Coming to the Finale

I’m sitting here looking at the last day of pregnancy, only 8 hours away from induction, and 20(?) hours (hopefully much less) away from a new baby. I’m conscious that these are my last moments of pregnancy and I’m trying to take in all these things and store them away in my memory.

On the other hand, I just want to get this show on the road. I’m so ready. At 3 cms dilated and 75% effaced as of two days ago, the baby is ready. We’re ready. I want to bring on the next chapter. I want to meet the Grand Finale. I am DYING to know what she looks like and to see if she looks like her sisters.

I have a couple of random thoughts running through my head that I wanted to get down for posterity.

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I am nested out. There’s been so much cooking, baking, organizing, decorating, cleaning and errand running over the last four weeks, and I am just done. Two days ago I thought it would be lovely to make a potato soup and caramel apple dessert, and then I ran errands for two days and I decided that it would be even lovelier if someone just brought that to me. Because I am D-O-N-E. I don’t want to run another errand for at least 3 weeks.

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First and foremost, I’m reminded again of how surreal it is to know the day your baby will be born. With Monkey, it was simultaneously agonizing and thrilling because there was no induction date and every day I woke up wondering, “Will today be the day?”

Both Bean and Grand Finale were/are scheduled inductions. Not that they couldn’t have come earlier. They just didn’t/haven’t. Receiving an automated email reminder for Grand Finale’s scheduled induction date was like receiving a vacation confirmation email. Checking into the hospital for Bean’s induction was like checking into a hotel — carrying our two duffle bags and laptop bag. I’m assuming I’ll feel the same way tomorrow, only with the addition of a special breastfeeding pillow. It’s very surreal to be so acutely aware of one day being without baby and the next day being with baby. I like to quote Heidi Klum when it comes to birth: “One day you’re in. And the next day … you’re out.”

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I’m super excited for an Autumn baby. I LOVE fall. I love the change of seasons. I guess spring is my favorite season, but fall is a close second. With the addition of Grand Finale we’ll have a spring, a winter and a fall baby.

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Choosing a third baby girl name almost broke me. I think we went back to the drawing board at least three times. And by “we” I mean “me.” Naturally, Husband was of absolutely zero help, except to tell me what anatomy part every single name reminded him of when I threw out a suggestion. He gave exactly one name suggestion, and it happened to be the same name as the town we live. Whuck?? As of right now, we have two “top” names and we’re 95% sure of what we’re going to choose, but we just want to meet her first. Naming humans is haaaard.

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Random factoid: According to my midwife, once you have a big baby (Bean was 9lbs 6 oz), you have the luxury of an “extra large” uterus, giving the baby more room to grow even bigger the next time. Funzies!

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And we just couldn’t end this pregnancy without veering into a little grossness one more time … regarding all of the peeing in the cup. You would think that after nearly 34 years of owning my equipment, I would have a better idea of how exactly to get the pee in the cup. Especially when I’m getting so much practice at it. Secondly, you would think that someone, somewhere would have invented a better way to get the pee in the cup. Thirdly, I don’t know about you ladies, but I know what I’m thinking when I see a trashed, wet bathroom where women are leaving their “samples” all day long. Groooooss. I just don’t even want to touch anything. And finally, how many times have you written out all your info on the cup (your name, doctor’s name, date and time), only to walk over the toilet and *almost* start going without it. Nearly every.single.time.

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Cheers to the next chapter. See you on the other side.

I’m So Glad We Get to Do This Again (and, an explanation)

Blogging has just not been a top priority for me lately — as much as I’ve wanted it to be. Usually I’ll have a story running through my head; a partial post bursting out of my brain; funny or introspective thoughts I’ll want to run by other parents. Normally I’ll be scrambling to get it written down and the words just pour out. But for the past four months I just haven’t had the head space. Not that I haven’t had the constant chatter in my head … because I have … it’s just seemed like an insurmountable task to actually get those thoughts down on paper.

This pregnancy has been much harder on me mentally and emotionally than my pregnancies with Monkey and Bean. I don’t know exactly what accounts for that … except that I know that every pregnancy is different. And I have a sneaking suspicion that it has a lot to do with already having two young kids to take care of. Add to that the overall growing pains of raising a young family, i.e. some terrible two’s, growing independence, and general “WTF am I doing as a parent anxiety,” plus work obligations and ding, ding, ding — you get some major emotional/mental exhaustion which leads to more crabbiness, short temperedness, anxiety. Don’t forget the extra credit — the hormones and physical tiredness and limitations that come with every pregnancy.

I honestly think that the physical limitations of pregnancy sneak up on you so slowly and gradually that it’s almost unnoticeable until one day you’re just SO frustrated that you can’t fit between the bathroom door and the sink to brush your uncooperative 4-year-old’s teeth and you just LOSE it and yell “WOULD YOU COOPERATE SO I CAN BRUSH YOUR TEETH!!?” And then you realize that you just totally overreacted, and yes your 4-year-old is being a pain, but you’re mostly just pissed because dammnit, you cannot MOVE normally.

And as far as the hormones go, all I’ll say is that in the moment your reactions seem rational. And for anyone who’s never been pregnant and thinks that the whole “hormones” thing is just some ploy to act like a crazy person, believe me, it’s not. Because honestly, no one wants to feel like a crazy person.

OH! And the extra, extra credit — being pregnant during the summer of 2012. Do you think that will be a thing that women who are pregnant this summer talk about? “YOU were pregnant during the summer of 2012?? OMG, ME too! That HEAT was just unbearable, and I just didn’t go outside for like three months, unless I could lay in a pool like a beached whale and not move and be jealous of everyone with their fruity drinks, and we kept the air set to 73 degrees, but I was *still* always hot, and it was just miserable, and …”

I think what drove all this home for me (why I’m experiencing this added mental/emotional exhaustion) was being away with my husband for our final “babymoon” this past weekend. We quite literally, did nothing. We ate, we walked, we sat, we walked, we sat, we ate, we slept.” Repeat. No one needed our attention. We didn’t have to follow anyone else’s agenda. We were only concerned about our own needs. There were no stressors or obligations. We watched all the other parents enjoying the three-day holiday weekend with their kids and we were a little sad that our kids weren’t with us, and envious of all the family fun. In the moment, I tried to remind myself how much harder it would be if the kids were with us, how the weekend would not be ours, and that I needed to just relax and enjoy the alone time. I told myself that those kids were probably being pains. But still, I was a tad sad and we were really excited to get home Sunday afternoon.

And then after I got home on Sunday afternoon I wasn’t so excited to be there. Because damn, they need A LOT of attention! And at times they can be pains! And I am TIRED! But seriously. This is what I realized — I did nothing while we were gone. I did nothing except eat, walk, sit and sleep, and I was still physically tired and limited (there was no light hiking as I hoped; baby being in VERY uncomfortable positions made slow walking and sitting the only things comfortable). So take me, already tired, physically limited and uncomfortable, and add caretaking and stressors of everyday life and work, and yeah. I’m kind of crabby! So I guess this weekend made me realize there’s probably nothing earth shattering about why this pregnancy has been more emotionally/mentally draining, except for normal things that have left me with little motivation to tackle extra things.

Hence, not much head space left over for blogging. I guess I feel like I’ve been surviving these past few months as opposed to thriving.

BUT, what I’ve also realized in the last few months, is that I’m so glad we get to do this again.

My brother-in-law is getting married this month to a wonderful girl and in June they asked me to look through my photos to see if I had any of the two of them together. So I started in 2010, the year they started dating and the year Bean was born, and boy. I really started to miss two-year-old Monkey and baby Bean. I may have shed a few tears.

It made me realize how glad I am that we get to have another baby. I can’t wait for the snuggling and the feedings and even the diaper changes. I can’t wait to see how this third person will enliven and enlarge our family. I can’t wait to see what she looks like, and slowly peel back the layers of her temperament and personality. I can’t wait to see Bean in the role of two-year-old big sister, like Monkey was for her. I can only imagine how Monkey will fill her role as biggest sister. She is such a nurturing soul, and already is instructing us about when, how and where she wants to hold and feed her baby sister.

Honestly, they’re both so excited. Have I mentioned that they both walk around with their loveys stuffed up their shirts and ask me if I want to feel their babies move?

This little girl is already such a blessing to our family and I really feel like she completes us. After being so indecisive about should we or shouldn’t we have a third, I feel so privileged that it was even an option.

With Monkey setting the pace for us, I’m just so happy that I get to experience all these stages again one more time.

Why I’m Not Hoping for a Boy

We have two girls. Two wonderful, lovely, beautiful girls. So must people assume that we’re hoping this baby is a boy. Nah. It’s so cliché, but we’re just hoping for a healthy baby.

There would be pros and cons to having a boy or a girl.

I would love to have a boy because it would be a whole new experience. It would be something totally different. And it’s nice to think of Husband having that dad-boy relationship that I have with my girls. He’s a terrific dad to the girls, and at the same time it would be nice for him to have a boy to balance out the estrogen.

I would love to have a girl because as excited as I would be about the whole new “boy experience,” it simultaneously scares the sh*t out of me. At least with girls I kind of have a clue about what I’m doing. I remember one night at my grandma’s house when my cousin (who’s like my sister) was sitting on the floor with me and we were both changing diapers. My cousin has two boys. I was changing Bean and she was changing her son K. We both looked at each other’s baby’s (opposite) parts and she said, “I have no idea what to do with that.” And I said, “I have no idea what to do with THAT!” At least I’m familiar with my daughters’ parts!

If we have a boy I think it will be easier for me not to compare my kids to each other. Especially when it comes to comparing the baby to the first two. It’s already hard enough for me not to compare Monkey and Bean.

If we have another girl, I’m afraid that the baby will break up the super close bond that the older two girls have. On the other hand, I have two best friends. I know it’s unlikely to have two best friends, and you’re probably thinking that surely I’m closer to one than the other. But I’m not. I truly do have two best friends. And in many instances, having one of us stay neutral while the other two get worked up, has helped resolve conflict faster. So I think it could be awesome for them to each have two sisters.

Regardless of whether it’s a boy or girl, those girls are going to looooooooooove on that baby like you just won’t believe. They were baby obsessed before, but I think they’re going to take it to a new level. They just LOVE babies (real and pretend).

With all of that said, it’s still fun to guess, right!? After all this time, Monkey is still hankering for a brother, while Bean wants a sister. We told them that one of them will get what they want. 😉

For what it’s worth, my intuition told me “boy” from the moment I got a positive pregnancy test. I refer to the baby as “he.” However, lately I have been doubting my intuition because this pregnancy has been pretty much the same as the other two.

Here’s what the old wives tales have said:

• The Chinese pregnancy calendar says GIRL, and it was correct for both Monkey and Bean
• The baking soda test says GIRL (pee in a cup and if it sizzles it’s a boy; if it does nothing it’s a girl)
• The baby’s heartbeat has been over the place. At my six-week ultrasound it was 137. I had another ultrasound at 9 weeks and it was 178. At my last two check-ups it’s been in the 150s. Typically when we listen with the Doppler at home it’s in the 130-140 range. With the girls, the heartbeat was usually in the 150s-160s. The last time I input the heartbeat in the above gender prediction tool it said BOY, but it has said GIRL before, too. So it’s a toss-up.

Husband thinks it’s a girl. We’ll find out tomorrow if my mother’s intuition is right! (it was right for both girls)

What do you think!??

(And if you’re so inclined, please say some prayers for a healthy baby)

Gratitude

For me and many people, the month of November is a time to reflect on what we’re thankful for. A time to count the blessings that have been bestowed upon us over the last year. Something about THANKS-givin’ (as my friends from the South would say) does that to a person.

There are moments, okay some whole days, where I’m just so frustrated with my kids’ belligerent behavior, sassy attitudes, the mess, the lack of organization, the mounds of laundry and the overall list of things to do.

And then I remember the premise of a book that my BFF recommended, which is, this is the life I asked for. This is the life I wanted. I wanted a house I could call my own. I wanted a big yard with room to run. I wanted a husband and children. I wanted a family. And I got it. AND, those things come at a cost — yard work, lawn mowing, home improvements, spending money, and oh yeah, RAISING kids.

Kitchen table or craft table? Don't forget the baby and its bottles!

Two coats, four gloves, two pairs of boots, a backpack, a scarf, a hat and a piece of play broccoli!

Books, books, babies, books, baby clothes, books.

Just more typical mess.

For the past 12 months when I feel like I’ve reached my limit I try to remember to take a breath, pause and remember that this is what I wanted. And I’m grateful.

I am thankful for:

• Girls pulling each other’s hair
• Girls pushing and hitting each other (usually the small one hitting the big one)
• Girls pile driving one another (usually the big one pile driving the small one)
• Girls fighting over toys
• Girls shrieking, screaming and making the most annoying mouth noises (gah, where do they learn that!??)
• Girls invading each other’s personal space
• Cleaning food off the floor after EV-ERY meal (uugh, I think this is my most hated parenting task)
• The utter disaster of my living room
• The utter disaster of my older daughter’s room
• The mad rush of getting two lazily playing, daydreaming girls dressed, fed and out the door on time
• The annoyance of realizing you bought the next season’s clothes in the wrong size (Why didn’t I anticipate Bean would be in 3T winter clothes when she’s been in 2T since last spring!!?) — and then having to switch over her entire wardrobe. Again.

I am thankful for all of these things because they mean that I have two healthy children and a happy home. It’s so easy to get overwhelmed by the minutia; by things that don’t really matter. But when I do that, I lose sight of that fact that all of these things mean that I have what is most important to me.

And I am grateful.

These are the Days

I guess this is kind of a belated mother’s day post. Which isn’t surprising, considering that I’ve always been a person who’s late, and having kids has only exacerbated that. So, fitting, right?

I first heard the 10,000 Maniacs song These are the Days in the summer of 1995 before my junior year of high school, when I attended student leadership camp at Camp Cheley in Estes Park, Colorado — it remains one of the most profound experiences of my life.

(I’m so bummed to now discover that the leadership camps, sponsored by the National Student Leadership Council, the National Association of Secondary School Principals, and the National Association of School Councils were discontinued in 2005.)

The song was part of the emotional and moving ceremony that closes leadership camp — when each junior counselor (JC) gives the campers a “gift.” These gifts have no real monetary value. Instead they are inspirational poems, stories, personal anecdotes and songs. It’s incredibly powerful.

These are the Days has become an everlasting gift to me.

When I first heard it, sitting in the warm August breeze surrounded by other high school juniors and seniors from across the country, in a state that I had never visited before, taking in breathtaking scenery (including mountains) that I couldn’t have even imagined before, being validated and lifted up, I thought, “these are the days.”

And yet, even though I was literally having a life-changing experience, I understood the JC’s intention in giving the song as his gift. I thought to myself, “I wonder if every stage in my life will feel like ‘these are the days.’”

And over the past 16 years, as each chapter of my life transitions to the next — from the conclusion of high school, to college, to marriage, to children — indeed I’ve felt like “these are the days.”

It’s funny how a life-changing experience fades from memory. You forget the dramatic initial impact, yet the effects permanently mold you. In some cases, so much so, that you forget there was ever any other way.

I can’t say for sure, because I feel like I’ve always been this way, but I think Camp Cheley and These are the Days have impacted my appreciation for the present. I’ve never been a person who looks too far forward (which maybe isn’t a great trait for our financial planning), or looks to the past with regret.

I’m a firm believer that everything happens for a reason. Which doesn’t mean that I don’t fret, worry and perseverate about things in the present (because I most definitely do), and it doesn’t mean that I’m not nostalgic, sentimental and sappy about the past (because I most definitely am).

But I don’t look back and wish I would have done things differently or appreciated things more.

And yes, there are days where I think, “Oh it will be so nice when they can dress themselves completely and buckle themselves into their own car seats.” But they’re always fleeting thoughts. Because I know better. Because then I would miss all this.

• I would miss noticing that Bean’s hair continues to get darker and thicker. It’s still not really getting longer, but it’s getting thicker. She’s always been such a baldie. When Monkey was this age she really didn’t have much hair, but it was much longer and curlier than Bean’s is now.

• I would miss the awe of seeing my first baby’s face on the body of a pre-schooler. It really is remarkable when I look back at her toddler pictures and videos and see that she really does look the same. She makes the same expressions, she has the same laugh, the same smile, the same grunts and the same cry. Her eyes light up the same way, and I even see the same flicker of recognition when she understands something for the first time —whether it’s putting the block through the hole or learning how to hold up three fingers. When that baby is born, it’s all in there — it just takes time to uncover it all.

• I might not remember what a light sleeper Bean is. That girl is just like her father. Wakes up so easily. Meanwhile, Monkey is such a heavy sleeper that I probably could turn on a light and rummage around through her drawers while she’s sleeping. (Oh wait, I have done that.)

• I wouldn’t appreciate the smells that remind me that I’m in the middle of toddler bliss — walking into Bean’s room and getting a whiff of Desitin mixed with baby wipes. Or, even yummier, picking her up and having her smell like “sunshine.” That’s what I always used to think when Monkey was this age. Their Nana will take the kids outside to play all day and will lather them up with sunscreen. Then when they get home they just smell like sunshine. And when I picked Bean up the other day and nuzzled her chubby little neck and arms and smelled the sunshine, I instantly was transported back.

• I might forget to be thankful for the “why” stage. Oh Lord. The “why” stage. It’s only just begun. And I am reminding myself every day (every question, every minute) to be patient and grateful that Monkey is learning, learning, learning.

• Or how funny it is to hear her say “ixgusting” instead of “disgusting,” or how solemn and brave she sounded when she said, “I think my great grandpa is getting ready to live with God.”

• I might not remember how absolutely precious it is to watch both girls covet their loveys and blankets. I remember being so surprised when Bean was only six months old, and she clearly knew which lovey was hers and which was her sister’s (and they’re both shades of pink!). Those girls drag those blankets and loveys all through the house.

• I would miss seeing the mental leaps they’re both making. Bean babbles non-stop, wants to feed her babies, wants to feed ME, is starting to have temper tantrums, and copies everything her sister does. Monkey now has a keen awareness of everything that’s going on around her and will ask me to re-explain things or ask what I was talking about when I spelled something to their daddy (guess that means no more spelling swear words).

So yes, I look back with nostalgia and remember fondly, but I wouldn’t want to go back. I’m satisfied with my past. I feel like I’m making the most of it. I feel like I’m enjoying the moments and that I recognize that “these are the days.” Some nights we read the extra book, ignore the dishes so that we can play longer, let the kids stay up past their bedtime, and snuggle with them in bed.

I know I have to enjoy it now. Even during the challenging moments.

I mean, sometimes you just have to laugh when you ask the kids to “make you dinner” so you can make the real dinner and they each individually bring you every single piece of play food and set it on the counter for you to eat. I mean, that’s just funny! Especially when your 15-month-old is doing it too!! And with such gusto! It was so amusing to watch her eyes light up every time I said, “Oh, mmm, peas. Yum. Delicious.” and then giddily turn around and run back for more.

When other mommy bloggers and writers say, “You may find yourself nostalgically wishing for those middle-of-the-night feedings,” they’re not wrong.

These are the days. And whether you want it to or not, this too shall pass. So appreciate it. Enjoy it. Love it. Cherish it.

Happy belated Mother’s Day, friends.

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These are the Days (10,000 Maniacs)

These are the days
These are days you’ll remember
Never before and never since, I promise
Will the whole world be warm as this
And as you feel it,
You’ll know it’s true
That you are blessed and lucky
It’s true that you
Are touched by something
That will grow and bloom in you

These are days that you’ll remember
When May is rushing over you
With desire to be part of the miracles
You see in every hour
You’ll know it’s true
That you are blessed and lucky
It’s true that you are touched
By something that will grow and bloom in you

These are days
These are the days you might fill
With laughter until you break
These days you might feel
A shaft of light
Make its way across your face
And when you do
Then you’ll know how it was meant to be
See the signs and know their meaning
It’s true
Then you’ll know how it was meant to be
Hear the signs and know they’re speaking
To you, to you

O Brother, Where Art Thou?

A couple of nights ago, while I was lotioning Monkey up after bath, we started chatting about Caillou, a character from a PBS kids television program that she loves, and watches at her Nana’s house. I’ve honestly never seen an episode, so I’m a little fascinated when Monkey can tell me all about the different characters. It amazes me (and scares me a little at the same time) how much she retains from the show.

Caillou with his cat Gilbert.

 

So we were talking about Caillou and how he has a sister named Rosie, and then she started telling me about Caillou’s friends and his friends’ siblings. She mentioned that one of Caillou’s friends has a brother and a sister.

That’s when things got interesting.

“But Caillou only has a sister, Rosie. Like me. I only have a sister, right mama?”

“That’s right, Monkey. You only have a sister,” I said.

“Some guys have a brother and a sister, but some guys only have a brother OR a sister, right mama? Like me. I only have a sister. I don’t have a brother.”

Monkey often talks out loud about things that she knows are correct, but still wants confirmation on. I find this to be kind adorable. So I double confirmed her sibling status.

“Yep, that’s right. Only a sister. No brother for you.”

Then she paused, and pondered deeply.

“We’re gonna have to buy one.”

I stopped lotioning and laughed, and laughed, and laughed. Meanwhile she looked at me with a surprised half grin, wondering what she did that I thought was so funny. She was so earnest about it.

I told her that I didn’t think her father would approve of us buying a brother. Then I had to start explaining how God and mommies and daddies make babies. This wasn’t a conversation I thought I would be having so soon.

Monkey’s fascination with having a brother is not new. Last summer she was shocked to find out she didn’t have one.

In fact, I think her interest in having a brother has only ramped up since then. Especially because she sees Bean accomplishing new things and we’ve been talking to her about how Bean’s getting older and isn’t really a “baby” anymore. Whenever the subject comes up, she tells us that we need to get another baby.

Again, not a conversation I was expecting to have with an almost three-year-old.

Then tonight, on the way home from the grocery store, she suddenly and frantically shrieked, “MAMA! WHERE’S MY BROTHER??”

OMG. Again, Husband and I were dying of laughter. As if we forgot him at the store.

Is my brother in there??

It really is kind of sweet though. She is very attached to her sister and very aware of “her family” and wanting all of us to be together. At the dinner table she’ll say, “We’re all here. Mama, Daddy, Bean and me!” Or, last week before church when I was trying to pump her up about going to the children’s church she replied sadly, “But mama, those teachers are not my family. I want to be with my family.”

So I have no doubt that she would love another sibling — very specifically, a brother. When we ask her if she wants another sister or another brother, she always says brother.

And to be perfectly honest, if Husband and I have a third child, we would love for it to be a boy too — mostly because we’re not sure if we would survive the nuclear explosion that most certainly would occur at our house with three teenage girls.

We’ll see. Husband and I won’t be commencing those conversations for awhile yet. Plus, I’m going to want to hear from ALL of my friends who are parents of three to see what it’s really like. Any advance information is greatly appreciated. I’m sure I’ll be hunting all of you down individually when the talk is more serious. 😉

Did your kids ever ask you for another sibling?

Birthday Girl

Happy First Birthday to my Bean!

This year has been an amazing journey, Bean. I can’t believe you’ve only been with us a year, because I can’t remember a time when you weren’t here.

I was so worried for so long about how things were going to go with two kids. How we were going to handle it. What it was going to be like. And then suddenly you arrived, and life was changed completely. Changed for the better.

In this last year you have taught me, even more, to expect the unexpected. To not sweat the small stuff. That these phases, indeed, are short. That it all goes soooo fast. Especially the second time around.

I can’t profess that I know you intimately yet. Sometimes I think you’re still somewhat of a mystery to me, but it’s becoming clearer every day. I think it’s harder for me because I don’t think you wear your emotions on your sleeve like your sister and I do. You seem more like your dad — harder to read, slow to anger but then it takes you awhile to get over it.

We thought you were laid back. Your dad and I have a good laugh about that now. Oh how wrong we were.

You appear fiercely independent. You experienced tremendous initial shyness, and then starting around month 6 until month 10 you suffered terrible bouts of separation anxiety.

Now you’re a flirt. Laughing and giggling and playing peek-a-boo with just about anyone.

This week there was a day when you wouldn’t nap for us. We think it was teething. I got to hold you like I did when you were a newborn. We rocked and you slept with your head on my chest and your legs tucked up underneath you. I cherished it because I know that those times are becoming more and more unlikely with each passing day.

When you were a newborn you liked to raise your eyebrows and show us your wrinkly forehead. You also used to furrow your brow.

You’ve always pushed your bottom jaw forward and stuck your bottom lip out. Your dad says it reminds him of his grandpa K.

You’ve always laughed by sucking air in.

You’ve always liked to make blowing noises with your mouth.

You’re highly amused by your sister and the two of you play well together. You need to know where she is at all times — including when she’s in a time out for pushing you over.

Speaking of your sister, you have much better balance and coordination than she ever did. You surprised us by hitting milestones — like crawling, walking and putting toys through slots — at different times than she did. And your teeth have emerged in a completely different order.

You and your sister look remarkably alike, yet different. You each have your own special characteristics and unique traits.

Your sister says you are her best friend.

She loves you so much.

And so do we.

Thank you for enriching our lives.

Happy Birthday sweet girl.

Leaps and Bounds

The seasons have always played a big part in reminding me of major life events. For example, every mid-May when the crab apple trees are in full bloom and the grass and sky are in Technicolor, I vividly remember my wedding day. Everything was just so vibrant that day.

You know how it is when your senses combine to create memories? It’s the way something looks, how something smells, and something you hear that makes you think, “I remember this.”

Now that we’re getting into November and the days are getting shorter and it’s cold and dark out, I’m remembering this time last year. It dawned on me that last year at this time Monkey’s room was still our spare room. Our spare room with the double bed and the emerald green carpeting, and closets stuffed with all of our extra crap — the wrapping paper, my yearbooks (which I STILL cannot find by the way, and it is DRIVING me crazy!), my extra shoes and bridesmaid dresses.

 

Monkey, helping us remodel her new "big girl" room.

 

It was a weird feeling to remember how short a time ago that we were still preparing for Bean’s arrival. It feels like Bean’s room has always been her room. I barely remember it not being her room or a time when she wasn’t in our lives. I barely remember a time when Monkey wasn’t in her “new” room with the new beige carpeting, pink and yellow walls, and butterfly curtains. Yet, just one short year ago, we were picking out paint colors and buying accessories and wall art. And Bean wasn’t here yet.

Monkey moved into her new room on November 12, 2009 — one day after we finished installing the carpet and after she fell out of her crib. Waking her up every two hours to check for signs of a concussion was more than a little tiresome. We were planning to move her right after Thanksgiving anyway, but since she took the flying leap out of her crib, she made the transition to her “big girl bed” a little earlier than expected. I can’t believe it’s been a year, and I also can’t believe it’s only been a year.

It’s funny, because right after Bean was born I remember how weird it felt to be checking on two kids before I came to bed instead of just one. And now Bean is nine months old. Today, in fact. The same amount of time that she spent in my belly.

It’s remarkable, really. The transformation babies go through in such a short amount of time. They grow into a perfectly developed person in nine short months, and then they become an almost entirely new person in another nine months. And she’s just so BIG already. So grown up. I absolutely adore babies at this age because they are so fun and engaging with their little personalities bursting out, and they seem to learn five new things every day. But, but. But part of me is longing to have my cuddly baby back. How did that go so fast?

 

Bean, 2 months old.

 

Now the idea of Bean cuddling with us is comical. She’s too busy moving. The only time she lays her head on my chest is if we meet someone new and she’s a little shy. And even those instances have come few and far between lately.

Part of me is wishing that I could have one more day with the baby who always fell asleep while doing … well, almost anything.

You know Bean is my sleeper. But when she was first born she was like a SUPER sleeper. As if sleeping was a competition and she was going to win, d@mn it. She’s so much like her father in that way. I used to tell people that I could count to 10 and Husband would be asleep, until one time I did it AND I ONLY GOT TO SEVEN.

Bean also has inherited her father’s uncanny ability to fall asleep nearly anywhere, in any position. Once, Husband fell asleep, sitting on the couch, WHILE EATING A BOWL OF ICE CREAM. I mean come on now, really? Seriously? Who falls asleep eating ice cream!? Oh, I’m sorry, the cool, creamy deliciousness of the ice cream isn’t enough to keep you awake??

Bean used to randomly fall asleep while we were holding her — like after swimming at our neighbor’s pool while we were chatting on the deck — she just laid her head down on Husband and took a little siesta. The same thing happened one time when we were Skyping with my brother and almost-sister-in-law. Or there was the time when Husband was holding her on his knee and slightly bouncing her. The rhythm was enough to BAM, put her to sleep. She even fell asleep in her high chair once. Ca-ra-zy.

 

Bean, 6.5 months old.

 

Bean also used to fight waking up. We would poke and prod her and she would cry with her eyes still scrunched up tight, like “I am NOT opening my eyes!” I would hold her upright between my legs and as soon as I stopped prodding, her head would slump to the side and she would fall back to sleep. Or, I’d wake her up and then stand up with her on my shoulder and within minutes she’d be snoozing again.

While Bean isn’t quite this sleepy anymore, she still displays remarkable ease in putting herself to sleep. Sometimes when we put her to bed at night we’ll hear her in her crib “talk, talk, talk, talk, SILENCE.” Just like that. SO unlike her older sister.

I’ll always remember one of the last days I spent with Bean at home before I started working again. Monkey was at her Nana’s house so I could spend time with Bean alone. And I decided that I was going to hold her while she was sleeping — all day. Since she was always so content to be laid down to sleep, I felt like we both were kind of missing out on her being held. So I held her. All day. I watched movies and she slept in my arms. It was awesome. I didn’t attempt to get anything else done that day. I just sat in a chair and held my baby on my chest.

Some days I feel like a time traveler because it’s inconceivable that this is all going so fast. Mostly I feel grateful because I think I’m doing a good job of appreciating each day.

I know that these next few months are going to be like reliving the time leading up to the day of Bean’s birth in February. And also remembering her first few weeks with us at home. Cold, dark, overcast days, snowstorms, fires in the fireplace, lots of snuggly fleece outfits and hunkering down for playtime in the house.

 

Bean, 4 weeks old.

 

I can’t believe I’m already mentally planning her birthday party. I can’t believe it’s gone so fast.

The Best Day

It was probably late last fall when the song really caught my attention. Before Bean was even born. I was driving to an outlet mall to find some outfits for the baby, and possibly something coordinating that the two girls could wear for Bean’s newborn photos. I was driving home and popped in my Taylor Swift Fearless CD. A CD that I’ve listened to hundreds of times, especially the beginning songs because I like Love Story, White Horse and You Belong with Me. But it was towards the end of the CD, the second to last song, actually, when I paused. I hadn’t really listened to the lyrics of this song before, and as I did, driving 75 mph down the highway, I started crying. Because it was a song Taylor wrote for her mom, about all of the best days she’d had with her.

So I’ve got a little crush on Taylor Swift. I know that I’m a little out of her (ahem) target demographic, but I just REALLY love her. And yes, I am well aware that her live performances are sometimes a little … out of tune, but I don’t care. Plus they’ve gotten much better! And you can’t deny the girl has honest-to-God talent. Anyone who can not only write the lyrics, compose the music, sing the songs, AND play an instrument is beyond talented to me.

I think one of the reasons I love Taylor so much is that her music is so much about love, and it’s so relatable. As an added bonus, I never have to turn her music off when I’m listening in front of the kids. (I’ve recently started realizing that I need to censor the music and radio stations I listen to because Monkey picks up on everything.)

Not to mention that I think she’s handled her success INCREDIBLY well, considering she was only 16 years old when she released her self-titled album in 2006 with the single Tim McGraw, that got mine and everyone else’s attention. In fact, both of those albums sold a combined four million copies! Which made her the best-selling musician of the year in the U.S. in 2008. And yeah, that was when she was 18 years old.

So not only do I have tremendous respect for her talent, but also for the fact that she hasn’t turned into Lindsay Lohan (shudder), or Britney Spears (yikes). Two girls who were talented and incredibly young — a combination that did not serve them well.

In a culture where Taylor so easily could have been swayed by instant fame, success and accolades, she has remained a role model. And I have a sneaking suspicion that at least one contributing factor was that she had a stable upbringing with two parents who were more concerned about imparting values and morals than they were about fame.

In our era of pushy stage moms (a la Dina Lohan and Lynne Spears) who seem to seek fame and success at almost any cost for their kids, it appears that Taylor’s parents kept her grounded.

Obviously I don’t know that for sure, but it’s what I’ve observed in reading and watching interviews.

(And in case you’re wondering, I’m not hating on Lindsay and Britney. I sincerely hope that Lindsay gets her life back on track and receives the help she needs, and I hope that Britney continues in her positive direction.)

And that brings me back to my original point. She wrote a song. About her mom. And how meaningful that relationship is to her. And that’s what got me crying. Her song is like a parenting dream come true — she’s describing simple days and moments she spent with her mom and saying it was “the best day.”

I thought about writing this post a year ago when the song first caught my attention. But I never did. And then a few weeks ago I turned on my iTunes while working in the kitchen and the song came on, and I just stood there crying. Again. I think this song is personally meaningful to me because it represents what I hope my girls will remember about me as a mom. About us as parents. And how I hope we’ll parent them.

Primarily that we taught them morals and values; that we didn’t give in so that they would “like” us and we would be the “popular” parents, but that we were firm about decisions that were in their best interest; that we supported them through anything and everything; that they knew they could always count on us. That they know how much we love them.

And that they grow up knowing that they are our whole world and that we would do anything for them, and that we are treasuring each day. And I hope their best days with us aren’t just the really, really big exciting days, like the going to see Sesame Street Live! days (which Monkey doesn’t even know about yet), but also the ordinary, had a bad day at school, days.

Yes, in case you haven’t gathered, I am an emotional, sappy person who just about drowns in my own tears and floats away during movies. In fact, I really want to go see the new Katherine Heigl and Josh Duhamel movie, Life as We Know It about two people who are asked to raise their friends’ baby after they die. OMG. That is my worst nightmare and I don’t even know if I can bring myself to see it. It’s only gotten worse since I had kids. Ironically I get it from my dad, not my mom. 😉

And just in case you thought this post couldn’t get much sappier, check this out. Taylor gives a cut by cut account of how she came to write each song on her Fearless album. This is what she has to say about The Best Day:

I wrote this song on the road and didn’t tell my mom about it. I decided that I was going to keep it a secret and give it to her as a surprise for Christmas. I wrote it in the summer and then recorded it secretly with the band in the studio. After it was done, I synched the song up to all these home videos of her, and my family.

She didn’t even realize it was me singing until halfway through the song! She didn’t have any idea that I could possibly write and record a song without her knowing about it. When she finally got it, she just started bawling her eyes out.

Insert hysterical bawling here. She created a video montage of home movies with her and her mom and used the song she wrote as the track??? OMG. What mom WOULDN’T start bawling!?

Lucky for us, here’s the official video, complete with the photo montage. Yes, I cried.

Here are the lyrics:

The Best Day (Taylor Swift)

I’m five years old, it’s getting cold, I’ve got my big coat on
I hear your laugh and look up smiling at you, I run and run
Past the pumpkin patch and the tractor rides, look now, the sky is gold
I hug your legs and fall asleep on the way home

I don’t know why all the trees change in the fall
But I know you’re not scared of anything at all
Don’t know if Snow White’s house is near or far away
But I know I had the best day with you today

I’m thirteen now and don’t know how my friends could be so mean
I come home crying and you hold me tight and grab the keys
And we drive and drive until we found a town far enough away
And we talk and window shop ’til I’ve forgotten all their names

I don’t know who I’m gonna talk to now at school
But I know I’m laughing on the car ride home with you
Don’t know how long it’s gonna take to feel okay
But I know I had the best day with you today

I have an excellent father, his strength is making me stronger
God smiles on my little brother, inside and out, he’s better than I am
I grew up in a pretty house and I had space to run
And I had the best days with you

There is a video I found from back when I was three
You set up a paint set in the kitchen and you’re talking to me
It’s the age of princesses and pirate ships and the seven dwarfs
And Daddy’s smart and you’re the prettiest lady in the whole wide world

 

And now I know why all the trees change in the fall
I know you were on my side even when I was wrong
And I love you for giving me your eyes
For staying back and watching me shine
And I didn’t know if you knew, so I’m takin’ this chance to say
That I had the best day with you today

And in a coincidence, we went to the pumpkin farm two weekends ago, and guess who fell asleep in the car? And guess who’s been telling everyone about the leaves changing colors and falling off the trees (but obviously doesn’t know why yet)? Monkey. Because I told her that.

What do you hope your kids will remember as their “best day.” How do you hope to parent? What’s the best day you remember as a kid?

!!!

In an interview this past April to promote her starring role in the film, Eat Pray Love, megastar Julia Roberts told the New York Times reporter, “I am fulfilled by my own life on an hourly basis.” Really?? Wow. What a statement. It really struck me. Surely, I do not consciously feel fulfilled by my own life on an hourly basis. Why don’t I? It’s not because I don’t make $20 million a movie, because they keep doing these research studies that show that above a certain income level (and it’s not that high), more money doesn’t translate into more happiness. And it’s not because I don’t own three homes (but that could help) or that I don’t know Tom Hanks, Brad Pitt, Matt Damon and Don Cheadle personally (could definitely be a factor).

It’s because I just don’t take the time to appreciate enough. Sure, there are A LOT of simple moments that I do appreciate, but I think it’s really something to be able to say that you’re completely satisfied with your life every hour of every day. I mean, everybody gets frustrated and irritated and annoyed when things just aren’t what we expected or someone doesn’t do something we want. It’s human. But I think it’s all about perspective. I mean, I could argue that rather than being SO COMPLETELY FRUTRATED that my toddler is finger painting with poop, I could … (hold on, let me think) … be really happy that she’s healthy and her digestive system is working! As my mom says, “Poop is better than no poop!” I’m just saying I could.

(and P.S., please don’t even start with me about how Julia Roberts isn’t beautiful, you people who say such things. You are completely off your rocker. That woman RADIATES beauty).

When I was first thinking about starting this blog I decided to see what other mom bloggers were writing about. I was googling, I don’t even remember what, and happened to come across CK over at Bad Mommy Moments. My very first mom blog. I’ve continued reading her every post over the last year, even delving into her archives because she is one funny sh*t. And it’s not just that she’s entertaining — she’s creative, smart, relatable, witty, sarcastic, and has two girls. And don’t let her blog’s name fool you — she is a good mommy. But she’s honest and she shares those moments of frustration (an assassinated Slurpee), horror (her two-year-old pooping in the community pool), surprise (mice in the sink), and just downright awesomeness (second child temper tantrums). You know, those moments where we feel like bad, bad mommys. But she’ll also fill you in on the joy (this is one of my faves about her daughters’ hair). I love CK’s blog.

A couple of months ago, CK and the ladies over at another blog, Momalom, decided to start a project they call !!!. !!! = intentional happiness (aka things that made me happy this week). Because sometimes, it’s not easy to be fulfilled by our own lives on an hourly basis. Sometimes you have to look for it.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not going to turn into one of those completely annoying happy people who make you want to puke over their perfect life. Please. I’m definitely going to be on here b*tching and moaning about this thing or the next — but for this week, here’s my !!!:

Chubby, tubby baby legs. The only time in your life that extra fat on your thighs is more than okay, it’s celebrated!

Three heads. Awww, the babies and their daddy. They adore him.

A BLT sandwich made with fresh lettuce and tomatoes grown from my in-law’s garden.

All of Monkey’s babies, tucked in for bed.

Reveling in the fresh scent of a clean baby.

Sisters in coordinating outfits.

A photo shoot gone awry.

Sometimes all you need to turn a bad day good is !!!