The Ugly Side of Motherhood

(Warning: I'm talking about grossness today. Weak stomachs should move along to the next blog.)

Let me preface this post with saying I am the oldest of eight children, in a family with six boys. (Most of you already know this.) I came into motherhood as no stranger to gross. I used to believe that toilets just naturally yellowed under the lid and around the base, but even when I realized that the "natural yellowing" was really just the natural result of having at least one brother who was new to the potty training thing, I cleaned it up with only minor grumbling. (Only minor grumbling about the fact that it was pee. MAJOR grumbling about the fact that I was cleaning period.)
My baby brother had a terrible habit of puking almost as soon as he was put to bed on the nights when my mother was away. I have vivid resentful memories of cleaning these messes up. (My mom should rightfully point out that although did wipe up the floor, clean the baby, and put fresh sheets and pajamas on, my idea of cleaning the old bedding meant dumping it in the laundry room--where she would have to deal with it the next day.)
So, all this being said, I shouldn't have been surprised with all the little yucky things that come along with being a mom. I could talk about the hundreds of thousands of diaper changes. Or changing my clothes five times before going out in public because of the spit-up that inevitably splatters a clean shirt. (The Mother's Corollary to Murphy's Law?)
But what I've recently taken notice of are all those times where I let a puddle-jumping child wipe their hands on my jeans because they are suddenly horrified by the dirt. Or how I'll actually let them spit something they have chewed and deemed disgusting into my hand rather than let it dribble down their shirt. Or how I wipe yucky noses with my own sock (my sock is less visible than any other piece of clothing), when I don't have a tissue on hand. I think I was once a relatively normal human being, and I wonder what my 20-year old self would say if she could see me now. Probably just "Gross."

Free Ice Cream Tomorrow

First: 3 oz. of ice cream is absolutely guilt-free.
Second: It's free. (Make your donation, of course, but still. . . free.)
Third: It's free Cold Stone. Yum!

(I know that I phrase my arguments in "First, Second, Third" or "A, B, C" organization WAY too often because I now hear my little Mimi telling her sister things like, "A: You have to give me back my Barbie. B: I'm going to go tell Mom." She doesn't quite have the concept perfectly clear, but obviously, she's heard it before.)

Just Because I Want to Show Her Off

Look at that smily girl!!First thing in the morning, Bella will nearly flip herself upside down trying to smile at anyone and everyone that moves. (In fact, if you give her half a chance, she will try to charm you in the middle of the night. I know my weakness. I simply cannot resist a sweet, smiling baby, so I try not to make eye contact at 3 a.m.)
Olivia was behind the camera, cooing for her baby sister. Mimi was snuggling up close, showing her supermodel posing ability.
This smile is cuter in real life.
As much as I love this teeny-tiny baby (who is not so teeny tiny and is starting to get some little blubber rolls on her legs), I think I need to admit that she is looking more and more like a baby chimpanzee. Still really cute, but kind of funny-looking too? What do you think?
Edited to add this picture found by my brother Dave: Can't you see the resemblance? Still very cute.

What I'm learning. . .

I am learning that even though three kids doesn't feel that much harder than two kids, my time seems more slippery somehow, like I look up and it's been three weeks since I last blogged, or two weeks since the lawn was last mowed, or um. . . let's not mention how long since my bathtubs were scrubbed.
We had John's mom and grandma come to visit last week. It was absolutely lovely. I learned that even when you already have 40 grandkids and 51 great-grandchildren, you still have enough room in your wonderful grandma heart to dote on one more. (It was wonderful to see you again, Grandma. Thank you for such a great visit.)

I learned (and am willing to admit) that the cuteness of my children is not only due to their Anderson genes. (Sorry, Grandma, for springing the camera on you late at night after you had already put your pajamas on and gone to bed. We had to get a three-generation shot.) It also dawned on me that with an opera singer for a great-grandma there was bound to be a little drama in my sweet Naomi.
I am learning that there is nothing that will encourage the comments of passersby more than an tiny head with a shock of stand-up-straight dark hair. I must hear "Look at that hair" 10 times a day.
I learned that just because you have a mom that is allergic to cats doesn't mean you will love your friend's cat any less. In fact, you may just love it more, especially when it is as calm and tolerant as Phelps (Sara's cat, named after, you guessed it, our fabulous gold-medal swimmer).
I don't usually like cats, given that they make my eyes swell and my nose run and my throat hurt, but this one. . . well, this one won my heart. Such a sweet cat. (Plus, the addition of Zyrtec to my arsenal was fantastic.)
I already knew that I loved Sara and her family. They are so sweet and welcoming, even when I call last minute and need a break and tell her that I will be bringing all my kids. "Can I commandeer your weekend?" And she always says yes. I learned, however, that she'll say yes even when she'll be babysitting two extra kids starting the day I leave. What a sweet friend!The little girls played tea party.

The big girls ran through the sprinkers, even though it got quite chilly.And when, for some reason, they tired of running, they stood in the sprinklers, holding their faces. Over and over and over again. You know, I was five once, but sometimes I still don't understand what they're thinking.

Who does she look like?

AnnabelNaomi - One month old
Olivia - One month old
I must confess that I can never tell who my children (or brothers, or sister, or anyone) look like. John thinks that Bella looks like Olivia, but I hear most people tell me she looks like Mimi (but with the darker skin tone). What do you think?

College Football Hall of Fame

The College Football Hall of Fame is in downtown South Bend. I took the boys on a driving tour around the city, and we ended up there Sunday evening. Having not anticipated going to the Hall of Fame, we didn't bring a football, so the boys had to improvise. We found this little green ball there. Wait, you think you've seen that ball somewhere before? Here's a closer look.
There was a group of kids (a Big Brother group of some kind?) already playing there. When they needed a couple extra players, we were fortuitously in possession of a couple extra players. A couple extra players that have been missing the glory days of playing intramural football together.
And a couple of little cheerleaders doing what they call "team watch."
The most important element of "teamwatch" is placing all four extremities on the ground. Having your head also on the ground is just extra enthusiasm.

It's Always Fun When Uncles Come. . .

. . . when uncles come, Hooray!!
My younger brothers David and Robert came to visit on Saturday. Rob left Tuesday morning, and Dave had to leave today. It's so much fun to belong to a family that wants to come to my house and see my new baby. I had a simply delightful time with Rob and Dave. I hereby re-extend my open invitation to any and all family members and friends. Please come. We do fun stuff.
Like visit Fat Johnnie's. Fat Johnnie's is in Chicago, where Rob served his mission, and it is not in the best neighborhood. And I probably couldn't make it back there because Rob did all the driving in the city. Fat Johnnie's is a hot dog stand, a fairly famous one, from what I understand. I do not eat hot dogs. Ever. However, I heard from all those who do that the hot dogs were delicious. Mimi was especially delighted, considering that hot dogs are her favorite food ever.
I thought the ratty picnic tables were an especially nice touch, as was the 4"x4" hole through which you order your meal. Very picturesque.
After Fat Johnnie's, we visited the neighborhood where my parents lived while my dad went to law school at the University of Chicago. Rob pointed out all sorts of great things. Then we went downtown to see Buckingham Fountain and Millenium Park. Unfortunately, I was carrying the baby and left my purse with my camera in the van, so I have no pictures of the girls playing in the sprinkler park there at Millenium. (Dave--when you read this, can you e-mail me some of the pictures from your camera?) That was lots of fun. We even ran into Miss Erin, the girls' swimming teacher. She was visiting Chicago with a friend of hers from France.
Also going on next to Buckingham Fountain was Viva!!--some sort of Latin music festival. I think we were the only non-Spanish speakers for a couple miles. Very exciting. We ran into some exotic looking girls who are, apparently, minor celebrities with Mum2, which must be a television station. They were signing all sorts of autographs and giving commentary all over the park.
Then we had to visit Giordano's, of course. Delicious. It would probably be sacrilege to visit Chicago without eating Giordano's pizza.
Mimi left her swimsuit (which she had packed in her backpack, along with all the Little People, two Polly Pockets, and a dress-up dress) at one of the other tables in the place. It was ceremoniously returned to us halfway through dinner.
After such an eventful Saturday, this is what I found Sunday afternoon. Mimi didn't want to nap by herself, and apparently, after church, she put her swimsuit on underneath her playclothes. It was too hot to nap in both layers, so she simply removed the topmost, and snuggled up to Uncle Dave, who was already taking his Sabbath nap.
We did more, much more, but this is enough for one post.