Tractor cake!! Cora, Anna, Papa, and Schroeder made the fondant barnyard animals. Aunt Lary sent the tractors. Dirt was really crushed up chocolate graham crackers. Grass was green coconut.
My wacky hormones want more babies!
Stop me before I populate the earth again!
My baby boy is a man.
Gasp. Wheez. Can't breathe.
When it's a birthday, you got it, you all must suffer through my birth story. Hey, I had to live through it, the least you can do is commiserate with me.
I always want to start every story with "Buttercup was raised on a small farm in the country of Florin..." or "I was born a poor black child..." I should probably stop watching movies.
Gianni is our third little bundle of joy. We had planned on adopting and had started the paperwork (to this day I keep wondering who sent in their recommendation to the adoption agency...was it you?) but lo and behold, decided to go the old fashioned route instead and made one from scratch. I am a fairly good pregnant lady, if you can get past the nausea, backaches, extreme mood swings, violent emotional outbursts, insomnia, and crying jags. I always "show" really early, resulting in rude strangers asking if my 'twins are about to born at any second.' Luckily, I stop growing at about 6 or 7 months and then all those same strangers coo about how 'little I look.' Although that could be due to the extreme and violent outbursts. Anywho. I overcook my babies to the point of cajun style so I tend to be a tad bit cranky when my due date comes and goes and no baby. Cora and Anna were C-section kids and I won't get into a big ol' debate, but I was pretty much done going that route and after researching and researching we decided to take the road less traveled and hope that three times was the charm. I had a lovely midwife and a lovely doula and a lovely birthing center. After having had three kids three different ways (scheduled C, emergency C, and VBAC) I can now say with all fervency and certainty, if I ever have a fourth it's because technology has advanced to the point of beaming out babies, Star Trek style.
Happy third birthday, my little Moose, my little Luigi, my little goober! You were so worth it and you are the sunshine in our house.