Whoah BABY!

Howdy friends, old and new!  It's been a few months, which I hate.  As someone who really gets a release from writing, not doing so for this long has not boded well for my psyche!  Life has been HECTIC ya'll!  In any case, I'm back, and hoping to be back a lot more in the coming months.

In case anyone missed the big (BIG) news- we are expecting another little monkey this summer!  Yep- another little C to complete our brood.  We are beyond excited (and at almost 7 months, I'm REALLY looking forward to the end of summer...what? it's only the end of May?  I CAN'T HEAR YOUUUUU! LALALALALA).  Ok, my temper tantrum is over.  So back to the point at hand...three kids.  THREE KIDS PEOPLE!!  Of course it hasn't been the best of times for me to be pregnant.  Ken has been in a clinical trial at MSKCC since the beginning of February, and the hectic schedule at the beginning of the trial pretty much forced him out on disability for a few months.  He's back at work as of this last week, and while it's been nice to feel a little "normal"- being 26-27 weeks pregnant, home with two very busy little people for the first time since before I was showing, has been a real challenge.  Of course, it's a challenge for any pregnant Mama with other kids at home, but me being slightly psycho off my meds doesn't really help the situation.  Yep, I'm off  the loft  as I like to say.  Our sweet little fellow on the way (oh...did I forget to mention? It's another crazy little BOY!), wasn't exactly a planned sweet little fellow, so dropping the zoloft cold turkey wasn't fun (and really still isn't...no wine? no loft? Yep, I'm off my rocker).  I know what you're thinking- why??? WHY C family? Why get pregnant?  The kids a miracle, and I'll tell you why...

I've wanted 3 kids forever.  In all reality, I wanted 12, but I knew 3 was about as high a number as my hubby was willing to go.  Of course, after Ken was diagnosed in 2012, I couldn't even let myself imagine we'd have any more kids.  It was off the table.  No mas bebe.  It crushed me to even think about.  We've had a lot of ups and downs over the last (almost) 3 years.  Good scans, bad scans, ok scans.  We endured the stress of selling and buying homes; which I genuinely did NOT know was THAT stressful until we did it. Maybe it was our life situation at the time that made it so much worse- Ken was working from home full time, couldn't drive, and in all truth was probably still, on some level, recovering from his surgery...and if he wasn't, I was.  I lost 8 lbs in the two months it took to sell our house, and put myself in the hospital with a panic attack on the day we went under contract on both homes.  Our parents got sick, our parents got better, we finally spent some down time with friends...of course, it was around that time we figured out I was pregnant. I was 3-4 glasses of wine deep on Christmas Eve when I realized I was supposed to get my period that day.  Feeling pretty confident that I wasn't expecting, I took a test (I always keep the dollar store ones on hand out of paranoia...rightfully so, apparently).  I walked away and enjoyed the company at my house...it was hours later, when I went in my bathroom to brush my teeth, that noticed TWO PINK LINES.  I thought maybe I was drunker than I thought I was, and took another test to make sure I wasn't seeing things.  Nope.  TWO PINK FRICKEN LINES!  Our first reaction was not "Yayyyy!"  It was more..."OH SHIT."  Something we both laugh at now.  I'm pretty sure that might have been our reaction even minus the brain tumor growing in Ken's head, but that part certainly didn't help.

It took about a week for things to sink in, but by New Year's Eve, Ken was (drunkenly) excitedly texting his parents that if all went well, they'd be babysitting three kids the following year for count down (we are going to a wedding of some fantastic friends).  Just a few weeks later, when we were told about this clinical trial that Ken is currently enrolled in, we also found out that on this particular medicine, baby making is not allowed (it could have, like, 7 heads or something...).  And even if he discontinued the medication, isn't allowed for a year or two following...which would bring us over the mid-30's hump, with kids both in the middle of elementary school, and the likelihood of having any at that point was nonexistent.  So if it weren't for *someone* up there/out there knowing better than us, the dream third baby would have been an impossibility.  I catch myself tearing up at the notion that something I'd always wanted so badly, something I'd given up hope on having, something I thought not really possible; somehow wasn't just possible, he's there...kicking me in the ribs as we speak. Now I just have to get him here safely at the end of the summer (yeah, THAT isn't weighing on my mind, nut job that I am...).

So as you can see, on top of every day busy-ness, we've had a busy year so far.  After an intense first round with the clinical trial, we took the opportunity of Ken being home to whisk the kids away to Disney World, we road tripped to see friends in other areas, and Ken fixed up our back yard to be a relaxing oasis.  You'd think things would be winding down, but really, they're staying just as busy, which to me, is a Godsend.  Idle hands and all...

Now?  Now we're gearing up for summer!  My sweet baby girl is graduating Pre-K in a couple of weeks (which, being all hormonal, means I tear up a lot...I mean it, A LOT), she's going to camp for the first time the following week, and in a short three months will start Kindergarten.  When I say I'm going to be a mess the day the bus rides away with her in it, I mean it ain't gonna be pretty.  With a newborn in a carrier,  I fully plan to throw the boys ( BOY(S) !!!!!!! I can't even...) in the car and stalk my child to school.  Go ahead and laugh, people, someday, it'll be YOU!

I hope everyone out there is doing well! I will give an update with anything Ken related as it comes.  For now things have been stable (which even saying out loud gives me the shakes), but we'll give updates as they come.  For now, we've signed up to walk in the NYC Brain Tumor Walk at the end of June.  I'll give more info on that as I get back into the groove this week ;)  Thanks to ALL for the positive vibes we've gotten over the last few months, we are so lucky to know so many great people! XOXO!

I'm baaaaaack! New Year and a "motherlode" of goals!

It's been 3 (yes, THREE!) months since Kenny's successful awake craniotomy, but I have to say, it feels much longer.  We settled into family life much faster than I had anticipated, and while sometimes I worry that I've lulled myself into a false sense of security, it's a risk I'm willing to take for the time being.  What else can I do?  My constant worry about every.little.thing. isn't doing anyone any good anyhow.  So, instead, I've refocused my efforts into getting our act together in 2013 (which mostly revolves around my kids). 

So about two years ago, when I was gearing up to turn 30 (::sigh::, when I was a still spry 29 year old), I started this blog because I wanted to challenge myself to try new things.  Cam was a little more than a year old, and she, and life, were generally easy.  I tried new recipes, new drinks, went new places and did my best to adhere to "the list."  I didn't complete it, but I enjoyed the "challenge" and feeling of accomplishment of some personal goals.  At the time, Cam's needs were simple.  She needed love, and snuggles, and some attention.  Flash forward two years, and obviously things are different now- not only because life has become a bit more complicated, but because we have a second child, too.  I don't have time to make 25 ingredient meals or spend hours every day at the gym. I wish I remembered what it was like to go to the movies or even have time (at this point) to take an extra long shower by myself.  I guess my point is that two years ago, I had the luxury of my personal goals being, well, personal.  

Today?  My biggest goals are all mom related (or really, kid related).  Not only has Cam hit the terrible 3's with hurricane force, she's had a really tough 6 months, something we only realized recently.  In July, our little trio lived a happy-go-lucky, easy existence.  We had, earlier in the year, moved her from our room (she slept with us the bulk of her life) and I had weaned her from extended nursing (which I've talked about before).  It was tough (or at least it felt tough at the time), but she handled it with gusto.  By the second week of August she had a baby brother and slept on a pullout couch at Grandma and Grandpa's house.  Kenny and I were constantly disappearing for doctor  appointments, and then he was gone (from her world) for the better part of two weeks, where he came home with a big "boo boo" on his head.  Of course, when all was well, we moved back home, where she finally felt the effects of being a big sister (since there were no longer 5 adults around all the time).

I know things could have been worse (by far).  I know we are incredibly lucky and fortunate and every adjective possible that means "Thank the effing God(s?) above my husband is mostly tumor free and had a rock star recovery."  But my girl got lost in the shuffle of getting Ken to where he is now, and now it's her time to get back on track (well, everyone's, but at the moment, she needs the most attention).  We did a lot of overcompensating.  A lot of TV watching and fruit snacks were had to appease the daughter who we felt we neglected for 3 months, and we created a monster.  An angry, clingy, non sleeping monster.  I realized at the very tail end of the year that spoiling her was doing no good; not for us and most definitely not for her.  That's when we decided 2013 is the year we try our damnedest to get ourselves together. Our end goals are simple...health and happiness.  We always say that, don't we?  We wish ourselves and everyone a healthy and happy new year?  Well, we are putting our money where our mouths are.  

Sounds easy, right?  Yeah...ok.  That's why I'm throwing down the gauntlet (ie. challenging myself to these tasks on my blog so I am shamed into following through).  I'll break it down for you: I want my kids happy.  I want them healthy.  I want me healthy, happy and getting enough "me" time that I don't cringe when I hear Ben stirring or Cam calling for me when I'm two sips into my morning cup of coffee.  I want Kenny healthy, and into the best work/life balance possible.  I want time with friends, time with our kids, time alone and time to get back to life.  We need gym time, playground time, nap time, book time and snuggle time. Things aren't going to be what they used to be, but they can still be great.  Obviously this is going to take a lot of baby steps...

To start, we began using a sticker board of every day accomplishments we'd like Cam to achieve, like sleeping by herself, not having accidents in her underwear (she often will wait so long she goes a tiny drop and then tells us she has to go), cleaning up her toys, eating her fruits and vegetables, and not throwing tantrums.  The first week felt hopeless, but finally it sank in (and seems to be working at least for a few of the things).  We have cut out unnecessary sugar (she was none too happy about the lack of fruit snacks and Gerber snacks), amped up her fruit and veggie intake, reduced her TV time (like by A LOT), and are upping our efforts to get her outside to play more.  It's only been a few weeks, but we can see a huge difference in her attitude already.  Thank God...it was getting hairy there for a bit.  As for Ben, luckily his needs are still pretty minimal.  He's still sleeping in our room (the APA recommends babies sleep in the same room as their parents until 6 months of age, I know most people don't really go that long but he's not really interrupting anyone's sleep so we're fine with this), but I do plan to move him to his room in the coming months (something that didn't happen with Cam until she was almost 2.5).  

As for Ken and I- he's began what will likely be his work schedule for the foreseeable future (commuting 2 days a week and working from home 3).  He's still navigating how to be at his most effective for work while he's at home (I've mentioned before how he genuinely enjoys work and his job, so he really strives to do well- always looking for ways to improve himself); but he says he thinks he's getting there.  We've made our bedroom his office; inclusive of a desk facing the window and a new computer on it's way (something about needing a giant monitor so he can have multiple applications open at once...I'm usually doing something domestic like wrangling wiggly kids into their clothes when he's explaining such things).  I keep the kids mostly out of his way for the bulk of the day (with the exception of when I need to get dressed), and he enjoys that he gets enough rest and can work late without having to still commute 90+ minutes afterward.  The days he goes in are like a treat- since no cars are necessary to get around in NY he feels some independence and gets to be amongst co-worker (ahem, adults- I'd be lying if I said I wasn't moderately jealous on that point...).  We are trying to plan some nights out (and one away) so we can start getting time alone to talk about things other than who pooped, who ate, and who bathed (the kids, not us, get your heads out of the gutter).  

I, personally, am still pretty much at square 1.  Other than a new obsession with Gossip Girl, that Kenny and I watch on Netflix most nights after the kids have gone down, I don't have much (if any) time alone to do things like exercise; but I AM eating better (I actually have all 3 of us solid food eating Courtneys' on an immune boosting diet of lean meats and lots of fruits and veggies).  I'll get there, but it's all par for the course with everything.  I'm (obviously) trying to find some time to write, but with Kenny still using the family computer most days, until the new work computer arrives I'll settle for whenever I can get.  Since I'm fairly certain the gym and I will remain merely acquaintances for the coming few months (until cold and flu season is mostly over and I feel okay putting Ben in their daycare), I'm focusing my personal goals on getting our house/schedules organized and in-sync.  By the end of February, I'd like my house to be a well oiled machine.  Right now, disaster area is an understatement- but with a little elbow grease and a lot of purging, I think 2 months is a good end goal for getting it looking better and feeling easier to stay on top of.  (PS- have I mentioned how ecstatic I am to be talking about normal things???  I could squeal....seriously).  I hope to check in again soon! 

You know you love me. XOXO,

Gossip Girl. (Sorry, I couldn't help myself!)

(not so) Big Ben has arrived!

 My little man is here, and I could NOT be more in love!

As of late last week, I wasn't quite getting the feeling that little dude was in any rush to vacate my tummy.  I resolved myself to it, actually, and felt pretty okay with the idea that I might be going into August still pregnant.  The hubby and I kicked off the weekend by seeing the new Batman movie in IMAX (aside from recent tragedies causing us to continually glance at the Exit sign, the movie was awesome), and letting the nug have a sleepover at Grandma and Grandpa's house so we could have a quiet night alone.  It was SO gorgeous out on Saturday, we picked her up and spent the afternoon at the pool club, and Sunday we had a family beach day that could not have been more perfect.  I even joined the hubby on a lengthy beach walk, feeling good and confident that little man wasn't going anywhere.  

As of Monday morning at 9 am, I was the most pregnant I'd ever been (38 weeks 4 days).  I still wasn't feeling particularly antsy, but knowing the lover of Old Wives Tales that I am (anyone remember all of my sex of the baby tests???), decided to use a few of the more "silly" ones to see if we could coax the little guy out.  Truthfully, the hubs and I were just using it as an excuse to eat out every night and get all the yummy, spicy, not so great for you foods we've been trying to avoid because, well, they're not so good for you!  We even plotted out restaurants to eat at every night(no way he was letting me  have all the yummy food fun!).  Monday we'd have wings, Tuesday we planned to have a spicy beef dish we love at a local Thai restaurant, Wednesday was going to be Indian food night, and so on.  Except, we only got through Monday...

Monday, with the heat settling back in over NJ (apparently NJ was mistaken for Hades this summer), I decided I didn't want to keep the nug sitting in the house once again (I spent all of last week shutting us in the a/c), and took her to the local mall.  The mall near us may as well be Disney World for her- between the choo choo train that runs downstairs, the horse carousel in the food court upstairs, the Disney store and the build-a-bear shop, the mall is an absolute wonderland to a 2.5 year old.  We spent the afternoon enjoying some pizza, rides and strolling around; in retrospect it was a really great "last day" alone together--she was so well behaved and we had such a great time.  Not long after we got home, the hubs arrived and we took her to Houlihan's because I love their buffalo wings (my first spicy food test!).  We enjoyed our little trio time (inclusive of dessert, of course), and after we got home, we all seemed to pass out in record time...but the labor Gods had something else in mind for me Monday night.

I woke up with a quick, sharp pain at 1230 am- but any woman 9 months pregnant knows that sometimes, when you're unknowingly turning over in your sleep, you're certainly prone to sudden sharp pains.  Nothing followed: no contractions, no tightness, no nothing- and I quickly fell back to sleep.  Then at 1, another sharp pain.  This time I knew this wasn't the typical, middle of the night adjustment pain, and I quickly realized that I was not only labor, but my contractions were already only 6 minutes apart.  Since I'd had the nug so quickly, my doctor told me to call him after the first few consistent contractions, after 3 of them that were 6 minutes apart (and the most intense things I'd ever felt), I woke K about 1:30, told him I was calling the doctor, and to call his mother.  Of course, the answering service first had to call the doctor and have him call me back, but being in as much pain as I was, I knew there was no way I wasn't going- I quickly packed the last of my items and waited for K's mom to arrive to stay with the nug.  Thank the lord in Heaven she arrived as quickly as she did, and that K already had the car running and waiting to go.  The 30 minute ride to the hospital was excruciating, with me mostly trying to keep myself calm.  Although I'd told myself the whole pregnancy that I'd wanted to go natural the way I had with the nug, this pain was so much more intense than I could have imagined, with little relief in between.  I promised myself if I made it to the hospital without wetting myself, I'd treat my body to the epidural.  

When I finally got to the hospital, I couldn't even lift myself out of the car.  Thankfully (seriously, I will use that word about 500 more times before this story is over...), a nurse happened to be sitting outside of the ER on her break and noticed my inability to move.  She quickly retrieved a wheelchair, and she wheeled me right up to L&D.  At first the nurses took their sweet time getting things going; I tried to express my agony, but being L&D nurses, I'm pretty sure they are used to women in agony thinking their pain is something special; not to mention, I'd only been in active labor for 90 minutes at that point.  When asked if I wanted the epidural, I quickly explained that I needed to know how far along I was because last time, I didn't have time to get one.    After I said that, the nurse put on her gloves to check me, only to be shocked herself to realize I was fully dilated, my water ready to burst and little dude's head ready to go.  Yup.  I arrived, 90 minutes from my first contraction, fully dilated, and fighting to not push.  At that point things became fuzzy in an "all hands on deck" kind of way.  They urged me not to push, I agreed only out of sheer fear.  I hee hee hee'd through my contractions as best I could, but she explained that my doctor likely wasn't going to make it (but assured me he was speeding to try).  The on-call hospital doctor suited up for duty and got into position, only for my doctor to run in wearing his street clothes at the very last minute.  He got his gown and gloves on just in time for my inevitable inability to stop the baby from coming.  In one huge push, little Ben flew right into the world, 25 minutes from my arrival at the hospital.  He was 6lbs 7oz and 20 inches long (tall and skinny like Daddy).  Not only did we not have time to get an epidural or even an IV, I'm not even sure the nurses knew my name before I pushed him out! It was quite literally the MOST intense 2 hours of my life.  

I'm thankful for SO much about how this all went down.  I'm thankful it happened in the middle of the night, when Kenny was home and when the roads were empty (you know, so Kenny could do 75 up the highway without ever seeing another car, let alone shore traffic!).  Had the scenario played out during any other time of the day, I would almost surely not have made it (I'm not exaggerating, it really freaks me out how close I came to not getting to the hospital in time).  I'm thankful my doctor made it, even if by the skin of his teeth.  My practice has 8 doctors in total, all of whom are great, but the doctor on call happened to be my favorite of the team (and the odds of that are pretty slim since they rotate daily- each day I was there a different doctor from the practice checked on me).   While in theory it's amazing that I labored such a short time, it was very scary for me if not a bit traumatic; and his presence was the only bit of control I had left in a situation where I had none otherwise.  I'm thankful beyond belief that my little man was born a-okay with almost no monitoring through the process, that I got to spend my first 2 hours with him laying on my chest and nursing, and that so far, he seems to be a perfectly healthy, happy little boy.  I'm also thankful to have such an amazing family, by both blood and marriage, who not only helped us along the way, but who helped welcome our handsome little clone of my hubby into the world.  

A pretty funny side note of all of this?  The "spicy" wings?  Yeah--not spicy.  Not even remotely spicy LOL!  I guess he just decided Monday night was the night.  Although I knew it was coming sometime soon, it doesn't cease to baffle me that on Sunday I was strolling the beach with my family, and Monday I was hanging with the nug, and by Tuesday, our lives had changed entirely.  It's certainly been a whirlwind of a week.  I can feel my OCD creeping in, as I had assumed it would, but so far it doesn't seem nearly as bad.  This week has gone so fast I haven't even had time to upload all the pictures of him to the computer, so I'll be back on later today to photo bomb you all ;)  

Many thanks to all for the massive amounts of congratulations and well wishes!  We are SO blessed to have so many wonderful people in our lives to share these moments with!!! :))  

An open letter to my daughter on the verge of being a big sister

Dearest little nug,

As you get older, you'll realize that there are going to be a lot of defining moments in your life.  There's the obvious ones, like graduations and weddings; but there are other kinds of moments...more subtle ones, that maybe you won't recognize at first, but they alter your life in a way you couldn't imagine.  That's what happened to me around this time 14 years ago...

It was July of 1998.  Just having turned 17,  I worked at Camp Arrowhead for my summer money and socialization.  I'd been going there since I was a kid, and when I was too old too attend, I started working there.  I'd had a lot of amazing experiences there...I made amazing summer friends, had my first boyfriends, my first breakups, and even first kisses; my very best and favorite summer memories are all at Camp Arrowhead.

It started out just like every other morning for me.  Your Uncle Mike was also a counselor, and we shared bus duties; since he was usually really tired (*cough*hungover*cough*), I handled the morning bus ride, and he handled the afternoons.  As our bus started up the huge hill to enter the camp, I had no way of knowing that on the way down that big hill, I'd see the boy that would eventually be my husband (and your Daddy!).  I will never forget that moment; I saw him at least 30 minutes before he ever laid eyes on me, since our bus dropped kids off and further descended down the hill to drop off the smallest kids at tot camp.  Yet there he was...the new guy, looking lost in a sea of excited elementary school kids, ready to play for the next 8 hours.  I watched him while the kids filed off the bus, looking around, having no clue that I spied him from a few hundred feet away.  I don't know why I remember that moment so clearly...maybe it's just coincidence, maybe some part of me knew, but I'll never forget it.  When I finally made my way up the hill to introduce myself, I had no clue the course of events I was setting in motion.  While nothing happened for a couple of months (aside from some innocent flirting and lots of phone conversations), by mid September we were officially a couple.

The last 14 years have been among the best, the worst, the most amazing and scariest of my life.  We had ups, downs, ins and outs, but through it all, we knew we wanted to spend our lives together, and I shudder to think what my life might be like if I hadn't been on the bus that day. What if he had decided not to work there?  What if I'd taken that week off for vacation?  Maybe we would have met the next day, but maybe it all would have happened differently.  Sure, maybe I'd be rich and successful and any number of things...but I wouldn't have him...and I wouldn't have you.

After 11 years together, you took our world by storm on December 13, 2009.  If we thought we knew love before that day, we were wrong...we had no clue how much we could love another person until you made us a family.  Watching you grow into the beautiful little person you've become has been an absolute privilege.  I really can't express in words how proud I am of you, to be your Mommy, to get to be a witness to all that you do.  You are so beautiful, and so full of life and gumption, I just can't wrap my head around the fact that you came from me.  As you're only 2.5, you haven't had many (or maybe any) defining life moments yet...but you're about to have one.

For the last 2.5 years, you and I have had nothing but time.  Time to play, time to snuggle, time to learn and grow together; we've had lots of little adventures, you and I.  You've taught me what it takes to be a parent, and inspired me to to always try to be the best version of myself; I want you to be as proud of me as your Mother as I am proud of you as my daughter.  It's because of you, and how wonderful you are, that we decided to expand our family.  You brought so much love into our lives, we thought that giving you a sibling would only bring more.  Now that it's getting so close, we are so unbelievably excited to meet your little brother; but part of me feels so sad that our time alone is coming to a close.  I just want you to know how much I've loved this time together, just us; and to thank you, in case I forget later, for everything you've given us since you arrived.  Thank you for showing us how one little smile can light up our lives, that there's more important things than work or money, and that just when you think you can't love any more, you can.

In the next 3 weeks, if we're lucky and all goes well, a lot is going to change for us.  We'll love and welcome another person into our family, and you'll have that defining moment I was talking about. The course of things are going to be a little different for you now with a little sibling around.  While we won't be able to travel as freely or have as much extra time for just us, I really think you're going to like your new role as big sister.  I really don't know what is in store for you, I've never been a big sister, but I think you'll handle it just fine.

As for me, as we're about to have another big event in our lives together, it's hard for me not to flash back to that moment in 1998 when I saw Daddy the first time.  I'll be forever grateful I got on that bus to work that day...the bus ride that changed my life.  While all of my defining moments haven't been as wonderful, I can only hope for you that one day, you leave your house, and without you knowing, your life changes in an amazing, unbelievable way.

We love you SO so much little girl...more than I could ever say.

Love forever and always,

Mommy

Birthday Blitz!

The perks of one of your best friends working for the Blueclaws

Happy (belated) birthday to me!  It's official, I am in my second year of my 30's!  So far, I can't complain- I kicked it off with a fabulous breakfast with my hubs and little girl; and, well, quite the bump on my torso.  That's right, we're seeing the light at the tunnel, folks, and not a minute too soon, since I'm not really sure how much more growing my poor belly can take.  With the nug, I carried low, and everrrrywhereee; this little fellow has been kind to the rest of my body, but my belly button is so popped out it kind of feels like it might just pop right off!  This is something we never thought would happen- since it never popped with Cam, and my belly button sans baby is generally so deep my husband has been known to refer to it as the black hole (seriously, it's kind of ridiculous...if it doesn't go back in after the little guy comes out it might end up looking like a third, saggy boob).

Deep fried PBJ? Yes, please!

With two days left of our staycation, I have to say, I'm a wee bit burnt out.  Having never been super pregnant in the summer before (I was pregnant with Cam in the summer, but in the beginning stages, before your inner oven is permanently turned up to 500 degrees), I didn't know how hard it would be to get around in the summer heat.  Of course, we also had a heat wave this weekend (impeccable timing, if I do say so myself), meaning we couldn't really do much that didn't involve a beachy breeze or swimming pool.  While our plans to hit the track were kiboshed, we made it to the NJ Fair, the pool club (a few times), the beach, a baseball game AND had a family pajama party/movie day in the basement.  With all this going on, my big body is TIRED, and tired of running around- so this morning I decided it was high time to take it easy in my air-conditioned living room.  Of course, we plan to get to the boardwalk later, but I think after a couple of hours on the couch I'll be recharged enough to enjoy some ice cream and a stroll on the planks.

Anyone remember this from BIG?

That said, I've been nesting like crazy!  I guess at just under 36 weeks that's to be expected.  It seems in my (limited) down time this weekend, all I've wanted to do is buy things for the little guy, wash his clothes, and bake.  As we speak, I have the hubs checking tasks off of his "honey-do" list, and plan to join him shortly.  I know, I know, I said NO chores! But, considering I'm almost 36 weeks and had nothing done for this kid prior to this weekend, I think I get a pass on a few hours of focus for him.  Not to mention, we have fun stuff planned the rest of of the week AND the weekend.

As far as how I'm feeling- I guess the best way to describe it is uncomfortable, but not miserable...yet.  I'm not going to lie, I'm getting there, and knowing I could have 5 more weeks is a little unnerving, but in the long run, 5 weeks is a short amount of time (you know, in comparison to the rest of your life with a happy, healthy child- God willing).  I think what I find most frustrating is that I can't move my body the way I could just a couple of months ago.  I really shouldn't complain, I stayed comfortably active through the majority of the pregnancy, and the last few weeks (especially in summer) are known to be a bitch (pardon my French).  Yet when I'm trying to walk the dog and I want to pick up the pace, my body just.won't.go.  I'm sure it knows better than me what it needs (and doesn't need), but it still bothers me.

On a serious note...I'm struggling with feeling like I'm not being a good mom to the nug.  Six months ago I could keep up with her, get on the ground to play with her, have patience and energy for her...and now, I just...don't.  And I feel terrible about it (tearing up even talking about it).  The hubs keeps telling me to cut myself some slack; I'm very pregnant, very big and always overheated, but I can sense her disappointment when she wants me to chase her around the house or playground and I can't do it.  I'm beyond fortunate to have SO much help; between our two families, my daughter never goes without attention, affection or playmates (seriously...never), but I miss being me (and I think she misses "me," too).  Of course, I know this is a temporary condition, and one that I'm grateful to have, I'm just getting to the point of "ready" to not be there anymore (not exactly there, but around the corner, sure enough).  I'm starting to think it's God's plan to make you so uncomfortable at the end of pregnancy that you're happy to endure labor to have it be over.  Between my insane excitement at meeting my son, and my desire to be back to being normal old "Mommy" to my daughter, I've never been so excited in anticipation of extreme pain.

Being that I'll be full term in one week (say WHAT?), part of me has decided to succumb to my body's desire to sit on my big caboose.  Yes, I'm sad I can't play as much; for sure, I'm bummed that tying my shoe laces feels like an Olympic event, but being me, sitting around and pouting about it isn't really my style.  Instead, I'll sit around and try to enjoy it.  Sitting isn't really my "thing" in general, but with a B&N gift card I just got for my birthday (THANKS SIL!), and the fun marathons all over TV lately (The Hills AND Buffy are on right now- can we say DVR? WHOOPEE!), I'm going to do my best to bide my time before I have two funny little critters to corral.

With that, I'm going to get off said big caboose, and hang some of my son's teeeeeeny tiny newborn clothes.  I hope everyone is having a fab 4th of July week!

Fathers, be good to your daughters

Last Sunday was Father's day, and as such, I tried my best to show my hubs my massive amounts of appreciation for his being a rock-star Dad.  Of course, I try to do this all the time (I believe that if you're only good to your spouses on holidays and birthdays, you probably need some relationship re-tooling), but since it was a holiday, I did try to spoil him (as best a 33 week pregnant, waddley woman, can).  I spent the morning whipping up challah french toast and bacon (a fan favorite in our house), and spent the afternoon at the track with the in-laws.  While I'm sure this conjures up some picture of bored kids while Dad cheers on horses with a cigar in his mouth, rest assured the track here is beyond family friendly with playgrounds, face painting, pony rides, and bounce houses...and my husband doesn't smoke cigars ;)  I also went in cahoots with MILly to coordinate a golf weekend getaway for FIL and the hubs later in the fall in the hopes that he'd enjoy the mini-break from work and the hectic-ness that will (likely) come with two kids;  or, at the very least, catch up on some sleep.

I know I often mention what a great dad I think the hubs is, but in all seriousness, he really is a terrific father.  While I could always say something like, "there's so many deadbeats out there and he's not one," I think the comparison is insulting.   He's not trying to not be a deadbeat, and frankly, it isn't him to be a deadbeat (at being a father or anything else in life).  He's just being him...a good guy, good husband, good daddy.  My appreciation for his efforts have little to do with the fact that there seems to be an increase of absentee fathers, but more because I didn't have such a great relationship with my own dad.

I've thought a lot lately about how my life might have been different had my relationship been different with my father.  My daughter has a lot of my childhood personality in her...she's pushy, she's vivacious, she's extremely strong willed and very energetic (sleep is a 4 letter word to this kid).  I was met with a lot of anger and frustration on my father's part...he couldn't quite handle me, and said a lot of terrible things (I can only hope he regretted them, since "I'm sorry" were not words that were big in his vocabulary).  Sure, kids are resilient, they can rebound from tough situations, but when it comes to their parents, they'll never forget.  I've written a lot about how I forgive my dad for the things he said and did over the years, but I'll always remember being a pint sized 6 year old being told he wished I'd never been born.  I'll never forget being told that if he and my mom divorced, it'd be my fault (and being me, I wished it were true, since it meant he'd be moving out...), and I'll always feel sad for the little nug that I was, being constantly thrust into the middle of my parent's marital spouts.  When I didn't agree with my dad (which was pretty much always), the put downs were inevitable.  Somehow, he never quite bullied me into submission, but I eventually lost the confidence I exuded as a child; convinced no one liked me (who could, if my own father didn't?), feeling low, it took me a very long time to learn to be "me" again.  And even now, I struggle with it.

A girl's relationship with her father is paramount in her life. While every girl who isn't loved by her father isn't destined to work a pole (obviously), there have been recent studies that even links horseplay with fathers to a girl's confidence through her life.  To be truthful, I didn't quite realize how important it was until I had my own daughter.  I always knew I was missing out in the Daddy/daughter relationship arena; I envied girls who had dads who doted on them, who encouraged them to do better in life than they had, who enjoyed them.  I never quite grasped what a difference it could make on a girl's life to have that connection; but once I saw my daughter's face light up at the sight of her father, it clicked.  He'll be the first man in her life to show her how a man should treat a woman.  He'll demonstrate not only how she should be treated, but how they should conduct themselves.  He'll be the first man to tell her he loves her, kiss her tears away, and support and encourage her through any of her endeavors.  That's why I'm so grateful my daughter has my husband for a father; not because he's such a great daddy (although he is), but because he's so much more.  He's a great husband- the kind who is my best friend.  The kind where it feels weird to not talk to him a hundred times a day about anything and everything, who let's me know he appreciates me as much as I do, him.  He's a hard worker, he's close with his family, he holds doors for strangers every.single.time he walks in or out of a building, and he's smart, to boot (brains are kind of my "thing").  

As far as good examples go, my daughter has it made.  I could be jealous, I suppose, but the truth is, while it's not the same relationship, he was the first to do all those things for me, too.  I guess you could say she and I both got pretty lucky.  That's not to say that all my issues magically disappeared because I lucked out with a great husband; but that fact alone goes to show that even in the best of outcomes, lacking a good father figure could affect you for life.  That's why I would urge any man out there to not stop at being a good father, but being a good person.  No one is perfect; we all have our moments where we lose our cool, but remember this: while they may forgive you for things you say and do in the heat of anger or frustration, they probably won't ever forget.  I know I never did.

Mommy guilt! My baby isn't THE baby anymore

Last night, while I was strolling, that thing that second time moms warned me about set in.  You know, the thing.  The sudden, tear inducing Mommy guilt thing.

Not that it hadn't dawned on me at any point in the last 7+ months that I'd be rocking my little nug's world when this little guy enters it.  Of course I knew that.  Of course I felt bad about it.  But last night, it really HIT me.  The worst part?  I can't exactly pinpoint what exactly I feel guilty about.  The nug has had 2.5 years of undivided attention, and I'm not really worried about the baby garnering more attention than her.  Sure, people will oo and ah, "look at the baby, look at the baby (thought out in my best Vince Vaughn impression)," but she'll undoubtedly get lots of big sister attention. Not to mention, from my experience, people are kind of scared of little babies.  They're more secure in talking to and playing with toddlers than they are with newborns.  I'm not nervous she'll feel less loved, I'm not remotely anxious she'll be upset about staying with her grandparents a few days (she stays with them all the time), and I don't think she'll feel angry, left out, or put out by his presence.  She's a pretty independent kid, and nurturing to boot, so I think, for the most part, she'll enjoy doting on him.

So what IS it?  I guess I'm not really sure.  I think it has something to do with feeling like I'm replacing her in the baby category.  I'll explain, since I'm sure that doesn't make sense.  I don't mean that I feel like she will feel replaced, or that any baby could replace, well, any other baby.  I think I just mean that in having this baby, I'm finally admitting she's not a baby anymore.   For over two years we would often refer to her in passing as THE baby.  "Do you have THE baby's bottle/sippy cup?" "Did you feed THE baby breakfast?" "How did THE baby sleep last night?" Not only can we not refer to her as a baby, we can't refer to her as THE baby.  It's understood now, even before he's here, that when we say THE baby, we're now talking about him, not her.  It hurts to even write that.  Without her knowledge or consultation, my baby officially became a big girl.  I know this would happen whether or not he was coming.  How long can you refer to a walking, talking, child as THE baby?  But realizing tonight that it's been months since any of us as referred to her as the baby, well, it just stings a little.

I was never one to rush my baby into childhood; I could never relate when other Moms seemed to be in a rush for their babies to be kids, pushing them to walk before they were ready or swearing they were speaking in full sentences by the age of 9 months.  Of course, it's the desired outcome of having babies that they grow into children, and that those children grow into adults, and so on; I just assumed it was going to happen fast without any help from me, so I didn't push.  It's just that, even knowing that, I wasn't really prepared for the reality of how fast it was going to go.  As I grow closer to giving birth a second time (God willing and the creek don't rise),  I can't help but reminisce over and over again about the day I gave birth to Cam.  It was honestly amazing.  I'm not an earthy person who found my zen in giving birth...I was lucky it was very fast (it hurt like Hell, but was over with quickly).  When she was born I don't recall crying with joy or having any great epiphany, but I was ecstatic....I had my little girl!  I got a quick glance at the peanut I'd been harboring for 38 weeks before they took her for her Apgar tests and first bath.  I remember calling out to my husband through my teeth chattering (tiny bit of post delivery shock- totally normal), asking him to make sure she had 10 fingers and 10 toes.  It wasn't until just a little while later, when I finally got to really snuggle her, that I realized just how special this Mommy thing was.  Her huge brown eyes staring up into mine, I just knew she was my little soul mate.  I was absolutely meant to be hers, and she was absolutely meant to be mine.  Every struggle, big or little, I'd ever gone through was to get me to that minute.  I've never doubted it a moment since then.. I'll always be hers, she'll always be mine.

But somehow she's gotten big on me.  She's not that itty bitty baby with the big eyes gazing up at me, as though I'm the only person in the world.  She's found she enjoys plenty of time with other people, happy to shoo me away so she can play with her friends at school or so she can go out and have fun with any number of people that are not me.  I just didn't expect it to happen so soon.  I thought I had a good couple of years left of her clinging to my leg, only ever wanting Mommy and giving an earful to anyone trying to appease her when I'm not there.  I know it sounds pretty bad to say that; the rational part of me absolutely knows that it's a great thing that she is independent, and social and doesn't need to hide behind my knees in public.  I should also note she's hardly dissociative with me...she loves her some Mommy snuggles when we're at home, and there are some times where only Mommy will do, but they're just not nearly as often as they used to be.  Which brings me right back to the fact that she's simply just NOT a baby anymore.

On the bright side of things, she herself isn't too perturbed by not being a baby anymore.  As a "big girl" she has more freedom.  She gets to swim in the intermediate pool with Daddy, go on some rides by herself, and has more fun on the playground without Mommy following her onto the bouncy bridge.  She likes being called the "big girl."  She especially likes being called the "big sister."  I'm not sure she knows what that means yet, but she knows there is a baby coming.  She pets my tummy, kisses my popping belly button, says everyone must "do nice" by the baby and tells people about her baby brother in Mommy's belly.  While this should really make me feel better, it only seals' the deal on my daughter's closing chapter on babyhood.  You know, the babyhood I was in no rush to leave behind.

Although I might be a bit dipped in sadness at the nug's seemingly sudden shot into childhood, the hubs and I are no less amazed or in love with her every day.  Even in the most frustrating moments (and with a 2.5 year old, there's LOTS of those), we seem to find some aspect to be proud of.  If she's pouting or angrily shouting an explanation for something she "wants" (a word we hear a LOT lately), we are amazed by not only the fact that she can explain...at length...why she wants it, but that she has a legitimate thought process behind what she's saying.  Sometimes we catch ourselves being totally played by her, only realizing mid-process that the 2.5 year old has, once again, outsmarted us.  Or take yesterday, when at a Memorial Day BBQ of all adults, not only did she stop them all mid conversation with her rendition of Barney's "I love you" song, but got them to sing along with her....every.single.one of them (think Happy Birthday, minus the cake and candles and led by a 2 year old who's chin was dripping with watermelon juice).


Those are the moments I know I'd do it all over again.  That whether or not I'm ready, time is going to keep moving.  That whether or not any of us are ready, we are going to do it all over again.  And if I'm one of the luckiest people in the world, in two and a half years, I'll still be lamenting how big my daughter has gotten on me...and how my son is suddenly a big kid, too.