I will hunt her down.

It's 2 a.m. on the day I am estimated to have this baby. It is also the day my sister swore I'd have her. Now, people always have their two cents to add about when they just "know" you are going to have the baby, but in the case of my sister, I tend to believe it as she accurately predicted both Callia and Kiefer's birthday. (Don't bother asking her where Jimmy Hoffa is; she only seems to have this knack when it comes to her big sister.) When it was so lovingly announced back on Thanksgiving that I was pregnant AGAIN (a story I will tell another time), she said July 15 popped into her head immediately. She didn't even know when I was due.

As today approached, she was more and more sure of herself. She called me several hours ago to ask if I had my bags packed. Well, duh! Of course! She commented I could have waited until then to do it. She said the hours were counting down. Now, let me make something clear here. I am typically pretty patient. I did fine waiting for Callia and Kiefer to make their grand entrances into this world. As I am CERTAIN this is our last baby, you'd think I'd just enjoy the last few days before she comes to snuggle with my current baby, enjoy Cady's kicks and just overall be one with the pregnancy glow (my ass!).

Well, instead I am dealing with a pain so excruciating, it puts labor to shame. (No, not really. How I am looking forward to it is beyond me.) The back pain, yeah, that hurts, but it's the pubic symphasis that has me down and out. Has anyone ever felt this? Holy crap! I swear, it feels like someone is taking a sledgehammer and beating the shit out of my pubic bone. I had it with my first two, though worse with Kiefer. With this pregnancy, I felt it as early as 8 weeks along. Today, the pain is much worse than anything I ever felt with Kiefer. I honestly cannot even go shopping. I went to Kohl's the other day with my mother and the kids (don't ask me what the hell I was thinking) and I sat every chance I got. The mannequins and I became quite friendly as their little platforms make a perfect place to plant my rather large preggo butt. The looks of sheer pity from passersby was more than I could bear and when we were done for the day, I told my mother I was done. I was committing myself to home confinement until D-Day. it was just too much for me to gather myself and the kids and head on out. (Of course, she laughed at me when I went to Target the next day to pick up Cal's pictures.)

I can't do anything around the house. Poor Corey worked 12 hours today (er...yesterday) and came home to a sink still full of dishes. I honestly cannot even stand there long enough to wash one fork. It's quite pathetic, really. Ok, so given all this and more, I am BEYOND ready to meet little Cadence and I have convinced myself Kerri is right and her birthday will be today (even though I always thought the 18th). It's to the point now where if I don't have her today, I will be so disappointed. I told my sister I was likely to kill her if she was wrong. She laughed. I didn't. I said, ok, just don't say I didn't warn you. She then told me if that were the case, she was avoiding me until I actually do have her (which shouldn't be too hard since I am under self-imposed home confinement now, remember?). Well, I just might have to come out of hiding to hunt down her psychic-my-ass ass.

I'm going to bed now. Pray, for her sake, Kerri was right.

My sweet Callia

It was my intention to write this on the 29th, but since it is after midnight, it's no longer Callia's birthday. I still can't believe she's 3!! Amazing!

She had a nice day today. Since Corey took the day out of work, he got up with Kiefer and let Callia and me sleep. That was very nice of him, except we had an appointment to get her pictures taken at 10 and we didn't get up until 10 of nine. I still had to paint her toes and figure out what I was going to do with her mop. C insisted I didn't put it half up and there was no way I was putting it in a ponytail. Don't get me wrong, they look cute on her, but not for her pictures. Now, you should keep in mind my daughter has head of wild curls, especially in the summer when it's humid. As we had no time for a bath, I sprayed it down with water, brushed and parted it on the side and pulled it back with a barrette. I have to say, it actually looked pretty decent.

As we walked through Target, toward the portrait studio, I SWEAR at least four people commented on how pretty she was. She was wearing an outfit she received for her birthday LAST YEAR, sized 24 months, and it was still a little big on her. I had actually forgotten about it and even had another outfit picked out for her until I remembered I still had some summer clothes with tags still on them hanging in the closet. I spotted this light purple Carter's outfit and knew right away she had to wear that instead. Here's a pic of when we got home (like her new Dora bike she waited months for?).

So, anyway, I was little nervous about how she was going to do with the whole smiling thing. Lately every picture of her consists of a big, fake, cheesy grin, her eyes scrunched up and she's looking toward the ceiling. I guess I've taken too many pictures of her over the last THREE YEARS (my God, help me).

Can I just tell you, she did so well? I was so impressed! She did get a little uneasy when the girl had he lay on her back with her hands behind her head and her feet up in the air (sounds weird, I know). I could see she was about to cry and I couldn't have that, so I nixed that idea pretty quickly and suggested we try something else. Other than that, she gave us some great shots with that gorgeous smile, a few serious faces sprinkled in.

After we left there, she and daddy went to the store and then my sister stopped by for a short visit. A bit later, We took her out to eat for dinner and her face lit up when the servers came over and sang to her (I kicked myself afterward for not snapping a few pics). I swear, she even seemed older to me today. She even has a new attitude to go with new her 3-year-old self. Usually when she wants something she whines if we tell her no. TWICE today the little stinker shot right back at us and demanded whatever it was she wanted.

Funny. The intent behind this post was originally to talk about Callia in general, not her birthday. I wanted to share some of my own feelings about my little lady and tell a few stories about her, but now I am REALLY tired and quite ready for bed. I just want her to stay a little girl forever, not turn "free" (as she says three). But, for the record, if you ask Callia, she still says she 2. That's my girl...

My very first blog post...

So who knows if this whole blog thing will go anywhere. People who know me, know I have A LOT to say, but putting it out there for everyone to read? Not sure how I feel about that just yet. I know a lot of it I'll be ok with, but some of the honesty I've seen in other blogs is not something I am sure I am capable of. I guess only time will tell.

When thinking about creating my own blog, I realize the main reason I want to do so is for and because of my stepsons, Patrick and Austin. There's a really long story attached to that, and I will most definitely write all about it soon enough, but for right now, I just want to talk about why they are my inspiration. It's been three years since these boys have been to my house, thanks to their crazy mother and her wild accusations. There certainly will come a day when Patrick, at the very least (Austin is autistic), will come around and start asking questions. I had written a bunch of letters to him in the past, but they all got lost on the laptop when it fried. Since then, I've not written much because, as sad as it sounds, time has hardened me. I just don't care quite as much as I had. However, I do think this blog and my desire to write it because of them, says something about my true inner feelings. I guess I care more than I let on.

Also, I have my own kids now and I want to A) brag shamelessly about them, B) have stories about them for Patrick to read when he does come around and C) brag shamelessly about them.

Callia, my sweet, sweet Callia, turns 3 in just two days. I can hardly stand it. Where did the time go? What a precious gift she was, my first-born. I'll save my "Ode to Callia" for her birthday on Friday.

Then there's Kiefer. My boy. My little mama's boy. Heh, heh. So different from Callia. She was so happy and easy going as a baby. Not this one. I swear he's not happy unless he's rammed up my butt or snuggled tightly under my t-shirt. Drives me crazy the way he's so needy, but I love him all the same and am totally enjoying his first year of life. (He turns 1 August 1. )

Then...drumroll please...there's Cadence. This little bun in the oven that seems to have a penchant for resting right along my bladder. I've yet to meet this little lady that's been renting my uterus the last nine month, but can someone say, "Eighteen more days!!" That's right, 18 more days, ok, 20 (I guess I should wait until get home) until I can suck back a large and heavy gin and tonic. Don't worry, Corey, my (insert adjective of choice here as for me it really depends on the day and mood I am in) husband, has already been forewarned: he will be taking over all parenting duties.

See, this is what I am uneasy of. I am kidding, sort of, about the drinking. I DO intend to have a few drinks after she comes, but COME ON! It won't be THE DAY we get home. And yet, I feel the need to explain myself lest I be judged and criticized for neglecting my newborn in order to get a MUCH NEEDED buzz. I am not one who likes to get drunk and rarely do I even when I not playing landlady with my body, but man, OH MAN! These kids (Corey included) have been making me crazy these past few months and I am really looking forward to just relaxing with a nice cold one and passing out ON MY STOMACH!

Speaking of Corey. What a man. Lord only knows how much I love him. I say that because I don't even think he knows. I mean, I know he knows I love him, but sometimes he wonders how much and if I still love him as I did when we first fell in love eight years ago. "You used to be all about me," he said a few weeks ago. Yeah, well, life used to only BE all about you. Marriage, money, careers, children, crazy ex-wives, they all play a part here and while I might not show it like I used to, I still love him all with all my heart. More now than ever. It doesn't help that I am NINE-MONTHS-PREGNANT and super cranky. But, let me state something here for the record: this man...this man who drives me mad with fury at times, who cooks me amazing dinners, who just cannot seem to put his plate in the sink after we're finished eating said dinners, who makes me laugh harder than anyone else I know, this man is my life. He is a great father, hard worker and fabulous life partner. He pisses me off at times, but I'd be lying if I didn't ackowledge just how lucky I am to have found him. So, while I might complain about him once in a while and share things he does to get under my skin, remember how truly wonderful he is and how lost I'd be without him.

Oh, I guess I should tell you a smidge about me. I'm 31 (ACK!), love being a mom as much as it makes me want to pull off my fingernails one by one at times and will one day teach high school English. I have two degrees (BAs in English and journalism) and currently do some freelance writing and editing from home. Besides my family and writing, I love football (GO PATS!), music and...boy, I am pretty boring if that is all I can come up with.

Ah, well...until next time.