Just because he's cute

I know.  It's hard to resist this little guy.

All better

Noah's splint is off!  It was a long three weeks, but he's doing great and healing up beautifully.  Next up:  CRAWLING!  Plug the outlets!  Put up the gates!  Give mama some Xanax!

Is it 2.3 or 3.2 kids?

There is talk in this house of Baby #2.  I should say, the fictitious Baby #2, as said baby does not yet exist.  But there are whispers and abbreviated conversations revolving around Baby #2.  This idea scares me and thrills me at the same time because I know I am not ready for a second baby RIGHT NOW but soon.  In a year?  Two?  Who knows.  We have a lot of work to do financially before I can be ready for the second child.  

I'm 27 years old and have plenty of time to have children but there is something pushing me to think about the second baby now.  I don't know what it is.  But whenever I think of Baby #2 I get those scary butterflies in my stomach and I wonder if that's a good sign (excitement!) or a bad sign (dread.).  What I realized this weekend while talking to my sister is that I am afraid that bringing a second baby into our family would mean Noah would no longer be here.  Which is clearly preposterous and ridiculous.  He'll always be here.  But he would no longer be "the baby".  Just because we have another does not mean Noah goes away.  He won't be replaced.  I mean, duh.  That's a weird thought pattern though, right?

And then I have so many conversations with family and friends that come around to when we're thinking about Baby #2.  It must be natural for people to assume that once you have one baby that you'll be thinking about the next.  I suppose that's reminiscent of dating and then always being asked when the engagement is happening, then the wedding, then the first baby, so on and so forth.  I don't have an answer.  If we found out we were expecting now, we would be happy.  How could we not when that is ultimately what we want.  But the idea of pregnancy, birth, those hazy, never-ending newborn days kind of makes me want to hide under the covers.  I was JUST pregnant.  I JUST gave birth.  I JUST started sleeping through the night regularly.  Ok, fine, it's been a while, but still.  It SEEMS like it just all happened.  

All this blather is to say Not Yet.  Soon.  But Not Yet.

7 Months

Dear Noah,

Today you are 7 months old!  I sang happy birthday to you this morning and your eyes lit up and you laughed along with me.  It was probably one of the best moments we've had this past month together.  I won't lie to you, this past month has been trying for all of us.  You have been so wonderful through it all.  To recap for you:  February 5th I fell down the stairs while carrying you and fractured your left leg.  We spent four long hours in the children's ER watching helplessly as you were poked and prodded and strapped to the x-ray board.  If today was one of the highlights of my time as your mother, then that day was definitely the lowest.  But you're carrying on as if nothing has changed and I take a lot of my strength from you, little boy.  Through it all, you have been smiling and happy and your generally cheerful self.  By this time next week you should have your splint off and we'll be spending lots of time working on the crawling you so desperately want to do.

You have changed so much this past month.  I know I say that every month (because it's so true!) but it's been so fast.  Everyday you are becoming your own little person with your own wants and needs and wishes.  You have learned to "fake" cough to get our attention and then when we look at you, you smile that big, wide smile.  It never fails to make me happy.  You are so much more aware of your body and your limbs and how they all work together to get you what and where you want to go.  You're on the verge of crawling and if it wasn't for that bum leg, you would be cruising all over the place.  I don't know whether I am thrilled or positively terrified.  But not to worry, I have been spending this downtime while you are still immobile to baby-proof as best I can.  No open electrical outlets for you to stick your fingers in!

You've learned how to bang things together to make noise and that delights you to no end.  I can only imagine how much "fun" we're going to have when you get into the pots and pans.   You also learned to "kiss" me (and your Grandma Cher who just can't get enough of your kisses) with your little mouth wide open right on my cheek...you sometimes slip a little tongue in there, your saucy thing you.  We were at a playgroup on Wednesday and you tried to kiss your new friend Jane and I had to have a long talk with you about how you don't kiss girls without an invitation.  But for now, I adore your sloppy, open mouth kisses and will take them whenever I can.  

You also LOVE your daddy.  There was a little while there when you wouldn't even entertain the idea of him holding you, but now?  You cannot get enough of him.  When you see him, you light up like a Christmas tree and giggle and babble and wave your arms around in excitement.  You two have so much fun rolling around on your playmat and playing with your baby basketball hoop...unfortunately, with your genes, that's probably the only basketball hoop that you'll actually dunk.  I cannot even tell you how much your daddy loves you too.  You two are going to be quite the pair.

Between your raspberries, your "talking", your banging, and your screaming when you don't get your way, it's not quiet around here anymore.  And I wouldn't have it any other way.  You're my baby but you're turning into my little boy.  My heart swells and breaks all at the same time.  I adore you with every bone in my body and I will go to the ends of the earth to make you safe and happy.  This month I learned how it feels to see your baby, your child, hurting and I will do everything I can to protect you for as long as I can.  You are my very favorite and I love you, Bubba.  Happy 7 Months!

Love,

Mama

Listy

1.  I hate finding new doctors.  I am in the throes of a search for a new ob-gyn because my old doctor's group does not take our current health insurance...which is a load of sh*t since it's a big, national plan and not some rinky-dink insurance backed by the bum outside the corner bar.  It is near impossible to find someone who is a) in our insurance network AND b) taking new patients as well as c) not located a million miles away in the suburbs.  And of course I am in the super-special, extra-lucky position of having to go in twice a year for exams and my next one is right around the corner.  And here I am with no appointment scheduled.  Argh.  So annoying.  I was HAPPY with my old doctors.  I even recommended TWO people to them.  They helped me birth my baby.  (Except one of them was the one who CUT me with SCISSORS to birth said baby...I don't know if I like her too much.)  Ahem.  Anyhow, finding a new doctor sucks.  The End.

2.  Noah can now get his little belly off the ground and propel himself forw-, no, wait, sorry, SIDEWAYS in an attempt to crawl around with his bum leg.  We went to a playgroup this morning and met a bunch of new moms and other 6-8 month olds and they were cruisin' all over the joint.  Noah was supremely jealous.  Or maybe that was me.  Either way, next week, after the splint comes off?  It's ON.

3.  Speaking of the splint.  I am getting pretty tired of having to re-wrap his little leg five times a day.  Since it's a splint and not a full cast, it's held in place with two ace bandages and each time I  change his diaper, I have to unwrap and then re-wrap the splint and re-position and gah.  Hate.  Way too much pressure on me to make sure it's tight enough, but not too tight so he can wiggle his toes (baby toes are the best), and in the right position.  Next time (HA!  NO.) I'll request a cast.  

4.  I don't know if this is a side effect of his leg healing, or a growth spurt, or what but Noah has been sleeping from 8 pm-8/9 am (!!!!!  And HALLELUJAH.) and following that up with one or maybe two long-ish naps per day.  If he gets up that late in the morning he may eschew a first nap in favor of one looooooooong afternoon one, which of course throws me all out of sorts because I have just gotten used to a two-nap schedule and he's going in and messing it all up.  But I am NOT complaining since my baby sleeps all night AND naps most of the time.  

5.  So it seems this burglary next door really worked out well for the husband of the house.  Since they made off with his big, but not big enough, screen TV, he has decided he must. go. bigger.  He and Tim spent a couple hours last week researching the latest and greatest in plasmas and lcds and fancy pants TVs much to the wife's dismay.  I really want new furniture.  Why couldn't the bastards have broken into my house instead and taken my couch?  (I kid.  Sort of.)

6.  Wow.  I just re-read all that drivel and apologize for boring you to death.  Maybe something super fun and exciting will happen over the weekend and I can report back on Monday.  But probably not.

  

Damn you, Friday the 13th

Someone broke into the house next door this afternoon.  Literally kicked in the back door.  No one was home, thank god.  And neither were Noah and I otherwise this mama would have been all over 9-1-1.  All I can think about is what if my neighbor and her toddler son were home?  This is usually his naptime so she would have been home maybe getting some stuff done around the house or maybe working out or maybe just taking the downtime to catch up on the DVR.  My hands are shaking as I write this because it could have easily been us.  

I was unloading the groceries from my car when the police arrived.  And since I'm nosy I hung around the front to see what was up.  Apparently the house alarm was going off so the alarm company alerted the police and they asked me if I had seen anyone or heard anything.  Oh how I wish I had so I could help them, but of course we weren't home.  My neighbor A and her son are out of town, but her husband J came tearing up the street, leaving his car parked in the middle of the street.  I don't know if anything was taken.  And all I can think about is what if?  I've heard of this happening, these middle of the day break-ins.  With people at work, the opportunity and ease for theft is so high.  But A doesn't work.  She's home with their son all day.  It hurts me to think of what could have happened had she been home...

I've had my wallet stolen and my credit cards rung up by someone else.  I know what it feels like to be a victim of theft.  But I have never known what it is like having an intruder in MY home.  MY safe place.  It must feel like rape's little cousin.  Someone else was inside your home, uninvited, and TOUCHING and TAKING your things.  No.  Just no.  What if they had tried our house first?  What if WE had been home?  I don't feel safe right now.  I know this can happen anywhere, it's not just a "city" thing.  But still.  I'll be the one with the butcher knife under my pillow tonight.

Terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day

Wow.  So Thursday started off great (a visit with the new baby!) and ended with us in the children's ER.  Long story short:  I fell down the stairs (inside, not outside) while carrying Noah and fractured his left femur (thigh bone).  The past few days have been NOT SO GREAT.  But!  Other than me being worst mother of the year, Noah is doing spectacularly.  He really doesn't seem too put off by the splint on his leg and other than not being able to sit up because the splint goes from his toes to the middle of his back, he can roll over and play on his tummy.  We've been managing his pain with just a little infant tylenol and lots of snuggles and kisses.  Maybe later I will write about the whole story and the tears and the interview with social services (worst.hour.ever.) and the x-rays, and the IV, and the doctors/nurses (who were just wonderful, thank you Children's Memorial Hospital!), and did I mention the tears, Noah's and ours?  But for now, I am just so thankful that Noah is doing well and that he still loves me.  Accidents happen and I am working through the mommy guilt.


They really shouldn't have to make hospital gowns so small...I about died when they made us put it on him.  In this picture, he's high as a kite on morphine and kept trying to take off the gown.  That was really the only funny moment of the whole night.  You have to find the funny where you can, you know?

Anticipation--Updated!

One of my closest, dearest friends is in labor as I type this and the emotions swirling inside of me are oh so familiar.  I am drowning in anticipation for the phone call that says "She's here, please come meet her" and also feeling a teensy, itsy bit jealous over what my friend is experiencing right now.  It's because I know.  I know what's to come for her and her husband and it's amazing, miraculous, terrifying, thrilling, and awe-inspiring.  I so want to be there with her, remembering, reliving the moments of labor and childbirth.  But all I can do is wait at home for the phone call and say this in silence, hoping it reaches her:  may labor and childbirth be all that you imagined it to be and may you and your newborn daughter make it through safely.

We can't wait to meet you, Baby Girl...we've been looking forward to it for so long.

UPDATED!  Braedyn Alexa was born February 4th at 5:41 pm, 7 lbs, 1 oz, 20.5 inches long and perfectly healthy!  Mom, Dad and baby are doing great.

Missing: Naps.

We're having a rough couple of days.  Noah has recently decided that taking naps is no good, no good at all.  In fact, the longest he's napped in the past couple of weeks was two hours at my parents' house on Saturday.  I was just shocked that he stayed asleep that long because at home?  He does not sleep longer than an hour.  And this is from a baby that used to take two, three hour plus naps a day.  It's like he hit 6 months and decided that he should really be spending more time hanging out with me instead of sleeping because, like, duh MOM, naps are so last month.  He goes down at night like butter on a bagel which is why I am so flummoxed over this refusal to nap during the day.  

The rational side of me knows I should just let him cry.  And I do, but twenty minutes is about all I can handle in one sitting before I go in and either flip him back to his stomach (he REALLY likes to flip on his back and get the lungs going) or get him up to try again later.  Is it the stuffy nose preventing him from sucking his thumb which is his usual go-to method for falling asleep?  Is it some magic six month issue where all he wants to do is play and hang out with me?  Is it just a few days of this and then he'll go back to some semblance of a normal schedule?  I have never had such a hard time figuring something out.  Hell, college statistics was easier than this.  

Anyone who thinks this mom gig is a walk in the park better change their tune.  This is harder and more intense than any other job I have ever had...and a million times more rewarding.   I raise my glass to my own mother for doing this job and for doing it so well, even now when her kids are almost all grown and (relatively) independent.  Being a mother is a never-ending job.  Too bad we don't get paid in real cash money because we would be so damn rich.