Hello Again

It's been a little while. Truthfully, writing feels like a job to me lately. And I already have enough work between my full-time job at work and my other full-time jobs as Mom, wife, accountant, maid, event planner, and so on and so forth.

So why am I back?

Here's the thing: I'm pregnant. And I have this massive guilt over the fact that I had a blog when I was pregnant with Brendan and then proceeded to blog pretty regularly for the first two years of his life. And here I am 14.5 weeks into my pregnancy and not a single entry since I found out.

I'm going to write a few sentences that sound like excuses to make me feel better and then I'll get on with updates. When I was pregnant with Brendan, we lived MUCH closer to where I work and I didn't have a toddler to take care of when I came home or on the weekends. If I felt like sitting on the couch all night/weekend then that's exactly what I did. Now, I have an hour commute each way and an absolutely adorable little boy who wants nothing more than to play with his Mommy when she gets home. So sitting my ever-expanding ass on the couch is not really an option.

I'm EXHAUSTED. And because of that I'm cranky and prone to mood swings mostly directed at my poor husband. It's hard to let the excitement of the pregnancy take over like it did the first time when I feel like I have so many things competing for my attention. What I would like is a nice, long vacation by myself where I can just sit on the beach, read a book, and not have to take care of anyone/anything but myself. Where do I sign up?

I realize I sound ungrateful. I am so blessed in so many ways and yet I can't always step back and appreciate what I have. So let me stop complaining and focus on all the wonderful things in my life.

A bit about this pregnancy. I have dealt with some morning (all day) sickness, but NOTHING like I had with Brendan. I've only thrown up three times whereas with him I threw up at least once a day. This time around my body is more sore, I'm dealing with more headaches and I'm just really tired. Some of these could be because I'm thisclose to "advanced maternal age" this time. :/

We are going to find out what we're having but have to wait another 5.5 weeks because my new OB doesn't do them before 20 weeks. Patience is really not my thing but I'm working on it. I'm excited about having a nursery to decorate this time and am also going to make some changes to Brendan's room while we're at it. Just a new paint color and a few new accessories here and there.

We've been living in our house close to a year now and absolutely love it. It's hard to remember living in that cramped apartment with no yard for Brendan to play in. The area is really nice and it's so peacefully quiet.

That's all I've got for now. Be back soon...

I do it!

Pardon my slacking, I've been busy building myself an igloo. The fourth (fifth??) snow storm in the last 3.5 weeks is headed our way tonight, which is really just so awesome. If you're someone who likes that much snow. Which I don't.

Brendan started his new daycare in the beginning of the month. They love him and say he's doing really well, making friends and having fun. Problem is the whole drop-off thing, which as I've complained about already, is the job of yours truly. The first week he actually did really well and I felt a little silly that I had been so anxious and dreading this transition so much.

The second week, on the other hand, didn't go quite so well. He cried and held onto me for dear life. How I would have loved to stay there with him all day and make him feel better, but I have a job and it's now an hour away so I don't have the luxury of time. Not to mention, they don't want me sticking around making things worse and it doesn't help him get adjusted if I baby him. I have to take the opposite approach and peel him off of me and run out the door. So that's what I did. Then I got in my car and cried.

It made me think of that first day I dropped him off at daycare after my maternity leave was over. It was sooooo much harder on me than it was on him. And it's the same now. He puts on a great show when I leave but I know within five minutes he's fine and having a dandy old time. But I feel awful for hours after. I just keep telling myself that he won't remember any of this a few years from now. I also tell myself that when he's testing the limits of my patience and I do something ridiculous like growl at him and make him cry. Yes, I'm a horrible mother.

So yeah, two and half is an interesting age. His vocabulary consists mostly of No! My turn! I do it! and I don't want to! He moves at a glacial pace, inspecting everything in his path, doing things when he's good and ready and not a moment sooner. Which is why we have a delightful morning ritual of him running away from me when I try to get him dressed so we can get out the door at a reasonable time. He doesn't get the sense of urgency and I learned quickly that you can't rush a toddler because it backfires and they resist even more. So either I'm trying to outwit him and trick him into letting me get him dressed, or I'm peeling off his pajamas and shoving his clothes on him all while running after him. Fun stuff.

It's all about Jedi mind games at this age. They're too young to understand "later" or "tomorrow" so there's no reasoning with them. You need to give them choices, but not too many because you overwhelm them. I'd like to start potty training him but he's much more interested in sitting on the potty and using up all the toilet paper while he pretends to wipe himself (he shoves the toilet paper into the potty between his legs). Oh, and he's discovered the joy of picking his nose.

I'm really making B sound like a beast, but this age is truly a lot of fun. He's so much more independent and the things he says are just hysterical. He teeters between being super affectionate and telling me he loves me "toooooo much!" and yelling at me because I had the audacity to sit in "his spock" (spot) or take the hairbrush away because he's brushing the wall. Which has the same effect as scratching nails on chalkboard, by the way.

I've heard that age three is actually harder than the terrible two's. I'll admit it, I'm kinda scurrred...

Snow!




Making a snowman with Daddy


Decapitated snowman












Brendan is 2.5 years old!

Deezus!

Despite the fact that Brendan is still super picky with what he'll eat, he's somehow managing to grow like a weed. We haven't had him measured since his 18-month appointment and it's damn near impossible to get him to stand still long enough to measure him but I think he's grown at least 1.5" since then.

His vocabulary is also growing by leaps and bounds. His newest thing is saying Jesus all the time. I know I should hang my head in shame over the fact that my child uses the Lord's name in vain and whatnot, but I find it kind of funny that even though his Daddy says lots of fun 4-letter words (the kind that rhyme with truck and pit) he picks up the word Jesus.

I have a habit of saying it as a replacement for other, less toddler-friendly words (like the kind that rhymes with grassbowl). For instance, when I'm driving in the middle lane of a three-lane highway and some driver merges onto the highway and immediately MUST move into the middle lane. Even though THERE IS NO ONE IN FRONT OF THEM FOR MILES and they have to CUT ME OFF to perform this manuever. So out comes, "JESUS!!!" instead of... well, other things that wouldn't be very nice. I never realized just how much I say this until he started repeating me. Thankfully he says it "Deezus" so I doubt most other people know what he's saying.

Brendan is still delightful as a daisy when he wakes up in the morning (and he still wakes up by 6am most days, waaahhh!). On one recent morning when it happened to be my morning to sleep in, I heard him saying "Mommy, Moooommmmmy, up peas (please)." So I opened one eye and said "Tell Daddy to get up." And he whispered, "Daddy's beeping (sleeping)." Why he recognizes that Daddy is sleeping but it doesn't matter that Mommy's eyes are closed is beyond me.

I say this about every age, but this age is sooooo much fun. I'm going to miss this baby talk stuff when he's speaking in full sentences with perfect pronunciation while giving his valedictorian speech at Harvard. At the tender age of five. Because my kid is a genius. Move over Doogie Howser.

Blowing bubbles with Nana (sometimes known as "Nina" although I'm not sure why)








In an attempt to get him to eat more, I thought I'd use fancy food presentation. In a fancy ice cube tray. Left to right: red grapes, cucumbers, swiss cheese, cheddar cheese and pizza, all cut up into bite size pieces. He ate the pizza and grapes. It was a valiant, if not particularly successful effort.


Walking around one of Mima's gardens (Mima is G'ma Annie's new name that B just came up with)






Taking a sip of "wattuz" (waters)










Trying on Daddy's work "shyooz" (shoes)





Brendan is 23 months and 3 days old today!

A (sort of) relaxing vacation

We just got back from a week in FL visiting family. It had been a year since Grandpa Billy, Grandma Sharon and Aunt Nicole got to see B; he's changed a bit since then. Grandmama Annie and Grandpapa Charlie came down too, to see my brother Keith graduate college with his mechanical engineering degree. Such a proud moment to see that, especially since he graduated with the highest honors. Go Keith!!

On our first morning I woke up all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed at the thought of being on vacation (vacation!!) and relaxing in the sun. B, on the other hand, wasn't feeling quite as chipper. He popped up in his crib and asked for his shoes. I asked why he needed his shoes and he answered "home." Awwww.

Two important and mind-blowing things I learned on this trip: 1. My son doesn't like the beach; 2. My son doesn't like the pool. ::bursts into tears:: Inconceivable! He has 50% of my genetic makeup for goodness sake. Papa Charlie got B in the pool on one of the days for a few minutes but that's about the extent of it. The rest of the time I was chasing him around the perimiter of the pool. He kept wanting to sit on the top step of the pool and would run around screaming "I sit, I sit!" Only it sounded more like "I sh_t, I sh_t!"

We had some touch and go moments, but Gabba got us through. I brought several DVDs for Brendan, along with a portable DVD player that Nana Darlene bought for him last year. Sir only wanted to watch Yo Gabba Gabba and we only had one YGG DVD so we watched the same 4 episodes over and over and over and over. Jack Black you're a funnny dude, but I can only watch you prance around in orange spandex so many times.

We had dinner with Grandpa Billy and Grandma Sharon most nights. Grandpa entertained B with his Donald Duck impression and cooked him some delicious homemade pizza, one of the very few foods B will eat (beetza). B also got to play the piano for the first time, which he absolutely loved. He's a virtuoso, people!

We flew home today and of course the airline lost our luggage and car seat, which is totally awesome. Kenny called and found out that it's arrived at the local airport so he's on his way to pick it up. Thanks be to Jesus because we're talking about B's favorite blankie and stuffed puppy, the baby monitor that I still can't live without and my makeup bag (gah!!). Oh, and a $300 car seat. Apparently Delta has some newb's working at the Atlanta airport who skipped the chapter about how to handle luggage during a layover because about 1/3 of the people that landed with us left the airport sans luggage.

Anywho, it was a much-needed vacation and it was wonderful to see everyone again. Now it's back to reality. Oy.

Watching YGG


Collecting shells with Grandmama


Starting to grow weary of the whole beach thing


...and we're back in the stroller. Papa's behind the wheel.


I'll miss you, beach.


Suspicious-looking fin. Just popped up to say allo! No swimming in the ocean for Momby.


Sunrise


Please, help me! They want me to go in the pool!


Even the swanky choo choo bathing suit couldn't get him in the water.


Oh look, YGG!



Brendan is 22 months and 1 day old today!

Terrible 1.5's??

Someone has taken my loving, even-tempered, good-natured, little lovebug and replaced him with a hormonal bipolar teenager. Oh, and before anyone starts in with "it's normal" or "just wait" with an all-knowing I'm a mom and I've been there before smugness - let me save you some oxygen and let you know right now that it's not helpful. Mmmkay? Thanks.

::open scene::
"Yay! Everything is WONDERFUL! I'm so HAPPY!"

adorable toddler peels back his face to reveal a demon
"ROOOOOOOOOOOAAAAARRRRRRRRRR!!! I don't want that crayon/train/cookie/cup/whatever you're trying to give me. I want that OTHER thing that I can't tell you I want because Mommy can't understand my mishmosh words and therefore has absolutely no idea what sort of important request I'm attempting to make."

::Cue music for dramatic scene::
Roll around on floor, flailing arms and legs, let out a few screams like someone just killed your puppy, gasp for air and gag until you almost throw up

replaces demon face with adorable face
"Why is everyone staring at me? I'm so HAPPY! Let's play and dance and sing!"
::end scene::

Truly people, it's exhausting. And I know I'm preaching to the choir; I'm not the first parent to go through this and certainly won't be the last. But I'm most definitely going to moan about it.


Brendan is 20.5 months old today!

Cookie Monsters and Crushes

Brendan and I went to see Sesame Street Live with my friend Jill and her 2.5 year old son Steven yesterday. I was a little apprehensive—okay, more like moderate panic attack mode—anticipating how long he would sit still before he starting squirming and demanding I let him down off my lap. He's a toddler, it's understood that they have short attention spans, but you never want to be that mother. I am thrilled to report that Brendan did amazingly well.

We got there early enough for him to let off some steam before the show started. He practiced his walking, weaving in and out of the rows of chairs, which he found absolutely hysterical. We had seats in the front row, right in the center so all the characters came over to say hi and there were no kids or parents blocking our view. He sat on my lap and watched the show. Sure, there were moments here or there where he got fidgety but I pulled a toy out of the diaper bag and he would play with it for a minute, then watch the show again. Overall he did about 10,000 times better than I thought he would.

And marvel of all marvels, both Brendan and Steven fell asleep during the last five minutes of the show. Jill and I are not entirely sure how this was possible because the mic volume was clearly turned up to MAXIMUM plus about 5,000. But the only thing we could really think about was whether or not sleeping babies meant we would have to wait before we could go have lunch. Jill is pregnant, like last trimester pregnant. And well, I'm always hungry. And we were planning on having buffalo wings. BUFFALO WINGS! And a giant plate of french fries. And we had dietish breakfasts so we were STARVING, more than normal starving. Our worry was short-lived though, they woke up soon after the show ended.

So yeah, he did really well. But I will probably wait a while before I take that kind of chance again. Although, I did hear that Yo Gabba Gabba is coming here next month...

On another note, I'm pretty sure B has his first crush. Laurie Berkner. Every time she shows up on Nick Jr (we liked the Noggin name better, by the way!) singing her delightful tunes about F-A-M-I-L-Y and such he immediately stops whatever he's doing and watches her all mesmerized, with a smile that stretches from ear to ear. She does have a way with words, I'll give her that.

Oh, and by the way Moose, I don't like candy corn either.

Here are some recent pictures. Enjoy!

Reading up on one of the 50 states


Love this boy!


Giving an eye roll to the most recent tabloid scandal




Snoozing on G'Pa Charlie's lap.
The only time Gizmo will go anywhere near Brendan...

First Night Away

I did it. Spent my very first night away from B. I cried like a toddler who realizes that he's just eaten the last bit of yogurt in the container (is our kid the only one that does this?). Picture the sort of sobbing that occurs when you're a hormonal female watching Steel Magnolias or Terms of Endearment. Yeah, like that. Shut up.

I calmed down enough to start to enjoy the prospect of a night out with old friends. Not 30 minutes after we got to the hotel, I was sitting around talking to the girls and noticed the skin around my eyes was VERY itchy. Like, I want to rip the skin off kind of itchy. Looked in the mirror and there they were. Big welty hives. On my eyelids. Fabulous. I was away that weekend for my college reunion. To see people that I hadn't seen in 10 YEARS and here I was with freaky swollen eyelids.

We went out to dinner and the hives went away so I foolishly decided not to stop for some Benadryl. Because if you take Benadryl you really shouldn't drink. And frankly, what's a reunion without a little alcohol? Priorities. Long story short, the hives came back while I was out and all I could do was put a cold bottle of beer on them to try and soothe the itch. Thankfully, the reunion itself was lame and we didn't see anyone we knew. My friends assured me that if you didn't know me, you would never know that something was wrong. Aren't they sweet.

B and Daddy survived a night without Mommy. Sigh. This is good, I know. But I will sigh anyway. They were supposed to miss me terribly, not have any fun without me, and just sit around all weepy until I returned. This did not happen. They had lots of fun and Daddy took some photographic evidence to prove that life continues to be fun even when Mommy is not around.

Exhibit A:
B has been getting a lot braver with taking steps on his own


Exhibit B:
Look Dad, 20% off!


Exhibit C:
Lounging. Fun is exhausting


Moral of the story: The world will not fall apart if I go away for a night. However, I will. Thus then, it will be a while before I attempt that again.


Brendan is 15 months, 1 week and 5 days old today!

Fearz, I haz dem

So let’s discuss the irrational fears that come with parenthood. Actually, let me backtrack a bit and talk about the crazy love that I have for my son. Just be patient, because this is directly related to the irrational fears.

Now, when you’re pregnant one thing you’ll constantly hear is something along the lines of, “Oh, just wait until you hold your child for the first time. The love you feel for him will be like nothing you’ve ever known.” Let me tell you, I felt a lot of stuff the day I gave birth to my son. But love was not one of those feelings. I had a lot of guilt about that in the beginning—something had to be wrong with me that I wasn’t in love with my son the day I met him, right?

Fast-forward a year and some odd months and here I am—older and wiser. There are women who fall in love with their babies immediately. ::Throws confetti:: Yay for them! Then there are women like me, who are so consumed by the magnitude and gravity of the situation that they can’t quite make enough room in their spinning heads for love just yet.

I had just birthed a human. Out of my vagina. If you haven’t done it yet, let me tell you that it HURTS. Like no other pain I’ve ever experienced in my whole damn life. And it doesn’t just hurt when the baby is crowning and making his appearance into the world. It hurts for DAYS ON END. And really, since we’re being so honest with each other, let me add that I’m just starting to come to terms with the fact that things will never be quite the same down there.

Anyway, where was I… oh yes, okay. So here we are almost 15 months after B was born and I can tell you without any hesitation that I love my son to bits and pieces. So much so that it hurts sometimes. And I can’t imagine a life without him in it. I don’t want to imagine a life without him in it. And there’s my problem. I get anxiety when I think about all the “what if’s.”

B is a boy and boys get into situations where they cause themselves bodily harm. It’s inevitable. I have two brothers, I know the sort of idiocy that happens when they get around each other. It’s like a rite of passage or something. Is it crazy to already worry about the damage he will do to himself when he’s not even walking yet? Maybe. But just the fact that I know it’s coming is enough to make me want to run to the doctor and ask for some happy pills as a prophylactic measure.

The worst time of day is when I lay down to go to sleep. After I’ve obsessively checked B to make sure he’s breathing (I think he’s breathing but let me get closer just to make sure. Wait, I can’t hear over my own breathing. OK, stop breathing for a second. OK, he’s definitely breathing.) and touch his arm to make sure he doesn’t feel cold (Should I put a blanket on him? What if he gets himself wrapped up like a burrito and can’t breathe?? What if the pajamas I put on him weren’t warm enough? What if he’s too hot?) I get into bed and have some kind of awful thought. Every night. Something like, B runs into the street and gets hit by a car. Then I’m lying there with my eyes wide open like I’m in some cheesy horror flick and some rendition of the following conversation ensues:

Irrational Me: Oh my God, what if that happens? That could totally happen.
Rational Me: Yes, but the chances of it happening are small. You just have to teach him to be safe and watch him carefully while he’s still young.
Irrational Me: Yes but I can’t be with him all the time.
Rational Me: Billions of people get through the day without seriously hurting themselves. Even the not-so-bright ones.
Irrational Me: Okay, you’ve got a point there.

And it doesn’t help that I read sad stories constantly about parents who’ve lost a child. The most recent one was in Good Housekeeping. (Yes, I skip over Cosmo and Glamour at the grocery store and buy Good Housekeeping instead. Shut up.) It was about a little girl (I think she was about two years old) who had third degree burns over 60% of her body. While she was in the hospital recovering she was on pain medication, became severely dehydrated and ultimately died as a result. Well holy @#$*! Please let me never have to know that kind of pain.

I think this anxiety is normal. That it’s just a natural part of being a parent and that eventually the fears dwindle. But I suspect that the fears will always be there, only the ones I have now will be replaced by different ones as B gets older and more independent. But really, isn’t this the kind of stuff that people should tell you when you’re pregnant? This is useful information, no?


Brendan will be 15 months old in two days!