The kids were playing with sidewalk chalk and asking me about how to make new colors by mixing two colors together. When Saadia gave me two colors that didn’t create another color, she wouldn’t take “no” for an answer. This is how the conversation went… 

Saadia – What does yellow and purple make?

Me – Nothing really

S – What does yellow and purple make?

Me – It doesn’t really make a color, it will just be a mess…sort of brown, sort of gray.

S – *mixes the two colors* It’s not brown.

Me – I know, I said it’s a mess. It doesn’t really make a color.

S – What does yellow and purple make?

Me – Nothing. It doesn’t make a color.

S – What does yellow and purple make?

Me – Yurple.

S – Oh!!

I understand, in theory, that whoever invented those grocery carts with little cars on the front had good intentions at heart. I’m sure he thought what could be more fun, more distracting, for two little kids than to sit in a cab and be pushed through the store, totally occupied while mom peacefully shops?

Except that inventor, I have a strong suspicion, did not HAVE any children. The car-cart is my nemesis. It’s bulky and difficult to maneuver and the actual basket is too small to hold groceries for the average family.  Most of all, though, is its debilitating effect on my kids. 

“Car-cart!  Car-cart!” would erupt the second we got to the store. They were at one time infamous for collapsing into complete hysterics if, God forbid, someone else was using it and they had to settle for its poor cousin. Then, after all this drama, the entire trip through the store would be marked by screams, pushing, hitting and my not-so-whispered threats to dump them in the diaper aisle for someone else to buy and take home if they didn’t stopthatrightnoworIwillgiveyousomethingtocryABOUT (yes, it’s finally happened– the threats of my childhood are now mainstays of my own vocabulary).

The worst, worse even than their deafening battles to control the wheel, is when they would wait until I was as far from the front of the store as possible, with a basket at least half-full, and then jump out of the cab. So there I would be, pushing a monstrosity through narrow aisles with two children running in opposite directions from me and the barge. This was an awful lot like threading the proverbial needle with a camel, only with a heard of jackals circling you at the same time.

The car-cart is now forbidden in my family. The last time we used one, I ended up abandoning it in the dairy section while I pulled two squalling whirlwinds by their shirt collars out of the store, dangerously close to using them both as bowling balls across the parking lot.  The upside to that day, (which I salvaged with a VERY large glass of wine), is that they both now associate the car-cart, like Pavlov’s well-trained dogs, with a healthy dose of respectful terror.

Because what would be the point of having children without them being at least a little bit afraid of you?

Well, since I shared my lovely story from Kohl’s, I need to share a similar story for Dave.

He and the girls were recently swimming and he was sprawled tummy-down on top of an inner tube. He pointed down at his shadow at the bottom of the pool and said…

DAVE: “Look, Allie!  My shadow looks like a big turtle!”

ALLIE: (studies shadow then says in matter-of-fact voice): “No, Dad. It looks like a fat man.”

So, as I have documented well, this baby was a surprise.  Now, as the weeks pass, I recognize that a huge part of my initial reaction to the news came from a fear of change. I haven’t once feared that I was capable of mothering a third child. Lord, let me get my hands on this beebee and mother it!  I love being a mom!

No, the deepest fears I’ve faced (and continue to face) come from a fear of change.

But the change is happening. It is upon us.  And — dare I say it? — it’s rather exciting!

For example, we have to remodel part of our basement to continue shoe-horning this family into this darling-but-tiny home.  Our plan is to gut the 1942 bathroom and surrounding area and turn it into a nice bedroom/bathroom for Delaney and Allie and then turn their current room into a nursery again.

In the last week, the gutting has begun. Our second bathroom has been demolished and reduced to rubble. And, now that the first plaster has flown, the floor has been jackhammered and the fixtures have been tossed, I am so excited!  I can’t wait to demolish the rest!  I had feared living through the construction. Now I just want it all ripped out! It will soon be the newest spot in our old home and I may even envy my daughters their space.

The other fear was our car situation. I drive a 2003 Chevy Trailblazer. To be honest, I have always hated that car. The electrical stuff goes out all the time. When we discovered I was pregnant, though, the idea of a minivan loomed large. Not only did I fear the financial stress (on top of the remodel, these are two huge budget-drainers!) but I never saw myself in a minivan.

Welp, we found a screaming deal on a 2003 Honda Odyssey and I may never go back to anything else!  I love this car!  What in the WORLD took me so long!?  I contacted all my friends who have schlepped my kids to various events and said, “I am going to be a carpooling dynamo from now on!”

Then there is the change in my body. I did NOT NOT NOT want to be 41 and knocked up.  I finally felt like I was getting regular exercise, entering my 40s as a fit woman and… ka-plooey! There it all goes.  We all know this is not a 9-month process for the mom’s body. With nursing and plain old fatigue, this is going to take two years away from me.  Two years during which I will relinquish control of my body and give it to a baby. Don’t get me wrong… I know this is a miracle and I am blessed to even be fertile, but it does mean a sacrifice and I have not been graceful about this particular transition.

But, I am now in Week 13, done with my first trimester, and feeling really great!

And, finally, there is the change occurring in my belly every day. We had another ultrasound today… we saw the baby’s fists and feet. It arched its wee back and bounced around.  Oh my goodness, what an amazing thing my body is participating in right now!

We still face fears, mostly of the financial variety, but I increasingly feel a deep-down peace as I look forward into all this metamorphosis in our lives.

I CAN mother… and really, that’s all I need to do well.

OK, so my two older boys like to play this computer game called Civilization II. It’s way over my head and something that I generally stay out of and let my husband deal with and answer any questions about. Basically, from what I’ve gathered,one develops civilizations on the computer, starting from the most primitive of times. Both boys have created several countries and cities and in passing, I’ve picked up from them that as often happens in real life civilizations, over population has become a problem for some of the cyberlands with which they deal. Logan’s solution to this? Let’s just say I’m more than a little suspicious regarding the type of future we might face should Logan and/or Ryan ever hold the office of President of the United States.

An overheard recent conversation between them:

Logan: This city has too many people in it. I’m going to send a nuclear bomb to it to fix that problem.

Ryan: You might have to send two or three.

Logan: I know, but I’m just going to start with one and then I’ll send more if the population doesn’t go down enough.

Ryan: WAIT! I want to watch. I like to see the mushroom cloud explode.

Logan: Hurry up, I just sent it.
Both boys are silent as they observe the computer simulate a nuclear attack on several million innocent, unsuspecting, overpopulating citizens. A loud explosion sound can be heard from the computer’s speakers.

Both Boys: COOL!

Sheesh! What would Amy Carter say?