The Many Faces of Noah.

It's The Yittle Fings, Part Thirty-Five.

A conversation in the car the other day...

Ali: "My tummy hurts."

Me: "Mine too!"

Ali: "Does yours hurt as much as mine hurts?"

Me: "I don't know. How much does yours hurt?"

Ali: "It's just bothering me a little."

Me: "Well, mine hurts a LOT."

Ali: "Well, don't cry about it!"

Me: "Okay, I won't."

Ali: "When your tummy is sweaty, that means it hurts. Is your tummy sweaty?"

Me: "No."

Ali: "Well, mine is REALLY sweaty."

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As Ali was sitting on the toilet, she informed me, "Usually poop is brown, and brown is just NOT my favorite color."

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She totally set me up the other day...

"If baby Noah stayed in your tummy forever, would your tummy be mad at him?"

"Oh YES."

"That's not nice. It's not nice to be mad at people - it's just not wise. It's really disobeying."

"Thanks."

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Ali is very excited about pink and blue bows on mailboxes, and always points them out and informs us as to what type of baby those people just had. Then, after one of these sightings, she informed us thoughtfully,

"I remember when I was born and there was a pink bow on the mailbox."

"Oh really? Do you remember being in my tummy, too?"

"Yes!"

"Was it dark?"

"Yes!"

"Was it comfy?"

"Yes!"

"Was it gooey?"

"Eww, No!! Only PUMPKINS are gooey on the inside!!"

Orphaned Photos, Part Twelve.

We went to a wedding a few weeks ago, and Ali had a blast on the dance floor – especially when Daddy joined her:

Ali, AJ, and Tessa feeding Ducks at Aldridge Gardens…

A couple of months ago, Ali and I Mod-Podged letters (like the frames I made) for hers and Noah’s doors.

She and Chris hung them the other day:

And although she likes them, it bugs her quite terribly that we don’t have “Mommy and Daddy” on our bedroom door.

Oh, the unfairness.

On that same day, we finished putting the turtles on Noah’s walls. She absolutely loved doing that:

I’ll really try to get some “finished” shots of his room soon. As soon as it qualifies as finished.

Ali has been loving the Christmas lights, of course. And I love that in the South we can (sometimes – not today), sit outside, at night, with bare legs, in the glow of Christmas lights.

Gotta love our weather.

And, this year we went back to a fake tree. I can’t really blame Chris – after all, we’re going to be a bit busy this month, and he doesn’t have time to give love, attention, and daily Miracle-Gro to a real tree like he usually does.

But Ali didn’t mind – she loved putting the branches on:

AND playing in the box.

She helped Chris string the lights,

And then, as tradition always dictates, her Godmother, Amanda came over and helped us decorate.

After all that hard work, Ali was one VERY tired little girl, which oddly gave her that aloof-SuperModel look…

…at least now we know how they achieve that zoned-out-aura.

36 Weeks. 3 Ardously Long and Tortuous Weeks To Go.

(This shirt is SOOO glad that it’s almost done being tortured on a bi-weekly basis…)

Total Weight Gained: I seriously don’t want to know this week. Between Thanksgiving and the fact that I have all of a sudden and quite heavily started retaining water (as can be noted in the above picture or if you’ve seen my FACE lately), the thought scares me.

Cravings: Despite (or maybe because of) my assuredly growing weight, I have no room for food. I’m never hungry except in the mornings, and oddly enough, I have actually started **wanting** ice water. All the time. And that’s about all I want.

Contractions: Yes, and getting more painful. I almost called this weekend during several different rounds of extremely painful contractions, but the only thing that kept me from it is my paralyzing fear of going to the hospital for fake labor.

Obviously, since I have yet to have a baby, that was a good decision.

Movements: He’s finally starting to slow down, as he has no room left. He does get the hiccups quite often, though.

Sleep: Not going so well. Which might explain my levels of grumpiness and desperation for him to come out AS SOON AS POSSIBLE.

Level of Impatience: I’m definitely to the praying-every-day for my water to break point. And praying through every contraction that my water would break. And praying when I go to bed that I will wake up with broken water. And any other time that I think about it. Which is pretty much constantly.

…Not that I’m whiny or anything.

***Crossing my fingers that this is the last bi-weekly update***