The Inmates Are Escaping!

See this little sweetums? So snuggly and cute.

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See the gap in the fence?  She discovered it and it couldn't be a more perfect fit for someone just her size.

For the first time ever, the triplets tattled for something important and I quickly found her in the neighbor's yard because they have one of these:

Actually, by the time I got back there, she had shimmied up the ladder to the playhouse at the top and seemed very pleased with herself.  I, however, was NOT pleased.  You see, there are four other children in this household and not one of them explored the corners of the yard.  Of course, the littlest of our wee ones has a personality that is more like this:

Explains everything, right?

Sassy little thing. 

Somethin' Fierce

That's how John describes our little Annie.  He's right, of course.  She reminds me so much of Ainsley (and Gracie, for that matter) in her intensity and countenance. She's happy and laughs easily, but she is definitely not the super-cheery smiley baby who loves everyone because, well, she doesn't love everyone.

It's a good Fierce, full of as much determination and confidence as a one-year-old can possess, and it will serve her well as an adult if she can balance with Wisdom.

In the meantime, I hope her siblings learn to just stay out of her way because she literally plows right through them to reach whatever goal she's after at the moment.

Oh Annie.

So Conceited

That's me. I had convinced myself and announced to many that one more kid would not make that much of a difference in our household. If you knew us, who would think otherwise? After triplets, why would one_more_child really mess us up? Put me off my game?

Well, our sweet littlest ball of sugar has done just that. I feel like I'm having to reinvent the wheel of Managing Life here at Chez Laird and it's blowing my mind. Now, Annie is easy (at least for a newborn). She's sweet, she's mellow, and even though she truly believes Happy Time is for about 1 1/2 hours in the middle of the night, and we only exist to hold and feed her, she is wonderful.

But as delightful as she is, I am not functioning. I can't figure out how to get everyone to the grocery store without messing up breakfast/lunch/taking A to school/nap time/picking A up from school/etc. I can't figure out how to get anything done - like the dishes. Or putting the kids to bed within an hour of when they are supposed to be in delightful slumber.

Pure pride and conceit. That's all I can think of when I reflect on the words I spoke of how Number Five wasn't going to make that big of an impact on our schedule. They are words I am now humbly choking down without any sort of chaser.

Annie Bananie Pic!

Sweet Annie. December 16th, 2010 and about 1 hour into this crazy world.

We think she holds a remarkable resemblance to her oldest sister, who thinks that is awesome. She was ~ 4 days??

Our Early Christmas Present

Annie, formerly known as Cinco, safely arrived into this world!

As John would put it, here's the Tale of the Tape:

Arrival: December 16th
Length: 21"
Weight: 7 lb, 14 oz

It was completely surreal to not go into labor and just breeze into the hospital and have a baby. We had this c-section scheduled 5 days after our due date because we were attempting a v-back, but Annie would have nothing of it. She had only granted me a few Braxton-Hicks to get my hopes up, but we are supposing the kid simply had too much play space (thank you triplet sibs) and had no desire to exit the premises.

Pics to follow...

Quick Note To Cinco

You are 4 days past due and do not appear to be in a hurry or concerned your mother is down to only a couple clothing choices, neither of which are flattering and make me feel as though I should walk around in fuzzy slippers with curlers in my hair and smoking a cig to make the outfit look complete.

I had an ultrasound today to make sure everything is okay with you and the only surprise is that you appear to be enormous (pushing 8 lbs), at least by this family's standards.

You have made me so big that your brother pointed to a picture of a whale yesterday and announced "Mommy, that is you!". Note: NO ONE in this house, including myself, has mentioned anything about my ginormous belly. The Boy, who is now firmly planted on my list, came up with it all on his own.

You are deeply loved.

I Love Cows

Actually, I don't love cows that much - one summer afternoon I was chased by a few during my teen years as I cut across a field while training for an upcoming cross country season, which means I no longer think they belong in the "cute farm animal" category. I do love what they give us, though. I'm not sure what I would do if I was lactose intolerant. Why? Because throughout this pregnancy, all I want to eat (and what Cinco tolerates) are dairy products. Cinco violently rejects anything but comfort food, fruit, and sugar. Vegetables are unnecessary, which is fine by me. I've always had to force myself to eat them anyway. But slap a yukon gold on a plate, slather it with butter and cheese and sour cream, and she is super happy, which makes me super happy.

So thank you, cows. Thank you, dairy farmers. You have provided a significant proportion of my caloric intake for the past 34 weeks.

I Know.

I am huge and we still have 9 more weeks until Cinco arrives. I look as though I should have delivered this sweet little girl (and she will be sweet) a couple weeks ago. I know this. I know this because I look like a redneck with a beer belly and have grown out of my maternity tops and now have to go shopping. I know this because I have to see myself in the mirror and in pictures. I know. I know.

That is why I am not in need of the comments, the shocked facial expressions I have to experience after I tell people when I am due, all the "wows", and the "oh my's", and the "are you sure there's just one in there's".

It is tiresome, especially because the general public believes it is okay to say these things in front of my children who are almost always with me.

Moral of the story? The next time you are in the parking lot at the grocery store and see a very preggers woman handling her four children and two grocery carts...well, perhaps instead of stating the obvious you could help her out instead of standing there, forcing her to call on every ounce of restraint and speak kindly to you as she's negotiating carts and kids and car seats on a warm day. Instead, say "let me help you" and maybe put a bag or two of produce in the car. Unless you're creepy. Then just keep walking.

Arriving Sometime In December...

A Girl!!! A girl. Wow. Let's see...that will make FOUR girls, one boy, and two very tired parents.

Oh my stars.