Sheesh!

So we had been in the midst of a lovely visit from The Grandparents. On the way back from an excursion to The Butterfly Place I heard those dreaded words: Mommy, my tummy hurts. Now Daniel has been known to get the random cold or fourteen, so hearing this usually means one of two things. My picky eater hasn't eaten enough today, or he has to go to the bathroom.

Usually.

You probably guessed it. The stomach bug. When Grandma and Grandpa flew some 1200 miles for a visit. Luckily five-year-olds bounce pretty quickly, and about a day and a half later he was recovered. Didn't even miss school. And than H got it. And then I got it. The only one not to get it (thank goodness) was Ethan who of course was teething at the time.

I know it's inevitable, especially when you have children. They get sick, you get sick... but man. I have not figured out how to be both Mom and the patient at the same time. Especially at this point - breastfeeding and a stomach virus do not mix well. And I've been playing catch up (at least it feels that way) ever since. Behind on pretty much everything I can point a finger at. But - Hi Everyone! Back on the blog! Hopefully to write much more frequently!

Unhibernation

Whoo! I've been away from this space for far too long. This winter has done a number on me it seems, and I hesitated to come to the blog simply to complain, complain, complain.

First it was snow upon snow upon snow. A friend had to evacuate her condo one weekend due to a roof collapse. Luckily it was not her unit and she was back after only a few days. Some other friends had such a problem with ice dams on their roof that they developed leaks in their kitchen and had their front door frozen shut one day. For the first time ever our condo complex posted notices requesting people to try and shovel their decks so they wouldn't be compromised by the weight of the snow. H had to squeeze out the storm window on the screen door to get out there and remove all the white stuff. We lost our front awning due to heavy snow another day.

Compounding my feeling forced-inside-ness was our ability to pick up any little germ floating around our family. One of the last colds left the baby with his first ear infection. The 10-day course of Amoxicillin also left him with the most wicked case of diaper rash you ever did see. It's taken weeks to kick it, and I never thought I would be so versed in bum-creams - prescription and otherwise. The poor kid has finally stopped looking like he's sitting on a sunburn.

While Daylight Savings Time has done a number on all our sleep schedules, I'm finally feeling like we've turned a corner. It's lighter, later. I think the official calendar start of Spring is this weekend. While there's still snow on the ground, the towering, vision-obscuring snowpiles have diminished. It's supposed to get near 60 degrees the next few days. I'm breathing a little easier. How about you?

Uncle

How do I do this again? We keep adding new wrinkles to this "sleep in a crib" business. Ethan has slept in the darn thing, but the slightest peep around the house wakes him up. The other day? When I (oops) let him fall asleep in the chair? Big Brother Daniel could run screaming from one end of our little condo to the other, and Ethan hardly twitched a muscle. I think the circles under my eyes are developing circles from all the up and down, interrupted sleep. I want to grit my teeth and power through this, but I think I'm getting a little loopy from the incomplete sleep schedules.

And Ah, lovely New England has gifted us with what the news has called the 6th storm in as many weeks. I'm not sure, I've stopped keeping count. We're at 60+ inches of snow which is more than the average for an entire season. And it's January. I cry Uncle!

Sleepless in New England

Ethan celebrated his half birthday this week. I blinked, and it's been six months! We marked the occasion with a pediatrician appointment. All good positive news on height and weight and so forth, except for the dreaded words. You've really got to get him in a crib.

From early on the kid expressed an extreme dislike of his crib. I quickly found out that he loved the little chair that used to be Daniel's and that he would sleep like a champ in that... Pop him in the chair, park him next to our bed, pull out the foot and recline him back and poof! Problem solved. I was getting pretty jealous? possessive? of the lovely sleep I was getting, and so I delayed moving him to his bed. The doctor expressed some safety concerns as he is getting more mobile all the time, and so on top of the three shots trauma Mommy decided it was time to be sleeping in the crib.

Night #1 was brutal. Hours of 10 minutes wailing in the crib, 10 minutes of Mommy holding and comforting, 1o minutes of crib crying, 10 minutes of Mommy soothing. Poor kid was so exhausted that he would fall asleep immediately in my arms when I picked him up. But as soon as his back hit the mattress - Wahhh! I think we slept from about 1am - 5:30am.

Night #2 was a vast improvement. Maybe 20 minutes of back and forth with one wakeup in the middle of the night.

We had our last feeding of the evening tonight and I just put him down in his crib. He kicked hard for a minute and then turned his face toward the wall and just seemed to go to sleep. Could it be?? I'm hoping for a better night's sleep for all. And maybe now I can stop feeling like the Wicked Witch of the West...

sick, sick, sick

I know it's inevitable, with two kids and a hubby who works outside in all kinds of weather. But I can't help but cringe as one of us starts to get sick. Daniel had a slight cough Saturday night which has morphed into the whole tribe of us sneezing and coughing at all hours. A random fever moves through the house occasionally, but only seems to strike at night.

This is on top of my feeling fairly certain that Ethan has started teething. The kid is gnawing on anything he can get his hands on - and even just his hands if nothing else is available. He's normally so even-tempered and smiley that the crying jag we just had tonight tears at my heart. We have a regularly scheduled doctor's appointment tomorrow, so hopefully I can get some advice. I'm pretty sure I blocked Daniel's teething from my memory...

A Numbers Game

Ever have special numbers that just keep popping into your life? I'm amazed by the ones I've been noticing that crop up around birthdays. My husband H's family has a rash of birthdays all on the first of various months. He also shares his birthday - April 1st - with his oldest sister. There is the Ohio baby girl who was born on 8/9/10 at 11:12pm. And for the next few years we will have the possibility of kids born on 10/10/10, 11/11/11 and 12/12/12...

I've taken to calling my boys "The 13 brothers" as they were born on August 13th and July 13th respectively.

What about you? Maybe we should be considering some lottery tickets... I'm putting in a bid for Lucky Number 13!

Slippage

Okay, where did October go? Some days I'm a rockstar Mama and I feel as though I've got this two-kid thing down. And then other days it's just not working and I'm looking for a do-over.

Remember when you were little and summer seemed to last forever? Days of racing out the back door to go ride bikes through the neighborhood, or go swim in the lake. Freeze tag and cookouts, and one lazy afternoon a friend and I read books in the crook of a couple of tree branches with the breeze filtering through the leaves and our hair. The arrival of Fall and school was always a little bit of a surprise.

Now, I blinked, and suddenly H and I were celebrating our 10th Anniversary at the end of last month. I blinked and here I am, Mom of two blond, blue-eyed boys. One is a 5 year old and the other is a 4 month old cherub - who fill my life with more energy and mischief than I would have thought possible. I guess I'm keenly feeling the passage of time, of late. This was probably helped along by the discovery of some video of Daniel at the approximate age Ethan is now. All adorable, all good stuff... concrete evidence of the march of time. It leaves me a bit tender, and so as I struggle with the time to sit and write at my blog I also fumble for the words.

Just a Jab

How do you help your little ones handle shots? We had Daniel's 5 year appointment yesterday and I spent the whole time fielding the question over and over: Is this just a checkup, or am I going to get a shot? This was compounded by the fact that his pediatrician was running late and the poor kid was sitting in the exam room, on the table in his underwear.

I didn't know whether we were caught up on shots or not, and we certainly have the flu shot coming up... so the best I could do was to say I don't know. Lying would have been comforting in the moment, but would have caught up with me in the end. I tried several other tactics, such as shots are meant to keep us healthy... it's really quick, and it's done... and the capper: Poor Ethan will have to get a lot of shots coming up, you're just getting one.

No shots yesterday, although Daniel now knows that the flu shot is coming. I'm hoping it will be alleviated by the fact that Mommy has to get one too. Daniel is voting that I should go first.

Tag Team Parenting

Long before Ethan arrived, I sort of wondered how it would go this going from one to two kids. It's felt a little odd. I mean, I've been blessed to be able to stay home with my children and for so long my focus has just been Daniel. Suddenly I'm back to the beginning with diapers and feedings and that special kind of attentiveness that comes from a little one needing you so much.

At five years old, Daniel is Mr. Independent and I can ask him to help me, or do things for himself like getting dressed. And that's a definite relief. Yet by the end of the day I'm so very grateful for H's arrival home from work. He can wrangle the five year old, and help him burn off some of that boy-energy while I take care of the little one. A side effect of this tag team method, however is that H complains that he needs more time with Ethan, while I often feel like I am neglecting Daniel. Still working to find that balance, I guess.

Enough Said...

Best of the Mommybloggers... and my mantra of the moment.

Everything...

Attending a kid's birthday party today, we all had a bit of a scare when one of the preschoolers had a piece of candy lodge in his throat. One of the Dads is a cop with emergency training - he flew into action with the heimlich maneuver, and all is OK thank God.

Holding the little ones a bit tighter tonight.

A Wild Ride

Well.

That didn't go how I imagined.

On Tuesday, July 13th we welcomed Ethan - the newest member of our little family. I also joined the ranks of those somewhat disappointed in their birth experience, but not for the reasons you might think.

Around 5pm I was lying down, #1 Son and I watching some cartoons together when I felt a distinct "pop." Checking out the situation, I couldn't decide that my water had broken or contractions had begun. I mean I had one or two, but that was not unusual at the 38-weeks stage of the game. Still puzzling, I called the hospital. Unfortunately for me - I got the OB on call rather than any of my doctors. Oh no, she insisted. You'd be leaking fluid or having timable contractions. Call if you have that. This is despite my relaying yet again that labor with my last child never had timable contractions to start. Waited awhile, H came home. Still didn't feel right, so we made the decision to have Daniel spend the night at his cousin's house for a sleepover. If it was nothing, so be it. But if we had to head to the hospital, then he was taken care of. H drove Daniel several towns over.

In the time it took him to make this trip, and start the return I was suddenly having knock you off your feet contractions extremely close together. All I could think was - even if H makes it back, how am I getting to the hospital like this???

I called 911. Embarrassingly, this of course means that the whole circus shows up: fire department, police and the EMTs. They loaded me up in the ambulance, just as H finally made it through traffic back to our place. We all took off for the hospital. The EMTs were asking me questions, while sticking an IV in my arm, and can I just say that their gurneys seem frighteningly small to a whale of a pregnant woman who is flailing around trying to get a handle on her pain? I kept grabbing for something to hold onto, and hitting the button that collapses the back of the gurney. At some point the guy in the back with me yelled, Hey! Pull over and come help me, we're having a baby! Now I am not a yeller, but my high-volume response was: YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME! Pushing on that tiny gurney was going nowhere, so we continued to the hospital.

We came bombing into labor and delivery, and the only thought pitter-pattering through my tiny brain at that point was: Oh thank god, now they can give me something. I've had my eyes screwed shut the entire time, panting (nearly hyperventilating) against the pain. And then I hear from the nurse: Honey, you're fully dilated. It's time to push.

Nonononono. NO! This is the hospital! This is supposed to be where I get the drugs! After what seemed like an unimaginable amount of time, cajoling from the nurses, and a bit of what felt like browbeating from the doctor - who was most decidedly not my favorite person at this point - baby Ethan was born. It was only later that I cobbled together from bits of paperwork the information that they admitted me at 10:17pm and Ethan was born at 10:40pm. That's a grand total of 23 minutes in Labor & Delivery folks!

Eeks. Apparently I go from 0 to 60 in no time when it comes to having children. Daniel was around a 12 hour labor, and that makes Ethan around 5 or 6 hours. The important thing is we're all home, happy and healthy. I'm breastfeeding and short on sleep, but that's the way these early stages go. And IF there are any more children in my future? I think I'm announcing my pregnancy, and scheduling my C-section all at the same time.

Babywatch 2010

Ugh, and ugh again. Two non stress tests a week, plus an office visit. Baby is doing beautifully. Mommy not so much. My official due date is July 24th, but I am really hoping to not go so far at this point.

I am big. Maternity clothes are no longer fitting. The feet are finally puffy so shoes aren't fitting either. I've got the pregnancy waddle down pat. The stairs to the condo have turned into a struggle, and I can't get comfortable sitting or standing (or lying down) any one way for very long. This means that I am up several times a night, every night, as the hips start to ache and I need to change positions.

The belly has been exceptionally heavy and tight today. Nothing has felt "timeable" or like it was progressing anywhere other than making me uncomfortable, so I have been sort of riding it out. Usual non stress test tomorrow morning, and I will probably grab the doc and see what she says. We started discussing induction at the last appointment, but that would still be at least a week away, I think. Ack! Somebody find me some relief!

Ugh

I feel horrible. Nurses don't believe it is labor (official due date July 24th). Their solution? Get off your feet and drink 3 quarts of water a day.

Yeah. I'll just be putting the preschooler in suspended animation.

And I guess I'm moving a cot into the bathroom any time now.

Mostly Ghostly

I feel like I am haunting my own house these days. We've hit the 36th week mark for this pregnancy, and I lost my ability to sleep through the night quite some time ago. If it's not getting up to pee, it's due to the hip pain or just the uncomfortably huge belly that I'm trying to maneuver and carry around.

Restless nights, awake, asleep, awake at all hours and days spent trying to keep ahead of a four year old as well as get something done around this place. Riding in or driving a car is an adventure in fidgeting as I try to get comfortable. And this whole thing is fast becoming an exercise in frustration as I want to spend time with the people I care about, friends and family, and get prepared for this new little addition to our family. And all my body wants to do is have me flop on my side on a bed or a couch (at least until the hip pain kicks in again).

On the flip side, the last ultrasound showed everything is going wonderfully. Our little man is 6 pounds 9 ounces, and head down rather than trying to poke out my ribs as much. I'm trying to ride this out, knowing that this is all good in the end, and that the end (July 24th) is in sight. Updates here have been farther between as I don't like to hear myself complain, and wind up feeling like you'd like to hear about something else as well. Hope to be - no, know I will be in a better swing of things soon as we head into an exciting new chapter for our family.

Ready or Not?

Everybody in the pool!

My emotions are on a wild pendulum swing over here these days. I don't want to wish this time away, yet I'm ready for this little man to get out. I haven't slept through the night in months, whether due to trying to find a comfortable position for the belly or dealing with the aching hips. Some days there is so much abdominal pressure that all I feel like doing is flopping on my side on a couch or a bed to try and get some relief. This leaves me guiltily looking around for something for my four year old to do. Thank goodness we still have preschool for a week more! And I have been blessed with some Mommy friends who have willingly taken Daniel on his own for some playdates, giving me some R&R time.

Maybe what's contributing is the fact that the doctor appointments have been stepped up, as well as dropping into the hospital for some monitoring/non stress tests (mostly due to my being considered - ahem - an older mother). Every one is very nice, but you're there hanging out in those rooms where eventually you're going to deliver. I'm watching my little guy play hockey with the monitors strapped to my belly. And there are those hospital blanket covered baby warmers and bassinets. My mind wanders one second from: Is this really going to take until July? I'm just so tired. Let's get a move on, and then at least I get to put this kid down from time to time. To - holy crap, I am so not ready for this! Nothing is ready yet, other than some baby clothes that have been washed. I won't be able to take this kid home because the car seat isn't in, and where will he sleep? And - two kids?? I am so not ready for this!

I'm trying to be tender with myself and just take it moment by moment. Daniel has actually had a very sweet attitude about the whole thing. He talks about getting a baby brother, and how he's going to be gentle with him and help out. In the meantime we have a week left of preschool. We discovered that the town splash pad opened a few days ago, and he and some friends had a blast running through the spray on a hot day. TBall is ending, but I might sign him up for a summer program or two that will keep him busy with a couple of his friends. Some of my Mommy friends have already offered to take him to these programs along with their kids. And I'm trying to remind myself to Take the help. Mommy-does-it-all has to step back a little, allow her friends to help... there are already one or two who are due some big thank yous... and ease up on herself.

Suiting Up!

This second pregnancy has steamrollered me more than I like to admit. Anyone have any advice for conquering the joint/hip middle-of-the-night pain? The lack of sleep is getting tedious. (I know, I'm only in for loads more of it once the little guy arrives! But I'd at least like to be caught up a bit before that happens!) And every time I sit down to write, the current complaints come out - and I realize how very much I don't want to write about them... onward!

We joined TBall this season, and boy is it a hoot! At this age they don't keep score, and just have the kids bat through the lineup. Good thing it's only three innings or us parents would be there awhile. But to see the little ones figuring out batting, when to run (or not!) catching the ball, trying different positions has been great fun. One inning, I heard the coaches hollering Daniel's name and I turned around to find him looking like this attached photo!

Now if I could only find some Mommy protective gear to get me through the next few preggo months...

With a Capital S

We talk in various ways with Daniel about the baby brother soon to be joining our family. In yet another view on a preschooler's concept of "time" - every time I head to the doctor's office for an appointment, he asks if I'm coming home with the baby. I smile, and explain that it will be summer, and warm, and practically his birthday before he gets here. (If only it were so easy!) He will also randomly tell me about how he will help with the baby when he gets here. This includes things like changing his diaper, and pouring milk into his cup. Hmmm. Breastfeeding may take a little explaining... And when we were coasting through the kid's department of a store yesterday he picked an outfit off the rack and asked if it would be good for the baby. The clothes were a near-fit for Daniel, so I explained that his little brother would need to grow into something like that. It's all been very sweet.

Moments above alternate with the days that I have to hold onto my patience with both hands as my independent-minded four year old and I butt heads over every. Little. Thing. Clothes to wear for the day are not right, by virtue of the fact that Mommy picked them out. We can't leave the house while he struggles with his coat zipper. He appears to be living on tortillas and string cheese lately. And once, this past winter, he was determined to help me move a pile of snow out of our driveway. To the point that he moved my pile of snow back into the driveway so that he could move it out himself.

And we've been in a potty-training conundrum for quite some time. Daniel has peed on the potty like a champ for awhile now. Wears underwear to preschool, doesn't have accidents... but when it came to the inevitable poop on the potty, he requested a pullup and to go do it in his room. Nothing, not even outright bribery of every kind could dissuade him. He'd proclaim to one and all that he would get this or that prize if he pooped on the potty, but when it came to the moment there was so much fussing and crying over it all that I would give in and it would be a pullup in his room for the deed.

Grandma and Grandpa came to visit last week. There was some cajoling, and fussing, and one missed day of "going." The next day he agreed to sit on the potty. I could hear him chattering away to himself, flipping the pages of a book while he sat. And then. I could almost hear a catch in his little voice as he said: I did it! Daddy took him to Target, to pick out a grand potty prize. And while there's some work to be done regarding the logistics of such things as wiping, we've been going on the potty ever since.

I feel slightly silly, and maybe it's just pregnancy hormones, but I found myself tearing up at the jubilation in his voice at his accomplishment. Here's to my stubborn-sweet son, who does it all "My way!"

The Complaint Closet

If I'd known that a whole lotta my maternity clothes wouldn't fit me anyway the second time around, I might not have held onto so much. My top half is covered pretty well, but I have yet to find bottoms of any kind that aren't annoying the heck out of me (binding, sagging, just not fitting or uncomfortable in general...). Since the weather has flipped from pretty nice to 40s and wet, I'm lucky I'm able to leave the house.

On the plus side, I'm counting my blessings that H made it out of Scotland before the Iceland volcano went kablooey. What a mess. I feel for those poor travelers, and I'd really be outta my mind if H were still stuck overseas.

I did find some only mildly uncomfortable maternity pants to wear, and got out of the house with some of my local Mom friends last night. Unknown to me and to Melissa, another preggo Mom due around the same time, the ladies had conspired to make this our "baby shower." They wouldn't let us pay for dinner, and we each got a Target gift card to look out for some baby things... Yummy appetizers and dinner, lots of laughs and conversation - I have the best friends.

Unfortunately it ain't just the ice cream

Don't get me wrong - I am super-excited to meet our new little guy! But at just over halfway there (23 weeks), my reactions swing wildly from Wow, where did the time go? one minute to Holy Sh*t, where did the time go? the next. I think it is most often correlated to the physicality of a moment. I'm five years older than the last time I did this preggo thing, and the bod is complaining! I'm also chasing the four year old, who is really a pretty good kid. It's just that his normal energy level could drain me when I wasn't pregnant, let alone now... thank goodness for the Mommy-break of preschool. Mix in a liberal dose of recent spousal stress, and whew! Lately I'm - not sure if a mess is the right word. I'll settle for stressed. And this conjures up worries for when I will need to do more than just carry kid #2 around. I've developed a healthy respect in recent years for my friend Kim - who does it all, with 5 children. I hope I'm as good a Mommy with two.

And on that note, I'm off to search out some ice cream, some chocolate, something...