If You Want Something Done. . .

just do it yourself.

All of us (well, not sure about Hannah, yet) have seasonal allergies. We ALWAYS have Sudafed and various assorted antihistamines in the house (Claritin, Benadryl, Zyrtec, Allegra, etc.) But, this season, our allergies hit us harder than ever. Mine flared into a full blown sinus infection before I knew what hit me. And my husband, Sneezy. . . I mean Mike, was also hit hard.

Here is what differs between Mike and I. When I realize I can't manage my symptoms with over-the-counter medication, I go see a doctor for prescription drugs. Because, after all, God would have given us the knowledge to come up with prescription drugs if he didn't intend us to use them. And, what's the point of paying for health and prescription drug insurance if you aren't going to use it?

Mike on the other hand prefers to suffer in silence. Except, he isn't very silent. Every morning, I hear him hacking up a lung in the shower. And, every evening, he passes out in his dinner from all the antihistamine he is consuming over the course of the day.

While Mike refused to seek professional medical help, our grass grew. And grew. And GREW. Mike did attempt to mow the grass, but only made it through the front yard before giving up. He refuses to wear a mask because it fogs up his sunglasses. After a week of not letting Mikie play on his swingset, I decided to cut the grass myself.

Let me start by saying, I had only mowed the lawn one other time in my life (while Mike went to a bachelor party in Vegas). Since we now had a ride on mower, I thought, "it can't be THAT hard." And, honestly, I half expected Mike to see the effort I was making and come out to my rescue.

Unfortunately, while we differ in our pursuit of medical attention when sick, we are both equally stubborn. Every time I stalled and had to ask Mike what I was doing wrong, he was content to come outside and show me, and then go back into the air conditioning with the kids. And, if he was too stubborn to come out and take over, I was only more determined to mow the damn lawn myself.Three and a half hours later, covered in grass stains, our 3/4 of an acre yard was neatly trimmed. Granted, there were a fair amount of areas to go back and get with the weedwacker. But, overall, it looked pretty good.

THANKFULLY, Mike FINALLY went to the doctor and got a prescription for Singulair. In combination with his Zyrtec and Sudafed, his eyes and nose are no longer running. So, he was able to cut the grass himself this weekend.

Love, The Trahans

Hannah Turns 3. . .

months, that is. When Mikie was born, my mom gave us a photo cube. You were supposed to put his picture at 3, 6, 9, and 12 months on each face of the cube. Unfortunately, we didn't ever remember to take Mikie's pictures. So, we decided to use it for Hannah.

We didn't bother having professional pictures taken prior to now, because she couldn't smile until she was a month old. And, in reality, she didn't exactly smile on cue until recently. So, I wasn't sure how she would do.

I know people would tell us she's cute even if she wasn't (because, it's what you say), but I don't think you can look at this face and not melt:There is one photo in particular that looks EXACTLY like a picture of me as a child. I have been scouring the house looking for it. So, I'm saving the other pictures until I find it.

Love, The Trahans

Lost Boy

After a long Friday, we decided to rendezvous in Connecticut for Mexican food. Mikie, Hannah and I sat down to milk, a bottle, and a strawberry daiquiri (respectively). By the time Mike and Krista arrived, and we ate dinner, I was ready for a break from Mikie. Since we drove separately, I convinced Mike to take my car and drive the kids home.

As Krista and I pulled into the driveway, we saw Mikie, standing near the closed garage doors, looking lost. Mike was no where to be seen.

Mom: "Mikie, why are you standing outside?"

Mikie: "I was trying to get in to tell Dad something."

We're really NOT bad parents. In reality, Mikie asked to play outside, which Mike let him do. He specifically left the door to the deck open so that Mikie could come in and out. Unfortunately, Mikie didn't realize this; hence the confusion.

And so was born the joke of the weekend:

Mikie: "Knock, knock"

Dad: "Who's there?"

Mikie: "Mikie"

Dad: "Mikie who?"

Mikie: "Let me in, you moron."

Okay, I take back the "we're good parents" comment. Mike did teach our son the word "moron."

Love, The Trahans

McDonald's

Mikie loves McDonald's. Not for the food (at least, I don't think for the food). He loves McDonald's for the "toy surprises". I thought that he understood which places offered "toy surprises" (McDonald's, Wendy's, Burger King) versus the restaurants which don't (Friendly's). Not exactly. . .

This weekend, we went to Boston Beer Works with my cousins, James and Krista. I am realizing that 90% of the time, only one of my kids will be happy. While Hannah was content to sit in her stroller, kick her feet and flirt with the ceiling fixtures, Mikie was not as happy. Still annoyed by the fact that we were going on the tour of Fenway instead of playing mini golf and eating ice cream, he was particularly whiney and demanding. When the waitress came to take our order, Mikie ordered a hotdog and french fries. And, after we were all done ordering our food he yelled in his own exasperated way, "And can you bring me a toy surprise." As if she had some nerve making him sit all this time without his toy.

Unfortunately, while I tried to explain to him that they don't have toy surprises at all restaurants, the waitress only made matters worse by saying "I'll go look for one." Which, to a four year old means "Sure, I'll get you one right now." Needless to say, she didn't find one, which added only added to the whining that regaled us through lunch.

Hopefully, when she has kids, some waitress will do her the same favor.

Love, The Trahans

Public Indecency

Imagine for a moment you are in a parking garage. You are heading to your car, having just finished a day of sightseeing, shopping, or maybe even a long day of work. You put the car in gear, back out of your parking space, and head for the exit. As you round the corner, there in front of you, illuminated by your headlights, is the rear end of a four year old, exposed for all to see while he pees in the middle of the parking garage.

Had you been parked on the upper level of the Boston Common parking garage between 8 and 9pm on Saturday, you would have had an experience not unlike what I described above.

In Mikie's defense, he REALLY had to pee, and every time he asked Mike if he could pee, he said "not here". So, I can understand why he felt the need to act on his own.

In Mike's defense, I don't think it would have been legal if he let Mikie pee on Boston Common. And, since there were a fair amount of police officers around, it was probably a good thing that Mikie listened.

Let me just say it was pretty amusing to watch Mike frantically pick up Mikie and race him to a corner, all while trying to avoid getting peed on. I'm sure it would have been less amusing had I been the one to have to move him!

Love, The Trahans

Little Quackers

This weekend, my Aunt Maureen and Cousin Krista came to visit. Since they had never been to Boston, we decided to do my favorite activity, take a Duck Tour. Thankfully, the weather was beautiful, because I wasn't looking forward to driving around in an amphibious vehicle if it was cold and rainy. Here are some pictures:

The motley crew.I like this picture because you can see that Hannah does indeed have red hair. Or, you can on my computer before I upload to blogger. If you can't see it, trust me, it's there.Mikie driving the boat. He wanted to make sure that everyone knew his name.Nibbles driving the boat. By far the cutest (and probably the youngest) duck driver ever.

Love, The Trahans

Strawberry Head

CUTENESS ALERT!

Today I found a very cute hat in Hannah's closet. I think someone gave it to Mikie when he was a baby (which is somewhat silly when you think of him wearing it).Isn't she cute!

Love, The Trahans

The Princess and the Pee

Mikie and Hannah are four and a half years apart. So, for the last few years (especially since Mikie learned to use the potty), I forgot how much your life with a baby revolves around bodily functions. I'm serious. Since they can't talk, you pay WAY to much attention to these things to effectively diagnose if their is a problem. How many diapers does she wet a day? How many bowel movements does she have a day/week? What color and consistency are they? Does she spit up? Is it just spit up or projectile vomit? If you have kids, you know what I'm talking about.

Poor Princess Tinklepants was constipated after switching to soy formula. Yes, I call her Princess Tinklepants. Mostly because diaper changes occasionally turn into the water show at the Bellagio as she manages beautiful displays of tinkle, showering all over the changing table.

But I digress. Mikie and I took Princess Tinklepants to the pediatricians after a week of constipation had resulted in her spitting up entire contents of bottles and not eating. In spite of everything, she was happy as a lark. But, no amount of sugar water would help this kid poop. While I was trying to explain every home remedy we tried, the doctor took Hannah and took off her diaper to check her.

No sooner did the diaper come off then Hannah managed to move her bowels. And, in my excitement, I yelled "YEAH, A BIG POOP!" Too which the doctor responded, "I've never seen anyone get so excited about poop before."

And that is when I realized I had a serious problem. Or, was a VERY devoted parent.

Love, The Trahans.

The Hockey Clinic

Mikie has always professed to love hockey. And, during every skating class he has attended, all he asks to do is play hockey on the ice with a puck and a stick. Unfortunately, I've been reluctant to sign him up for hockey because of the investment. More than just the cost to join, you need to pay for all the equipment. It wouldn't bother me if I knew he was going to really love playing. It's the thought that I may spend a small fortune outfitting him with miniature hockey gear only to have him hate playing after one day on the ice that makes me cringe.

So, I was happy to hear that FMC Hockey and the Boston Bruins were running hockey clinics for 4-7 year-olds around the state. Perfect. They provided all the equipment. Mikie got to enjoy playing hockey. And, best of all, it was FREE.

Since we were celebrating a belated Easter the next day with Mike's family, I decided that Hannah and I should stay home and run errands while the boys went to the clinic. Mike promised to take lots of video so we could relive his experience.

Mike had a very different opinion of what his experience should be like. Rather than doing drills like the other kids (which he considered to be a waste of ice time), he spent much of his time off in his own world, hitting pucks towards the goals. For the brave who have five minutes to spare, you can view the video footage here. I did do you all a favor by speeding it up, since none of the kids skate that fast (it was torturous even for his parents to watch).

And, for those of you who don't feel a strong desire to watch Mikie skate attempt to skate, you can get a chuckle from the pictures below:Go Bruins!

Love, The Trahans

The Church Interviews

In two years that we've been hear, we haven't officially joined a church. Since we wanted to baptize Hannah, we decided to buckle down and pick one to join.

There are three Catholic churches close to our house (actually, there are more, but I picked the ones within a five mile radius). So, we spent Sunday's during March and April attending each one:

St. Patrick's is HUGE. I actually think any church named "St. Patrick" must look like a mini cathedral, because I haven't been to a St. Patrick's church that wasn't large. Unfortunately, the parking lot was minuscule. By the time we found parking, and walked all the way back to church, mass was already underway. We snuck in and, not seeing any seats, stood in the back.

In the chaos of getting situated, the priest, Father Michael, called all the children forward to dismiss them to the Children's Mass. Mikie started up the side aisle by himself and, halfway to the front, sat down with a random family. I told Mike to go get him. When Mike got to where he was sitting, Mikie decided to follow the rest of the kids out. Unfortunately, by the time he got to the front of the church, all the kids had left through a side door. So, Mikie stepped up onto the alter and stood their looking around. During this time, Mike was walking back towards Hannah and I and didn't see what was going on. As the congregation broke out into giggles, and the Father Michael came down from where he was sitting to help Mikie, I was whispering (as loudly as I could) for Mike to go rescue him. Eventually, both Mike's made their way to the Children's Mass. And, I only had to relive my humiliation three times when running into neighbors at the grocery store afterwards.

St. Peter's was much smaller. Unfortunately, the week we went, they had suspended the Children's service. So, Mikie was forced to endure mass with the rest of us. This did not make him happy, a fact he verbalized over and OVER again during the first reading. At one point the priest came down and informed the woman reading that she was reading the wrong passage. During the silence that ensued while they searched for the right passage, Mikie could be heard screaming, "DAD, you're making me have to be MAD at you." Mike managed to quiet him down (without smothering him) and the rest of mass passed uneventfully. Afterwards, Mike was rewarded for his "patience" by getting a lollipop from Father James.

When we got in the car, Mikie asked "Who wants my Amen Popsicle?" To which Mike responded, "I'll eat it." And, when he realized that it was orange, he added, "Hey, Mikie, next time you get an Amen Popsicle that you don't want to eat, remember that Daddy likes the red ones." Now, I live in fear that the next priest Mikie sees will be greeted with the demand of a "red Amen Popsicle for his dad." Hell, here we come.

Luckily, with the exception of Mikie introducing Father Brian to his sister, "Nibbles" (which of course required an explanation), we don't have any embarrassing mishaps to share about St. Mark's. Because, we can't show our face at the other two churches ever again.

Love, The Trahans

My Son the Bully

I think every parent worries that their child will be bullied. But, Mike and I figured we didn't have to worry about Mikie, since he's Mr. Popularity. Until last week.

On Thursday afternoon, Mikie had an incident on the playground. The school has a rule that you can't have more than three kids on the jungle gym at a time. Evidently, some big kids were playing on the jungle gym. Mikie climbed on, even though there were three kids already on it. One of the boys, a fourth grader, told him to get off or he would push him off. (I know, what is a nine year old doing on a jungle gym?) Anyway, Mikie didn't take too kindly to being threatened, so he bit the kid in the stomach.

When we got home, I told Mikie to tell Dad what happened with the big kids. And, instead of telling him about the playground, he started telling a different story. Two days earlier, some big kids were playing catch inside when we arrived at school. Their "baseball" (which looked to be a Nerf ball) landed a bit to close to Hannah. Mikie picked up the ball and yelled, "Hey, you almost hit my sister!" The teacher took the ball away. But, Mikie was still so enraged, that this was the first "big kid" story he could think of.

Warning to any big kids: don't mess with Hannah or Mikie. Or, there may be throwdown on the playground.

Love, The Trahans

Spring Shower

If you have kids (or have been forced to bathe one), you know that it is no small task. I imagine it's like bathing a dog or cat (although, I really wouldn't know since I don't have either). They are small, wiggly, and very slippery when wet, so trying to bathe them in a full size bath tub is scary (for both parent and child). Worse, try using a small sink without hitting some body part on the faucet. Before you start to worry that my kids are the smelly kids at school, rest assured that for under $20, you can buy a baby bath tub to make bath time easier.

Unfortunately, baby bath tubs are a pain to travel with. In this instance, showers become a good substitute, as was the case Easter morning at Grandma Pookie's house.

As you can see from this video, Mike and I are VERY easily amused (or maybe just me). I am so easily amused that I insisted on calling my entire family into the bathroom while Mike was in the shower to see just how amusing shower time with an infant can be. Thankfully, they were all just as entertained as I was. So, once again, we grabbed the video camera to add to our collection of moments that will embarrass our children when they are older.

Love, The Trahans

Four or Forty?

The problems that plague preschoolers: What should I eat for breakfast?. . . How am I going to convince my parents to buy me that Bakugan my friend has?. . . What am I going to do with the five o'clock shadow I have on my chin?

Yes, as you can see in the video, Mikie's biggest problem on Friday was that he needed "a shave". I don't know who told him this (maybe one of his many girlfriends from school). To be honest, I'm less surprised each time something like this comes out of his mouth, and more and more thankful that it isn't something offensive.

If this is what he is like at four, I shudder to think what lies ahead.

Love, The Trahans

Child Abuse

My name is Hannah Reilly Trahan, and I am abused. My brother tries to smother me with kisses on a daily basis. And, my mom makes me eat washcloths when I am STARVING and craving a bottle of formula. No, we don't abuse her (although Mikie really does try to smother her with kisses on a daily basis). You can click the picture above to view the video of how tasty a washcloth is. It was just too cute not to document for posterity. Especially when she gets so excited at the end, she can't even focus (she does that when she's eating too)!

Love, The Trahans

Super Nibbles Update

Yesterday, Hannah and I drove to daycare to pick Mikie up from preschool. When we walked in, Mikie dragged us into the classroom to show us the toy I'm "going to get him" (his words, not mine). After looking at some kid's Nintendo Gameboy Advanced, I noticed Hannah had a crowd of admirers surrounding her. One little girl was trying to remove the blanket and look at her hands. She looked up at me and said "Does she REALLY have suction cups?"

Needless to say, I had to fight back tears to explain that, no, she doesn't have suction cups for hands and then explain the story to the owner. And, unfortunately for Hannah, the kids seemed a little less interested after they realized she couldn't climb on the ceiling.

Love, The Trahans

And the Winner is

Because lack of sleep has zapped my creative juices, we ran a contest to rename the blog. And, until this week, we only had one entry: "Thing 1 & Thing 2: A Day in the Lives of the Trahans." My only issue with "Thing 1 and Thing 2" was referring to my children as Things. Plus, I was fearful Hannah would then turn into as big a troublemaker as Mikie, since Things 1 & 2 weren't exactly angelic. However, since I love Thing 1 and Thing 2 (and since it was the only contest entry) I was about to go live with the new header designed around this.

Until this morning. This morning, I found a comment from our friend, Kristine, suggesting the title "The Adventures of Trouble & Super Nibbles". Which, I think perfectly epitomizes both children and my life on a daily basis. So, congratulations to Kristine, proud winner of bragging rights and Crabtree product.

Honorable mention goes to Christie, who not only came up with a very creative name, but also an entire design to go with it.

Love, The Trahans

All Nibbles, All the Time

There is a small group of followers who have requested a live web feed of Nibbles (not to mention names. . . Katie & Marta). And, while we take our readers requests seriously, I'm not sure this would be very entertaining. Because, although EXTREMELY cute, Hannah's day is not exactly newsworthy. So, in lieu of video, here are some additional photos of Hannah, complete with insight into her daily schedule:1. Wake up. Stretch (while making cute/silly faces)

2. Have diaper changed. Pee and poop on mom/dad while having diaper changed.

3. Get a bath and new clothes so that I am not covered in urine.

4. Whine that no one has fed me yet.

5. Eat. Burp. 6. Look at the ceiling/lights/trees.

7. Make silly faces.

8. Stretch.

9. Cuddle. Fall asleep again. 10. Repeat, alternating length of time asleep to keep everyone on their toes.

Occasionally, we change it up by going on a trip in the car. In which case I don my cute little hat, get strapped into my carseat and head out with mom/dad/Mikie.That's it. I promise to be more diligent with pictures as she starts to do more during the day. In the interim, this will have to do.

Love, The Trahans

What's that Spell?

The power of suggestion. . . it's a dangerous thing around a four year old. All of the sudden, the mere mention of dinner prompts demands of a Spiderman toy. The chain of thought, for those who aren't four or don't have a four year old yet goes something like this: Dinner = McDonald's = Happy Meal = Spiderman Toy.

Like any normal parents, we have resorted to spelling to have conversations without Mikie chiming in. For example:

Lauren: "What Transformer is the E-a-s-t-e-r-B-u-n-n-y bringing Trouble?"

Mike: "B-l-i-t-z. . ." pause to look at the box "k. . ."

Lauren: remembering that Mikie asked for Blitzkrieg months ago "Got it."

It's great, not only can we communicate in peace, but it makes us expert puzzle solvers when we watch Wheel of Fortune.

Evidently, Mikie has noticed our new game. Yesterday, I was trying to get Mikie, Hannah and I ready for a trip to Target. I stopped to check for coupons on the Internet. Unfortunately, Mikie wasn't happy with this delay.

Mikie: "Mom, do you know what M-i-k-m-i-t-h-z-k-w spells?"

Mom: trying not to laugh "No, I don't. What does it spell?"

Mikie: annoyed "It spells 'I quit'. Because you are taking too long and we need to just go to Target already."

Somehow, I think his angry rant would be more impactful if he actually knew how to spell. But, it was pretty amusing none the less.

Love, T-h-e T-r-a-h-a-n-s

Super Nibbles

Mikie ADORES Hannah. The first thing he asks in the morning is if he can go see her (assuming she is still sleeping) or if he can give her a kiss (assuming she is awake). If she is eating, he comes over to kiss her hands. If she is sitting in her chair or carseat, he kisses her head (or nose). When I'm burping her, he comes over and pats her back. When she's crying, he screams at me that "Nibbles is crying" and then runs to comfort her. Every time we drop him off or pick him up at preschool, he walks into the room and yells "Who wants to see my sister Nibbles Hannah Reilly Trahan?"Evidently, Mikie's love has elevated Hannah to super hero status. On Tuesday afternoon, Hannah and I went to pick Mikie up from preschool. By the time we arrived, Hannah was hungry. Not wanting a gaggle of children surrounding me, we snuck in a different entrance and I fed Hannah her bottle in the director's office.

I thought we were stealthy, but Mikie had noticed my car in the parking lot. When we walked into his classroom, he was waiting, anxious to know where we had been hiding. Then, his teacher told me that Mikie told the class that "Nibbles has suction cups" to climb on the ceiling (ironically similar to his Spiderman toy). When we didn't show up, the teacher joked that maybe Nibbles had used her suction cups to climb onto the roof and I was trying to catch her.

I can't wait for them to read this when they're older.

Love, The Trahans

Priceless

During my senior year of college, one of my many esteemed professors told us that if we only owned one reference manual, we should all own Perry's Chemical Engineering Handbook. Needless to say, being the obedient student that I was (yes, a dork), I fully intended to purchase a copy immediately. Until I discovered that this "bible" for my profession cost a few hundred dollars (in my head, I remember it being close to $500, but it is listed as much less today).

As if the fact that I wanted to own this wasn't bad enough, I asked my mother to buy it for me for CHRISTMAS. Yes, it was my big present Christmas of 1999. I couldn't have been happier (as I said, I was a dork). And, I did use it a few times that last year of school. But, never could I have imagined just how useful it would become. . . Yes, 10 years later, my expensive reference manual is being used to help my infant daughter's sinuses drain. I don't remember which professor insisted we buy it, but I am sure he never anticipated it would end up elevating a crib mattress. And, when I received it Christmas morning, I never knew how incredibly useful it would be.

Love, The Trahans

Wee One

They say everyone's a little Irish on St. Patrick's Day. Some of us are ACTUALLY Irish all the time. In case her middle name and red hair didn't give it away, Hannah is one of the latter. So, in honor of St. Patrick's Day, we dressed in green and took pictures of the world's cutest little leprechaun:I think she wanted to change her shirt to read "Kiss Me, I'm Being Tortured", especially since we tried on multiple pairs of pants before we found ones that fit (sort of).Happy St. Patrick's Day.

Love, The Trahans

The Apple Doesn't Fall Far

Yesterday, I bravely ventured out to Babies 'R Us with both children in search of new bottles for Hannah. It should have been a quick trip: drive to store, grab three packs of bottles that I preselected before leaving the house, go to cash register, pay, drive home. Since Mikie was in toe, we had to look at the toys, which added to the time in the store (in spite of the fact that the toy section consists of a limited number of toys, geared mostly to children under the age of three).

We eventually made it to the cash register. The ONLY register open in the store. We were behind a couple who appeared to be finishing purchasing items off their baby registry. I was surprised to see a couple in the store in the middle of the afternoon on a weekday (hello, don't they have jobs?) The wife kept trying to use coupons that weren't valid yet. Then, she argued that her breast pump should be on sale (which prompted pulling a circular out of her purse). When they finally agreed on sale prices with the cashier, her husband pulled out multiple gift cards to pay with. Since I wanted to get home and sterilize the new bottles before Hannah's next feeding (and patience is one of those virtues I lack), I was quickly getting annoyed. But, I tried to maintain my composure.

And then there was Mikie. Bless his heart, he turns to me and yells, "Why are these people taking so long to pay?" (Evidently, he inherited some of my less desirable traits. Let's hope Hannah only inherited my physical appearance. . . )

As any mom whose child just said something embarrassing would do, I laughed and said in my best school teacher voice, "Mikie, we need to be patient. It will be our turn soon." Luckily, they opened another cash register, and we were soon exiting the store.

Happy shopping.

Love, The Trahans

Brotherly Love

On Monday, Mikie went back to preschool for the first time since Hannah was born. Ever the proud big brother, he insisted on showing off his baby sister to his friends. As Hannah and I signed him in and hung up his lunch box, I could hear him yelling to his friends, "Everybody, come see my baby sister, Nibbles Hannah." Yes, we can't get him to call her "Hannah", he continues to call her "Nibbles" or "Nibbles Hannah". But, I digress. . .

I brought Hannah (who was sleeping soundly in her infant carrier) back into the big room for everyone to see. All the kids huddled around, while Mikie put his face into the carrier to show everyone "her little hands". Then, he turned to the other kids and announced (or rather, yelled, since that is the only volume Mikie has) "BUT YOU HAVE TO BE QUIET BECAUSE SHE'S SLEEPING!"

Thankfully, Nibbles doesn't seem bothered by the whirlwind of noise and energy that is Mikie. Either that, or she inherited Mikie's ability to sleep through anything. Hopefully, a little of both.

Love, The Trahans

Auntie Nibbles

Try as we might, we cannot get Mikie to refer to Hannah as "Hannah". He continues to call her "Nibbles" or "Nibbles Hannah". What's worse, is I find myself referring to her as Nibbles when I talk to him. While I call her Hannah when I'm talking to her (or anyone else), I'll ask Mikie to "give Nibble's her pacifier" or "get Nibble's her blanket".

Last week, we went to the pediatrician's office for Hannah's two week check up. It was a family affair: Mom, Dad, Mikie and Hannah. Mikie had zero desire to sit in the room waiting for the doctor to check Hannah. As he whined about wanting to leave, I told him "We can go home when the doctor is done checking Nibbles." The doctor laughingly warned "You better watch out. Those are the type of names that stick. One day his kids are going to call her 'Auntie Nibbles'."

Let's hope Hannah really likes her nickname. Because I think "Auntie Nibbles" is hear to stay.

Love, The Trahans

Only Mikie

While Hannah is content to eat, sleep, and go through packs of Huggies a day, Mikie continues to amuse us with his sayings. Here are a few anecdotes from the last couple of days:

1. The other night, while putting Mikie to bed, Mike started to tell Mikie what a good big brother he was. Mikie cut him off, saying, "Okay, Dad, I'm tired now, so leave me alone."

2. Last night, Mikie fell asleep early, in the clothes he was wearing all day. This morning, noticing that he was STILL wearing the same clothes from yesterday, I told him to go change.

Mikie: "I can't change because I'm too sick."

Mom: "That's exactly why you should change, because those clothes are germy."

Mikie: "But I like these clothes."

Mom: "Don't you think you should put on clean clothes before Grandma Kerrie comes?"

Mikie: "No, because she hasn't seen me in these yet."

Neither Mike nor I could think of a good response. Although, we did eventually force him into clean clothes.

3. On hearing that his cousin was coming to visit, Mikie informed Mike and I that he couldn't play with his castle.

Mike: "Why can't you play with your castle?"

Mikie: "Because I had to destroy all of the fun games because you guys wouldn't take me to McDonald's for a Spiderman toy."

He hasn't realized that destroying his own toys isn't a threat to Mike and I.

Love, The Trahans

Ferocious Baby

Hannah has a very cute habit. When she is hungry, she gets very annoyed if you try and giver her a pacifier. She opens her mouth like she is going to take it, then violently shakes her head back and forth as if to say "No, I am not that stupid. This one doesn't have formula in it." We just had to attempt to capture it on video, so we can remember how little and cute she was when she's 13 and driving her father and I crazy.

Love, The Trahans

Rename that Blog

Over the last few months, we have received comments that our blog title "Life With Mikie" won't be very appropriate once Nibbles arrives. Now that she's here, we're stumped as to what to call the blog. My original thought was "Double Trouble". But, that implies that Hannah will be as much trouble as her big brother, which both Mike and I sincerely hope is NOT the case.

Since my creative juices are zapped, and Mike hasn't had any suggestions I deemed befitting our blog, he suggested a blog naming contest. To enter, submit a comment to this post (or e-mail me by clicking here), including your name and what you think the new blog name should be. The winner will be recognized in a future post, unveiling the new site name, and sent a lovely gift (most likely Crabtree product). No limit on entries. The winner will be selected by me (although I may allow Mike a vote, depending on my mood).

And, to all the closet blog fans we have out there, feel free to enter as well.

We look forward to reading all the entries.

Love, The Trahans

More Mikie-isms

Spending six weeks at home with Trouble means I have a lot more exposure to his witty remarks. Here are just a few of the more recent examples:

1. My mom is spending the week with us, helping me acclimate to life as a mother of two (and allowing me the opportunity to nap). At one point this week, Mikie decided he wanted a snack. But rather than say, "Can someone please get me a snack" like the polite child I am TRYING to raise him to be, my child says, "Earth to Pookie. . . I want a Scooby Snack!" As with most of his comments, I am again dumbfounded as to where he learned the expression "Earth to" anyone. Although, if he were to sarcastically say, "Hello! Am I talking here?", I would accept full responsibility for being a bad influence.

2. This morning, while Nibbles was napping, I volunteered to play Yahtzee with Mikie. It's somewhat complicated for a 4 year old; we basically just take turns trying to roll Yahtzee, and don't waste our time keeping score of the other types of rolls. Whoever rolls the most Yahtzee's is the winner. After winning the first game, Mikie informed me that he would always be the winner because he is a "genius". When I sarcastically commented "and modest too", he responded, "No I'm not." At least he's honest. . .

3. This afternoon, I offered Mikie a snack (knowing it was still a while until dinner). Once again, Mikie wanted Scooby Snacks. Although this time, he wanted the cookie snacks, not the gummy snacks (yes, there are multiple types for you non-Scooby Snack connoisseurs). My mom was amused to see that the cookies are shaped like dog biscuits. And, seeing that they were graham cracker flavored, asked Mikie if she could try one. His response, "Sure, Pooks. But you can only have ONE!"

As much a help as he has been, he is definitely testing my patience with his new attitude. Let's hope we all survive the remaining weeks together.

Love, The Trahans

And Then There Were Four

For anyone who hasn't heard, Nibbles has arrived. . . two and a half weeks early. And, as with this entire pregnancy, she made sure to complicate life along the way.

On Tuesday, I went for my 37 week doctor appointment to find out that my blood pressure was elevated. Honestly, I wasn't surprised; I was more surprised that it took 37 weeks to appear. I mean, my hands, feet, legs, were swollen to epic proportions for months. And, when I was pregnant with Mikie, I had high blood pressure for the last four weeks before he arrived.

Unlike my pregnancy with Mikie, my obstetrician ordered me to "modified bed rest". Which meant laying around with my feet elevated, resting, working only if I could do so from the comfort of my bed or couch. This of course was complicated by the fact that Mikie attends preschool near Crabtree - 45 minutes from our house, nearly 2 hours from where Mike works.

So, on Wednesday, Nibbles and I planted ourselves on the couch, surrounded by phones, bottles of water, and the laptop and worked. I was nauseous and having contractions all day, but they were still 10 minutes apart, so I didn't expect too much. At 5pm, it was snowing, so we hopped in the car and drove to pick up Mikie.

Yes, an hour and a half of driving along bumpy back roads through me into labor. Full on painful contractions spaced 1-3 minutes apart. I drove home, and waited patiently for Mike to arrive (knowing that if he thought I was in labor, he would be driving 90mph on the Mass Pike in bad weather). When he arrived, we debated whether or not to go to the hospital. I was sick of going to labor and delivery for monitoring, only to be sent home pregnant. And, I was only 1 cm dilated the day before. But, since I was in too much pain to sleep, we decided to go in.

Show of hands, how many pregnant women have driven themselves to the hospital while in labor? Oh, and while it is snowing? Yeah, I did. Before everyone attacks Mike, I refused to let him drive. I was very nauseous and motion sick, and Mike tries to break records during the 11 mile drive to the hospital. Not wanting to die on the way to the hospital, I thought it best if I did the driving. Not only did I drive us, I dropped the boys at the entrance to the ER, parked the car, and walked back IN THE SNOW to the hospital.

Sure enough, I was still only dilated 1 cm. But, thanks to my OB being on call and my blood pressure being elevated, they decided to keep me. After all, my contractions were close together and this was my second child. SURELY I would deliver quickly.

WRONG! 14 hours later, Nibbles arrived. I'll spare everyone the gory details and switch to what everyone really wants. . . pictures:

Hannah Reilly Trahan arrived at 12:23 pm on February 19th. She weighted in at 7-lbs, 14.7-ozs (on target for 8-lbs 13-ozs if she went to 40 weeks, I might add). And, we defied the genetic odds and got a red head! Hopefully it stays that color.

Mike and Hannah.

Mikie is tickled by just how little his "little sister" is.

Coming home from the hospital (Go Bruins!)

Mikie demonstrates what a good big brother he is by helping feed Nibbles.

Hannah and Grand Da.

Love, The Trahans

My Name is Lauren Trahan. . .

and I pinch people's hineys.

Yes, it's true. Evidently, my problem is severe. Every evening, Mike gets Mikie ready for bed. Mikie can dress himself (he does most mornings), but frequently chooses not to. He will take off all his clothes and run around the house naked. Enter mom, the butt pincher. The threat of a squeeze, and Mikie goes running for cover. And, clothes.

Recently, however, Mikie refuses to even change for bed if I am anywhere near the room he is changing in. Because he doesn't want mom to pinch his butt.

In my defense, I only started this ritual as motivation to get the kid dressed. Nine times out of ten, the threat is enough. But, because it bothers him, I have started making myself scarce as bedtime approaches.

This evening, Mikie came upstairs to our bedroom (where I was PLANNING on working in peace), with underpants and PJ top, looking for his pajama pants. Mike couldn't find the match, so he started to dress Mikie in a new pair of pajamas. Mikie started freaking out, so I assured him that I only squeeze naked butts, not ones wearing clothes or underpants. Not to mention, I move slowly these days, so the idea of moving the laptop, rolling myself out of bed, and walking around the bed to get to him had ZERO appeal.

What did my son do? HE MOONED ME! I mean, I told him I don't squeeze clothed behinds, so he pulls down his underwear and shakes his naked behind in my face. So, I warned him, "It's a good thing I don't move very fast these days, or you'd be in for a squeeze." Did he pull up his pants? NO. He giggled as he continued to taunt me with his naked butt.

How else was I to respond? I mean, he totally asked for it. I hauled my Shamu sized gut out of bed, and was off, encountering no resistance along the way.

I don't know how the 12 step program would work, but I'm guessing I need a new support network if I want to break myself of this addiction. Namely, family members who don't come looking for trouble (or a squeeze as the case may be).

Love, The Trahans

Story Time

This was just too priceless not to capture for posterity. Mikie "reading". To no one in general (I walked in and saw him reading to an empty room). I'm sure if asked, he would have been reading to his imaginary friend, Mousey. What is he "reading". The Lego instruction manual (yes, he take after his father). Interestingly enough, the Lego instruction manual does not have words. It's just a series of pictures, one building on the next. Not that this bothered Mikie in the least. Evidently, the pictures form a whole story that we as adults were too blind to see. And, for anyone who didn't appreciate the "And Then" post, you can see first hand what I meant. Luckily, the clip is only two minutes long, so you shouldn't feel the need to pull your hair out.Love, The Trahans

Daddy's Little Princess

When I was pregnant with Mikie, Mike did a fabulous job decorating Mikie's nursery. Two different paint colors, chair railing, ripping up old carpet, building and painting a toy box and shelves, etc.

With Nibbles, I wanted her to have her own nursery. Different bedding, different artwork. Of course, anyone who knows Mike knows that he would hate this idea because it meant spending even more money. But, he went along with it, because it was important to me for her to have her own experience.

And so began our nursery design. What would the theme be? Nothing too girly, flowery or pink. We somehow came up with a circus theme. Mike found cute, not overly girly bedding at Target with fun circus animals. We picked yellow and purple paint. And, when I insisted on stripes on the wall, he agreed (even though he would be stuck painting by himself).

For the last three months, he has been painting and decorating while I laid back, critiqued, and shopped online. He bought and stained bookshelves, hung chair railing, assembled and arranged furniture. All while working full time and taking care of me and Trouble. After all his hard work, I thought it only fair that I showcase the fruits of his labor. . .Mikie chipped in too. He did help Mike paint the light colored purple on the wall (although Mike may have had to go back over it to fix drips). He also donated some of his baby books and toys to his sister. He helped us pick out Nibble's bear, Maddy (Mikie and I both had Steiff bears since birth; so we got one for Nibble's too), and put her in the crib.

All in all, I think it's safe to say that all the hard work the two Mike's put into this nursery definitely shows how much she is loved already.

Now, we're just stuck waiting for her to show up. . .

Love, The Trahans

And Then

While I know I should be proud that Mikie understands sequential events enough to tell a story, his newest catch phrase is driving me CRAZY. Every phrase is strung together with the words "and then" to form one huge run-on sentence. He can go on like this for a good 20 minutes. And, if you attempt to interrupt him, the "Mom, mom, mom"s start, making me regret I ever taught him my name. And then I agree to listen to "just one more thing" at which point the cycle of "and then"s repeats.

Before locking myself in the bathroom after a recent "story", Mike attempted to show me that I am not alone in the world with an obscure movie reference. For the record, I never liked the movie "Dude, Where's My Car?". In fact, I hated it to the point that I have tried to block out all memories of it from my brain (before they killed the healthy brain cells). But, this scene with Ashton Kutcher PERFECTLY illustrates how I feel by the 5 minute mark in a long string of "and then"s.

Rather than punch something, I once again resorted to "incentives" by informing Mikie that his Valentine (me) might actually buy the toy he was talking about as a gift if he would be nice to me and PLEASE STOP TELLING THE STORY.

As of right now, bribery has bought me 30 minutes of unadulterated silence. Only 40 more minutes until bedtime. . .

Love, The Trahans

The Hug

Or, another futile attempt by Mikie to make me feel beautiful. . .

After Sibling Class, we decided to go to Friendly's for dinner. Mostly because I didn't have the energy after the class to cook, but also because I bribed Mikie with "dinner out" in a futile effort to keep him from destroying the hospital.

As seems to be par for the course lately, the service at Friendly's was less than stellar. Our waitress (who sadly knows us because we eat there so frequently) was great. But, the "cook" left mid-shift, the manager sent another employee home, and the staff started turning away customers at the door, as those of us who already ordered were stuck waiting an hour for food. During this time, Mikie wore on my very thin nerves by headbutting me in the side. That, combined with Nibbles kung-fu kicks me in the ribs, made me realize it was in everyone's best interest if I sat in the car to cool off before losing my temper.

By the time I came back inside, Mikie was apologetic (probably because Mike lectured him while I was outside). Mike told him to give me a hug and kiss. Mikie stood up on the booth, and loosely wrapped his arms around my neck.

Mike: "That was the worst hug I've ever seen."

Mom: "In his defense, it's not easy to hug me, especially when we're cramped in a booth."

Mikie: holding his hands in front of him to form as big a circle as he possibly could "Yeah, I would have to stretch sooo much like this and squeeze and squeeze and it would be so hard."

Mom: "Yes, thank you for the visual demonstration."

Obviously, Mikie thinks that I have more in common with a beached whale than I do. Thankfully, my hormone levels weren't so high that I started crying. And, hopefully, Nibbles will arrive soon, and he will realize I won't be this large forever.

Love, The Trahans

Sibling Class

In addition to our "Childbirth Refresher Class", Mike and I decided to sign Mikie up for "Sibling Class". For $10, I wasn't expecting my four year old to walk away knowing how to change a diaper. I mostly just wanted him to feel special, and, ideally, reinforce in his head that the baby wouldn't come out walking and talking.

It's a good thing my expectations were low, because I'm not sure Mikie absorbed ANYTHING from the class. Granted, it didn't help that the teacher gave the goodie bags containing stickers at the BEGINNING of class. Because Mikie spent the entire time she was talking sticking stickers on his face, the table, Mike, etc. And, when I took them away, he spent the remainder of the class fidgeting, kicking his feet, and trying to wrestle the bag from my grasp to look for more things to annoy me with.

Maybe I should have known better. After all, he'd been at school all day. So I shouldn't have expected him to want to sit quietly and listen for an hour (especially since it is hard enough for him to do that at school.)

After the teacher gave him his certificate officially declaring him a "Big Brother", she asked Mikie and Timothy (the only other child in the class) if they had any questions. Timothy had a question, which was more of a statement (he blurted out that the teacher was a "silly head".) Not realizing that she should quit while she was ahead, the teacher then asked what everyone learned. After an hour of not listening or talking, Mikie stood up and announced that he learned something. Yeah! I'm amazed. I didn't think he absorbed anything. Boy should I have known better. Because Mikie announced "I learned that she doesn't have a penis!"

Note, there was no mention of anatomical parts AT ALL during the class. I was in tears, laughing so hard. The teacher announced that this was by far the most interesting comment she ever heard. And, the other mother was trying to console me with the fact that if Mikie hadn't said something, she was sure Timothy would have embarrassed her with a different comment.

With Mikie as her big brother, Nibbles is in quite for quite an interesting life.

Love, The Trahans

Amusing Anecdotes

Lately, my life consists of working, eating, sleeping, and emptying my frequently full bladder. I don't anticipate that this will change much in the next four weeks, so I apologize for my continued laziness when it comes to blogging. . .

I figured I would take a night off from working and post some amusing anecdotes before my brain turns to mush.

SATURDAY, JANUARY 30TH

Mikie was building with Legos, and wanted me to build him a firetruck. Having little motivation, I reminded Mikie that he had a firetruck in the basement. Of course, volunteering that information meant I earned a trip to the cold basement to look for it.

While I was searching, a little voice yelled down to me:

Mikie: "Mom, you need to stop getting so big because you won't be able to fit in the door."

Mom: "Mikie, I'm not THAT big."

Mikie: "But, Mom, if you get bigger, you will have to live in a different house because you can't get in the door."

Mom: "Seriously, I'm not that big. I'll still be able to get in the door."

In my head, I'm picturing the people they show with Richard Simmons being lifted out of their house with a forklift. . .

Mikie: "Okay, but Nibbles better come out soon so you don't get any bigger."

LATER THAT DAY

Mike, Mikie and I stopped at Wendy's for lunch on our way to the store. Mikie had just finished his lunch, and was keeping me company while Mike stood in line to buy him a Frosty. Out of the blue, Mikie turns to me and announces, "Mom, that meal was exquisite."

Don't get me wrong, I love Wendy's as much as the next guy. More even. But, never has the word "exquisite" come to mind when describing my meal.

Mike later explained to me that the alphabet book Steve Martin wrote uses the words "extraordinary" and "exquisite" to describe other words beginning with E.

Love, The Trahans

Four Going on Forty

This weekend, I noticed a bunch of strange children (by strange, I mean not kids I recognized from our neighborhood) playing in the mound of snow piled alongside the ends of our driveway. I was concerned mostly because they had tools with them: a pitchfork, a hammer, metal shovels. We're talking 7 year old girls, not teenagers. The fact that they were playing with metal tools in the snow on my property concerned me slightly. I let it go, since they weren't weilding the tools against each other, but rather were just chipping away at the snow.

I made the mistake of mentioning out loud that there were kids eating Mikie's snow (one of them was eating the snow, which is REALLY gross since it was the plowed snow). Mikie overheard and was beside himself. He immediately informed Mike and I that we had to go tell them it was HIS SNOW. I dismissed his request, arguing that I needed to eat lunch.

Mikie walked to the front door, and starts trying to open it. When he didn't succeed, he marched back to the garage, and opened it, mumbling "I'm going to take matters into my own hands."

At this point, Mike and I stifled our laughter long enough for Mike to convince him that he couldn't go outside without shoes on. And, that he shouldn't tell the girls to get out of his snow, but rather tell them that if they are going to play in his yard, could he play with them.

Eventually, he got dressed in snow clothes and went outside to play with the girls, with strict instructions that he could not leave our yard, and he couldn't set foot on the road. It may not have been the best idea we had, letting him go outside without us and play with girls, only one of whom we knew, who had metal tools. But, he did put the pitchfork down when Mike ran outside and told him he could only play with his plastic shovel. And, ultimately, he had fun and didn't get hurt.

One day, maybe he'll tell us where he picked up the phrase "I'm going to take matters into my own hands."

Love, The Trahans

How Big is Nibbles?

SOOO big!

Here are the facts:

When pregnant with Mikie, I gained 28 pounds. When he arrived (1 week early), he weighted 7 pounds.With Nibbles, I have already gained 30 pounds (yes, with 6 weeks remaining). And (as I am frequently told by friends and strangers alike), it shows:These facts alone would have been enough to convince me that Nibbles was going to be a "healthy" baby. That, coupled with my very realistic dream from 6 months ago (in which I gave birth to a red headed baby girl weighting 8-lbs, 13-ozs), have left me with the unshakeable feeling that she will be at least 8-lbs.

Try as I might to convince Mike and the obstetrician, no one would believe me. After all, neither Mike nor I weighted anywhere near 8-lbs at birth. I was severely ill for the first 20 weeks, not putting on any weight during that time. In fact, the obstetrician was concerned that she might not be thriving, and has sent us for numerous ultrasounds.

Until yesterday. Yesterday, we went in for another ultrasound. And, looking at the pictures, it seemed to me, that Nibbles had no space to move (I may have had inside information, since over the last couple of weeks, she hasn't moved more than some wiggles and kicks). Mike didn't agree, dismissing my fears with a comment about the picture being "zoomed in".However, when they finished, the technicians announced that everything looks great and her estimated weight is. . . 5 POUNDS 10 OUNCES!!!

Yes, my baby, in utero, weights more than the octuplets born in California. She weights more than my best friend's daughter at birth. Not only does she weight this much, IF I carry her all the way to 40 weeks and IF she gains a half pound a week that all the stupid pregnancy books say babies gain in your third trimester, she would weight approximately 8 POUNDS 10 OUNCES!!!

What does this mean? It means she is bigger than average. Technically, she (and my uterus) are measuring like a 36 week pregnant person, not 34 weeks. Don't get excited, they don't change your due date at this point. It just means she's big. And, they will watch us closely over the remaining 6 weeks. If she gets too big, they may induce me.

More importantly, this means that LAUREN WAS RIGHT! Even the doctor admitted she no longer is concerned about the whether the baby is "thriving". It's blantantly obvious that she is.

And, if she's born weighting anywhere close to 8-lbs, 13-ozs, I can promise that the entire hospital will hear the words "I TOLD YOU SO!" ringing through the halls of the maternity wing.

Love, The Trahans

How to Ruin a Perfectly Good Friday

Otherwise titled "Things You Never Say in Your Out Loud Voice". . .

In spite of my brief hospital stay, I was still unconvinced that I have acid reflux. So, I went back to my OB on Thursday morning and whined about being in pain and not being able to survive another 6+ weeks like this. Still determined that I have acid reflux, I scored ANOTHER prescription for some GI medicine. Unlike the Prilosec, I have to take this one four times a day, 30 minutes before eating or sleeping.

On a good day, anyone who knows me would agree I tend to be absent minded (which, I say is a sign of intelligence). The fact that I am insanely busy with a complex launch at work, and pregnant, is not helping my absent mindedness. I can recall what fragrance level and extract blend I am putting in each of 36 different products. But, I can't recall my zip code when asked by the cashier at a store.

So, the concept of recognizing that I will be hungry in 30 minutes and should take my medicine is difficult. Sure enough, before leaving for work, I realized I couldn't eat because I hadn't taken my medicine. The solution, take it now, leave in 10 minutes, stop at the McDonald's 20 minutes away for a Fruit & Yogurt parfait. This solves the breakfast issue, and keeps me from getting to work 40 minutes late.

As I pulled up to the McDonald's window to grab my order, the FEMALE clerk passes me my juice, passes me my bag, and asks "Are you having twins?" I fought back every urge to cry, throw my yogurt in her face, ask for her manager, etc. and replied "No" before driving away. I mean, I may be big (or "all belly" as the doctor's keep telling me), but I don't think I look like the opening theme to Jon & Kate Plus Eight.

Lesson to anyone out there (especially men), avoid making statements like these in your out loud voices. You run the risk of insulting someone who isn't pregnant, or worse, ruining a very pregnant, very hormonal woman's day.

Happy Weekend!

Love, The Trahans

Labor & Delivery

Not to be upstaged by my four year old, Nibbles and I spent 19 hours in Labor & Delivery last weekend for (wait for it). . . ACID REFLUX. Yes, evidently the stabbing pain in my upper abdomen turned out to be acid reflux. Don't get me wrong, I was in no way naive enough to think that I was in labor. All I knew was I wanted to die. And, the OB on call decided I should come in for observation.

Granted, when I agreed to go to the hospital, I never imagined I would be there for 19 hours. Like my past visits, I figured I would: lay around for 3 hours, hooked up to fetal monitors, be told everything was fine, and be sent home. That wasn't the case.

When we arrived (mom + baby, Mike, and Mikie), they ran all these tests because they thought I had gall stones or some issue with my pancreas. Evidently, gall stones is common in pregnant women. They had to call a radiologist in after hours to do an ultrasound of my gall bladder, pancreas, and kidneys, only to tell me that they were normal (well, my gall bladder is "thick" but no stones). Mikie was having a good time watching Scooby Doo in Spanish on Telemundo (no cartoons on English channels at 8pm) while resting in the "dad bed" (a chair that unfolds into a twin bed).

After clearing me for gall stones, they told me they wanted me to stay overnight because I was obviously in pain and they couldn't determine why (evidently, there is a blood test that confirms you are in pain). So, they sent Mike and Mikie home, gave me morphine and left me to sleep.

While morphine did a great job of helping the pain, I did not sleep. Nibbles decided to wake up around the same time they hooked me back up to monitors and gave me morphine. And, as we have determined in the past, she does NOT like having anything on her "house". Don't rest your hands or a book on my stomach. And, DON'T strap fetal monitors to it. Not only does she hate those monitors, but she seems to have spent the last eight months learning kick boxing. Since she is too big to move away from the monitors, she kicked with all her might until she succeeded in dislodging the external monitors. Alarms would sound, a nurse would come in, reposition the monitor, and tighten the strap even tighter. And, somewhere a bell went off signalling the start of round two. This went on until they gave me a second shot of morphine, which was enough to knock me out. So, if she continued straight through the night, I couldn't tell you.

On Monday morning, they brought in a gastroenterologist who, after asking a series of questions and pressing on my stomach, determined that I had acid reflux. Or an ulcer. But, since no one wanted to sedate and scope me, and I don't have any family history, they decided acid reflux was a good diagnosis.

With nothing better to do, I made note of all the amusing comments made during my stay. My favorite was the question on the gastroenterologist's paperwork "Have you experienced any sudden weight loss?" As I looked at my massive mid section, I laughed and said, "No." She then looked up and realized the stupidity of the question and mumbled "I have to ask." It would be like asking "Do you think you may be pregnant?"

I also heard numerous comments like "you're all belly" which I have determined is the politically correct way to say "your abdomen is HUGE! I can't believe you have another 7 weeks."

One of the nurses, Rachel, is my new best friend because she was the first person to concur with my belief that Nibbles will be over 8-lbs. Of course, she didn't feel that 8-lbs was that big (her fourth child was 10-lbs 3-oz). The second OB on call also mentioned that the top of my uterus was "way up there" pressing on my esophagus because the baby is ready to come out (incidentally, he was also one of the "you're all belly" commenters).

So, I'm back home, counting down the last 6 weeks, praying Nibbles and I don't torture each other in the process. Wish us luck; I fear she may have inherited my "strong will" (or, as Mike calls it, "fiery temper"). If so, it may be a long 6 weeks.

Love, The Trahans

The Family Trip to the Obstetrician's

Or, why Mikie will NOT be present at the birth of Nibbles. . .

Now that I'm past 30 weeks, my doctor's appointments are now scheduled every two weeks. This meant one fell smack in the middle of our Christmas vacation. Ideal, because we didn't have to worry about leaving work. The downside: Mikie would be home with us, not at daycare. And, while we could have driven him to daycare for the afternoon, neither of us was excited about the prospect of driving an extra 2 hours just to have a free afternoon.

Recognizing that these appointments last all of 15 minutes, Mike assured me that we would be fine bringing him with us. So, on the 30th, we all drove to the doctor's office. While most days we are the only people sitting in the waiting room, this time it was standing room only. And, all the crayons seemed to have mysteriously disappeared, leaving Mikie to entertain himself. How does Mikie entertain himself? By running laps around the crowded waiting area. I didn't think the parents of the 6 week old were too amused, until I heard them refer to their four year old son. So, hopefully, their daughter was already used to being trampled by crazy boys.

Thankfully, the nurse called us back, minimizing everyone's exposure to Mikie. And, she reassured me that we weren't the only people making their OB appointment a family affair for the holiday (I have no idea if she was lying, I just wanted to believe her). So, after peeing and the torturous weigh-in, I joined the boys in the exam room.

It's bad enough that Mikie can't sit still in an exam room. First, he INSISTS on sitting on the doctor's stool. I mean, what kid wouldn't. . . it's small, backless, on wheels, and spins around. If you're a kid with a vivid imagination, it's a mode of transportation. Knowing the doctor has never used this stool in the 2 years I have seen her, I could have cared less if Mikie wheeled himself around the room on it, so long as he was quiet. After all, we weren't at the pediatrician's office where I run the risk of being deemed a bad parent. We were at the obstetrician's office. Their goal is to give us a kid, not to care what we do with them once they arrive.

Mike, however, being a more responsible parent then myself, tried desperately to keep Mikie off that stool. This involved holding (restraining) Mikie on his lap. Which put Mikie at the perfect level to touch everything on the counter. Now, while all my appointment entailed was measuring my abdomen and listening to the baby's heartbeat, other people go for more involved exams. And, like any efficient doctor's office, certain equipment was laying on the counter in preparation for those other appointments. To Mike and my joint horror, Mikie IMMEDIATELY grabbed the tube of "toothpaste" (aka KY Jelly). Fighting back laughter, we sternly told him to put everything down and sit quietly. Before we got smart enough to bribe him with a game of tic-tac-toe on the iPhone, he also grabbed a miniature replica of a cervix.

Thankfully, the doctor came in and we were put out of our misery in a matter of minutes. Mikie seemed intrigued by Nibbles' heartbeat (we had to explain to the doctor why he calls her Nibbles). And, we made it out of the office before he grabbed the stirrups (although, he did go after the exam light).

All told, we were in and out within 30 minutes. However, that short period of time was enough to cement in our minds that there was NO WAY Mikie would ever attend another doctor's appointment with us again, let alone attend the birth of his sister.

One day, when he is married, we will have this story to embarrass him with. So, it wasn't a total loss.

Love, The Trahans

The Trahan's Rockin' New Year's Eve

Being 31 weeks pregnant, I wasn't expecting to have some spectacular New Year's Eve. For one, I am 31 weeks pregnant, which means I can't drink and I am exhausted all the time. So, even if I WAS awake at midnight, it's not like we would be ringing in 2009 with a big bottle of champagne.

Add to this my raging head cold, and New Year's Eve was pretty much destined to be boring. Never the less, we made an effort. Mike bought a bottle of sparkling peach flavored cider at Target. Topped off with the party hats, noise makers, and light-up champagne flutes from last year, it felt almost festive (if you can neglect the fact that we were at home, alone, and I was still wearing my PJs and bathrobe, surrounded by tissues).

Shortly after the ball dropped, we attempted to go to sleep. By attempted, I mean Mike fell asleep and Nibbles kicked me to remind me that she was awake. So, I stayed awake watching HGTV until around 1am.

At 2am, Mikie came in and announced his belly hurt. My initial reaction was "Of course it does; you fell asleep 2 hours early before eating dinner. It's hungry." But, before I could wake up enough to say this, he threw up all over Mike's side of the bed. For those readers who don't have children, a sick child is like a fire alarm going off. The entire house goes into crisis mode. One parent gets the chore of cleaning and comforting sick child while the second parent gets the task of cleaning everything else. Since Mike needed to shower too (having been vomited on), I earned the task of cleaning everything else.

Luckily, we had just put the waterproof mattress pad on our bed (Mike being paranoid that I will go into labor early and my water will break at home). So, the mattress was clean. As was the comforter. Mike's pillow, the sheets, carpet, and box spring were not so lucky.

After stripping our bed, checking Mikie's bed (which was thankfully, unscathed), cleaning the carpet, and starting a load of laundry (at 2:45am), I now had to make the beds. Not just ours (which is hard to do by yourself when you're big as a house), but also set up an air mattress in our bedroom for Mikie in case he got sick again. Which was a good move on my part, since, Mikie continued to vomit about every 20 to 30 minutes. And, little sips of juice weren't helping.

By 4:45am, we decided it was time to go to the ER. This was problematic since we got 8 inches of snow the day before and had not bothered to clear the driveway. So, Mike fired up the snow blower and cleared an exit while Mikie and I put clean PJs and jackets on.

Trying to look at the bright side (because, what else can you do at 5am), I realized this was good practice for when I do go into labor. We learned a couple useful things during our trip: First, it takes 10-15 minutes to clear half of the driveway of 8 inches of snow at an ungodly hour of the morning when the temperature is 5 degrees F. Second, you have to cross a set of train tracks to get to the hospital. And, at 5am, the gate is closed in case a freight train MIGHT pass through. The train doesn't come through every day, although, when it does, it is consistently between 4 and 5am. . . a fact I know because it keeps me from getting back to sleep after peeing. After waiting 5 minutes for a train which wasn't coming (during which time Mikie got sick AGAIN), Mike was at his whits end. He got out of the car and looked down the tracks. Not seeing a train, he quickly hopped back in the car, and drove around the barricades and over the tracks.

Long story short, a ride that would typically take 15-20 minutes to drive takes more like 50 minutes when you include snow and trains.

Once we arrived at the hospital, we spent 3 hours in the ER. It wouldn't have been too bad if Mike and I weren't EXHAUSTED from lack of sleep. And, it may have been better if Mikie (who had a bed to rest in) was allowed to drink anything. Because, after fighting to get him to take a Zofran (without anything to wash it down with), he was screaming about being thirsty. And, good parents that we are, Mike and I were munching on Dunkin Donuts and juice while our 4 year old was restricted from consuming anything. Eventually, the nurse broke down and gave him ice chips. And, by 8am, the doctor brought him a popsicle and discharged us.

The rest of our day was spent policing Mikie: he couldn't eat anything for 6 hours. He couldn't drink more than a sip of Pedialite every 5 minutes. He couldn't have milk for 2 days (which was the most devastating news to him). And, we tried desperately to keep him from running or bouncing. Even with the trampoline hidden, keeping Mikie Trahan from running and bouncing is like asking someone to stop breathing. It is impossible.

By Friday, Mike and I were so exhausted, I slept until noon. One of those really deep sleeps where your whole body feels like dead weight. Honestly, my immune system was so shot, I think I just shut down to recuperate. Luckily, aside from not being able to drink milk, Mikie seems fine.

So, while not the most "fun" New Year's Eve we've ever had, it was definitely far from boring.

(Note to self: book babysitter NOW for next New Year's to avoid repeating this one.)

Happy New Year!

Love, The Trahans

Christmas

After weeks of anticipation, Christmas finally arrived. I have to admit, it didn't really FEEL like Christmas. Santa brought me a lovely head cold on the 23rd, that left me vomiting and in bed on the 24th. This meant no Christmas Eve mass, and no Christmas Eve party at Gram's for Nibbles and I. So, after a quick dinner of leftover macaroni and cheese, Mike and Mikie left Nibbles and I home watching "The Santa Claus" while they ventured off to Rhode Island.In spite of only arriving home at 12:30am, Mikie seemed amazingly chipper when he awoke at 7:30 Christmas morning. As you can see in the video, he raced downstairs, with Mike and I trying to keep up with the cameras to catch his reaction. Somehow, in his excitement, he passed right by his two big presents to grab his new "Scooby Doo Mystery Machine" from Grandma Kerrie that he received the night before. We had to point out that there were "more presents" before he looked around and took stock in everything. The two big presents: a trampoline for bouncing on (instead of bouncing on the furniture), and the castle.We decided that we could have told Santa not to bother bringing anything else, because Mikie was not interested in most of his other gifts. He was ecstatic about all the "guys" that went with the castle (which Santa wrapped separately). Otherwise, as soon as he opened a present, he announced that he was going to go back and play with his castle. We also earned some classic comments like "It's just books" and "Not clothes again" (we only bought him ONE SWEATSHIRT). He was happier with the books come bedtime, but still hasn't worn the Puckman sweatshirt. For those who were curious, Mike DID find Red Sox tickets under the Christmas tree. I never made it out of the virtual waiting room (I even tried during my 3am wake-up-and-pee break). By December 14th, I broke down, went to ticketsnow.com (Ticketmaster's resale website) and paid double the face value for tickets to see the Red Sox play the Tampa Bay Rays in May. It seemed like a steal, given the fact that people were asking $650 for seats to see the Red Sox play the Yankees that retail for $50.

Nibbles made out as well. Mikie picked out a pair of Winnie-the-Pooh PJs in every girl's favorite color, pink (I still haven't managed to convince him that not all girls like pink). Mike bought her some non-pink clothes, including little jeans with flowers embroidered on them and a purple knit sweater. Auntie Katie and Marta also bought her pale blue fleece dress with polka dot fleece pants to go underneath that is Mikie's favorite outfit (because, even though it isn't pink, it IS fuzzy). In addition, she is now the proud owner of an NC State bib, which she can wear to match her good friend Anna Hudson.

We got an extra present late on Christmas Day when Grandma Pookie, Grand Da, Auntie Katie and Katie's boyfriend, Marta, all arrived at our house. Since Katie also had a head cold, we spent the majority of their visit lounging around watching Mikie play with his presents. We had a big "Faux Christmas" dinner on the 26th, complete with ham, au gratin potatoes, sweet potatoes, asparagus, corn, crescent rolls, pineapple, applesauce, and apple pie for desert. I realize that you probably didn't care what we ate for dinner, but, I'm pregnant, so most of my excitement lately centers around food.

Hope you all had a happy (and healthy) Christmas.

Love, The Trahans