and my baby is almost five...

I started this blog five+ years ago, before Miss Camille Anaya was born. She has been the biggest blessing of my life. When her sister was born 18 months before her after three miscarriages, I thought I couldn't get any happier...

But my pregnancy with Camille was amazing. I have of course written about it here a few times at least, because it WAS so amazing...I thought I had miscarried. The dr. thought so too. But the pregnancy tests said positive a few weeks after they should have been saying Negative....'positive', after all that bleeding....so the dr. ordered a blood test. I guess my numbers were through the roof, and when the midwife called and told me this little fact, I asked her what it meant. She said she wasn't sure, but could I come right in? Because sometimes I am a huge dummy, I thought for sure I had ovarian cancer. I had been feeling awful, sick, tired. The thought had crossed my mind more than once during those weeks that something was really wrong with me. Turns out something was actually really RIGHT with me. Ha. When I got to the office, the dr. said he wanted to do a quick sono and see what was going on. Well. There on the screen was a little sweetie-pie, kicking and squirming. Fifteen weeks or so. The dr was jubilant, went out and got his wife, and the other nurse. They said I should name this baby, "Destiny". Because this pregnancy was really a miracle.

I didn't name her Destiny, obviously. But Anaya means, "God answered".

Camille has been my squishy little pumpkin sweetheart from day one.

I love all of my kids, but she definitely has a special place in my heart.

She does this thing where she talks like a baby. She calls me, "Mucky".

She climbs up on my lap and wants me to pick her up when I am walking around the kitchen.

She calls me to wipe her still.

I have held onto her babyness for dear life.

Sending her off to kindergarten probably seriously broke my heart in two.

And it hasn't gotten much easier.

I let her stay home the other day with her cold, and believe me, it was heavenly. She kept me company in the van, asked me, "How do I move?" I told her her brain tells her muscles what to do. She asked, "How does my tongue move? Does my brain tell my tongue to tell my muscles to move?"

So she is turning five years old. wah.

Monday morning I have to take her to the dermatologist. She has some warts on her hands, on her thumb, which she still loves, and now on her sweet little face. This makes me sad for her because kids at school have asked her what she has on her face. The school nurse called me one day and said the teacher and the teacher's helper have been wondering...rrr. I took her to the dr for them back in September, it takes forever and a day to get into the dermatologist. Anyway. I don't want it to hurt her to get them removed. But I don't want it to hurt her to keep them there.

wah.

Anyway, her birthday is on Wednesday.

We are having her party next Sunday.

We like to drag out the birthdays.

I like to drag out the littleness of the little ones. But Charlotte Claire is different. She ran ahead like a big kid on Halloween. She is brave and mature and doesn't need me like Camille does. I love her dearly too, but she is just different.

Tonight, seven of us are sitting around, watching football. I am really ignoring football, but Paul is watching it. Sonja, Jonathan, Char, and Camille are having a Sleepover in Sonja and Jon's room. After our yummy dinner, we had baked fake apple pie. Real apples, with a butter/flour crumb topping. I made some especially for me with no crumb topping...no sugar. Topped some almonds with melted butter.

Now the apples are all gone. They have been really expensive this year. We had a freeze right after the trees budded. The place where we bought them had a horrible harvest, 500 bushels instead of 8000.

So Sam and I went on a walk in the rain this afternoon. It was just sprinkling out, then it rained a bit harder. It was cold, but we walked fast. Sam is good company. He makes the walk go by fast. He had shorts on, and socks with flip-flops. I had my giant black rain coat on and a funny hat with a pompom on the top, so I couldn't say anything.

My black rain coat was not giant when I bought it. It is a good thing, but also a bit sad. The jeans I wore today are getting loose, which is also a good thing. Size 16, getting loose! That is major for me! I bought them a few months ago, and couldn't get them zipped. I bought them In Hope. When I could finally get them zipped, they were too tight to be seen in, plus I was scared they would rip. Now, they are getting baggy.

Okay, the real reason I am writing here is because it takes two hands, and keeps me busy. I am not exactly hungry, but I want to eat something. My three teenage-ish boys are sitting here...Aaron just had a plate of nacho chips with melted cheese, Sam had ice cream and Halloween candy with a glass of milk. I want something. Not really, but really. I am thinking about chocolate, chocolate chips, yum. But I have had enough today, and really don't want to eat this late at night. Not a big deal, perhaps, but it is for me. I cannot just give in everytime I REALLY want something. Or the pounds will come straight back. The jeans will get tight again, and I won't be able to bend down and tie my shoes.

Losing weight and getting into shape is so hard. It is harder to keep the weight on, of course. Easier, because one can just eat that chocolate, but then has to huff and puff and agonize about clothes and avoid stairs. The hard part is saying NO over and over and over again. Everyone is different, I guess, because some people say they don't even want junk anymore after a while. Either my "while" is longer than their "while", or I am just plain different. I am a hungry, snack-y person.

Yes, it has been a long long road, this weight loss thing. But I have come a long ways. I consider before I eat things. I make conscious decisions. I enjoy the things I indulge in, I don't just wolf things down. I don't eat toast or bread or sandwiches anymore, I just don't. I don't eat cereal anymore. Ever. Candy, rarely. Same with cookies. Popcorn, once a week, perhaps twice. The real stuff, popped in oil. With butter. I would eat it every day if I thought I could get away with it, but I have to limit it, and limit my portion, which is easy when everyone is here.

So I suppose in some ways it has gotten easier. I have gotten used to eating healthier, for the most part.

And now I am rambling, I am tired. Shower, bed...working at the Dome tomorrow. Evil Hill, Evil Stairs, here I come!