I'm THAT mother.

                  I promised I would never be the mom that had a gazillion pictures of her oldest, and two of her youngest.  I promised I would never be the mom that was too tired to relish the birth experience of number two, or three.  I promised that I would never make a big deal out of some kids and not others.  I was wrong.  Fleming number three, aka Jebediah Crockett Fleming, is about to pop out any day, and I haven't even posted cute belly shots.  I've taken a few, but they are sitting on my digital camera in my closet, waiting to get dumped on the computer and then transferred to the blog.
                  I have been sicker, more tired, and stressed with this baby than the others, but it doesn't mean that I wanted him any less.  I want him to know that yes, he was a surprise, but Heavenly Father told me that I was going to have another one eventually and it is an answer to many many many prayers regarding my "broken girl system".  I really wanted and tried for my first two babies, and Heavenly Father blessed me in his own time, but this baby was the Lord telling me that we were supposed to have another one.  It was taken out of my hands and now we will have a new Flemlett to grace our Texas house.
                  From all mega complicated ultrasound accounts, he is built like Kizzie:  a big head, long torso, and little legs.  However he has his brother's stubbornness and spunk:  he's currently fixed in the breech position with legs up by his face, determined to scare me daily and make me think that he's coming early.  We're on the final countdown.  34 weeks, OB trying to get me to at least 37.  Children at school screaming at each other and turning into "Lord of the Flies" and I'm just trying to survive with sanity intact.  This is number three, possibly the last depending on the state of my lady business after this experience.  I can't wait to hold this little one in my arms and fast forward to the fun part of the newborn experience, when you are healed and the baby smiles and life is good (and the house looks like junk and you're in your sweatpants, but it doesn't matter).

Kizzieisms

So every day I call my mom and sister and tell them something funny that Kizzie said for the day.  The other day, my mom told me that I need to write them down, before I forget.  I realized that Max said some really funny things as a toddler, that I don't even remember now, and since this is my attempt at some kind of online journal with pictures, I decided to share a few recent tidbits of wisdom here:

Experience 1:
We dropped off one of Jack's prints at a Ft. Worth art gallery the other day.  On the way into the building Kizzie looked very seriously at one of the sculptures on the front lawn and said, "That's a donut hammer mommy".  I began telling her, that even though she was probably hungry, that it wasn't really a donut, when I realized that it really did look like a donut, with an empty center and a handle.  I'm not sure if that's what the artist was going for, but hey it was a sincere interpretation!

Experience 2:
My children have a really bad habit of following me into the bathroom and freaking out if I try to even close the door.  For some reason they are perfectly content to play by themselves until I have to pee, then it's clingfest 2013.  One day I was using the facilities, with the door closed like a civilized person when Kizzie comes bursting in with a very perturbed look on her face (she does that well). I asked her to close the door so that I could have some privacy.  She slowly closes the door, looks around her in pure bewilderment, and asks, "Where's privacy, I don't see him?"

Experience 3:
This just happened.  While unpacking the kid's rooms, we have unearthed some toys, etc. that haven't been seen in awhile.  I just realized that Max's ceramic piggy bank is anatomically correct (and a boy, if you know what I mean).  The kids were giggling and shrieking while pointing to his delicate piggy parts and Kizzie said, "Mom, he needs to go potty, he's pooping!".

I'm afraid to believe in my goal . . . HELP ME!

I began a really noble goal a few weeks ago, and I am in danger of quitting.  For my entire life, I have HATED EXERCISE!  So badly that when I watch the motivating workout scenes with fanfare trumpet music in the background on Rocky I almost want to puke.  I have been inspired by my husband, and dear friends such as Kara, to give running a try.  I figured that granny walking wasn't really exciting enough.  My husband didn't start running until he turned thirty a few years ago, and he swears that your prime for running isn't until you pass thirty anyway.  He got to where he was running over eight miles at a time.  (I was secretly envious)

The problem is, I have horrible mental associations with running.  I used to tell people in high school (when I was eighty pounds thinner) that I would only run if someone was chasing me.  However, I was forced to run a mile weekly in my PE class with the coach that we not so affectionately called "Forrest Gump".  I want to get past the pain that I'm feeling now.  By pain I mean the jarring jittering sensation that I get when I run my measely half of a mile now.  I want it to look and feel effortless, like the African man that runs across campus daily.  When I see him run, he looks like a graceful gazelle, and like he just really enjoys it.

Jack swears to me that it will get better.  And I almost believe him.  I am made of the same bones, sinews, and body parts as the swift African runner, why can't I do it too?  I'm shamefull of my hatred and pessimissm.  My eighty five year old grandfather is in better shape than me.  He really is, I promise.  The man walks three miles every day.  I secretly long for a leaner body that glides along the pavement like butter.  However, I just really really want to overcome my inner running demons.  Three days a week Jack serves as my coach. "Ya Bum" he calls to me as I'm out the door to the field outside.  I try to ignore my inner voice who swears that I look like jabba the hut in running shoes.  Please don't look at my butt as my feet hit the pavement!

Giuli

Happy (And Sad) Mardi Gras!

Today my husband and I celebrated Mardi Gras (I think that we're the only ones in Arizona that do so) by eating leftover chicken and sausage gumbo and by listening to Dr. John and Professor Longhair on YouTube.  The gumbo was stinkin good, but in our hearts we really wish that we were eating a fresh, hot muffaletta from Po Boy Express, with maybe some bengets for dessert.  I've been thinking of Mardi Gras a lot this past weekend, not just with wistful fondness of parades gone by or memories of good food and good times, but with extreme sadness that I'm missing that culture right now and that my college and former town got creamed on Sunday by a wicked tornado.  Hattiesburg, USM, and it's vibrant family was devastated here and there by this horrible event, and my best friend's house got squished (again) by the wrath of trees.  We survived Katrina in Hattiesburg a year or so before moving to Arizona, and this brings back sad and really good memories.  I won't even dwell on the sad ones right now, but I will think of the good ones.  How much our community gathered together (especially our neighborhood) to help each other out, laugh together, and cry.  How the buzz of chainsaws and the smell of barbecue grills wafted through the air for over a week.  How hard my babies from Thames hugged me when school finally resumed.  How resilient and strong Mississippians are in the face of tragedy.  Sometimes I wonder how we could have left a town that still calls to me, usually in the night when my face is wet with tears, or when I'm looking at pictures that my Thames children drew for me.  My husband and I are different than we were ten years ago.  Every place that we have lived since then has left it's mark on us, good or bad.  Somehow Hattiesburg has become part of my fingerprints, or DNA.  I'll never forget how I felt when I stepped onto campus the first time as a very young freshman.  Those live oaks were spreading their green leafy branches out in a huge hug just for me.  When Jack and I bought a house on 13th Avenue, we had three huge oaks in our backyard (the biggest I named "the general") that had survived Camille and goodness knows what other storms, and then Katrina.  They shed their large branches all over the yard, got a good shaking, but stayed put.  Maybe Jack and I should have done the same.  I want my roots to grow somewhere, anywhere where they feel at home and loved, where I will look at them years from now and be astonished at their strength and breadth.  I pray every night, "Heavenly Father, help us find our place, and then help us stay put".

CURSE Jack Frost!

I have something to admit.  I really don't think that my body is capable of experiencing much colder temperatures then it has lately.  I think that I lifetime of living in the Southern region of the country has affected my body's ability to warm itself up.  We're talking negative 9 degrees F this morning, with a high of 19.  Ummmmm, yuck!  Some of you reading this might be scoffing, "Well, in ALASKA it gets negative a bigillion" or something.  I don't care!  There is a reason that I'm not living in Alaska, or Siberia right now.  Luckily we don't have to pay utilities, so last night as I was doing lesson plans at night, the heater was on and I kept feeling a draft from the windows and under the door.  I kept inching the thermostat higher and higher.  When Jack woke up this morning, he said that it was set to 85 degrees.  When I was younger and stupid, I once made the statement that I preferred being cold to being hot, because you can always put on more clothes, wheras you can't take your skin off.  Wrongness.  I enjoy watching the snow capped peaks from my window, and that is all.

Should I keep the kids?

I have to tell you that five minutes before I took this video, I would have sold my kids to the circus.  Then the magic happened.  Kizzie took Max by the hands and said, "Dance, Ma-well" and then she starting singing softly and leading him around the house in an imaginary waltz.  Max was totally game, and they were twirling, running, and jumping with hands clasped and smiles on their faces.  If you have multiple kids, or grew up with a sibling, I'm sure that you can relate.  When they are playing together it's precious, when they are fighting I want to gouge my ears out.  I hope that you can still see, even though it's grany. 

Happy Halloween from the Munsters!

Last night's trunk or treat was a blast!

 

 

Our creepy, warty pumpkin.

 

 

Max as Eddie Munster. (Thanks mom for the cute suit!)

 

Family portrait: Lily, Marilyn, Herman, and Eddie.

 

Me and my beautiful girl!

 

Max with his woof woof.

 

Max fell asleep with his glow regalia on.

 

Hope your Halloween was memorable, fun, and involved chocolate!

Have you ever been this tired?

The other night Jack took Kizzie to our friends Heather and David's house to hang out while I was helping Max do his homework.  Kizzie was really tired, and Heather took this video while she was bobbing and weaving, trying to stay awake.  I've only ever seen her do this at her high chair.  I just love this little girl with all of my heart!  Enjoy.

Mowhawks and Kizzie Walking!

Okay, so I've been meaning to catch a video of Kiz walking for a couple of weeks now, and the only one that I have is me getting on to the kids.  So just ignore the audio (I sound ridiculously upset--forgive me, I've been surviving on 5 hours of sleep for about a week) and watch my crazy children playing in front of our apartment.  Kizzie's favorite thing to do right now is to walk in circles till she gets dizzy and falls down.  Max just got a haircut that Jack's been dying to give him for 5 years now, a mowhawk.  It's sort of a modified one, and when his hair's not spiked up he looks a little bit like bon jovi from the 80s.  Tell me what you think. 

Belated Pictures of Awesomeness

I have been meaning to post some of these pictures for over a month.  Jack and I celebrated our 10 year wedding anniversary in May, and I made him promise that we wouldn't just go to dinner and a movie.  His solution: spending the day hiking in Monument Valley on the Navajo Reservation, and sightseeing on the drive back home.  Here are some of the beautiful pictures from our trip.  I absolutely loved it, and spending time alone with my honey was completely awesome.  I can't believe that it's been 10 years!  We were such little babies when we got married.  Here's to 60 more!

My brain is a wet noodle

I have just finished 5 hours of homework.  Add that to the 7 hours that I'm in class each day, with short breaks to eat, ride the bus with smelly people, and go to the bathroom, you have the majority of my day.  Don't get me wrong, I love learning and school (heck, I'm a teacher) but I feel like these past few weeks have caused me to delve into the little used recesses of my brain and give them a poke with a cattle prod.  All of those calculus and math indents in my brain tissue have lain undisturbed for 12 years, only to be rudely awakened by statistic formulas.  "Help!" they scream, "We thought that we were in our retirement years, sipping virgin pina coladas on the beach."  Oh no, now they are forced to work again like septuagenarians at Walmart.  Argh.

Where the heck is my mommy hat?

         For the first time in a really really really long time I am being selfish.  By selfish I mean that 99.9 percent of my day I am catering to my own needs and no one else's.  Strange, I don't think that I've felt this way for over a year, maybe two?  I'm in Phoenix taking concentrated graduate music classes for three weeks while Jack is watching the kids (blessed wonderful man!)
        For those of you who aren't in the mommy time of life, you might not think that any of the things that I will mention are extremely exciting, but others of you will smile and wistfully remember the time in your life when these things were a given.

I get to go to the bathroom, by myself, not holding anyone or talking to anyone or listening to anyone--with the door closed.

When it is time to eat lunch I can ask myself, "What do I really feel like eating?" and do it, with a minimum of fuss and drama.

I can spread myself out in the bed and not worry about hitting anyone or being elbowed, grabbed, kicked, or cried on.

I have time to put makeup on in the morning.

I actually care about putting on makeup in the morning.

I will go hours without having a single conversation about poop.

I don't have to check with someone before I use the computer (Max or hubby)

I don't have to watch a kids TV show.

I don't even have to worry about putting out tantrum fires.



Lest you think that I'm unduly enjoying my alternate universe, I confess that I'm missing out on the good things too, like sticky kisses, cuddles, and sibling laughter.

It's a nice break, though.

Picture of the Day

Hey Shoty, it's your birthday!

Two days ago was Jack's birthday, and in the morning when he was playing some birthday songs for himself, we discovered something amazing.  Kizzie likes to dance to 50 cent.  What?  It was so cute that we had to film it for posterity.  Who new that my year old would dig hip hop?

splish splash I was taking a bath!

Hello all.  Here are some pictures of my lovely bathing beauty in her new bathing suit she got for her birthday.  She was so cute I could just eat her up!

Bubbles and Birthdays!

Today was my baby's first birthday.  Fun was had all around as Kizzie and Max helped me make cupcakes, eat cupcakes, play with bubbles, and share toys that Kiz got as presents.  We introduced slaw dogs to our Arizona friends, played hard, and had a blast.  I just have to share the precious pictures of my little girl on her first birthday party.  The other pictures are her in her Easter outfit and us on our hike last weekend.  Loves to you all!  ps--Max was hunting bears on our hike with a broken stick/gun, that's him staking out the "bear" hideout on our hike.  I've also added a video of Kiz dog at her Birthday.

Happy Spring Ya'll!

These last few weeks have been crazy, but really fun. We got another snow on Saturday (hopefully the LAST one) and it's already almost melted. Hallelujah! Max is going through a rough patch of frustration issues; maybe we should stop watching so much Hulk? This week I don't have school because of AIMS testing. I never thought that I would be excited about that! I really really love my family, and I get to spend alot of time with little Kiz this week. She coming up on one year in just a couple of weeks. Jack doesn't understand why I get so excited planning birthday parties for my kids. He thinks that I'm going overboard. I keep telling him, no--renting a jolly jump and a clown for your one year old's birthday is going overboard, I'm just having a blast! Kizzie is going to have rainbows and colored chalk, and adorable cupcakes. Max is going to have a superhero party complete with costumes. I stood yesterday staring at the cake decorating aisle in Michaels in shock. Yes, I love making cute and whimsical cakes for my babies for their birthdays (my favorite was Max's choo choo cake a few years ago), but I have no desire at all to make fancy wedding cakes with yucky tasting fondant icing. The money that you could blow on that hobby is unreal! No icing roses and edible glitter for me. Okay, maybe edible glitter . . . I've always liked shiny purple things. Here are some pictures of the fam that we took on Easter. Notice that Max is blurry (he wouldn't stop jumping up and down).

It Smells Like Spring Break

This past week was at times stressful, full of memories, and brimming with awesomeness! I was able to go with the kids and my mom and sister to visit my grandparents in Santa Ynez, CA. I can't tell you how many wonderful times I had at that wonderful house as I was growing up. Lily and I would spend a week with Grandma and Grandpa at least once a year, and in the days leading up to this trip, I would catch myself in quiet moments closing my eyes and visualizing the sights and smells of the house. The green grassy hill in the front yard, the rose perfume of my Grandma, the beautiful flowers and the wind chimes, and the warm sun coming through the spa room.

I was really looking forward to sharing these memories with my children, and Grandma was really excited to finally meet her grandmother's namesake, my Kizzie. The 14 hour car ride with the kids was CRAZY! But we survived, and had a great week. We went to the beach, hung out in Solvang, hunted for yucca branches to make a walking stick, played in the dirt, ate In N Out burger (YUMMY) and enjoyed every moment.

My sister took great pictures, and I will make sure I post them on the blog as soon as I get them. We have great ones of Kizzie eating a rib bone, Max playing with the dog Barney, and me and Lil soaking up the sunshine. Ahhhhhh. I hope that Max remembers this fantastic time and that I will have new memories to make with my loved ones.

Happy Valentine's Day from the Flemletts

This morning was gorgeous! I don't think that I've ever had a white Valentine's day. The crisp white snow and the happy sunshine just combined to make a joyful morning! Not to mention it contrasts nicely with red stiff construction paper Valentines. Max was totally digging on his Iron Man Valentines. He will come home from school hopped up on sugar and I will be worn out from celebrating an even more decadent holiday--Mardi Gras. Loves and kisses to you all.

I'm having a cow!

We had a horrible event this morning. While riding the campus bus home from dropping Max off at school, I tripped on the last step of the bus at my stop and fell on the ground--while carrying Kiz on my back in the backpack. I rolled slow motion-like and then heard a thud as her little head hit the concrete. I had a passerby help take her out so that I could assess the damage, and blood was running out of her nose. I will admit something. I have absolutely no calm when it comes to emergency situations and my babies. I sprinted up the hill to the house and then hyperventilated and cried uncontrollably for several minutes while I tried to clean it up and figure out what was going on. Luckily she just has a little skinned nose and will probably have a nasty bruise tomorrow. Now I can't shake off the guilt that I'm the worst mother in the world. I know that my clutziness was not intentional, but it still sucks! I wish that I had a harry potter wand to magically erase her boo boo.