Cormac Joseph
Born: September 18, 2009, 10:49pm EST
Weight: 8 lbs, 9 oz (biggest kid in the maternity ward, but the smallest birth weight of our three sons)
Length: 20 inches
Hair: Blond (a little peach fuzz on top, and tuft at the back)
Eyes: Blue (assuming this doesn’t change)
Pictures available here: http://lainiefig.shutterfly.com/1276
Meaning of the name Cormac: “From old Irish corbmac “son of the charioteer.” Cormac Mac Airt was probably the most famous of the ancient kings of Ireland. As the ruler of Tara, the seat of the high kings of Ireland, for forty years (probably 227-266 AD), he was famous for his wise, true and generous judgments. Cormac owned the wonderful gold cup given to him by the sea-god Manannan Mac Lir. If three lies were spoken over it, it would break in three; three truths made it whole again. Cormac used this cup during his kingship to distinguish falsehood from truth and when he died, the cup vanished. It was a very popular name in early Ireland and is still used today.” (source: http://www.babynamesofireland.com/pages/boy-names-c-d.html; click the link to hear this description read aloud)
Yep, that’s what I just bought. It’s the ideal little item for my anal retentive side, without being too difficult for my lazy and sloppy side (because I do have both). All the organizing is already done and I just fill in the blanks. Yay! Love this sort of thing. Check it out.
Another fun easy anal retentive tool I found recently is the Family Facts On the Go Organizer. I have already used the Family Facts Wall Calendar for a year and this is even better because I can carry it around. It’s helpful for the many appointments I’ve needed at the end of my pregnancy and that sort of thing. Here is a pic and a link:
I feel more organized than I have in ages (and with a 3rd kid on the way, that is a really good thing). I also have the Family Facts Family Life Organizer and Planner, but I find that one too overwhelming to put it to much use (that’s the lazy side of me again).
We’re about to go catch a plane (love that phrase–visualize sprinting down a runway trying to grab a wing) to visit family and friends in Houston. It’s probably the absolute worst time of year to go to that hot, muggy city, but I’m trying to look on the bright side. After all, everywhere we’ll go will have air conditioning on full blast. We might even get chilly while indoors (well, the boys will but probably not me–I never get chilly while pregnant).
We’ll be back August 8th.
I had my 20-week ultrasound yesterday and saw the clearest penis I’ve ever seen on an ultrasound picture. So, yep, a third boy for us. We’re happy. We like boys. Isaac was a little disappointed as he wanted a little sister, but we’ll talk him into being excited about another brother.
In the meantime, the name search continues. We had our girl names narrowed down to two (Kate or Adele, in case you’re curious) but our boy choices are still wide open.
Tomorrow I’m going to start buying some clothes. Even though this is boy #3 I didn’t save a whole lot, since we had #2 almost 4 years ago and in London. I got rid of a lot of stuff with the move. No problem since I do like to shop (the hubby probably will see the shopping as a problem, but I gotta do what I gotta do).
Yesterday (Labor Day) we drove up to Harriman State Park and hiked up to a point called “Almost Perpendicular”. Luckily the hike wasn’t almost perpendicular (at least most of the time it wasn’t). Part of the time Brian and I had to take turns carrying Ewan because it was a bit too challenging for him, but Isaac didn’t need much help. That kid climbs like a little mountain goat. You can click here to see all the pictures.
Actually, I should title this “Brian’s New Kayak” but I hope to borrow it some time. Brian has been taking it out on the Hudson. So far he just goes by himself, but eventually we hope to get a little life vest for Isaac so he can go on short jaunts with Daddy.
Last night I had a very disturbing dream involving an evil circus and fighting the ringmaster who wanted to take Ewan away with him. I woke the hubby and myself when I growled while fighting the ringmaster and woke up making the growly noise. Luckily there were no clowns, though. I hate clowns.
I know I haven’t written about many of my dreams here yet, but I have several I’ve written short reminder bits on so that I can later write about them here. Actually, I just counted and there are about 8 of them on the list so far.
A couple nights ago I had another one involving a weird large house (probably about my weird inner self again). This time the house was my supposedly my dad and step-mom’s house. I actually haven’t seen their newest house so it would be really freaky if it turned out to be like in my dream, wouldn’t it? Anyway, they had this massive, bizarre house that was a converted church (weird since they live in the Dallas area where you are more likely to find movie theaters or strip mall stores converted to churches rather than churches converted to houses).
In this dream I was really afraid to go in the attic, though I had been there before and knew it was haunted. Woooo-oooo (that was me doing ghostly noises). Still, I decided to go into the secret passageways below the attic, and there I found my 3 teenage nephews chilling with some friends. Somehow we all ended up going into the attic. We also did some roller-skating in the attic with a disco ball overhead (boy, throwback to junior high, there–anybody else as old as I am remember “couple skates”–the terror, the anticipation, the joy when you had someone actually cute to skate with, the agony when your friend’s homely and slightly “special” little brother wanted to skate with you?)
Still, amidst all the skating and stuff, we did have some freaky experiences of objects flying around the room for no apparent reason. Then we all got a bit hysterical and had to find our way out of the basement again. I managed to go out through a ground level door (apparently this house was built in the side of a hill) and as I skidded down the hill to the front door, I passed some old men in karate uniforms. They were going up to the attic for a karate class. Huh.
That’s all I remember at this time. My notes about this dream are actually upstairs, so if I go up there and find that I forgot something, I’ll add it later.
I wonder what this house dream says about my inner self. Perhaps I should not inquire too deeply.
Last night’s dream is a bit hazy in my mind, but I remember certain elements of it. First there was some complicated driving of an SUV over rough terrain to find the right place to park outside a half-ruined mall (huge like the local mall, but the local mall is thriving rather than ruined). Then I ran into my step-brother Doug in the middle of the mall (odd since he lives over 1600 miles away in reality). He was joyously exclaiming about the birth of a new baby–his wife was in a hospital attached to the mall. He showed me the baby and then put it down. We were chatting away when we realized the baby was missing. It had actually crawled away (pretty darn impressive in a newborn, I know) and we had to dodge between other mall-goers and grab the baby. Another guy tried to grab it at the same time and then he looked at us like we were baby-snatchers. I assured him that Doug was the Daddy and a very good Daddy even though the kid got away from him, because after all, who expects a newborn to get away?
Then, as often happens in the middle of a dream, my subconscious remembered that I also have children, and there they were. However, by now there was a terrorist scare in the mall and I had to take my kids and run to the house. Now our house was just across the street, but it was pouring rain, so it was no easy feat to get the boys there quickly. Then I had to go around closing doors and windows, because of both rain and terrorists roaming the streets. Of course (as always happens in these locking down the house dreams) I had plenty of struggles getting things locked properly.
I mentioned in a previous post the theory I once heard that when you dream of a house it represents your inner self (need to look that up again). Well, a common theme of my house dreams is this inability to lock it down from outside threats. I’m not sure what this means about my inner self, but maybe I have some weird paranoia going on or something.
