It's True. Nobody Wants To Babysit Three Kids.

As we begin to creep closer and closer to my due date, there are a couple of things I'm beginning to realize about the reality of having three children. 
For starters, nobody wants to babysit three kids. Have you ever noticed the sheer look of terror on a potential babysitter's face when you mention you have three kids? Having been a nanny to a family with three children back in college, I never really gave it much thought but I challenge you to try this out. Even if you don't have three kids and you have to lie about it, I dare you. It's imperative that you take note of the wide eyes, the trembling lip and the crazy stare that seems to appear out of no where even on the face of the, previously, most calm, cool and collected sitter. I promise you, it will happen. I was so concerned over this realization, in fact, that I turned to one of my girlfriends, a mom of three herself, who immediately agreed that it's nearly impossible to find a non-family sitter for her three little darlings. As she told me this, she patted my shoulder in solidarity and told me I should prepare myself for at least a year's worth of "at-home" date nights. 
When you have three children, the atmosphere in your house immediately changes from man-on-man defense to zone defense. As parents, you are quickly outnumbered by your offspring and with three boys, I fear for how this will bode come the teenage years. Currently, it's a happy, easy medium. My husband and I each have our own child to worry about. I prefer to call dibs on the older, easier one which then allows me to do much of my defending from the couch at nearly 7 months pregnant. Soon enough, however, my husband and I will have to begin breaking the house down into zones. As in, "honey, you get the playroom, kitchen, backyard and dining room and I'll take the bedrooms, bathrooms, front yard and den." That's it, the more I think about it, I think it's time to install motion sensors throughout the house.
Understandably so, life with three kids will be a whole new ballgame. After all, I only have two hands so I know I'm going to have to get really creative with our typical day to day activities. Just last week while having breakfast with my girlfriend, we watched a mom with two young boys and an infant carrier navigate her way through Chick-Fil-A. Her clothes matched, her hair was blow dried and she really did seem to have it all together. I almost wanted to ask her for her number.  You best believe that as we're out and about in these final couple of months before baby, I'm taking copious notes from all of the moms with 3+ children that I see.  
 Until then, I figure my best bet is to just fake it, 'til you make it, no?

Do You Shop At Target And Love Saving Money?

Then you need to read this post! 

I should be ashamed that one of Maclane’s first one hundred words was “Target,” but the truth is, I’m not. I’m not ashamed in the least. Why? Because let’s face it, Target is much like Disneyland in that it’s one of the happiest places on earth. Don't let that face fool you.

There’s just something about strolling through those large silver doors, making a pit stop for a cake pop and heading right for the dollar spot that puts a smile on everyone’s face.  Whether it’s a forgotten ingredient in that evening’s dinner, a birthday present for one of Carter’s pre-school buddies or a new shower curtain set of candles throw pillow coffee mug maternity top for this ever-growing belly of mine, Target has become our go-to shopping spot for all of the above.

What’s even more to love about Target is that it recently rolled out a brand new app, the Target Cartwheel app, which allows shoppers to save even more on their purchases without having to clip a single coupon. This savings is in addition to any other available Target discounts or coupons, manufacturers’ coupons and their REDcard discount!

I’ve been using the Cartwheel app for a little over two months now and each time I shop, I save, on average, upwards of $15-20 and this is on items that we use every day. Things like groceries, diapers, vitamins and household cleaning products.

For a busy mom who rarely has the time, energy and focus to sit clipping coupons (and let’s face it, the wherewithal to remember to bring them along to the store), this app had made such a difference in how we shop. Most trips I pull up into a parking space, glance over our shopping list and before stepping out of the car, log into the app and begin compiling my “cartwheel” of useful coupons.

One of my favorite features of the app is a single bar code that is generated by the offers selected and is unique to each user. It is this single bar code that the cashier must scan at checkout making the offers valid on purchases made. Talk about quick and easy!

Some other neat features to note about the Target Cartwheel app:

o   Cartwheel can be used on your desktop, tablet, mobile web or iPhone and Droid apps.

o   Using either the iPhone or Droid apps, shoppers can scan any bar code in store to see if that item has a Cartwheel offer available.

o   Guests are able to use their Facebook login to sign up with Cartwheel. This enables them to see what offers their friends have on their Cartwheel lists in the app! If you do not want your offers posted to Facebook, this can easily be managed in the app’s privacy settings.

o   Multi-use offers- shoppers are able to use any offer on their list as many times as they wish until the offer expires, with the following exceptions: limit of 4 items per offer, per transaction; limit of 6 Cartwheel scans per day. For instance, if there was an offer for 10% off 20 ounce bottles of Diet Coke, a shopper could purchase 4 bottles of Diet Coke in one transaction and the offer would be applied to all 4 bottles. That same shopper could do this up to 6 times in order day, for a total of 24 bottles of Diet Coke. 

If you like shopping at Target and love saving money, then you need to start using Cartwheel. You won’t regret it!  

Answer the following question in the comments section below and be entered to win a $1,000 Target GiftCard®! 

What is your favorite feature of the brand new Target Cartwheel app?

Sweepstakes Rules: No duplicate comments. You may receive (2) total entries by selecting from the following entry methods:

1. Leave a comment in response to the sweepstakes prompt on this post
2. Tweet (public message) about this promotion; including exactly the following unique term in your tweet message: “#SweepstakesEntry”; and leave the URL to that tweet in a comment on this post
3. Blog about this promotion, including a disclosure that you are receiving a sweepstakes entry in exchange for writing the blog post, and leave the URL to that post in a comment on this post
4. For those with no Twitter or blog, read the official rules to learn about an alternate form of entry.

This giveaway is open to US Residents age 18 or older. Winners will be selected via random draw, and will be notified by e-mail. The notification email will come directly from BlogHer via the sweeps@blogher email address. You will have 72 hours to respond; otherwise a new winner will be selected.

The Official Rules are available here.

This sweepstakes runs from 1/30 - 2/28.

Be sure to visit the Target Cartwheel brand page on BlogHer.com where you can read other bloggers’ posts!

... And We Have A Name!

A lot goes into choosing a baby name. Ideally, you choose a name that you hope will grow with your child, a name that suits them not only in their infancy but also well into their adulthood. A name that you don't mind screaming in public, despite how many times you may profess that you'll never be that mom who needs to scrape her writhing child from the floor of Target.
I promise you, your day will come but that is neither here nor there.  
It's no secret that we struggled big time when it came to naming our two sons. This isn't to say that we didn't have a difficult time coming up with girl names but for whatever reason we came about them much easier than the boys' names. 
In case you're looking for some fantastic girl names, might I suggest Delaney Pearl, Sheridan Paige and Eliza Jane. After the birth of our third son this Spring, the only hope I ever have of using any of those names is if we bring home a girl fish or three, an idea that isn't necessarily off the table yet. 
I should take a minute to clarify here just who has the difficult time naming our children. Even though I wasn't one of those women with a laundry list of baby names scrawled into a marble notebook shortly after getting my first period, it didn't take me very long to come up with pairs of names that I liked, some more than others. 
It was my darling other half who always had something to say about my name selections. Now, I don't want to be one of those women who sighs dejectedly while proclaiming, "WHY DOES HE CARE SO MUCH?" because as much as that may have been how I felt at times, my husband did play a vital role in each of our son's conceptions, not to mention the vital role he continues to play in each of their lives as, you know, their father. So although I don't think it's necessarily fair that his opinions weigh as heavily as mine, the man does have a right to share those opinions.
Just as I have the same right to declare my opinions better, more important and let's face it, superior because I'm the one who has to endure the weight gain, the morning sickness, the stretch marks and kicks to the vagina.  
How's that for mature discussion?
In all seriousness though, as I'm sure most parent's don't, we didn't take the naming of our sons lightly. It was often a battle of wills that lasted nearly the entire pregnancy with many an ugly cry on the behalf of yours truly. 
Everyone has their own tastes when it comes to naming their kids and by the grace of god isn't it great that we're only responsible for naming our own kids and no one else's? Personally, I'm a huge proponent of family names. Not so much naming juniors, thirds and fourths, considering I broke that streak when we didn't name our first born after my husband who is a junior, but I do like the idea of re-purposing a family name, be it a first, middle or even maiden name, as a special sort of nod to someone kind of awesome. 
Between our two boys, they share their names with my mother's maiden name, my husband, my father and this really cute boy I had a crush on in the third grade. As for this new baby? The one we've lovingly referred to as "M3?" Well, he finally has a name and a pretty awesome one at that. 
He will share his name with my brother who boasts a derivative of this name as a middle name. It was the only name during this Battle of the Baby Names that my husband didn't immediately veto. In fact, upon hearing the name for the first time, his exact words were, "I actually kind of like that." 
That was huge and it was then, many months ago, when I knew deep down that this name would be the name we chose. And unlike the naming of our second child, I didn't have to ugly cry once. 
So, the final verdict?
Collins Mason

Many thanks to my favorite baby boutique, Peekawhoo, for putting our sweet boy's name into print for the very first time. Needless to say, the above order that I placed nearly two weeks ago was merely a gateway order- now, of course, I want to personalize all the things. 

The ultimate deciding factor this time around? Collins will share the same initials (and therefore, monogram) with his older brother Carter making all of those monogrammed pieces re-usable. My husband couldn't be happier ;)

But between  you and me? I'm just grateful that we'll never have to name another human being again. 

So, tell me! Did you struggle with baby names also? Or was it an easy decision for you?
       

Get Back Inside, You Don't Have Any Pants On!

I once had a patient in my care who often referred to his three children as "the Taliban." Now before you go all crazy, cut the guy some slack, he really was one of the funniest individuals that I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. He was merely drawing the similarities between his three kids and the fundamentalist terrorist group and believe me, there were plenty. 
The reason I'm sharing this story with you today is because I never really understood what he meant until I had two little boys of my own. 
Back when I was a wet-nosed newlywed, childless, fifteen pounds skinnier and fresh off the plane from our most recent DINK-y (Dual Income No Kids) vacation, I would sit in the chemo infusion bay with him and laugh until my sides hurt at the stories he would tell regarding his kids' antics. 
"Surely, nobody's kids are that crazy," I would think to myself. I was certain he was embellishing on more than one account just to garner an extra laugh or two. "Who was watching those poor kids every day and where was there mother?" I couldn't help but ask myself.
I was so naive.  
With two little boys of my own, I can say without a doubt, from his lips to God's ears, he was simply sharing his life. The day to day shenanigans that occur between the early morning wake-ups and the much-anticipated evening bath time. And to answer my own question, the kids had one of the most attentive mothers you could ever imagine. Supervision was always there. 
Let me be the first to tell you, you can have all the supervision in all the land and your kids will still sneak out the back door and run down into the yard without their pants on. What was lacking was heightened security. Video monitors. Heat-seeking, night vision goggles. 
Living with two little boys under the age of 4 is like living with two little life hacks. If only I could stop scrubbing Sharpie from the walls or hiding all of the toilet paper in the house long enough to really witness and embrace their ingenuity. Undoubtedly I could learn a thing or two from them.
Like how to reach forbidden objects on the kitchen counter simply by scaling the drawer pulls in my bare feet. 
Or  how to use your brother as a level in order to pry open the childproof cabinets or to carefully extricate the cookies from the cookie jar without making a single sound.
Thanks to my youngest child, we've had to put a lock on virtually every door, cabinet and closet on the first floor. For instance, there's a lock bar on our sliding glass door that prevents the door from being slid open. Why? Because on more than one occasion, I've caught him pants-less and barefoot making a run for it, only after he's unlocked the door and used his body weight to push it open.
I can only imagine what our neighbors must think. 
Our pantry has a lock on it as well, not because we have to limit food intake but because if forced to pick up another canned good or spice jar scattered throughout the house, I would surely lose my mind.  And don't go telling me, "just teach him "no!" or "Buy one of those doorknob locks!" It's an accordion door, so there, and at 18 months old, he's not exactly fluent in "No." 
Our entryway coat closet is also under wraps because... shoes! Oh my god, the shoes. 
Once again, it's my youngest who has an obsession with putting not only his shoes on his feet, but my shoes, his brother's shoes and his father's shoes on his feet as well, and traipsing throughout the entire house with them, often leaving a discarded pair or two in his wake.
The solution? Lock all of the things. Ever. That is, until I can figure out how to clone myself and be in two or three places at once. 
Brushing the dog's hair with his brother's toothbrush. Working as a brotherly team to dismantle the baby gate (one holds the gate steady, the other pushes open it of course), dipping the freshly hanged dish towels in the dog's water bowl, hanging from the handle of the dishwasher so as to use one's body weight to pry it open. 
Waiting until your brother is (finally!) sitting and playing quietly by himself on the couch, only to then charge up to him, smack him across the face and jump on his head. Thus starting World War 472.    
So yes, The Taliban? I get it  now. I just get it.    
 

8 Semi-Serious Signs You're Ready To Have A Baby.

[Disclaimer: Please keep in mind that the following post is meant to be humorous. It is not a list of scare tactics designed to scare anyone from procreating. It is not a whine-fest in which we, as parents seek pity. It's merely a look into some of the funnier, less glamorous aspects of being a parent. Kids are awesome. I should know, I'm about to have three of them. I wouldn't trade being a mother for all of the wine, fancy vacations and liposuction in the world. If you think you are unable to read the following post and laugh along with me, or if you are unfamiliar with my sense of humor, then I encourage you to click the "X" at the top of your browser immediately, saving us both the negative energy. This post was not written to be taken seriously. Proceed with caution.]  
One of the questions I'm most often asked when it comes to mothering is "How did you know it was the right time to have a baby?" And for those of you who find yourself asking a similar question, I wanted to share with  you just how I knew it was the right time for me and maybe after reading this, you'll find that you are indeed ready to have a baby after all.

I can't tell you the exact moment I felt we were ready to have a baby but I can tell you that once you have one, making the decision to have another is monumentally easier. That if you're ready to quit being selfish, to give up the majority of your time, your energy, your sleep, a good portion of your waistline and half of your finances to someone much smaller, much less forgiving and frankly, someone without any patience whatsoever who will be unable to mutter the words "thank you" for at least two years, let alone say them with any earnest meaning, then you're ready to think about having a baby. After all, "they" say that motherhood is hardest, most demanding job in the world. 
I have to think "they" haven't tried lion taming or alligator wrestling because some days those two occupations seem inifnitely harder, although equally as dangerous... 
Along that line, here are 8 Semi-Serious Reasons You're Ready To Have A Baby: 
8. You Have Moments Where You Can Refrain From Smothering Your Spouse.  If at 3 o' clock in the morning, you can look over at your spouse sleeping soundly on the couch while you're holding a screamy, colickly newborn who is clawing at your nipples which are so sore from breastfeeding that you're certain they're going to fall off onto the floor at any minute,  and while doing so, you can refrain from smothering your spouse with the nearest throw pillow, then you're ready to have a baby. 
7. An Interior Design Palette of Primary Colors Tickles Your Fancy.   If you're ready to give up that Pottery Barn Meets Restoration Hardware picture-perfect vision of the inside of your home and you can embrace a living room (and dining room, and entry way, and office) that looks like something akin to the aisles of a Toys R' Us or the interior of the nearest preschool, then you're ready to think about having a baby. 
6. You Prefer To Eat All Meals Standing Up. If you're ready to eat all of your meals in the upright position, hovering over your plate near the stove and can put down your fork and stop eating approximately once every thirty-five seconds with a smile on your face, then you're ready to have a baby. Why? Because that is how often your baby, who will eventually grow up into a toddler, will need something. A new fork. More milk. Less milk. New milk. The old fork.
5. The Thought Of Sleeping In Two Hour Increments Sounds Glorious.  If you're thinking of having a baby, try having your spouse startle you awake wake one night every two-ish hours. Let him do so by either screaming into your ear or slapping you across the face. Believe me, waking up after either feels about the same as waking up to the shrill cries of a newborn. Then in the dark, have your husband hand you a backpack full of parenting books that you always swore you would read and strap that bad boy to your chest while walking around the room in circles trying to remember in your dazed and confused state just what those 5 S's stood for.
4. You Don Spit Up or Other Bodily Fluids As Your Latest Fashion Accessory. And what's more, you don't even think twice about changing once you've realized the offending fluid and carry on with the rest of your day. Really experienced parents, meaning the ones who have become so hardened by parenthood, will take this a step further and actually lick said offending stain in order to determine with certainty what it is and where it came from. If you're ready to lick and/or sniff baby vomit on the collar of your shirt, you're ready to have a baby. 
3. You Can Laugh In The Face Of Sheer Pain. There is no singular pain that can bring a grown man (or woman) to their knees faster than stepping on a Hot Wheels, Lego or Little Person in the dead of night. No matter how hard you try to clean up those tiny toy fuckers, one of them undoubtedly will leap out of the toy box and plant itself right beneath your bare foot when you least expect it. If you can "take it like a man," (obviously one who doesn't have children and has never experienced this kind of pain) then you're ready to have a baby.        2. You Don't Care To Finish A Movie, Book, Phone Call or Hell, A Thought In Its Entirety. Ever.  Babies have a keen sense of awareness regarding any time you try to give 100% of your attention to anything that doesn't revolve around them. Try making a phone call and having to interrupt your discussion every three and a half minutes to sing Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star. While on the phone, you must also talk three decibels higher than normal in order to be heard over the din that is having a baby. Start that movie you've been wanting to watch for weeks. Press pause at all of the really exciting parts because that's usually when someone wakes up crying after a nightmare, or they've wet their bed, or they're covered in vomit, exorcist-style. Oh, you like to read, do you? Put down your favorite piece of fiction and memorize Chicka Chicka Boom Boom because it's the only book you'll be reading for at least five months. If you're prepared to do (or not do) at least half of the things mentioned above, then you're ready to have a baby. 
And lastly,
1. You're Ready To Become That Parent. The one who in your pre-baby days you rolled your eyes at, made fun of and insisted you would never, ever become. The one who posts baby picture after baby picture after baby picture to Facebook, each picture looking awfully similar to the last. So similar in fact, it's like playing "Can You Spot The Difference" at the end of People Magazine, a magazine you haven't read in months, despite having a subscription to. The kind of parent who celebrates with an award-winning red carpet roll-out, the first tooth, the first word and the first steps of their offspring. The ones who thinks they have the cutest baby in all the land because, let's face it, nothing less than cute could come from you.  
If you're ready to become that parent, and trust me, we've all been there, then you're ready to have a baby. 
Tell me, how did you know you were ready to have a baby?

Allowing Ourselves Permission To Fail As Mothers.

We all have fears. 
Little fears like spiders, the dark, baby dolls coming to life and smothering us in our sleep (no, just me?) as well as big fears. Big, numbing fears like heights, crossing bridges, small confined spaces and public speaking. 
It's natural to have fears, this I know, and it does no good to dwell on one's fears, this I also know, but there's one fear I have, one big, giant, scary kind of fear that always sits tucked in the back of my mind, tugging at my heart at the end of every day. 
It's the fear of failing my children. Next to my fear of losing them or leaving them motherless should anything happen to me, it's the greatest fear I harbor as a mother. 
As their mother, the only one they'll ever have, God-willing, I am in constant evaluation of myself and can't help but wonder, 
"Am I failing them?"
Now, don't be mistaken, I am not paralyzed so much by this fear that I can't function or parent properly and for that I am grateful. It doesn't consume my every thought, but at the end of every day, in the quiet moments before I give in to sleep, I can't help but ask myself, "was I a good mother today?"  
Most days the answer is yes, despite whatever small fires may have arisen, but some days, some times, the answer is a staggering "no" and that's when it stings a little. That's when I worry and I can't help but think I'm failing as a mother. 
I fear that I'm not doing enough. That I'm not teaching them enough, encouraging them enough, cultivating and engaging their tiny minds enough. Some days, at the end of the day, I fear that I didn't say "I love you" enough. 
I fear that I didn't read to them enough, say "yes" instead of "no" enough. That I didn't hug them enough or look them in the eye enough and give them my full undivided attention.
Although I try not to play the comparison game, I look at mothers around me who appear to have it all together, who appear to mother and wife and keep house so seamlessly and without effort and I am in awe. I wonder if they have the same fears as I do. The same fear of making a mistake, one single mistake that is so gigantic and life-altering that it totally sets their children up for failure as adults. That it messes them up so royally that instead of saving for their college fund, we should be saving for their therapy bills.
Oh my god, what if they don't even get into college because we didn't do enough flash cards? See? That's what I mean.   As mothers, I would like to think it's universal to fear that we may be failing our children. After all, motherhood is the hardest, most selfless job in the world and I'd like to think that this fear of failing means that we really do care. That, after all, we really are invested in the success of our children so much that we really can't help but fear failing them. Maybe sometimes too invested, like do-their-preschool-homework-for-them-invested (not like I would know anything about that, ahem), but invested nonetheless.   
It's evident that with each fear that I have, take for instance, when pregnant with our second child, the fear that I wouldn't be able to love said second child as much as I did my first, that I really have no reason to be fearful at all. 
A normal fear, yes, but a fear so completely unfounded that I can laugh at myself now for ever fearing that. For ever thinking that I couldn't love another child as much as I loved my first. 
Looking back, it was more the fear of the unknown, of how we would all adjust and transition to being a family of four that haunted me, more so than whether or not I would be able to love another baby and as we prepare to welcome our third son in just a few short months, I know with every fiber of my being that I can and will love him just as much as I my other two sons. 
We both know what they say about hindsight.
In giving ourselves permission to fail, to not always be the perfect mother, I believe that maybe we're actually giving ourselves a certain freedom. A freedom to make mistakes, to not always do and say our best because we know it's not always that easy. A freedom to falter but most importantly, to allow ourselves to learn from those mistakes and missteps and to try again the next day, to be better, to be more patient, more engaging, to sit back, slow down and allow ourselves more grace.
 If we look at mothering that way, it doesn't seem so scary after all. 
After all, isn't it up to us to lead by example and teach our children not to be afraid of failure? That if they tried their very best, that's all we could have ever hoped for? 
Maybe we as Moms just need to step back and take our own advice. In giving ourselves permission to fail, aren't we really succeeding after all?  


  
 

100 Days Until Baby And Daddy Is A Wino.

Starting tomorrow we will begin the 100 Day Countdown to when we'll meet baby number three. It's eerily like the celebration of 100 Days to Graduation in college except without the exorbitant alcohol consumption. You know, even though it fell on a Wednesday and you had to wake up at the butt crack of dawn the following morning to take care of patients in nursing clinical, you made it a point to don that overpriced dorm t-shirt with an inappropriate saying and rally at the bar with your nearest and dearest. Well, even though tomorrow's celebration may not include copious amounts of alcohol and indecent behavior, you can bet your bottom dollar I won't be sleeping alone in my bed. After all, we still share a bed with our 18 month old, duh. 
*  *  *
Speaking of baby number three, he still remains nameless and it's beginning to drive me Britney-crazy. It's no secret boy names are hard and even harder when you've already used up your four favorite boy names on your previous two children but throw in a husband who refuses to talk names until you're particularly fat and hormonal and it's just nothing short of a natural disaster. 
Over breakfast this morning I told my him to be prepared for a little Baby Naming Pow-Wow this weekend- we've only got one name on our list (and maybe one name up my sleeve) so I'm hoping that this pow-wow is short and sweet. I get it- men will never understand the dire necessity to name a baby earlier than necessary but when said baby is residing within your own body consistently punching you in the hoo-ha, it's hard to think of anything else than giving that sweet right hook a name. 
*  *  *
The other day while standing in the kitchen, my 18 month old kept pointing to a wine rack full of empty favorites that hangs on our wall, proclaiming, "Daddy! Daddy!" At first, I hadn't given it second thought- for the longest while he was referring even to myself as "Daddy" and I assumed it was a term of endearment for a myriad of things. That all changed when, after watching the boys continuously empty and restock the wine fridge that sits in the playroom, I asked them what they were doing and my 3 year old cheerily replied, "We're playing Daddy!"
I could do nothing but laugh and then immediately text my husband and tell him that our boys think he's a wino. Put that one in the Rockstar Parenting book, my friends. Mmm... wine. Did I say it was a 100 Days to Baby countdown? I meant, 100 Days To Wine Drinking. 
*  *  *  
Even though I'm damn near certain that age 3.5 is shaving years off of my life, it does have it's redeeming moments in which I think there could be nothing sweeter. It's during the hellish moments, the moments where my 3.5 year old is one floor tantrum shy of being left outside on the deck (you know I would never) that I remind myself of these sweet moments and decide that yes, we are in fact, going to survive. Just the other night he took notice of the moon hanging in the sky and he was so in awe, he couldn't stop talking about it. When I asked him if it was a circle moon he saw, he responded, "Nope, it's a banana moon, Mom!" A banana moon. I mean, come on! I could have squeezed him until his eye popped out of his head.   
*  *  *
So, there you have it, 100 Days until Baby. Our kids think my husband is a wino, I'll be damned if by Sunday this baby doesn't have a name for himself and the 3.5 year old lives to see another episode of that god-awful Sid The Science Kid. 

Not too shabby, my friends, not too shabby. Have a great weekend! 

The Wrong Reason To Try For A Fourth Baby.

When WhatToExpect approached me about contributing a post for their Word of Mom community not only was I excited about the (unpaid) opportunity but I was also a bit leery about what exactly I would write for them. After all, I kind of like writing in this little old space of mine- it's comfortable. I'm familiar with it. It's kind of like snuggling up with your favorite blanket while sitting on your favorite seat on the couch. 
But I did it any way and I decided to tackle something that has been on my mother heart for a long while now- the answer to questions that many moms field, no matter if they are mothers to all boys, all girls or a mix of both. 
For me, it's tackling the oft-asked question of, "So, you going to try for a fourth to get that girl?" And how I never, ever want my three sons to feel as if they aren't enough for me. 
"We had barely stepped foot outside of the ultrasound room after learning our third baby (and very likely our last) would be another boy, and we heard it: The question that I've not only become accustomed to hearing but also one that I knew was coming.

"So, you're just going to have to try for four to get your girl, huh?"

I looked up in the direction of the offending question, shrugged my shoulders, and half-smiled. Yeouch. "I almost can't believe it myself. Three boys! How crazy!" I replied quietly back.

Looking back, that's not even the part that stung the most. That part quickly followed was when the very pregnant woman with two boys playing happily at her feet said, "You poor thing."

My heart sank when only seconds earlier, I was on cloud nine. Another boy! Another beautiful, bouncing bundle of blue to complete our family. "How lucky am I," I thought to myself, "to be given this gift of raising three gentlemen..."
To continue reading, please head over to the WhatToExpect website. And be sure to check out my awesome by-line!