealous of the baby. No I’m not. I just changed my mind. I’m gonna love it.”

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Jonah : Mom lets play big bad wolf! (A game he usually plays with Zach)
Me in my best wolf voice : Little pig little pig let me come in!
Jonah : Not by the hair of my chinny chin chin!
Me : Then I’ll huff and I’ll puff and I’ll blow your house down! (Did accordingly. Huffed and puffed and then knocked his house/box over.)
<<Awkward pause.>>
Jonah : Um. Mom?
Me : Yes? Did I play the game right?
Jonah : Um. No. You were creepy though. Good try, mom. Good try.

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While at the grocery store one day ..
“Mom look!” (Points to bin of toys) “I think THOSE are in the budget!”

He found an empty airsoft gun in my parents’ kitchen drawer and kept trying to take it out to play with it. Zach took it away and explained to him that it was a real gun and we can’t play with real guns. Gun safety. All of that. Then this happened : 

Zach : Jonah, you can’t play with this gun. It’s real. It can hurt people.
Jonah : No! It’s not real! It’s a toy!
Zach : No, it’s not. It’s a real gun. You can’t play with it.
Jonah : It’s NOT real. It’s a toy!
Zach : It IS real. Look, I’ll show you.
Jonah, running away in a panic : “NO!! DON’T SHOOT ME!!”

Randomly in the car one day when Emery was a little grumpy …
Jonah : Mom I can sing a song to help him go to sleep!
Me : Oh that’s so nice, Jonah. He would love that.
Jonah : I would do anything for my brother.

fab kids 3“Look at your big fat belly, mom. It’s so big.”

Me : UGH! Why do you boys have so many toys??
Jonah : Because you just keep buying them for us! (a valid point.)

Referring to Emery looking at me : “Aw, look mom. His face is in LOVE.”

Jonah : Mom. Emery is my boyfriend.
Me : No, he’s your brother. I think you mean he’s your best friend.
Jonah : No, he’s my boyfriend! 
Me : No he’s not, buddy. He’s your friend. He’s your brother. But he can’t be your boyfriend.
Jonah : (getting upset) He IS my boyfriend! HE IS!
Me : (thinking we were just getting lost in semantics) Ok, fine. He’s your boyfriend. What do you think a boyfriend is?
Jonah : I have to buy him flowers and go on dates with him because he’s my boyfriend.
Decided to drop it cause things are now weird. Later on at McDonald’s …
Little girl in play place : Aww, is that your baby brother?
Jonah : (puts his arm around Emery and draws him in close.) No. He’s my boyfriend.

Fab kids 2Jonah’s outfit is from FabKids. Sign up and get your first outfit for $15. AND if you get your friends to sign up with your link, you’ll rack up points to get free outfits. Once two friends purchase an outfit, you’ll get a free one! It’s a pretty sweet deal.