Out of the Mouths of Babes

My dear almost-four-year-old was rubbing and loving on my belly the other night (and no, I shouldn't be evidently pregnant at 13 weeks, but hey, it's number 3) and said, "I love you baby." Very sweet. So then he goes on to say that he's glad I am the baby's mommy. Side note here: This is a big deal. When Ella was born, Owen completely denied that we were her parents. Rather, her parents were "at work" and she was just staying with us forever. But I was not Ella's mommy and my husband was not Ella's daddy. Only very recently has he admitted that we are indeed her parents. So this revelation of his prompts me to verify that I am indeed the mommy of Owen, Ella, and baby number 3. I am. And Daddy is Owen's daddy. "Is Daddy Ella's daddy, too?" Owen: No. "Is Daddy this baby's daddy?" Owen: No. "Who is?" Owen: I don't know. So there it is. Out of the mouth of my prophetic son. Sorry, husband!

The Great Vehicle Debate

First, let me apologize for my lack of posts recently. I have a bunch of great excuses, but I'll just leave it at the apology.

So now for the great debate. Since the news of the impending arrival of baby #3, we have been discussing the many changes that we'll be making in our lives. Another mouth to feed, another tush to diaper, and another HUMAN to accommodate. A bigger house? Maybe. A bigger car? A necessity. I've already had to sell my precious little sporty car. Luckily, she's still in the family, so I'll be able to see her frequently. Anyhow, now we have to decide... what's next? Will we go with the full size SUV? Probably not. They're ridiculous gas-guzzlers! (Go green!) Maybe the cross-over. Three rows, better gas mileage, and a sporty appearance. Then there's the minivan. Plenty of space, tons of storage, great safety ratings, and comparable gas mileage to the crossover. Urgh. It's perfect, I know. I'll love the space, I know. I need to get over my vanities, yes, Dad, I know! But I can't help it. I cannot erase the stigma that exists in my mind in regard to minivans. I just can't imagine myself getting out of one at work, at Publix, even in the privacy of my own garage. I will admit it: I think I am too cool for a minivan. There, I said it. And I'm sorry. I know plenty of cool people who have driven minivans. And it didn't make them any less cool. I didn't care. It's just that this is me. So what to do? I know the answer. I know in the end, I'll let go of my vanity, do what makes the most sense for the family, and buy a minivan. I just can't quite bring myself to admit this out loud yet. I'm trying to deal. And let's see, I have what-- 26 1/2 weeks left to make a decision. And then look out world! I'll be another young mother in a minivan out to prove she's still cool! Speeding tickets, here I come!