Belle Plaine

I'm really bad at remembering to drink water

2012-01-24T10:42:00.000-06:00

I'm going to tell you three random things that I am really bad at and then three random things that *I* think I am really good at.

THE BAD

1. I suck at couponing. I mean, I GET the idea of it but the practice of it leaves me trembling. I have an entire subsection of my Reader devoted to couponing websites which I avoid because I feel bad about myself that I just cannot figure it out.

2. I'm really bad at math (hence the above admission...too much maths). Like shamefully bad. So bad that I refuse to pay our sitter based on the exact hours and ALWAYS round up and over pay to avoid having to do anything more complicated than adding whole numbers. My husband is so disappointed in me right now.

3. I hate small talk. I am the worst guest at a dinner party where I don't know many people. I fear I come across as rude when in actuality I am just nervous and can't think of things to talk about it. This is why I am STILL worried that people thought I was a huge jerk at The Blathering 2010. I'M SORRY. I like you, ALL OF YOU. REALLY. I promise I'll do better this year.

THE GOOD

1. I have excellent navigational skills. I can get many places, even if I've only been once, without the aid of a map or GPS. I have most of the city plotted in my head. It does drive me a little crazy though when I say "turn east" and my sister looks at me like I have three heads.

2. I'm good at organizing things...my desk at work, my files, my linens, my cabinets. I need order to function and when things are out of whack I tend to organize. For example, Tim put away the groceries last weekend and his willy-nilly-throw-it-all-in-the-pantry-and-close-the-door plan means I get to take it all out and do it over. I am irrationally pleased about this. I'm weird, I know. (The label maker my mom got me a couple of years ago is my favorite thing ever and when I thought I had lost it, I almost cried.)

3. I'm an amazing parallel parker. I'm sure almost ten years of city living helps not to mention the sweet backup camera in my car. Give me a car and a tight spot and I'll have you parked in a jiffy.

This is where I admit that it was super easy to come up with things I'm bad at (I could easily add ten more things) and much harder to come up with the good. Isn't that always the case? What are you bad/good at?

Second baby syndrome in full swing

2012-01-20T14:09:00.000-06:00

Things I have been asked this week about Chloe for which I have no answer because she is my second and I am not CHARTING or KEEPING TRACK OF ANYTHING:

How old is she? (I SHOULD KNOW THIS.)

Is she rolling over yet?

When will she start solids?

Does she love to pick up toys and shake them?

How is she sleeping?

How much does she weigh?

Poor second baby. She should really put in for a new mother (especially one who doesn't call her by the dog's name every other time).

Things that have gotten me riled up this week (and it's only Wednesday!)

2012-01-11T15:18:00.000-06:00

WARNING: You're entering a Complaint Zone. Enter at your own risk.

Oh lordy, did I get worked up today. Basically a benign conversation with a co-worker wherein I was relating something ridiculous Noah said to his teacher yesterday ended in me defending our discipline philosophy. I was told I was a "pushover", one of these "touchy-feely" parents whose children will "never grow up to respect authority." The issue, obviously, is spanking...to do it or not to do it. See, we don't spank. The reason being is that it just doesn't work for ME. Let me repeat, FOR ME. We have chosen to not spank our kids but I could care less how you choose to discipline yours. Much like breast vs. formula, staying home vs. working out of the house, daycare vs. a nanny, to each their own. Whatever works for you. Yada, yada, YADA. I DO NOT JUDGE NOR CARE.

And all this from someone who doesn't HAVE kids and each time she hears me talking about mine likes to relate a story about when her DOG did something "similar". No, no. Your DOG is nothing like my KID. My kid may act like an animal at times but at least he doesn't lick his own butt.

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I hesitate to even write this (and that probably means I shouldn't) but Chloe's sitter said something that really got me going. On Monday morning, as I was taking Chloe out of her car seat, the sitter said she had a dream about Chloe the night before. A dream that she was BREASTFEEDING my baby. And she went on and on about how great it was and nurturing and loving and OH MY GOD. I just keep reminding myself that a) our sitter is of Eastern European origin and from my experience that culture tends to be very open, honest and frank when speaking with others and b) this might have been her way of showing me how much she adores and cares for my daughter. I left feeling really sad. It was a bold reminder that she gets to love my girl all day while I sit here, in my ergonomically-correct office chair, typing on my computer, looking at spreadsheets and contracts, and staring longingly at the picture of my kids.

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While I was on maternity leave HR let my share of the health insurance premiums accrue so now I have a HUGE balance to pay back. And they'll only spread it out over two paychecks which means these next two paychecks will be a pittance. I do not like.

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We cannot seem to get on a good morning schedule. Unless I start waking up at 5:00 am (which, no) I feel like our mornings will always be rushed. We have four people, going four different places and all at different times. Both kids can be at their respective caregivers as early as 7:30 am but I think the problem is that I had gotten used to Tim dropping Noah off at 8:30 am (Before Baby) so 7:30 am seems really early when, in reality, it's not. So we have to figure out who takes who and when. I have a more set time I need to be at work whereas Tim is more flexible (I guess that's why he has the V and the P in front of his name and I...do not). This lack of a schedule and PLAN tips me from HappyVille to CrazyTown in two point two seconds.

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The office vending machine is out of Snickers and I have to settle for M&Ms and not even the good peanut butter or pretzel kind. The nerve.

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Anything gotten you all riled up this week? Do share!

Simple Arugula Salad...quick, go make it!

2012-01-05T17:55:00.000-06:00

I'm posting this quickly before I forget and because I love it so much I want to share:

Simple Arugula Salad

1 bunch arugula, washed and dried
1 can mandarin oranges, drained
pecorino romano cheese, grated
olive oil
lemon juice
salt
pepper
(No measurements...just add or subtract as needed)

In a small bowl, mix together a few tablespoons olive oil, a few squeezes of lemon juice (fresh or bottled), and salt and pepper to taste.

In a larger bowl, toss the arugula with the olive oil dressing. Add the oranges and then generously sprinkle on the pecorino romano cheese. Toss the whole thing together, making sure to evenly coat the arugula. Then add more cheese because cheese is one of my reasons for living and is yours too, I know it.

Serve immediately or hoover up the whole damn bowl by yourself if you please.

This salad is SO easy and SO divine. I love how a few simple ingredients turns into something so wonderful. I've been making this salad as a pre-dinner "snack" for a few weeks and I haven't gotten tired of it yet. I bet it would be lovely with a little chicken or nut of your choice to beef it up a bit. I think it would be a great starter salad at a dinner party and especially great during the summer because it's such a light beginner. ENJOY!

(I found this recipe a while back in some magazine and I cannot for the life of me remember where or when...probably when I was in the OB waiting room and hungry as a hippo. It obviously would have appealed to me at the time.)

Chloe, Three Months

2011-12-30T20:36:00.001-06:00

We're officially not in Newborn Hell anymore, hooray!!! Three months marks the transition to Baby/Infant/Small Person With Good Head Control. We're all VERY pleased to be here.

At three months, Chloe is pretty much the most smiley baby I have ever seen. She wakes up smiling, she goes to bed smiling, she even smiles while she poops. The smiles are the only reason I don't lose my mind when she wakes me up three times a night. Who can be mad at this face? WHO?

Chloe's newest tricks include batting at toys, grabbing fistfuls of my hair, sucking on my cheek when she's hungry, and our very favorite...rolling from tummy to back! Rolling was today's accomplishment and there was much to do about it. Big brother even made up a little celebration dance to cheer her on which might have been the sweetest thing ever. Speaking of, this relationship between brother and baby sister is blossoming each day and I love it so much.

Chloe is still waking up at night far too often for my liking...most nights she's up at least 3 times between 8pm and 6:30am. I'm grateful that the wake ups are short and only to nurse and then she's right back down and asleep before her head touches the mattress. We're working on self-soothing and she seems to be making good progress. I'm hoping she'll naturally drop some of those wake ups and I don't have to start letting her cry but we'll wait and see. I just know I need more sleep otherwise my boss is going to wonder if my brain really did leak out my ears.

Another big transition this month was my going back to work and Chloe starting at her new sitter's home daycare. It's been so smooth of a transition for Chloe that you would think she's been there since day one whereas I spend approximately 7.95 of my 8 hours away hours thinking about her. But we've already been over that and it will get better, so help me god. It's a good thing we all adore her sitter and are really happy that we found her.

I'm so happy we're at three months because the hardest part really is almost over. I can't wait for these next few months when she starts to open up and become interested in her big new world. I know she'll do it all with a big smile on her face.

So that happened

2011-12-19T22:59:00.000-06:00

I went back to work today.

Ugh. I don't even know where to start. I got up at a ridiculously early hour to make sure I had enough time and yet I was still late to work. I cried in the car on my way to drop off Chloe at her sitter's house. I cried when I walked out, leaving her in very capable hands, but leaving her nonetheless. I cried while pumping. Twice. I cried tonight thinking about how I have to do it all again tomorrow and the next day and the day after.

The problem here is me and I know Future Me will read this someday and wish she could reach back in time and smack some sense into me. Here is why I know it's all my issue: Chloe's sitter is wonderful and is already loving my girl hard. Everyone at work gave me a wide berth and no one demanded anything of me today. Noah had a crap day at preschool but his teachers didn't press the issue. I'm the delicate flower wilting from the anxiety and stress. I worry about the kids (more so Chloe because she's wee and new and utterly defenseless) even though I know they're fine. I worry about the commute and how to make it as fast as possible so I can get the kids home at a decent time. I worry about how we're going to structure drop offs and pick ups with two kids at two different places and make sure neither is the last kid left waiting(don't ask...this is my own personal, totally unfounded, issue). I worry about pumping and keeping my supply up and how best to store the milk at work. I worry about how dinner is going to get made when I have a loud, demanding three year old and a loud, demanding three month old all wanting something at the same time.

I'm tired just writing that all out. I'm sorry, Future Me. I know it will all be just fine and these things will work themselves out in time and I need to quit the complaining. In the meantime, do you have any advice on how to streamline life with kids while working? One kid was a cake walk compared to this circus.

Our Holiday Traditions for the Young and Old

2011-12-02T18:30:00.000-06:00

Like many families with young kids, we're in the process of developing our own holiday traditions, apart from and including the ones we both grew up with. Christmas, for me, has always been a really special and magical time of year and I LOVE the day after Thanksgiving when houses begin to sparkle with lights and trees appear in the front window. I also love the day after New Years' when I'm so tired of Christmas and ready to chuck the tree out the back door. But the 30 or so days in between are my very favorite.

I hope to pass on this love for the holiday season to Noah and Chloe and convince my husband that his "grinch-y" attitude WILL rub off on them eventually. I think he's starting to come around. I've incorporated some of the traditions I grew up with into our family and have begun some new ones this year that I hope stick around.

1. Our version of Elf on the Shelf. On December 1st, Santa's elf makes his inaugural appearance and so begins the daily morning search for our favorite little elf. Our elf watches out for good and bad behavior so he can report back to Santa each evening...last year, I found that behavior improved immensely during the month of December. The elf is a win-win! (I did suck at moving him around each night after Noah was in bed so I'll have to get better at it. Noah's much smarter this year.)

2. The tree and decorations come out the first weekend in December (so that would be...this weekend! Hooray!). I grew up with a real tree and my parents still buy one for us to enjoy on Christmas Day (RIGHT, MOM? Don't let me down!) but Tim's family did the fake tree and we're now the proud owners of a plastic pre-lit tree. Don't get me wrong, the fake tree is EASY and looks beautiful but I do miss picking out the perfect tree, bringing it home, letting it "rest" on the porch before placing it in its spot of honor in front of the window. Now that I typed all that out I think we'll be getting a real tree next year. I want those memories for our kids because the tree is the pinnacle of Christmas for me. However, this year, what with the new baby and going back to work on the 19th (ARRRRRRGGGHHHHHHHHH, BLLLLLEEEERRRRGGGHHHHH) I don't think I have the capacity to deal with a real tree. Fake it is.

3. Buy this year's ornaments for the tree. I've been buying an ornament for Noah each year that reflects his current interests. I think this year's will be a soccer ball since he's started soccer class recently. I also bought Chloe a blown glass owl ornament and the requisite Baby's First Christmas ornament. I plan to pass these all on to them when they have their first Christmas in their first home.

4. Buy one new holiday/Christmas children's book to add to our growing collection. We'll read one each night before bed...how much do you want to bet the highlight this year will be Merry Christmas, Curious George?

5. Put up the Advent calendar. I would usually begin an Advent calendar on the 1st but I did not get my act in gear this year to pick one out or make one. I'm putting this on my to-do list for right after Christmas so it'll be ready to go for next year. I'm thinking small envelopes or pouches hung on the tree with a piece of candy, holiday activity or tiny gift inside. Or perhaps I will convince my mother to hand over her calendar from when we were little...for the kids, of course.

5. Cinnamon, cloves and an orange peel simmering on the stove. This reminds me of my house during the holidays when we were small. Love it.

6. Have Noah check the mail each day for new holiday cards. I'll have them hanging from lengths of ribbon in the living room so he can look at them every day and see our friends and family.

7. On the 23rd we'll do our Annual Spot The Awesome Christmas Lights Drive around the neighborhood.

8. Christmas Eve will be spent with Tim's family and then a short road trip to my grandmother's. Since Christmas Eve is a busy day, our evening will be pretty mellow. We'll have the Noah set out cookies/milk for Santa and carrots for the reindeer. We'll have them open one small gift from us (because the rest of the gifts are from SANTA and SANTA doesn't come until after bedtime...and a glass or two of wine) and then head to bed in their new Christmas jammies.

9. Christmas morning we'll wake them up and head downstairs for stockings and presents and merriment of all kinds. I think I'm going to make homemade cinnamon rolls our traditional Christmas morning breakfast. Growing up we always had a baked apple pancake and since we'll see my parents later that day my guess is my dad will have made one that morning. I won't steal his recipe until they no longer want to host Christmas Day then it's all mine (you hear that Sister and Brother...hands off!).

10. Christmas Day includes a visit with my family and mimosas and a big dinner and more presents. We'll end the day with full bellies and warm hearts and pie. I hope there is pie.

I was worried we didn't have any "traditions" started but seeing this all in writing comforts me. We HAVE started our traditions and they've created a pretty good base to build on. What's your favorite holiday tradition with your family?

2008

2009

2010

Chloe, Two Months

2011-11-28T15:38:00.001-06:00

Oh this girl of mine. She's everything that I had hoped for and more.

At two months, Chloe weighs 11 lbs, 9 oz and is 22.5 inches long. She's working really hard on the continued fattening of her chubby thighs and maintaining her deliciously smooch-able cheeks. I don't know about you but hammy baby thighs are kind of the best thing ever. Chloe loves to smile and show off the dimple in her left cheek...her entire face lights up when she sees her big brother. There is nothing like seeing a relationship start to grow between Noah and Chloe. Noah is already so protective of her and takes his role as her caretaker very seriously. He's in charge of keeping her blanket on her when she's in the swing and letting me know if she's spitting up. I love to hear his little feet come running to let me know his baby needs something.

Chloe is slowly getting the hang of nighttime sleep. We're starting to see a longer stretch develop at night which means I'm getting a little more sleep. She's also getting better about going back to sleep after she wakes to nurse. It's a delicate game we all play and I am now wise enough to know that she'll switch it up on us tomorrow. I'm grateful she sleeps well during the day whether we're home or on the go...something her brother never did. He was a firm crib napper from day one and that really limited what I could do and where I could go. Not true of Chloe...she's game to nap for hours in her car seat.

I don't know if this is true for every family but Chloe seems to be turning into the classic mellow second child. She rarely gets herself worked into a frenzy and even when she is up in the middle of the night she's never fussy. She's content to hang out in her swing or the bouncy seat while I'm otherwise occupied which makes getting things done a little easier. Toss a rattle or little toy her way and she's happy to bat at it over and over.

I'm looking forward to these next few months as she learns so many new skills and continues growing, all the while wishing she would stay small forever. In the meantime, I'll be over here munching on her hammy thighs.

Thankful, oh yes I am

2011-11-24T05:20:00.001-06:00

These two light up my life and make me thankful in so many ways.

All images by Katie Basil

Happy, sad, loud or quiet, my babies are my everything. Enjoy your holiday my friends. Be thankful for what you have today.

The Great Toy Purge of 2011

2011-11-22T12:54:00.000-06:00

Yesterday, after a very enlightening Twitter conversation with her and her, I embarked on the Great Toy Purge of 2011. My motivations were twofold: 1) Christmas is coming and we need some space in the playroom before it gets REALLY out of control and 2) I need to start teaching Noah some life lessons like the fact that not every child in this world has a ROOM full of toys. Both ladies employed the "pick out a few toys and we'll donate them to a less fortunate child" method of toy removal with excellent results. Both of their little guys got into it and really grasped the idea of giving toys to another little one who may not have as many wonderful things as they do. I was impressed and very motivated.

So I rounded Noah up and sat him down to explain what we were going to do. I was EXCITED! and used a POSITIVE VOICE! and kept mentioning how HELPFUL and GOOD this plan was! He bought in and we headed to the playroom. I asked him to pick out two toys and let him take his time deciding which ones he could part with. I encouraged him but didn't interfere with his decision process. Ten minutes later he had picked out the toys:

A blow up ball from a birthday party favor bag and one piece to a baby shape sorter. Sigh. I think we have some work to do.

Forty looks good on him

2011-11-21T08:55:00.000-06:00

Six years ago I met a very special man who swept me off my feet and easily convinced me to spend the rest of our lives together. Today that guy turns 40 and I couldn't imagine anyone more deserving of a wonderful birthday than my husband. He's the best thing that has ever happened to me and I am so very thankful for him. Thank you, Tim, for loving me and our family and for giving me the greatest gifts of all. Happy 40th my darling...you wear it well.

All images courtesy of our talented friend and photographer, Katie Basil.

Email me at belleplaineliving at gmail dot com if you're in the

Chicago area and looking for a fabulous photographer!

Chloe, One Month

2011-11-02T11:42:00.000-05:00

My girl turned one month old a week and a half ago. Hold me.

At One Month, Chloe is sleepy during the day, nursing all night, and starting to share social smiles with us. The smiles are what keeps this mama going at 3 am. That and the swing...the girl loves her some swinging. Although Chloe is about as fussy (read: spit-y and grunt-y and gassy) as Noah was at this age, she's also MUCH easier to be out and about with. She naps on the go and at home with ease whereas her brother was always rather pissed about being in his carseat or stroller. Chloe adores her big brother and cranes her neck looking for him if she hears his voice. So far the sentiment seems to be reciprocal. Noah is so gentle with her and loves to pat her softly on her head when she starts to get fussy.

Chloe is classic newborn with her CRAZY sleep patterns and lack of any structured bedtime. I know I have a ways to go before I can expect any kind of consistent bedtime...I think this has been the hardest thing for me to adjust to. I had become so used to having the evenings to myself that I had forgotten that a newborn doesn't know 8pm from 8am. So we spend a couple hours every night attempting to create a soothing sleep environment...and then give up and turn on the tv. We'll get there eventually.

At One Month, my girl loves to snuggle and nuzzle her head under my chin. She adores being held and I am more than happy to oblige. I love this girl with all that I have...I really couldn't ask for anything more.

Behold the many faces of Chloe Elizabeth, affectionately nicknamed Spitty McGrunts:

Imma gonna get you...and your boobies.

What you just said was HILARIOUS...I think.

I'm mildly concerned with the situation at hand.

Halloween 2011

2011-11-01T17:02:00.000-05:00

Once upon a time there was a witch, her little black cat and an...astronaut?

The young astronaut acquired a full bag of candy loot and one spectacular light up toothbrush from a very wise old neighbor. Much fun was had until it was dark and he decided things were getting a little too spooky for his taste. Hope you all had a wonderful Halloween!

Right now

2011-10-31T07:40:00.001-05:00

...the baby is finally sleeping in the swing after a 4am wake up.
...Noah is stirring in his bed, stretching and yawning.
...the husband is in bed contemplating a shower and the busy week ahead.
...I'm in the kitchen, nursing the one cup of coffee I allow myself everyday, my cozy winter robe wrapped tightly around me, packing Noah's bag for school and getting his breakfast together.

This morning I really felt like a mom. It's up to me to make sure these babies are well-rested, well-fed, and well-loved. Noah will open his school bag today and there will be his Halloween costume all ready for their parade and party this afternoon. Chloe will soon wake up for her morning feeding and we'll sit on the couch together, snuggling and nursing while the boys get ready for school and work. I'm pretty proud of this role I get to play and am feeling rather grateful for all that I have.

What are you feeling grateful for today?

Very early observations on parenting two children

2011-10-20T11:35:00.000-05:00

This two kid thing is no joke. I applaud each and every one of you who has two (or more) kids because you seriously kick some parenting ass. Before Chloe was born, I mistakenly believed that her newborn days would mirror Noah's--lazy days lounging around, catching up on housework, getting my hair cut while she slept in her infant seat, wandering around Target, etc. There are two variables I did not consider and because you all are smarter and wiser than I you can probably guess what they are.

Variable 1: A baby who won't sleep unless she's held. Noah was not like this. I was UNPREPARED.

Variable 2: THE OLDER, ALREADY EXISTING, CHILD. I mean, DUH, SARA.

On Variable 1, the girl demands snuggling all day and night. She's warm and cute so I comply but there are times when I have to attend to things that require both arms. Things like going to the bathroom, showering (side note: if you know me at all, you know I am a must shower everyday kind of girl...add in spit up constantly in my cleavage and I can barely stand myself if I don't get a shower in the morning), eating anything that requires a fork and knife, and, oh, sleeping myself. See, I won't co-sleep. I do not judge at all if that works/ed for you but I am TERRIFIED of rolling over on the baby and Tim is such a deep sleeper that he wouldn't notice if he did. She does sleep in a bassinet next to the bed so she's very close but apparently the sound of our collective snoring is not enough to console her at night. I spend an inordinate amount of time holding her sleeping on my chest while propping my eyelids open with toothpicks. This is why the iPad was a brilliant birthday gift...I read YOUR blogs in the middle of the night. Keep the content coming...I NEED it.

She doesn't do naps during the day either unless being held. Case in point, between that last paragraph and now she gave up on the swing, refused a pacifier, squawked at the vibrating bouncy chair, refused to be held upright or cradled so I broke out the Sleepy Wrap and forced her into submission and therefore a nap. A nap that will last only until I unwrap her and try to put her down. At that point all bets are off. (Side note #2: if you have a newborn on the way, get a Sleepy Wrap. It was recommended to me by numerous friends and has proved itself invaluable day and night. I love mine, LOVE.)

See, I KNEW this could be the type of baby I got but I wasn't PREPARED for it. There isn't anything I can do but hold her and sleep her as I can and wait patiently for the magical 12 weeks when we can Dr. Weissbluth her little tush. Why yes, I am a hard-ass parent when it comes to sleep. Girlfriend is going to get on a sleep schedule as soon as developmentally appropriate. It worked for Noah so I have my fingers crossed it will work for Chloe. Of course, different baby might mean a different approach but damn if I won't give it all I've got.

On Variable 2, O.M.G. How did I not take into account that the FIRST child would continue to require his high level of care and attention??? Am I the biggest idiot in the world? Possibly. I blame the pregnancy hormones for blocking that concept entirely. Noah is still here and needs to be fed, bathed, attended to, played with, dropped off and picked up at school (only TWO days a week...I wish we could afford more, for his sake and mine), etc. All this while taking care of a newborn who, as explained, loves being held and nurses constantly. This is a learning process...learning how to balance the needs of a three year old with the needs of a newborn. Someone is always going to be waiting for something and probably crying because of it. This mom and dad need to just GET OVER THAT ALREADY and accept it as reality.

(Random tangent: Did you know there is a rap version of Itsy Bitsy Spider? Why yes there is and we have discovered it thanks to Pandora's toddler radio station...Basho Mosko sings "Itsy Bitsy Spider, WORD". Word.)

Anyhow, this gig is tough. Please don't misconstrue this as complaining because I am delighted to have two kids whom I love and adore and are seriously cute. If you have any advice to share, please feel free. Alternatively, if you would like to commiserate, feel free to do that too. And if you are Erica, I bet this just solidified your decision to stick with one kid :) And now I am going to post this without editing it and SORRY for that but she's screaming, he wants lunch and I have to pee. BADLY.

Chloe, Week Three

2011-10-14T14:35:00.000-05:00

The girl, she grunts. All night long. During naps. While she eats. Staring at the mobile above her swing. Grunt, grunt, grimace. I've stopped being concerned and checking on her each time she makes a noise because odds are she's still sleeping/eating/staring. I call her my Piglet McSnufflepuss.

At Chloe's two week appointment, um, ah, last week, she weighed in at 8lbs 10oz, measured 20.5 inches, and a head circumference...crap, I forgot to write that down. Regardless, she's solidly in the 50th percentile across the board and I anticipate a sharp drop to 10-25th percentile at the 8 week appointment. I might birth them big, but they don't stay big. That's only if she takes after her brother who has never strayed above the 25th percentile mark a day in his life. We'll see what happens.

In summary:

Sleeping at night? Sort of. Sometimes. Last night, better. The night before, no. I have determined that the effects of sleep deprivation are felt most acutely about three weeks in aka RIGHT NOW.

Feeding? Breastfeeding is going just fine, thank you. I still hate the pump with every ounce of my being. Girlfriend dislikes tomatoes, garlic, beans and Chipotle. We're in discussion about that last one.

Activity? Other than staring at the ceiling/me/her brother, nothing much to report. Oh, she hates tummy time. SHOCKER.

Places visited? Target (many, many times), Costco, JoAnn Fabrics, doctor, zoo, Mema's house, neighbor's roof deck (where I had my first glass of wine and holy hell was that delicious), great-grandma's house.

All in all, Chloe is pretty fantastic and really damn cute.

A gassy smile that was followed by the world's loudest fart from a newborn.

He asked to hold her and my heart burst into a million pieces of HAPPY.

This is the classic Chloe Looks Concerned face and

Noah just finished saying "I'm done, take the baby."

Chloe, Week Two

2011-10-04T16:01:00.000-05:00

We're finally getting settled into our new routine and I must say that it's going REALLY well. Of course, now that I put that out there the sky will fall and no one will nap ever again. I currently have two children napping AT THE SAME TIME, all the laundry done and dinner in the fridge (ok, FINE, leftovers from a casserole dropped off by a friend, potato potahto). I am so rocking this two-kid thing...until tomorrow.

Chloe is classic newborn...she sleeps most of the day and parties at night. The difference this time is that I know it ends. When Noah did this I thought my eyes were going to fall out of my head and I would never sleep again. I now know that I haven't really slept in three years so what's a few more all-nighters? My daughter (!!!) is scrumptious and beautiful and the most lovely addition to our family. We feel complete and I didn't even know we weren't until she arrived. We're really, really lucky.

Why yes, I DO nibble those cheeks all day (and night). Wouldn't you?

Chloe

2011-09-23T21:52:00.000-05:00

Our best girl, Chloe Elizabeth, arrived today at 4:02 pm, weighing 8 lbs, 3oz, and 19.75 in long. She's practically perfect in every way. We're madly in love.

More to come when we're settled back at home.

When raising a little boy...

2011-09-12T14:08:00.000-05:00

...one must be prepared for the turn that every conversation will eventually take: to poop. And all it's associated bodily functions.

Example the first:

Noah: Knock knock!
Me: Who's there?
Noah: POOOOOOOP!!! (falls on the floor laughing)
Me: ...

Example the second:
(While watching Little Einsteins and becoming musical geniuses)

Noah: Mommy! The French Horn sounds like my toots!!! (again, falls on the floor laughing)
Me: ...

Example the third:
(Lesson courtesy of his father)

Noah: If I get eaten by a crocodile, then I become crocodile poop!
Me: Well, I suppose so. I hope you don't get eaten by a crocodile though!
Noah: I want to be crocodile POOP! (falls on the floor laughing, of course)
Me: Of course you do.
Noah: If I get eaten by a robot, then I become robot poop! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
Me: Go discuss this with your father.

Example the fourth:

Noah: Mommy, you have beautiful eyes...and you smell like my toots!
Me: Thank you?

It's rare a day goes by where one of these conversations doesn't take place in our house. If you have a little boy-type baby, consider yourself warned.

Whomp

2011-09-06T14:29:00.000-05:00

Without going into much detail, I walked into work this morning after a long weekend and found out one of my bosses passed away suddenly late last week while at a conference in Lake Tahoe for work. To say I am at a loss for words is an understatement. This man is the reason I work here; he interviewed me one early spring morning in 2004, found out we were fellow Illini and I was in. He liked to sing me his old fraternity songs and always had a hug for me when he was in the office. We traveled a lot together before I had Noah and we always had such fun on the road. He was at my wedding and danced with me in my big white dress and he in is dark, dapper suit. He was a good man, a very good man, and I will be forever thankful that I knew him. I'm just so sad baby girl won't have that chance...he was so damn excited to meet her.

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Thank you for all of your solid advice on the potty training. I sat Tim down and explained to him that the Ones Who Have Gone Before Us aka You recommend we back off the kid and try again in a little while. Noah is clearly attempting to exert control over the situation and the building frustration on both sides isn't getting us anywhere. Amazingly, he did great most of the weekend with gentle reminders from us and no negative reactions to accidents (of which there were few). We'll keep reminding him but I'm not going to go hard core until the baby is here and we get used to the new normal. You people are so smart (and pretty!).

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Speaking of baby, she's making progress. 2 cm and 50% effaced for those of you who a) know about these things and b) like to be fully informed. Tim is convinced she'll be early, I hope she'll be a little early, and my mother is banking on her not coming early because she'll be out of town end of this week and the beginning of next. All I know is I'm not sleeping, the BH contractions have kicked into high gear, and I feel like crap.

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I forgot how much the last weeks of pregnancy kind of suck your will to live. I just keep telling myself that it's much easier with her IN than it will be with her OUT. Even if she will be all cute and snuggly and smelling like delicious baby. NOM NOM NOM.

Potty training...

2011-08-30T11:11:00.000-05:00

...is not going well. At all. I need your help. Noah seems to be regressing as in we were so sure he was ready for underpants, he had really gotten excited about using the potty, and he was letting us know when he had to go. Now, however, he's begun to wet his Pull-Ups all day at school, tells his teachers he's wet and he doesn't care, and yesterday afternoon he had THREE #2 accidents within an hour. One of them was in just shorts so I bet you can tell how that one ended up. Thank god for anti-bacterial spray and hardwood floors.

We have tried m&ms as rewards for each successful potty trip. We have tried bigger rewards for staying dry and using the potty over longer periods of time i.e. days. We have tried offering special outings as incentive to stay dry/use the potty and HE DOESN'T CARE. We have tried taking away bedtime books for days when he's wet or refuses to use the potty at school. We have tried taking away toys, outings, anything that seems "special" to him. He doesn't care. And when I say he doesn't care, I mean he tells me he doesn't care and is completely unfazed. It seems like rewards for GOOD behavior don't work and neither does punishment for BAD behavior.

We have tried explaining that "when you're a big boy who goes on the potty and not in your pants, you get to do special big boy things like go to the bounce house place/go to the fire station and sit in the fire truck/go to the pool/etc." and he nods in agreement and says that he'll be a big boy and go on the potty. And then...nothing. Wet all day. Most of his friends at school are potty trained and even the peer influence doesn't seem to be working.

I thought maybe it's that he's at school all day and they can't be on him like I can when we're home. But we've tried the "stay in for the weekend, run around without pants on, potty victory" party and it doesn't stick once he's back at school. Very rarely will he tell us he needs to go potty and will just go...in his shorts, in his underpants, in his Pull-Ups, in his diaper. It doesn't seem to matter if he has something absorbent on or not.

I'm sorry this is rambling and slightly incoherent...I just don't know what else to do. What worked for you? Charts? More incentives? Taking away toys/books/trips? Do you think he's just not really ready and we need to back off for a couple weeks? Should we just back off and wait until after baby is here and things have settled down? Maybe try again when I'm home on maternity leave and we can focus on it some more?

Sigh. We've been at this for nearing five months and I am reaching my capacity to deal with it. This kid is smart, I'm pretty sure he gets the drill, he just won't DO IT. Any advice?

(P.S. Tim told someone the other day that I was a "mommyblogger" and my feathers got all ruffled and I was like "I write about more than our kid!" and then I realized that no....I don't. I have to accept the fact that I am a mommyblogger who writes about potty training. It's a thrilling ride over here, is it not?)

32 days, ice cream cones, and snip snip

2011-08-29T10:13:00.000-05:00

I had a bit of a nervous breakdown this morning when I realized we are 32 days/4 weeks/ONE MONTH from having this baby. Oh dear. In Sara time, that's like TOMORROW. I apologize if every post for the next month is composed of "!!!!!!!" and "?????" and "Where is the ice cream?"

Speaking of ice cream, I am very much in love with the Nestle Drumsticks with the Caramel Center. Why don't they ALL have caramel centers? Whereas Noah was made up of gooey cinnamon rolls and apple pancakes, this baby will be composed of vanilla/caramel/chocolate ice cream cones dipped in peanuts and Chipotle chicken tacos (extra sour cream).

We spent the weekend steam rolling ahead on our "Pre-Baby To Do List". The nursery is allllllmoooosssst done which delights me to no end. I can't wait to share pictures with you all...it's my happy place right now and I spend an inordinate amount of time sitting in the rocking chair looking around. I also patted myself on the back when Tim located the bin with the "baby accessories" i.e. the infant head support, bundle me blanket, swaddlers, nursing cover, etc. The back pat wasn't because he found it but because I was actually smart enough to box it all up TOGETHER. I believe that was in my pre-work out of the house days when my brain was slightly more functional and I had my act together. I totally deserved the back pat and self-congratulations.

And in the vein of oversharing (because it is what I do), it looks like Baby Girl Smith is going to be the last coming out of this factory. Mr. Smith has decided to shut down operations permanently following her birth. This is obviously a personal decision we made together (he slightly more FIRM on the matter than I, his beloved bride ten years his junior) but a small part of me is sad that the possibility of one more is off the table. I know he's right though: two kids is his limit. Two kids feels right for us. And last time I checked having another baby when one spouse wants one and the other does not is not exactly good for the marriage. All I know is that he better wait until I have fully recovered from birthing this baby because I WILL NOT listen to him complain about the "pain" or being "uncomfortable". I might toss a bag of frozen peas his way and tell him to buck up.

How was your weekend?

35 Weeks

2011-08-24T10:00:00.002-05:00

There are no words for the state of this belly. Seriously. No words.

Things I miss...

2011-08-23T11:30:00.005-05:00

About staying home:
-the moment when you put your child down for a nap and close the door.
-the way I would sit on the deck during those naps, laptop in place, taking a little "me" time in the middle of the day.
-the way the sunshine streams through my bedroom window at 2 pm.
-the way the house was always so neat and clean and my closets were in some semblance of order.
-Target on Tuesdays at 10 am...aka the time of day when it's all moms, all the time, and the shelves are actually stocked.

About not being pregnant:
-my waist.
-the ability to buy new clothes that don't make me look like a beached whale.
-cute shoes with a heel higher than 1/2 inch.
-visiting the bathroom a few times a day and not a few times an hour.
-not having my internal organs used as punching bags.

About being 25:
-wrinkle-free skin around my eyes and no spots (what is with all the spots???).
-planning my wedding...that was so much fun and I secretly look at our wedding album on a regular basis.
-feeling earnest at work and thinking I had the world at my feet.
-Happy Hour.

It's ok to miss things as life changes. Anything you miss in yours?

P.S. Stop on by Style Lush today and check out how I got my craft on over the weekend...and a sneak peek into our baby girl's nursery!

A love letter to my first born, as he turns 3

2011-08-21T22:02:00.000-05:00

Dear Noah, my sweet son:

For three years it has been just us, the three of us, growing, learning, and laughing our way through life. Ever since your beautiful birth I have been enamored with you. I have memorized the curve of your cheek, the deep blue of your eyes, the dimple in your chin, the way you fit snuggled into the crook of my arm no matter how big you grow. We're two pieces of a puzzle that always fit together, a mama and her little boy.

I drink you up on a daily basis and wish for more after you are tucked safely into bed each evening. I delight in all the new things you learn, the songs we sing, the silly games we create together that instantly turn a bad day into one that sparkles. I love hearing your voice call for me in the morning and the delight in your eyes when we meet at the end of a day apart. I love how you love me: deeply and without reservation, a mirror of the love I put out there to you.

You are so very special. You are not perfect and you never will be. You should never try to be. You should always be you...the you that you are becoming. You are funny and have perfect comedic timing. You are stubborn and emotional. You are so very smart and easily bored. You live for each moment and yet appreciate predictability. You are sweet with your kisses and fierce with your hugs. Each and every trait that makes you YOU makes me love you even more. I am so proud to be your mother.

I am humbled that I have been given the gift of raising you with all of the accompanying errors and accomplishments. There are days that I fret I am making too many mistakes, irrevocable mistakes, but then I see you sweetly share your sand toys with a little girl at the playground or apologize without prompting when you hurt a friend's feelings. It's those moments when I know I am doing something right.

As we get closer to your sister's birth, I want you to know that you will always be my baby boy. But just as our family will be transforming so will you. You will become a big brother and learn a whole new level of love and responsibility. I hope you come to love and adore your baby sister and I will do my very best to help you both foster a special relationship. You will always have each other and please don't forget that.

I will always be on your team, loudly screaming it from the rooftops or silently murmuring it from the sidelines. I will always protect you. I will always be the first to show up for you and the last to leave. I will always provide for you until you can provide for yourself and even then I will give you everything I can offer. I will never stop loving you. Ever.

Thank you for coming into my life and making me a mother. Thank you for making us a family. Thank you for being you.

I love you to the moon and beyond.

Love,
Mama

(Yes, yes, this is a month late. Better late than never though, amiright?)

It all started with a bad salad

2011-08-15T13:52:00.000-05:00

Want to know what can bring on sudden contractions at 33 weeks?

a) Food poisoning and subsequent dehydration;

followed by,

b) Getting into an accident with your car and a (most likely) drunk bicyclist in a downpour with your three year old in the backseat and yappy dog riding shotgun.

We've all recovered and baby is staying put but, let me tell you, there is NOTHING like major stress in two days when your husband is out of town to make the ol' uterus start acting up. The police officer looked rather concerned that I was going to have this baby in the middle of the street after the accident. To be honest, I thought there was a slight possibility that I would. Luckily, when the nerves calmed down, so did the baby and all was well.

Tim is never, EVER, going out of town again.

Tricky is right

2011-08-10T08:57:00.000-05:00

Noah walks into his classroom last Friday morning, takes one look at his little buddy M, and declares to his teacher:

"Miss E, that M...he's one tricky fellow."

And then walks off to play.

I mean, where does he come up with this stuff? Last night he told me he was going to play in the sand on Mars. I asked him what color the sand was and he promptly replied "The sand on Mars is red!" and I fell out of my chair in disbelief. My genius son! How smart! It was only later that I found out from Tim that he learned that courtesy of a Mickey Mouse Clubhouse episode about space travel. Thank you, Disney.

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The ladies in my family threw me a baby girl shower over the weekend and it was just lovely. There was fabulous company and food, I got to spend time with cousins who don't live nearly close enough, and of course there were the gifts. Oodles of pink and girly-type items have made their way into my home and I am tickled about it.

This baby girl is going to be decked out in all manner of feminine finery. Thank you, ladies!

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Speaking of Baby Girl, she has a name! I think. What I mean is Tim and I have come to a compromise on her name and we've tentatively shared it with some people to get a reaction. So far, so good. I still don't know exactly why this baby naming thing has been so tough for me (us). Although the name we've chosen wasn't at the top of my list, and to be completely honest, not on my list at all until Tim and my mother brought it up, it's one that we both like well enough and don't have any previous associations with (totally my issues). It's relatively well-known and recognizable, in the Top 15 (ugh, but whatever, so is Noah...we're not going to win any awards for originality), classic and timeless enough to satisfy me, and works with our last name. On paper, this name meets all my criteria which is how it got moved to the tippy top of the list.

I still plan to come to the hospital with a back-up just in case she comes out and I'm like "OH NO, SHE IS SO NOT A _______________." At that point I will have just given birth so I get all veto power. Obviously.

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I have had heart attack after heart attack talking to daycares lately about tuition rates and availability for an infant spot come January.

Problem A: Putting Baby Girl in daycare and keeping Noah at his current preschool full-time will cost us multiple THOUSANDS of dollars a month--as in more money than I bring home. I firmly believe that you get what you pay for when it comes to childcare so I understand WHY it costs so much (and we live in an urban city vs. the suburbs and that affects costs) but it still makes me wring my hands daily. I enjoy working and I really like earning a paycheck but it's hard when you know that paycheck (after taxes and insurance premiums) doesn't cover the costs of two kids in daycare. At that point I'm working because I like my job and not because it's making a financial difference for our family. In fact, we're LOSING money. (I know I have addressed this before but it's playing on a loop in my head and this blog is my therapy as has already been determined.)

Problem B: The waitlists are outrageous. Some are YEARS long. So when I mention January 2012 for a start date I just hear silence followed by a cheerful "We'll add you to the waitlist!" Underlying message: don't hold your breath, lady.

Problem C: Babies are super cuddly and snuggly and maybe I should just stay home forever and ever and kiss her cheeks all day. Wait, this is not a problem...perhaps a solution. No?

If you know any fabulous grandmotherly types in the Chicagoland area who would like to come to our house and watch one tricky fellow and his tiny sister come January, please send them my way.

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How is it only Wednesday? How? Do we all agree it should be Saturday by now?

Heavy

2011-08-03T12:22:00.000-05:00

A tragedy occurred yesterday much too close for comfort. My friend and co-worker came home after work to find that a two year old girl drowned in the pool at the in-home daycare next door. I'm not going to get into all the details because it's not my story to tell but I do know this: the woman was watching far too many children to keep tabs on all of them (TEN!), she wasn't licensed by the state to run a daycare, she has personal/home issues, and she's already been/being investigated by DCFS for another issue. The article in the paper said that the latch on the gate to the pool was broken and the little girl got inside and into the pool. The woman didn't notice she was gone until it was too late. I...I don't even know what to say.
I feel terribly for the family who lost their daughter in this tragedy. She was TWO. Noah was two just two weeks ago. I can't imagine losing him. I can't imagine losing him EVER, but at TWO? Forget it. It makes me shake even thinking about it. This tragedy (and I refuse to call it an accident because this woman put these children in harm's way by taking in too many kids and keeping them in an unsafe environment) brings up another issue as well: how do you know the caregiver/daycare/childcare facility you choose for your child while you work is safe? Each day I give to our preschool my child, my HEART, to protect and I pray to all the gods that he is returned every afternoon as safe as can be. There are no guarantees, this I understand. However, I hope that my gut and my maternal instinct prevail, guiding me to the right place and best decision for my son, for my family. I trust his caregivers to keep him safe and happy even though there will always be a small (read: very large, huge, giant) part of me that worries all day long.

It's stories like this that reinforce the idea behind state licensing and making sure DCFS and its ilk are doing their jobs. I don't think all in-home daycares are bad places and many, MANY, are run by skilled caregivers with the proper licensing and clean records. However, it's places like this one that make me want to scoop up my kid, run home, and never let him out of my sight. Not rational, I understand, but true.

To the family that lost their baby yesterday: I am so, so sorry. May you find peace someday and keep the memories of your little girl in your hearts always.

To the woman who runs the daycare: it's people like you who put fear in the hearts of parents. May you realize the irrevocable damage you have caused to one family and may you pay for this tragedy the rest of your life.

Noah-isms or how my kid guilts me daily

2011-08-02T08:57:00.000-05:00

Example 1:

Every morning when I go in his room to get him up:
"Mommy, is it a whole together day?" (Translation: Do we get to spend the whole day together? i.e. Saturday or Sunday)
"No, bud, it's a school day and you're going to have so much fun in the Yellow Room!"
"No, I'm not. I would have more fun staying home with you."
Sigh.

Example 2:

When playing in his grandparents' suburban backyard:
"Mommy, can I have a big backyard with lots of grass and trees and a swimming pool and sprinkler to run in?" (Reminder: we live in the city, not the suburbs, and don't have a spot of grass in our tiny postage stamp yard.)
"Someday, buddy, someday."
Sigh.

Example 3:

When discussing names for his baby sister:
"Mommy, we don't need a new baby sister. We have each other!"
Sigh.

Example 4:

When I arrive at school to pick him up:
"Mommy! That is a BEAUTIFUL dress! You look so pretty today! Can I have ice cream when we get home?"
Sigh.

He's the master of guilt and manipulation otherwise known as your average three year old. Tell me, does it end or do they just get BETTER at it?

Far too much detail about a trip to HomeGoods and nursery progress

2011-08-01T11:00:00.000-05:00

Friday night I was in a bit of a funk. You know the kind...super irritated by everything and everyone, nothing was making me happy, I couldn't stand to be in my house one minute longer. Seconds after Noah was in bed I grabbed my purse and told Tim I needed to get out and decompress for a little while. When he asked where I was headed (because it wasn't the local bar, obviously) I said, without missing a beat, "HomeGoods" like some junkie who needed her fix. Is that weird? Do you go to HomeGoods to walk the aisles and commune with inexpensive, sometimes random, home decor? No?

Let me tell you, HomeGoods on a Friday night at 8pm is the perfect place to decompress. It's basically empty, the shelves are fully stocked in anticipation of the Saturday/Sunday rush to buy decorative baskets and cheap lamps, and there is no rush to get in and get out. I love it and this trip proved to be so much more than time to refocus...I hit the jackpot for the baby's room.

You see, I haven't done a thing to get her nursery ready. Oh, I bought a new crib and scored a matching changing table on Clist, but other than that I haven't painted the walls, found curtains or sheets or a crib skirt, nor purchased anything that could remotely be used to decorate a baby's room. By this point in my pregnancy with Noah, I had his room completely done and ready for his arrival. Poor second baby...she's already getting the shaft. However, this trip to HomeGoods changed all of that.

Right inside the door was a display of new sheet sets that had recently come in and one set was the PERFECT pattern for curtains: x-long twin set with a white background and geometric pattern in a coral-pink which is the EXACT size/color I wanted for floor-length curtain panels. I snagged it so fast and by sheer luck found a second set buried under the rest. BINGO...into the cart they went. My mood was improving quickly.

In the lighting section I found the sweetest lamp painted in the exact same coral-pink and a beautiful fabric shade that looks like a field of watercolor flowers. I grabbed that sucker and threw it (placed it gently) in the cart. With my energy up and my adrenaline pumping, I headed to the art section...you know, the home of generic, yet perfectly pleasing, faux art. I scored a 24" x 24" canvas of a bird in it's nest. It's graphic and pretty and really colorful. I hesitated only because I thought it might be "too much" but then I remembered these words of wisdom from Her Royal Highness Candice Olson and every other designer on the planet: If you love it, it will work in your room. Into the cart it went.

My last score was an adorable owl pillow much like I have been seeing all over Etsy but at half the price (and also not handmade but beggars can't be choosers now can we?). When I got home and laid out my purchases I sensed an "aviary" theme happening and promptly logged into Etsy and ordered fat quarters of beautiful fabrics with a bird theme. I have yet to decide exactly what I am going to do with said fabrics but I have some ideas involving embroidery hoops. And I just now remembered I ordered two white ceramic birdhouses from West Elm to hang on the wall...I must have a thing for birds. Interesting.

If you've even read this far and thank you if you have, I'm sure you're wondering if I am going to turn said sheets into curtain panels BY MYSELF. That answer is no. Due to time constraints and lack of energy post-6pm, I pawned them off on my mother who is taking them to her local tailor where they will be transformed into beautiful lined drapery panels with a grosgrain ribbon trim. At least that's what I am hoping happens. Instead I plan to make the crib skirt using fabric from the remaining fitted sheets, some iron on hem tape, velcro and a crib skirt tutorial I unearthed online. If that doesn't work out there is this awesome place called Pottery Barn Kids that sells decent crib skirts for a shockingly high price. Or so I've heard.

I've begun painting the walls and the trim, I have big plans for a board and batten treatment on the lower half of the walls, and my house looks like a disaster zone from all the projects we started over the weekend. My mojo is back, people, and IT FEELS SO GOOD.

Pictures to come once things look a little more organized and less like an episode of "Hoarders".

Shameless self-promotion aka I write at Style Lush too!

2011-07-26T11:42:00.000-05:00

Hey! Want to come visit me over at Style Lush today? I'm asking for your help with all things baby girl. Where do you shop for baby girl clothes? What is a "must-have"? Where do you find all those adorable hair clips/bows/flowers? Stop on over and tell me all your secrets.

Random things

2011-07-19T14:37:00.000-05:00

Thing the first: THANK YOU. For all your lovely comments and for sharing your experiences and opinions on all things induction related. I still don't know what we're going to do but I have a feeling I'll just "know" as we get closer. What I do know is this baby girl is vacating my body somehow, someway by early October (by October 3rd to be specific because that is my 30th birthday and I WILL have a cocktail to celebrate, oh yes).

Thing the second: My OB's office informed me that I gained less than half a pound in the last two weeks. Guess who is having ice cream RIGHT THIS VERY MINUTE to celebrate?

Thing the third: My husband snookered me into agreeing to a boys-only road trip to Florida in a few weeks. He's been so nice and attentive lately that I should have known something was up. And how can I deny a man a last road trip with his buddy, a weekend of wakeboarding, and fun in the sun before he becomes a father of two? Had I known I was going to get knocked up in January I would have FOR SURE booked a girls weekend ahead of time. Drats. (I did inform him that this was the last hurrah because as soon as he gets home he is MINE and he better get his work pants on...Daddy's got a nursery to paint and a crib to assemble and some attic-digging for baby gear to do.)

Thing the fourth: It's hotter than hell in Chicago. I don't know about where you live but I am dying here. I am very much looking forward to Saturday when I get to see K and Family for some much needed romping in the lake and sand dunes. Warning to anyone who may see me at the Indiana Sand Dunes: you are not seeing a beached whale. It's just me...impersonating a beached whale.

Thing the fifth (and then I am done): MAH BEBE turns THREE tomorrow! How did this happen? Where have the years disappeared to? A photo update of his third year will be posted sometime in the next, oh, month or so. I hope.

Induction? Yay or Nay?

2011-07-15T23:43:00.000-05:00

I am currently facing the following scenario and wonder what YOU would do. If your OB told you that he recommended an induction at 39 weeks because of your previous rapid active labor (4 hours start to finish, 5 cm to 9.5 cm in 20 minutes, 3 pushes aaaannnddd here's baby!), would you consider it?

I'm concerned about "forcing" the baby out a) earlier than 40 weeks, b) that an unsuccessful induction on a body that is not yet "primed" may lead to a c-section and c) I had such a good, relatively easy delivery the first time that I don't want to mess with nature. However, I am TERRIFIED that this baby could be born in less than two hours and that there is a very real possibility that I could not make it to the hospital in time. Last I checked, Tim did not complete a medical degree and is very unqualified to deliver a baby. Also, I don't have epidurals at home.

I also hope that my OB is not suggesting this for the benefit of his vacation schedule but I am too much of a pansy to ask. Obviously this is our decision to make but I want to know what you think. Would you consider it?

Ah ha! Here's the crazy!

2011-07-11T21:58:00.000-05:00

Wow, so I totally forgot how mind-blowingly CRAZY I can get during pregnancy. Why didn't you remind me? One minute I'm wringing my hands over the complete lack of planning for Noah's 3rd birthday party and the next I am crying hysterically that we have made no progress on the baby's room and I'm an awful mother because I don't even NOTICE that there is another baby coming in WEEKS and she doesn't even have CLOTHES...apparently long, run-on sentences are also a hallmark of my pregnancy-induced psychosis.

This is hard, y'all. I'm laying myself completely bare when I say this because I don't want you to think it's all sunshine and rainbows over here. I have good days and bad days, happy days and sad days. I know this is mostly due to the raging hormones but I also wonder if it's partly because I feel apathetic towards the arrival of this new baby. (I am SO SORRY baby! I promise I will be so happy when you get here!). People ask us what we're having and I say "a girl!" followed with "we're so excited and can't wait!" when truthfully? Her birth day is bearing down on me and I feel overwhelmed by the things that need to get done and how will I ever wrangle two children and go back to work 12 weeks later and afford childcare for two kids, etc.

Don't get me wrong: we want this baby. We have wanted her for a very long time. But wanting her and the reality of her coming are two very different things. I look at Noah and realize he is no longer my "baby". That makes me cry. He's less than three months from being a big brother and does he even understand that? Probably not. I worry how this baby, this stranger to our family, will affect him. Maybe that's the problem: she's still a stranger to us. Maybe that's why she doesn't have a name...we don't know her yet. How will she fit into our family? Will it be as seamless as everyone tells me? Will it just "happen"? Those of you who have gone before me..tell me how it all works out.

This is all the same (see: crazy) as my pregnancy with Noah and yet so very different (see: apathy). When I was pregnant with Noah all I could talk about was him and I counted down the moments until his arrival. His nursery was done and ready for him well in advance of his birth day. He was all I could think about for hours at a time and I moved in a dream-like state toward July 2008. Fast-forward to now and it is all so very different.

Ok, I feel better just getting all of that out. Hooray for blog therapy! Carry on!

Updates and 26.5 Week Belly Shot Because I Forgot the 24th Week

2011-06-29T18:48:00.002-05:00

Bullets, hooray!

Noah got his BIG big boy bed last weekend. The crib made its final transformation from toddler bed to full-size bed and we’re lucky to be exchanging our ~~guest room~~ nursery queen size mattress with my parents’ full size mattress. For some reason, the full size seems so much more manageable than a queen. And have you noticed that adorable sheet sets for kids don’t come in queen size? It’s twin or full, baby. Speaking of sheets, I have spent far too much money at PBK and Target on shams and sheets and waterproof mattress pads and pillows to outfit his new bed. That doesn’t even include the duvet cover that I have yet to purchase because I can’t make up my damn mind about what I want. So he’ll have to survive with an uncovered down blanket for the time being. I don’t think he’ll care. It’s me I’m worried about.

Also a problem is the fact that I keep falling asleep at 8pm in his bed with him, twin rivers of drool coming out of our mouths. Noah loves this, I don't. I must nip this in the bud lest he becomes too accustomed to having Mommy sleep with him. Even if his bed IS far more comfortable than mine.

The bigger bed means I have to rearrange the furniture in his room. I don’t know if I can properly explain my love affair with rearranging rooms. It is borderline sick and obsessive.

The stairs are FINISHED. One year, people. That’s how long it took our lazy asses to rip up the carpet (June 2010), stare at the remaining beat up wood stairs (June 2010 – March 2011), decide the hell with refinishing and just paint the damn things all white (late March 2011), begin the process of screwing down a hundred years of squeaks, wood-filling, sanding, caulking, priming, painting and painting and painting (April 2011-June 2011). And ta-da! Squeak free, smooth painted gorgeous stairs.

From this:

To this:

Lesson to impart because I am nothing if not helpful: gleaming white stairs + husband who forgets to remove shoes + preschooler who is perpetually grimy + cat who sheds a pound of fur a day + dog who shadows every human going up or down = constantly scrubbing the no longer gleaming white stairs. We may be investing in a runner at some point.

I hope this goes to show you that, while handy, we are slow moving when it comes to home improvement. I wouldn’t hire us to do any work in your home, just sayin’.

Behold the belly in all its 24 26.5 week glory:

PSA: Dyeing Clothes

2011-06-22T21:15:00.000-05:00

When you are dyeing clothes BLACK (or, in this case, old maternity pants back to black), do not use the nice wooden spoon to stir for the recommended 30 minutes. It will come out looking disgusting. Instead, dig through your utensil drawer and use the old, BLACK, plastic slotted spoon that you melted in the dishwasher a few years ago.

You're welcome. Now I have to go buy a new wooden spoon.

P.S. I know I've been absent here for, oh, WEEKS but I promise to be back soon with updates about a whole lot of nothing. And a picture of the big ol' belly as Noah calls it. I have no excuse other than I have been busy and tired and lazy.

He was so close to getting a kick in the you know what

2011-06-06T20:33:00.000-05:00

I take the train everyday to and from work. To be honest, I have a love/hate relationship with public transportation. I love it because it's relatively faster than driving through the city at peak hours, saves me some gas, and the train line I take is probably as clean as it's going to get in this city. I hate it because it gets crowded, REALLY crowded, maybe half the population in any given car has showered that day, and when it gets hot out it gets smelly. Seriously, how do people not know they smell? I KNOW when I smell a little funky...like after gardening all afternoon in 85 degree weather. I would not consider stuffing myself into a boxy train car after that. But the rest of Chicago doesn't seem to mind. It baffles.

Smelly people...that was not my point. My point was that this morning, as I stuffed my rotund self into a packed train car at 7:30am, I noticed a seated gentleman (and I use that term extra sarcastically in this instance) give me the once over, rest his eyes on my protruding stomach area, look ME straight in the eye, and go back to reading his paper. Oh I could have KILLED him on the spot. Now, I am not one to demand that all pregnant women get a seat on a crowded train. I understand that seats during rush hour are rare and to be protected with your entire being. However, I cannot condone a young man, no more than 30 years old, basically note that a near 6 months pregnant woman is standing in front of him and then IGNORE that fact to go back to reading his WSJ. Where the hell is this man's mother? I should ream her out too.

I had to stand for the duration of my train ride while this douche read his paper and periodically checked his phone for messages. If I was wearing pointy shoes and had been about 6 inches closer he would have had an "accidental" kick to the shins (or balls if accessible) as I exited the train. I hope he had a shitty day at work and got fired.

Patriotic Son

2011-05-31T18:09:00.000-05:00

My son has an undying love for the "Uhmercan FLAG!". He spots them from his carseat as we ricochet through the city (it IS like a game of bumper cars, I swear), from the stroller, from the sidewalk on our post-dinner, pre-bath jaunts through the neighborhood. He loves to point one out and screech "I see an Uhmercan FLAG waving in the wind! RIGHT THERE!" which is usually followed up by "Mommy? Can WE get an Uhmercan FLAG for our house? I NEED one." I always, and gently, told him we would get one "later"..until this weekend. Memorial Day weekend brings the flags out in abundance and there was no way to put this purchase off any longer.

Noah is now the proud owner of his very own "Uhmercan FLAG!":

Of course I posed him like that. Hand over heart, pledge of allegiance, go USA!

20 Weeks (2 weeks late)

2011-05-26T20:55:00.001-05:00

Here we are (or, erm, were, two weeks ago)!

We're half way to September 30th. On one hand, hooray for being half way done baking this baby! On the other, it is going to be one long, hot summer without margaritas and chilled Sauv Blanc on the deck.

How embarrassing that the stair painting project is STILL not done. This working plus child-rearing thing is really putting a crimp in my productivity around the house. It's too bad I can't kick either job to the curb to free up some time. (Mom, I'm joking...I would totally give you first dibs on Noah.) Maybe by the time I take a 24 week photo that painter's tape will be down. But don't hold your breath.

In other news, we're trying out a name (first and middle) for this baby. Tim is decided on it while I am decidedly NOT decided. If we pick it, and it is THE name, I will share it here. For now, we're keeping mum while I make up my mind. Not to beat this horse to death, but picking a girl's name is painful for me (like ripping off a band-aid painful, not like I tear up at the mention of a specific name or anything). I have a hundred boys' names that I adore and love but girls' names elude me. I LIKE a lot of them. I just can't find The One.

How did you pick your kid(s) names? Did you happen upon one and just KNOW? We knew with Noah and had it decided before he was even conceived. This one though? NO CLUE. (Side note: during that same conversation where we picked out our future son's name we also chose a girl's name...that we then used on the damn DOG. Idiots.)

It's probably a girl...probably.

2011-05-18T18:46:00.002-05:00

Yet again, our unborn child thwarted our plans. "She" remained tightly curled into a cozy little ball (why, yes! the fetus was in the fetal position!) and refused to budge for over half an hour despite me rolling onto all sides, the tech jabbing the ultrasound wand all over my stomach, and Tim's pleas to the baby to behave. We were able to see that "she" was growing right on schedule and healthy as can be so if that's the takeaway then we're good. The most important thing is that the baby is healthy. Always.

We have a 80% chance it's a girl and 20% chance it's a boy...however, just the lack of obvious boy parts doesn't have me wholly convinced on the matter.

We have a few options here:

1) We wait until the 32 week ultrasound when we will have a bigger baby and better chance of seeing gender. Again, no guarantees "she" will cooperate since "she's" proving "herself" to be rather stubborn. (This is still 12 loooooonnnnnggg weeks away. Ugh.)

2) We wait until the delivery and have a birth day semi-surprise. (Yeah...I'm not so good with surprises.)

3) We make an appointment at one of those 3D ultrasound joints that our doctor dislikes and try again to the tune of $150. (The least appealing but also most crazy-hormonal-pregnant lady friendly option).

What would you do?

He's got it "under control"

2011-05-16T18:21:00.001-05:00

We're currently potty training. This is a daily exchange in our house:

Me: So, Noah, do you feel like you have to go potty?

Noah: No, Mommy. We're fine.

Me: We?

Noah: Yes, my peni$ and me are doing just fine. We're a-ok. I've got it unnnnnddddder control.

Me: Uh, ok, good to hear...

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Also, and randomly, I am in love with this website: Dinner, A Love Story. I adore blogs and sites that tell me how to make cooking weeknight dinners easier and give me tips and tools to make it happen. This one does that but it's also adorable and funny and all around cute. Thumbs up.

Pink or Blue? We still don't know.

2011-05-11T20:33:00.000-05:00

So there was that thing today, at the doctor's office, involving goop and a wand (BOTH kinds...I was, uh, unprepared for that one). That thing that was to tell us that we were having a BOY or a GIRL. And guess who just refused to cooperate? Who decided to a) dash from side to side of my uterus like it was a freakin' roller derby and the u/s tech was the opponent and b) end up curled into a ball for a wee nap that my doing jumping jacks wouldn't even shake? Suffice to say we have to go back next week for a follow up scan and this baby better lose the 'tude and cooperate. I want to see those legs spread and 100% confirmation of its gender...because right now we're only 80% sure it's a GIRL. Oh lordy.

A GIRL. You guys. This is a little more than my pea-brain could handle today. (Side note: pregnancy for me is like me having two glasses of wine and the effect lasting all day long. I have no short-term memory and am only semi-lucid. My bosses love it.) I was convinced this occupant was a boy. I have boys. That's what I do. (Though I only have one so it's not like a track record or something...see: semi-lucid state). I was falling in love with the idea of brothers and Noah teaching his little brother all about trucks and trains and front-loaders. I was also already mourning the idea of not having a little girl and all the lovely things little girls bring to families. And then WHOMP. Curve ball! They think it's a girl...hey, Tim, did you hear that? A GIRL! WTF? (Also? Chinese gender predictor charts are RIGHT, so there.)

Will I love a little girl as much as I love my son? Absolutely. Do I think Noah is going to adore his baby sister? Completely. Am I totally terrified of raising a daughter? You better f'ing believe it. But I am also very, very, very, very excited. Now I finally have someone to take care of me when I'm old and Noah is off married to some hussy who made him move to California. That is why people have daughters, right?

(This could all be a moot point next week when we go back and they say "Whoops, we were wrong! Sorry about that! There's his penis!" I'll keep you posted.)

Pink or Blue: which one, say you?

2011-05-09T20:47:00.001-05:00

I apologize in advance but it's baby on the brain right now as we get so close to The Big Ultrasound. Two days. TWO DAYS! My gut is telling me it's a boy but the Chinese gender prediction chart (which was right with Noah BTW) is saying girl. Plus this pregnancy has been so very different than my last. Of course, that really doesn't mean anything. I am probably growing another little penis inside of me and will be surrounded by fire trucks and front loaders forever and ever. Not that it's a bad thing AT ALL. I love me a shiny red fire truck.

Tell me: what do YOU think I've got cooking in there? Boy or Girl?

(Side note and because I think this is so cute: Noah has taken to calling me "Mommy Lamb" as in "Could I please have a drink of water/a back rub/my blankie/a cuddle, Mommy Lamb?" complete with sweet face and batting of the eyelashes. Then he calls himself my "Little Lamb" and my heart melts into a puddle all over him. Let us remember these moments when he is darling and not possessed by the devil.)

The topic that is off limits in our house until May 11th but of course I am asking you NOW

2011-04-25T21:31:00.000-05:00

Baby names. Tim refuses to discuss potential names until we see BOY parts or GIRL parts at our ultrasound but that doesn't mean I can't discuss them here, with you, my people. By discuss I mean I want you to give me some ideas as I have nearly none. Picking Noah's name was exhausting enough and the thought of doing that all over again is giving me hives.

If you could so kindly leave some suggestions for both genders, I would be so very appreciative. If we pick one of your names maybe you'll win something...like a hug! From me! Oooh, exciting!

The only limitations are that it has to be somewhat interesting because with a last name like Smith you just can't go around naming your kid "Joe" or "Jane" as lovely as those names are, we are not tied to Biblical names even though we already chose Noah, and cultural origin doesn't matter too much to us. Oh, and if it's a boy his middle name will most likely be William in honor of my grandfather and father so we have to work with that. And no funny spellings of names...keep it classic.

There you have it. Please help me and, whatever you do, please do not mention to Tim that we are having this discussion. Shhhhhhhhhh.

Noah visits the Fire Station

2011-04-20T08:00:00.001-05:00

One of my very favorite people is married to a real live fireman/paramedic/EMT (did I get that right, B?). She is also a super smart mommy who thought to herself: "I know a 2.5 year old little boy who would probably love to visit a fire station and see the engines up close." That little boy's mommy thought that was a most Brilliant Idea. So two Saturdays ago, we all set out for a fun-filled visit to the fire station where we were treated to a fantastic tour.

The evidence of one ecstatic little boy is in the pictures:

Driving the big fire engine. He even got to turn on the lights!

Trying on a helmet in his size.

Size comparison.

Mommy and Noah.

Momm

Learning how to use the Jaws of Life.

Manning the heavy hose!

Pretending to be a paramedic on the ambulance.

Such a happy little guy!

Chilling with his new buddy, the Fire Engine.

The visit to the fire station might just rank as the best day in his entire life. When we pulled into the parking lot Noah had a bit of a nervous breakdown...I think the idea of seeing the fire engines up close and personal overwhelmed his little self. However, by the time we went inside and said hello to the firemen he was cool as a cucumber. R, my friend's husband and our valiant tour guide, had Noah at ease in minutes and showed him all around the engines and the fire house. They even had an emergency call while we were there so Noah got to see R jump into action and the engine and ambulance take off with their sirens blaring. I believe the term is awestruck.

Thank you B and R (and sweet baby girl C) for a memory-making trip to the fire station! We had so much fun!

PT, Day One.

2011-04-19T15:58:00.000-05:00

We had Noah's physical therapy evaluation today. That was...fun. If you will remember, and as I have whined about a number of times on this here blog, we had Noah evaluated by the state back in late November for potential complications from The Fracture (PTSD, GO AWAY). He didn't qualify outright for state services but we learned a lot about some of his delays and coordination "concerns". And by learned a lot I mean we started noticing that he was having trouble climbing, running, jumping, etc. At the time, the state therapists thought we could take a wait and see approach to his delays...give him some time to catch up to his peers and have his teachers keep him active and moving. A couple of weeks ago his teachers approached us with concerns that he was falling farther behind rather than catching up. They spend the most active time with him so we knew we had to figure this out sooner than later. Two days later we had scheduled his evaluation with the PT department at Children's Memorial Hospital (they really are fantastic).

Cut to today and a confusing evaluation, even by the therapists' standards. Noah is jumping, climbing and walking just fine, a little weakness in his left side was noticed but nothing that extra time at the playground and being active at home couldn't help. However, as soon as they asked him to run, and oh he tried so hard it brought tears to my eyes, he was failing on all counts. He's throwing out his left leg. He can't run straight to save his life. He looks like he's in PAIN when he runs but when asked if it hurts, he says no. I believe him. The PTs were confused, we were confused, and Noah just wanted to go back and play with the cars. How can he climb, jump and walk with such normalcy but when it comes to running everything just falls apart? It's strange.

We go back next week for a more in depth evaluation and hopefully the PTs will be able to come up with a plan to help Noah, to help us. I know he'll be just fine and when I look at him I see so much happiness and joy in his face. My boy is special, we already know that, and perfect just the way HE is.

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Side note: I spent about a half hour in the waiting room by myself while Tim and Noah were on their way to the appointment. I observed babies with helmets, toddlers with braces on their legs, and kids in wheelchairs. Our little problem with running is NOTHING compared to what these families deal with and overcome on a daily basis. My heart went out to them and to these kids who are amazing. I know we're lucky. Very lucky.

16

2011-04-18T15:31:00.000-05:00

weeks, that is. Trucking right along and wondering where I hid my pregnancy pillow. Mama needs her "boyfriend" to help her sleep.

Yes, we plan to find out what we're having and yes, Noah still thinks it's a robot. May 11 is the Big Gender Reveal Day so mark your calendars.

The first of many parent-teacher conferences

2011-04-05T18:24:00.000-05:00

We had our first parent-teacher conference last night and I think I have been set up for a future of disappointing conferences. This conference set the bar so damn high that we'llprobably never reach it again. True, this is 2.5 year old preschool so we're not talking junior high (oh dear) or high school (hold me). I fear any conference that follows will always start out with "Noah is such a pleasure to have in class but..." and then trail off into "concerns" and "potential". I've seen the movies, I know plenty of teachers in real life. So, while I can, I'm going to brag a little about my kid and his school, fair warning.

Tim was held up at work so it was just myself and Noah's three teachers chatting around a teeny table and sitting in primary hued elf-size chairs. I found this immensely funny because it was just like I imagined it would be, except this time I'M THE MOM in this scenario. It was...surreal. Noah's teachers, Miss D, Miss S, and Miss L, are the three most lovely women I have ever met. They treat the kids in their room, all 20 of them, like they are their own. Hugs are doled out by the minute, tears are always wiped and acknowledged and boo-boos swiftly kissed. I never worry that Noah isn't getting the attention he needs or deserves. I knew these women were special when the first words they said at the conference started out with "Noah is positively one of the most wonderful children we have ever met and we will be so sad when it's time for him to move to the 3 year old room. He is so special and we love him so much." And then...nothing. No "we're concerned about..." or "he's not doing this or that very well". Just smiles and nods and a continued conversation about how wonderful my son is.

Obviously, again, this is 2.5 year old PRESCHOOL. I wasn't expecting any grave concerns about Noah mixing up the letters of the alphabet or learning better impulse control. It's just that...it's so rewarding to hear three people, who are not related to your child, extoll his virtues without bookending the conversation with anything negative. I clearly know my child is a rockstar (what? you don't think that about yours?) but to hear other people think that and tell you brings on the warm and fuzzies. It also reminds you that your child really is special and not just to you, but to other people in his life.

I will be forever grateful to Noah's first teachers. They may never see this space but I hope we properly and effusively convey our appreciation of, and to, them. They make going to work so much easier each day and return to me a happy, well-cared for little boy at the end of it. We went through trial and error to find this school and we're so very lucky. I'm so happy he'll be staying on for preschool this fall and reaping the benefits of even more teachers who love him and cherish him. It may never be "just like mom and dad" but it's a damn close second.

Men like bullet points and numbered lists

2011-04-01T18:35:00.000-05:00

Now that Tim has taken a full-time job with one of his clients (let me just say, halleluah for a salary!), he's been home earlier in the evenings and generally more available to help around the house. This is a good thing, a very, very good thing. Yes, he still sighs when I ask him to load and run the dishwasher and still comes bounding up to me after he completes a household task reminding me he did it and would like some recognition (which usually gets him a Girl Scout cookie...I kid. He gets them himself.) However, though he's doing things I need done and being generally helpful, there are still things I need to teach him about how our household works.

Dear Darling Husband, Love of My Life:

1. Unless you go to Trader Joe's, apples are sold by the pound and not individually so it doesn't make a whole lot of sense to buy the BIGGEST apples as you are ultimately paying more and our two year old can barely eat half an apple. Buy the medium size ones and only buy three at a time.

2. Always buy two loaves of bread and two gallons of milk. Yes, it seems like a lot for three people but YOU eat sandwiches everyday and drink a huuuuuge glass of milk every night. With your Girl Scout cookies.

3. We don't buy Diet Coke unless it's on sale i.e. $3.50 or less for a 12 pack. $5.50 at CVS is NOT acceptable even if you are going to die a slow, painful death by caffeine withdrawal. Or get the 2 liter for $1.00 and deal.

4. The washing machine has a lot of little buttons but I have pre-set them all so all you have to do is throw the load (that has already been separated) into the machine, add the detergent to the little drawer at the top, and push "start". Close the laundry room door. I promise, it is THAT easy.

5. Speaking of laundry, the detergent is concentrated for a high-efficiency machine so you only need to use a third of a capful. Any more and you will drown us all in bubbles.

6. The clean clothes folded in the laundry room are not the only ones Noah owns. He has a dresser and closetful and I worry his teachers think he only has three shirts and two pairs of pants. Feel free to experiment when you're getting him dressed in the morning...I promise that he'll look cute regardless.

7. Also, Noah does not always get to decide on "oatmeal and raisins" for breakfast. Who's the boss around here?

8. The cleaning supplies live in the cabinet next to the sink. The old rags for cleaning live there too. I put them together to make it super easy. Feel free to use them as necessary.

9. The vacuum is purple and lives in the laundry room. It's that tall thing that makes a lot of noise and sucks up all your cat's hair. You plug it into the wall and turn it on and push it around the floor. Noah can show you how it's done. He's a master.

And a shout out:

10. You do a fantastic job emptying the dishwasher and not complaining when I reorganize our cabinets without telling you. This is my most dreaded task and thank you for doing it without asking (anymore). You're earning major husband of the year points.

What's it gonna be, Mama?

2011-03-24T17:58:00.002-05:00

We had our 12 week genetic scan today. I think I’ve been holding my breath for weeks and only this morning did I slowly let it out. One long whooooooooosh. Our risk for Down syndrome, trisomy 13 or trisomy 18 is less than 1 in 10,000 which, as the doctor explained, is the lowest risk we can be assigned. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t worried leading up to today. I’m a worrier. It’s what I do.

The scan showed us a healthy, thriving baby kicking its little legs and holding its hands together in a prayer position all the while measuring almost a week ahead. We saw its tiny heart beating and it stretch out to accommodate the tech’s desire for a nice crown to rump measurement. At one point both Tim and I thought we spotted another tiny little pee-pee but the tech refused to confirm. She smiled and told us to wait for that special day as it’s coming up sooner than we think. For now, we’ll be grateful for a (hopefully) healthy baby, regardless of gender, though I think I see pale pink and flowers fading farther into the distance.

I feel like I can start recognizing this pregnancy for what it is: completely wanted and totally unexpected. I’m in deep, deep love.

Noah has been riding the train of adorable toddler behavior lately. He’s been accommodating, sweet-tempered (most of the time), and creating the most fun little stories plucked out of his imagination. On Sunday, during our drive home from my parents’ house, he told me we had to be on the lookout for a blue flamingo. There isn’t a blue flamingo on any sign or statue anywhere between my parents’ house and ours. It wasn’t until we were halfway home that I caught on to the “pretend”. I love the “pretend” play and listening to the stories he crafts out of his busy brain.

The preschool nightmare is over, I think. We’ve been waitlisted at the three schools we applied to and are not at all surprised at that outcome (one parochial, one public (but high-risk/low-income kids get first pick), and one private, fancy-schmancy school). It was expected with the ridiculous school competition we face in this city. So we have put our (very, very non-refundable) deposit down at his current school and plan to have him attend in the fall. He loves it there, we love it there, it’s not at all affordable but we know it’s a good place. The director brings him into her office occasionally to “help do the mail” when really she tells me she just wants to hang out with him. That makes my heart swell.

Now I will wrap this up with a visual of what Noah really thinks about being de-throned as our one and only:

Why yes, that IS a saw in his hand.

Elsewhere

2011-03-16T07:39:00.000-05:00

Hop on over and visit me at Style Lush around noon today...I'll tell you all about my very favorite cheap drugstore haircare product!

See you there!

Bad/Good

2011-03-11T19:25:00.000-06:00

Bad decision: A chocolate candy bar with an Oreo chaser for a mid-afternoon snack.

Good decision: Five gallons of water consumed today (or thereabouts).

Bad decision: Pre-pregnancy pants with the Bella Band. Constant rear end slippage.

Good decision: Wearing long tunic-type top to cover above mentioned slippage.

Bad decision: Leaving phone where toddler could find it.

Good decision: Catching it moments before he threw it in the toilet. Mommy instinct for the win!

Bad decision: Waiting to eat until husband got home and ending up all sorts of cranky.

Good decision: Sending husband back out for chinese food immediately upon his arrival home.

What were your good/bad decisions for today?

Heebie jeebies

2011-03-08T18:37:00.000-06:00

Some kid in Noah's classroom has LICE. Oh. My. God. I started feeling itchy just reading the treatment handout that was in each cubby. I'm itchy right now writing the word LICE. I'm going to be itchy until I determine that my child does NOT have LICE.

When we got home from school, I immediately grabbed a comb to check his hair. The comb I grabbed was the dog's flea comb. Hey, don't judge, I washed it in very hot water with anti-bacterial soap before it touched Noah's head. It's the most fine tooth comb I own and its sole purpose is digging out BUGS. So far, so good. We will be repeating this comb, search, scream (child, not me) process every day until I am convinced we've escaped a lice infestation.

I know this is a rite of passage when you put your kid in a room with 15 other children but the germs and general ick are starting to wear me down. They just pass the sick back and forth, back and forth. Upside? He's going to have a stellar immune system by kindergarten. My vacation days at work will actually be used for vacation. How novel!

Fingers crossed we don't get LICE. Hope you're not itchy.

Random thoughts on a Monday

2011-03-07T20:33:00.000-06:00

I have a cracked rib from coughing so much these last couple of weeks. Doc says “So sorry, here’s a Tylenol” which sounds to me a lot like “Totally sucks that you’re pregnant and we can’t give you those lovely Vicodin jobbies.” Grrrrrrr.

Noah had a pukefest from 5pm until 11pm last night and was magically feeling better this morning. No fever, kept his breakfast down, begged to play trains. I couldn’t get him to school fast enough. That makes me a terrible parent, I know. But some other kid in that class gave him the germs in the first place. What goes around comes around. (Or it might have been Noah licking the door at the children’s museum on Saturday…whose child does that? MINE, of course.)

I had a conversation with a divorce attorney today (for WORK, not MYSELF) and she was a BULLY. She kept trying to make me back down on our position in this specific matter and I would not do so…she told me she would have a judge send me a court order to give her what she wants. I happily told her to go right ahead…judges don’t scare me; especially when this judge will laugh in her face and deny her motion. Haha, suck it, sister.

By the way, I am not an attorney but I do believe what I have learned in my chosen line of work is on par with what most people take away from law school (in this specific field of law…not ALL law, calm down you real lawyers with your degrees). So many of my clients already think I am a lawyer that I have stopped correcting them. Now if only I was PAID as well as a lawyer…must work on that.

Today’s lunch was brilliant: hunk of sourdough bread, slices of extra sharp cheddar cheese and a smearing of blackberry jam. It’s like a picnic at my desk. And shhh, I am having a Diet Coke. Alert the Pregnancy Police!

How is your Monday/weekend?

This baby's story

2011-02-27T14:32:00.001-06:00

(Warning: slightly personal information below so if you don't want to know about making a baby, please click away. NO, I don't mean like THAT and it's NOT graphic but I do talk about my "cycles" and "fertility".)

Oh you guys, THANK YOU! Thank you so much for all your kind words and congratulations and general merriment you sent our way. It really means the world to me, really. This pregnancy has been something we've wanted for a long time and something we weren't sure we were going to be able to have. You see, there was a time when my ob-gyn came to the conclusion that I had unexplained secondary infertility. Rather sad and confusing, isn't it?

When Noah had just turned one, I was staying at home with him and beginning to think about expanding our family. That was late summer, early fall of 2009. So we started trying. And I started charting and tracking my cycles and taking my temps regularly. What I discovered was that I was all over the place with my cycles. I think my longest cycle was 80-something days (and no, I was not pregnant). Each cycle that went long and for no obvious reason spiraled me further into the "we will never get pregnant" despair. We tried faithfully until I went back to work this past June.

Prior to deciding to go back to work, I met with my ob-gyn for a battery of tests to help us understand why my cycles were so wonky and why we weren't having any luck. Vial after vial of blood was drawn, ultrasounds were had, and my doctor couldn't come up with any good reason why my body was rebelling against making a baby. She determined that our best course of action would be to start Clomid to get things jump-started.

Clomid scared me. There is a risk of multiples and we already have a family history of twins. Our insurance didn't cover ANY infertility treatment so all the medication and follow-up monitoring was out of pocket. Have you seen the bill for ONE ultrasound? Insane. If we got more than one fertilized egg during a cycle, what would we do? Could I handle a multiple pregnancy? Did I want to? Would we selectively reduce? How would we ever decide which one(s)? The concerns and questions were more than we could handle and Tim made the executive decision to not pursue Clomid treatment. This was in May. I was devastated.

We talked about IUI and IVF and knew that there was no way we could afford it without our health insurance covering a portion of it. It felt like I was standing at the bottom of the steepest and tallest mountain with no way up. I decided at that point to become ok with the idea of one child...that our family was perfect just the way it was. Noah brought us an immeasurable amount of joy and I knew we would be happy forever if we just had him. I know now that my head got the message by my heart was lagging far behind.

Once I was back at work I felt less pressure to MAKE A BABY NOW. Since we had taken Clomid off the table for the time being our options were a) keep trying the old-fashioned way or b) stop trying and get to a peaceful place with our little family. Tim and I talked it through, turned it inside and outside and agreed to stop trying until January 2011. He was under enormous pressure trying to keep his business afloat and couldn't expend more energy on making a baby. I was feeling despondent and broken and knew that forging ahead with trying for a baby, and the subsequent disappointment every cycle that didn't bring me one, would break me. So we took a break and took it off the table.

The Summer and Fall of 2010 were hard. Really hard. Friends all around me were having babies, making babies, thinking about babies and I just kept going back to my crappy diagnosis of "unexplained secondary infertility". Why was it so hard to figure me out? What were the issues my body was having? To top it off, the fall was when my cycles magically straightened themselves out and started working the "normal" way. OUT OF NOWHERE it was like my reproductive parts had a meeting and decided to screw with me. There they were mocking me and saying "you gave up on us so now we're going to cooperate...na na na boo boo." So I kept charting and temping. I wanted to prove my doctor wrong. I wanted to prove myself wrong.

The end of the year came and went. It was finally January. I asked Tim if he was on board as promised. We agreed that we would try until March and then re-visit the Clomid discussion if needed. I felt a little wind in my sails again because we had a plan. A plan that WORKED in January. The first time. Like it was EXPECTED and PLANNED and NORMAL. To say I was shocked would be an understatement. This is not how it happens for us. This is not how our lives have been the past two+ years. We don't get what we want when we want just because we want it. That's how other people live...not us. We get to struggle and get kicked when we're down.

I spent the first few days in a state of awe and denial. There was no way this baby would stick. I was destined to miscarry. That's what would happen to us because life hasn't been so kind as of late. How sad that I thought that way but it's been our constant frame of mind for so long. Even the positive pregnancy test couldn't allay my fears of the bottom dropping out tomorrow. My doctor required a blood test to confirm my hCG levels and see how well the baby was "taking". My first read was low and she wanted me back three days later. If the number dropped, I was miscarrying. If it went up, we were good to go. Funny how three days can turn you into a psycho. By the time the second blood draw came around I was convinced I would start bleeding any minute and this would all come to an end. But my numbers were going up. The baby was sticking. How could we be so lucky?

On February 11th we saw our baby for the first time. We saw it's tiny, microscopic heart beating, beating, beating and it's little tail that would become it's spine. We saw it wiggle around and the tech pointed out where it's arm and leg buds were beginning to form. I spent the entire ultrasound sobbing while Tim kept trying to reassure me that everything looked fine. What he didn't know was that this was months and months of tears that I had shut away and put under lock and key. Tears that I hadn't yet shed for the baby I thought we would never have. Because he or she is here and so very much alive.

I know we're not out of the woods yet and really won't be until I deliver this baby in September. I know adding to your family is never easy and the second baby changes everything. But I also know that this is EXACTLY how things were supposed to work out for us. I know that now. I wish I could go back and tell that broken girl from June to just wait. To be patient and happy and positive and she will get what her heart wanted. A squirmy, wiggly, tiny bean of a baby.

I can't wait for September.

On love

2011-02-14T17:36:00.000-06:00

Love sneaks up on you in a dozen different ways.

Perhaps love snuck up on you at a tiny bar one long ago April evening, swept you off your feet and told you to never look back. It did to me.

Perhaps love hit you over the head the minute your first-born's arrival was heralded with the sounds of a terrific rainstorm…a clap of thunder, a flash of lightning and a tiny wail. It did to me.

Perhaps love spoke to you through the transformation of a perfect infant into a magical little boy. It did to me.

Perhaps love surprised you by telling you that special little boy wouldn’t be your only beloved child. It did to me.

On September 30, 2011, love will be giving us another reason to celebrate…a new baby! We’re pregnant and over the moon, thrilled to pieces, can’t believe its true, oh so very excited. And most definitely in love with our growing family.

What a journey it’s been, getting to this place of a soon-to-be foursome, and I can’t wait to share it with all of you. For now, know we’re so very, very happy and so very, very nauseous J

Friday brought the good stuff

2011-02-11T19:44:00.000-06:00

Well now. That's better. Today was a good day...a really, really, really good day. Noah thought so too and stood still long enough for me to take one picture. Welcome weekend, we're excited you're here.

See you kids Monday.

A litany of complaints

2011-02-09T21:07:00.000-06:00

Welcome to my therapy session.

Today was one of those days that just kind of sucked the life out of my soul. This snow that will never go away is wearing on my nerves and my walk to the train in below negative, brutally windy temperatures left my face frozen. I was shoved in the corner of the train by some jerkface guy who kept swinging his huge backpack all over the place, knocking into me with every lurch of the train. It took all I had not to swat him.

I got to work and had to deal with HR crap about my hours being short of 40 per week and blah blah blah and WHO CARES? My bosses don't, that's for sure. But HR, oh lovely HR, had to crap all over my week. Guess who has to go to 10% flextime and lose 10% of her vacation days and paid days off? This girl...all because I clock in at 38 hours a week instead of the standard 40. It's ridiculous, I know it is, no need to reaffirm.

Then my lunch was crappy and I was hungry and I ate all the secret chocolate in my stash yesterday so there was none left for today. After that I got my annual review form and realized I haven't made as much progress at work as I would like. Basically the workday sucked so when I left to head home and pick up Noah I wasn't exactly pleased when my train was 20 minutes late. I had to make a transfer to another train to get home today and THAT train was 20 minutes late. When I finally got to my car I realized I was completely out of gas...not even enough to get to Noah's school. But then I remembered that I had asked my husband to fill it up LAST NIGHT and clearly he did not do that. So I went to the gas station...where their credit card machines were down. Its a good thing I scrounged together $20 in cash to get a little gas.

Finally I was off to pick up Noah with ten minutes to get from the gas station to his school...which is at least 15 minutes away. And I hit every light. Every. Single. Light. When I pulled in to pick up Noah, I saw his little face peering out the window and felt like the worst mom ever. I never pick him up late. Never. He was the last kid there. Of course the minute I picked him up he proceeded to have an epic meltdown (oh hey, no nap today, super!) that lasted until I finally threw him in his bed at 7:15 tonight and shut his door. He fell asleep within seconds and now I am going to go lay down on the couch and ignore the piles of laundry and dishes and my husband who did not get me gas.

I am not even going to proof this post or delete it because now I feel a little better after getting all this whining out. The rest of this week better show up and bring the good stuff. And...GOODNIGHT.

Foul mouth

2011-02-02T19:11:00.000-06:00

You know my son, that darling boy I was weeping and exclaiming over the other day? Well, that boy just stepped in a puddle of wet snow that my husband tracked in, looked at me and said:

"SHIT, MOM! My foot is wet!"

If that doesn't teach you to watch your language then I don't know what does.

Cheese and Rice.

Feeling nostalgic

2011-01-31T22:37:00.001-06:00

So much changes from year to year...

2008

2009

2010

He's grown so very fast and my heart flutters a bit when I think about it too much. This little boy is our sunshine every single day, even on the dreariest of days. We are so so lucky to have him.

That is all. Disregard the emotional mama in this corner. It will soon pass.

Thoughts on working motherhood

2011-01-17T19:22:00.000-06:00

Some humorous thoughts on working motherhood excerpted from workingmom.about.com:

You know you're a working mom when...

You call your time spent commuting back and forth to work "me time”.

I cannot tell you how many times I have sat down on the train, pulled out a book, and thought that exact same thing: “Finally, twenty minutes to myself, how nice.” Also, how sad. I think Mommy needs an afternoon off to spend time alone.

You know you're a working mom when...

Racing to the post office, dry cleaners, bank and grocery store on your lunch hour feels luxurious because you don't have a tantrum-throwing five (or two!) year-old in tow.

I don’t know about you, but I DREAD running errands with Noah. The in and out of the car seat, the battle with the puffy winter jacket, the whining over wearing a hat/sitting in the shopping cart/ the constant refrain of ”DO NOT LET GO OF MOMMY’S HAND IN THE PARKING LOT FOR THE LOVE OF (insert diety here)”. It’s enough to make me pick him up later at school just to get these errands done alone and in peace.

You know you’re a working mom when…

you wake up at 6 am and return to bed a 11 PM and really cannot remember what happened in the middle of this.

I sometimes worry that I may have mistakenly hit a pedestrian or run a red light on my drive to the train in the mornings…that’s how on auto-pilot I am. Some days I think it’s a miracle we all make it home in one piece with our clothes on.

You know you're a working mom…

When at work, someone tries to "guilt you" into doing something. They are amateurs. Your kids are experts. Also when you hide the last snickers bar in the crisper of the office fridge.

No one knows how to guilt me better than my own kid and he’s only two. He’s also a master bargainer. “Mommy, if you read one more book, I will love you forever and ever.” “Mommy? Are you mad at me? I love you so much, don’t be mad at me.” “Mommy, if I eat one more bite of dinner, I can have a special treat!”

You know you're a working mom when…

On a Sunday morning, after you shower, put on make-up, and dry your hair, your child asks if you’re going to work.

Noah did this to me yesterday. Clearly I need to get dressed more often on the weekends…and not in yoga pants and a headband to hold back my messy hair.

Re-frame it

2010-12-16T20:30:00.000-06:00

Lately it seems like all I do is complain. I complain about money, about our house, about my relationship with my husband, about my lack of “time off”, about my son, about work, about it all. So many of the conversations I have in my head and aloud end in “why me???” and people, let me tell you, my mother never allowed us to act that way growing up. She wouldn’t stand for it. Her stock answer whenever one of us started complaining: Guess what, kiddo? You may think you have things pretty bad but someone out there has it much worse. Guaranteed.

So it was with some measure of comfort that I learned about “re-framing“ through Gretchen Rubin’s The Happiness Project. Ms. Rubin gave a name to what my mother always tried to teach us: take the negative way you think about things and “re-frame” those thoughts into something more positive. Perhaps you’ll realize you don’t have it so bad at all.

Here is my attempt at “re-framing”, Sara-style:

COMPLAINT “I hate walking to the train in the snow every morning, my feet are frozen, and my hat makes my hair look stupid when I get to work.”

RE-FRAME “At least I don’t have to sit in traffic for an hour to get to work and I get to spend 20 minutes ALONE on the train with my book/magazine/iphone with no one bugging me."

COMPLAINT “We’re constantly broke and why the hell did I go back to work if we still never have enough money?”

RE-FRAME “Though money is tight, I’ve learned quickly how to spend more wisely and what’s really important and necessary for my family. I am a budgeting MASTER."

COMPLAINT “My husband works 24/7/365 and we don’t get enough ‘family time’.”

RE-FRAME “My husband works 24/7/365 for US so he can make life better and more comfortable someday. Plus he really, really, really loves me and our son and tells us everyday. Oh, and he takes care of the morning routine with our son and that is absolutely priceless.”

COMPLAINT “I hate laundry. And emptying the dishwasher. And cleaning the bath tub. HATE.”

RE-FRAME “At least I have a washing machine that works. And is on the second floor next to our bedrooms. No lugging full baskets up and down stairs. At least I have a dishwasher that washes the dishes for me and it truly takes 5 minutes to unload. The tub though? That really does suck.”

COMPLAINT “My son drives me crazy when he takes 20 minutes to get out the door/refuses to put on shoes (or PANTS! why no pants? it’s WINTER)/takes a frillion hours to eat a simple meal and then demands a cookie.”

RE-FRAME “My son sleeps through the night in his big boy bed and DOES NOT GET OUT OF BED. That’s right, I said it. All night long, no visits out of his bed into ours. HIGH-FIVES FOR ME.”

COMPLAINT “My ass feels like it’s getting bigger from sitting at a desk all day (and office holiday treats are in abundance...helllooooo, cookies) and there is no time to work out.”

RE-FRAME “My aunts told me I looked skinnier at Thanksgiving so let’s just believe them. And my pants still fit.”

COMPLAINT “Our calendar always feels full and like we’re constantly rushing around to this or that or the other event.”

RE-FRAME “A busy calendar means people like us...we have friends and family who want to see us and spend time with us.”

COMPLAINT “My house is drafty and leaky and old and needs new windows/furnace/garage/basement re-do and why the hell did we spend so much money on it?”

RE-FRAME “I have a pretty house on a pretty street in a really awesome neighborhood. It needs some work but my husband and I are handy-types so we can tackle some of it ourselves. We can walk to every possible store/restaurant/amenity you can imagine plus we have some fantastic neighbors. We have a good school at the end of the block. It’s the perfect size for our small family. It has beautiful moldings and built ins and creaky floors. And at least we’re not homeless."

I feel better already. I am not advocating Pollyanna-ish behavior because I think that’s ludicrous and people who are always looking at the bright side live in a fake universe. But maybe, sometimes, it helps to look at what’s bugging you and try to think about it from a different perspective. Perhaps a new view of the same old is just what you need.

How about you? What can you “re-frame”?

A little charity

2010-12-13T21:06:00.001-06:00

My lovely friend and neighbor, Miss Pseudostoops, is hosting her annual "Give My Money Away" Extravaganza! Hooray! In her words, this is how it works:

I write a post each day featuring a charitable organization that I like to support, to which I plan to make a donation at the holidays. I guarantee a minimum donation, then I add 50 cents for each comment I receive on that post that day, up to a predetermined limit.

If you want, in your comments, you can leave me some info about one of your favorite charities. On Friday, I’ll choose five organizations that were mentioned in the comments and we’ll have a good old-fashioned vote to determine which one of them will receive a $50 donation.

I really like doing this: some small and dear-to-me charities receive a little spotlight, you make me feel all warm and fuzzy with your comments that lead to donations, and one of you will see one of your favorite organizations get a bonus $50 at the holidays. Everybody wins.

So hop on over there and leave a comment. Help her help others! Isn't she so special? Don't you just want to squeeze her?

It's a baby snowman, Mommy!

2010-12-12T10:09:00.000-06:00

Winter's first snowfall + one bored toddler = a miniature snowman.

He was so proud even though he didn't help one bit.

The time honored tradition of catching snow on your tongue

as demonstrated by a reluctant toddler.

Hook line and sinker

2010-11-29T21:33:00.000-06:00

I totally bought into this Elf on the Shelf idea. 100%. I will not apologize for my blatant love of all things Christmas-y. I love Santa. I love twinkle lights (I call them Christmas lights, however they're used). I love swags of garland and holiday music that starts playing the day after Halloween (yes, that is stretching it a little but that's a-ok with me). I love the smell of fresh cut evergreens (or candles!) and the big, red blooms of the poinsettia. I love that I get to buy my son ornaments every holiday season, reflective of what he loved so much that year. It's a train this year, naturally.

When I heard about the Elf on the Shelf idea a few weeks ago I knew it was right up my alley. The idea is that this elf reports back to Santa every night to tell him whether the little one was naughty or nice and then returns to a different spot in the morning, perhaps causing some mischief along the way. Extra Christmas-y? Check. Totally ridiculous and child-like? Awesome. Extra good behavior reinforcement? Count me in.What I didn't like was the price: $35 for a little elf and a book? Not going to happen. And that one is slightly creepy looking. Agreed? Last weekend I struck gold at Hobby Lobby and found an adorable stuffed elf for $4.99...and then 50% off that. Scrounge around the internet for some "elf" ideas and I have a $2.50 version of Elf on the Shelf.

Meet "Dabo the Elf", as named by Noah:

We're two days into our mischief and I'm pretty sure Noah is going to be in tears when Christmas comes and goes and so does our elf. So far "Dabo" has found his way into Noah's stocking, Noah's boot, on the shelf with the dinner plates, and up on the chandelier. Tim thinks I am getting far more enjoyment out of this elf than Noah. Perhaps. But I don't mind one bit.

No time to blog or just lazy? Take your pick.

2010-11-24T17:46:00.000-06:00

What do you do to entertain your toddler while you are making dinner? I'm dead serious when I ask this. Frankly, Noah has been spending far too much of the hours from 5pm until 6:30pm in front of the television and I am appalled at myself. I was never the mom who swore her precious future Nobel prize winner would never watch television but I'm concerned it's getting out of hand. Add in the On Demand feature and we have the makings of a addiction brewing around these parts.

I've tried coloring, playdoh, trains, cars, puzzles, and even bought him a step stool high enough so he can reach the counter and play sous-chef. Except then he wants the knives and to fiddle with the stove. I hear that's frowned upon. What is your magic formula for making dinner while entertaining a 2 1/2 year old?

*************
So you know how I tore up the carpet on our stairs and then never updated about having them refinished? Yeah, that's because I haven't done a thing about it. They sit there in all their paint splattered glory just begging me to take a belt sander to them. However, this working thing is totally getting in the way of me getting ANYTHING done around the house (and here you thought if I had mastered laundry then I must have mastered the rest of LIFE). Alas, I have not and my stairs are neglected. And I didn't like the price I was quoted to have them refinished. That is, until I went to the carpet store today to investigate having them re-carpeted.

This time I was looking at pretty, patterned carpets...kind of like a runner. The lovely saleswoman must have thought I live in a golden palace with diamonds on my sink faucets and precious gems embedded in my floors because the carpets she was showing me? They were EXPENSIVE. Think around $2,500 for carpet, pad and install...for the STAIRS. Umm. No. Sorry. The stair refinishing is looking mighty nice right about now.

*************

Noah doesn't need a brace! Or special shoes! HOORAY! The docs think he just has a gross motor developmental delay that may resolve itself by his 3rd birthday. MUCH better than I thought. However, they suggested I look into physical therapy for him if I want to be "proactive". Have they met me? Obviously that suggestion meant I called the state early intervention office immediately and we have our first evaluation next week.

**************

Thanksgiving is tomorrow and I CANNOT WAIT. Turkey and a subsequent nap on the couch? YES, PLEASE. Enjoy your holiday, friends.

Queen of shortcuts and canned soup

2010-11-08T18:43:00.000-06:00

Laundry sucks. There, I said it. Folding clothes and unloading the dishwasher are my two most hated chores. Sadly, the other adult who lives in my house doesn't seem to be programmed with the need to wash clothes or dishes. If we want clean clothes then this woman is the one who gets it done. But it doesn't mean I like it. (Side note: don't marry a man whose mother did his laundry and then his first wife did his laundry and then his cleaning lady post-divorce did his laundry because he will never once take an interest in learning how to run the washing machine and dryer. But I have learned to pick my battles.)

I feel like I can never catch up and have all the laundry washed, folded, and put away. We only have 2.5 people living in this house and yet it's never done. It drives me insane to have full laundry baskets within days of doing five loads of laundry. It will sit sorted on my bedroom floor for days until I can get it all done. Inevitably I will leave a wet load in the washer overnight and have to run it again the next night after work (where another load will get left unfinished because, damnit, I'm tired and don't want to be folding clothes at 11 pm).

The lightbulb went on early last week when the laundry was threatening to take over my upstairs hallway. My fancy pants, front loading washing machine has a DELAY TIMER. A little, tiny button on the front of it that I never paid much attention to until Noah pressed it last week and I saw the timer clock climb from 1 hour to 12 hours. Do you have any idea what this means? I DO. This means I can put a load of laundry in the machine before I go to bed, add the detergent, and then set the delay timer to go off an hour before I wake up. Then, when I wake up? The load is clean and ready for the dryer. I toss it into the dryer while I am showering and getting ready for work. Since that routine takes about 45 minutes (I'm slow in the morning and my coffee maker doesn't have an auto switch...I'm looking at you KEURIG) and so does my dryer, my clothes are dry and ready to be folded after I'm dressed. So I fold it because it's only ONE load and I don't feel OVERWHELMED by FIVE (seems like FORTY) loads that need to be washed, dried and folded. I don't have time to put it all away in the morning so I still have to tackle that part but I am seriously impressed with myself. Or with Noah for pushing that button and showing me the light.

It sounds like a million more steps but this has made the laundry process in our house less frought with anger, despair, and mildewy cottons. I'm in love with that little delay timer button.

And about the canned soup: go buy two ready made pie crusts, 1 bag frozen mixed veggies, 1 rotisserie chicken, and 1 can cream of chicken soup (lower sodium so I don't feel so bad). Put it all together. 30 minutes at 375 and you have chicken pot pie. It's a few steps above pre-made frozen pot pies and about a frillion steps below (but way EASIER) than homemade crusts and sauces. I may be feeding my family this multiple times a month for the rest of winter. I hope they don't mind. And I bet you all totally already knew this recipe.

What are some of your short cuts?

Falling and I don't mean the leaves

2010-11-01T21:34:00.000-05:00

So I write a post all about striving for balance and this weekend my tenuous grip on that balance was thrown off yet again. As many of you know, when Noah was 6 months old, I fell down the stairs while carrying him and broke his left leg. The break was relatively clean but was positioned on the growth plate right above his knee. (More here and here.)

That was a really difficult time for me. However, I moved on, we moved on, and Noah seemed to be doing fine. That was until last week when I got to preschool pick up a little early and had the chance to watch Noah run “races” with his little buddies. Now, I KNOW parents cannot, should not, compare their child’s development to his/her peers. Every kid is a unique snowflake, each develops at his/her own pace, yada yada. But what I saw watching Noah and his friends run after each other showed me, without a doubt, that Noah lags behind his classmates when it comes to running and walking. He falls down...a lot. He twists his legs while running when he should have more fluid movements. His gait is very unsteady. Although he was having a blast chasing after his friends, I nearly started to cry watching him run. I knew the next call I made was going to be to his pediatrician.

You know what the most wonderful thing is about a pediatrician who also happens to be your neighbor? House calls. Noah’s doctor stopped by yesterday afternoon and observed him running and walking. In five minutes and with almost no hesitation, he determined that it was Noah’s left leg that was causing the gait issues. And most likely a result of the break. Do you want to know what happened immediately after he left? TEARS. Lots and lots of tears. That visit broke the wall I had so carefully constructed around that day in February, 2009.

Our doctor hypothesized as to what possible treatments may be in store for us:
-A leg lengthening brace
-Special orthopedic shoes with a lift in one heel
-Physical therapy
Or

-Nothing, depending on the outcome of x-rays

None of these options are life-threatening. None of these options will reduce his quality of life. Each of these options has the potential to help him walk and run better over time. I know deep down that this is just one of the many tests we face as parents and that he’ll be fine. Just fine. But, damnit, it doesn’t make me feel better. None of this would have happened if I wasn’t in such a hurry that day, if I had slowed down and paid more attention. I hurt my son that day (yes, unintentionally but still, I hurt him) and we’re still paying for it.

As time has gone by and separated me from the pain of that day and the days that followed, I found my resolve to slow down and focus on what’s right in front of me begin to weaken. Our calendar filled back up and we started rushing to get here, there, everywhere. We started cramming our weekends full of obligations from beginning to end, especially after I went back to work. I can’t do it anymore. My attention gets diverted from my family too easily by all the obligations and events and visits. I KNOW what happens when there is too much going on and not enough time to do it all. I’ve been in the emergency room’s x-ray room holding my six month old infant’s legs straight while the tech takes pictures of his fractured femur. I can still hear his frightened screams of pain. They haunt me.

I don’t mean to sound so “woe is me”. There are children with much more difficult trials and parents who are shouldering it all. I know Noah will be ok. I just thought I had learned my lesson a year and a half ago but it’s becoming clear to me that I didn’t learn anything. So, where do we go from here? We make the necessary appointments with the orthopaedic doctor. We listen, we learn, we help Noah the best way we can. We clear off our calendar a little more and spend more time taking care of our family. At the end of the day, this little guy is why I do everything I do...he really is my heart walking around outside my body.

I am the cutest fireman this side of the Mississippi, didn't you know?

And don't even TRY to touch my candy.

(P.S. As I was getting off the train this afternoon a damn pigeon shit on my coat. I heard it "plop!" on my arm and I about lost my mind. It really was the icing on a craptastic day.)

How do you balance it all?

2010-10-26T22:48:00.000-05:00

Balance. It's a touchy word. Not touchy in that it's difficult to define but touchy in that it's incredibly elusive. For a minute or maybe two you feel like you've found it, you've reached that place where things come together and you're doing it, perhaps really rocking it out. And then poof! It's gone again.

It's on her mind. I bet it's on yours too. We all strive for some sort of balance in our lives as parents, as employees, as friends, as children, as productive members of our society. Yet I know I feel like I don't give 100% to anyone or anything. Like K, I spend some (ok, a lot) of my work day accomplishing tasks that fall outside of work...I schedule doctor appointments, research new recipes, make grocery lists, write blog posts (ahem), read up on random weird toddler behaviors, and manage our calendar. I also do my work-work. When I'm home I am attending to a child, making dinner, answering emails, answering the phone, returning calls, walking the dog, cleaning up after the child and dog (and husband), sorting laundry, doing laundry, folding laundry, putting away laundry (sense a theme?), all the while trying to sneak in as much quality time with my son as I can in three short hours a day. Oh and my husband too. He deserves a little attention from time to time.

No one person or task gets 100% of my attention and time. It frustrates me because I know I could do better. I could be more productive with my time. I could focus more on my daily work at my job and put aside all the "home" tasks during the day. I could not care so much about the state of my house or if the laundry is all done every week. I could ignore the pile of dry cleaning for a while longer or say OK to boxed mac and cheese for dinner a little more often. Most importantly, I could play with my son rather than stew over the dirty dishes in the sink or the bill that needs to be paid.

I know there isn't an answer, or at least not a perfect one. Most people just try to get through each day with their heads still screwed on and so many of us fall into bed each night wondering how we can do it all again tomorrow. But we do. We do it because that's life. And we keep seeking the magic formula and the perfect alignment of the stars that will keep it all together.

I don't mean this to be a complaint because I know we're all there, we all feel it and understand it. So let's celebrate the fact that we all made it through today...GOOD JOB, YOU! Treat yourself to something nice tomorrow, even if it's only a pumpkin spice latte at 2 pm (don't mind if I do). You deserve it.

Parenting Test #1,863,954

2010-10-18T20:44:00.000-05:00

You’re not going to judge me, right? You’re not those kind of people are you? The judge-y kind? I mean, unless you are a JUDGE in real life, and then I will address you as Honorable Judge So-and-So from this point forward. I trust you, readers. You’re nice people. Right?

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Noah bit at preschool yesterday. For the third time. He’s on “watch” with his teachers. WWWWAAAIIIILLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL.

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The first time he was provoked by another child and responded by biting. We started our reinforcement of “No biting, biting hurts. Use your words to say “No! Stop that!” or walk away. Biting is never ok.” He got really good at parroting what we wanted to hear but I wasn’t so sure he really understood.

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The second time was completely unprovoked. He and another little guy were playfully shoving each other while waiting their turn for the balance beam. Two minutes after they stopped playing, while still waiting, Noah turned to him and laid into his arm with his teeth. Why did he do that? Was he upset that his little friend had stopped playing with him? Did he, two minutes after the fact, decide that he didn’t like his little friend having touched him earlier? The toddler brain is so confusing. We went home and began again with the reinforcement of no biting. Again, he parroted.

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The third time, yesterday, was again provoked. The other little guy was draping himself all over Noah during their planned “centers”. The teachers noticed, and knowing how Noah has some personal space issues, gently asked the other child to stop touching Noah and removed him. The kid went back for more and Noah had obviously had enough. Noah turned around and bit him square on the arm. Did the kid deserve to be bitten? No. Did Noah have the right to defend himself? Yes. I asked his teachers if Noah felt remorse afterwards and if he understood that biting was unacceptable. They were clear that he gets very upset after it happens and repeats to himself “No biting! Biting hurts!” but he has problems controlling himself in the moment.

Yesterday I added major emphasis to “using your words when you get angry” to our daily behavior discussions.

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I will not classify my son as a “biter”. It is not a serial problem with him. He is not biting everyday or even every week. However, he does have impulse, or temper, control issues. Noah’s temper flares quickly but dies down just as fast. He has always been this way. As an infant, if he was hungry and I wasn’t able to nurse him within 30 seconds of his wails starting up, I could have sworn his head would begin spinning on its axis. His face would turn so red and his little fists would ball up and he would just lose it. As a one year old, when he didn’t yet have such a great grasp on language but needed to express himself, he would use a high-pitched scream to get my attention and then keep going until I figured out what it was he needed. At that time I had hoped and prayed that once he could communicate he would find more patience and use his words to express himself when he was angry or frustrated.

On one hand, he’s two. TWO. Two is tough any which way you look at it. Every two year old has their “issues” whether that be temper control, inability to share, lack of communication, not playing nicely with others, defiance, etc. On the other hand, aggressive behaviors are not a proper way to express anger or frustration at two or beyond. I want Noah to understand that biting does not make him “bad” so we never use the words “You’re a bad boy for biting” or “You’re naughty for biting”. The action is bad, not the child who is doing it. However, he does need to understand the appropriate way of handling his anger.

We’re proactive parents. We’re addressing the biting immediately and consistently. As we see a ramp up in his imaginative play, we’ve begun acting out good behaviors, bad behaviors and the proper responses using his favorite toys. We ask him “We don’t use our mouths for biting. What do we use our mouths for?” and he responds with “For eating! For talking! For kissing! For making funny sounds like Beep Beep Beep!”. We say “It’s ok to be angry or frustrated. But what do you do when you get angry or frustrated? Do you hit? Do you bite?” and he answers “Nooooooo, no hitting, no biting. You walk away! You say “No, stop that!” and tell your teacher”.

Now, I’m pretty sure he gets it. He knows that biting is not ok. He feels awful after it happens and remembers to apologize. But how do we address his temper control without making him think it’s bad to feel angry or frustrated? I know we continue to reinforce “walking away” and “using your words to say “No, stop that!”.

I’m trying really hard to not let Noah’s recent biting episodes reflect on me as a parent. I know we’re doing our best. I know in my heart that he’s a good, smart little boy with a whole lot of love to give. I also know that he inherited his father’s quick temper and we have some learning to do. This is one of many parenting tests we’ll be faced with in raising our son and I really hope we’re doing the right thing.

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We were at the grocery store the other day and I looked at Noah in the cart and said “Buddy, Mommy really doesn’t feel so good today.”

His reply? “Mommy, you need a vacation.”

Damn straight, kiddo.

Straight outta Chicago

2010-10-11T13:57:00.000-05:00

The following conversation was had between myself and a lovely employee of the Alderman's office, read: Chicago accent straight out of an SNL skit.

Me: "Hello. My name is Sara Smith and I'm a resident in your Ward. I'm looking to do some minor debris removal from our basement this weekend and would like to use a Bagster as our dumpster. How do I go about getting the proper authorization to put the Bagster on the street?"

Alderman's employee/life-long Chicagoan: "Yous gots to call the dumpster place, ma'am."

Me: "Right, but I am not using a dumpster. It's a Bagster. It’s a giant waste bag that you can buy at Home Depot, put it out on the street, fill it up, and then call Waste Management to pick it up. It's smaller than a dumpster. I assume I need a permit or authorization to have it on the street?"

Him: "I’s don't know about this Bagster business. You don't need no permit. Eh, yous gots to call Streets and San. Yeah, theys over der can help yah. At Streets and San."

Me: "So you can't help me figure out what I need?"

Him: "That's whatta just told yah. Yous gots to call Streets and San. Call Marty, yeah, Marty Casey, he's your guy."

Me: "Ok, do you have a number where I can reach Mr. Casey?"

Him, shuffling papers: "Here's the number xxx-xxx-xxxx. Ask for Marty."

Me: "Right, ok, thank you."

Him: "You prolly just put it out der on de street and see what happens."

Me: "Yes, that is an excellent plan. Thank you for your wonderful assistance."
********************************************

Me: "Is Mr. Casey available?"

Lady on the phone: "Who?"

Me: "Marty Casey? I was told to call him by my alderman's office."

Lady: "Oh yah, Marty? I don't know where he is. Call back in an hour."

Me: "Right. Obviously."
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The End.

Marty never did call me back...I'm just so SURPRISED.

Such a Lush

2010-10-04T22:10:00.000-05:00

Just in case you haven't checked in lately, Style Lush has a brand new look and some fabulous new posts!

Also from the creators of Style Lush is the just launched Food Lush!
From their first post: Food Lush isn't just a recipe blog or a blog written by a bunch of expert foodies, but if you love eating, cooking, or just straight talking about food, we think this will be the food blog for you.

Hop on over and say hi!

Apple Pickin'

2010-09-27T21:28:00.000-05:00

Two years ago, Labor Day 2008. I am STILL getting that look on a daily basis. Things don't change much, do they?

A friend and I took Noah apple picking this past Labor Day and it was by far one of the best days he and I have had together. He loved running up and down the rows of trees, picking out the best apples to put in the bag, and devouring freshly baked apple cider donuts (deep-fried heaven, seriously).

He insisted on pulling the wagon for about a foot until

he was realized the odds were against him.

His thought process: Wait. You mean I can actually

PULL IT OFF THE TREE and NOT GET IN TROUBLE? Awesome!

I love this one. Just LOVE it.

He pulled on this one for a good five minutes

before it gave in and popped off the tree.

I'm pretty sure he almost fell flat on his butt.

The apples were soon forgotten once

he spied this tractor. Boys and their toys.

This weekend it's pumpkin pickin' time. And my birthday. Just in case you forgot. I sure love fall!

Tell me: what are your favorite fall activities? Are you an apple and pumpkin pickin' fiend like myself or do you prefer your fall weekends full of football and perhaps a pie? Oooooh pie...

Break

2010-09-17T14:28:00.000-05:00

Thank you for all your fun answers! It seems most people change into comfy clothes right away, are mixed on the exfoliation (though I know for sure a couple of you use this as do I...two birds, one stone and whatnot), prefer flats to heels, and wear simple jewelry for day-to-day and chunky for fun. We are all alike, are we not?

Noah and I are home today. He had quite the stuffy nose yesterday and didn't nap at all at school so I figured today was a good day to lay low and get some solid rest in. What is incredibly foreign to me is being home when I feel FINE. It's like I called in sick to work but am really lying about it and am watching crap daytime tv instead. I feel a little...sneaky. Obviously SOMEONE has to stay home with a semi-sick kid and being his MOTHER it makes sense that person is me, but it still feels like I'm taking advantage.

So instead of trotting off to work and school this morning, Noah and I lounged in bed for a while, watched a little Sprout and Disney, showered (I amazed myself with that one), and headed out to do some errands that have been put off for weeks. It's wild what you can get done in two hours when you're not at work. And now Noah is sleeping for what I hope will be a multiple hours long nap while I finish laundry and vacuuming and the dishes and general merriment on the home front.

I miss this a little...the being home with my little guy and getting stuff done. The grind of working outside the home and being a parent wears you down so it's days like this when it feels good to recharge. I know working is the right option for us...but these reminders of days gone by are slightly bittersweet.

Enjoy your weekends, friends. I'll definitely be enjoying mine.

Oooh fun! clap clap

2010-09-14T20:45:00.000-05:00

I'm stealing this from Not Raising Brats who stole it from K who got it from her big brain and now it is here. If you would, humor me and answer the following questions:

1. If you work outside of the home, do you change your clothes right when you walk in the door or not until you get in your jammies?

2. Do you exfoliate (pertaining to your facial routine) on a regular basis?

3. What is your very favorite pair of shoes? Links are encouraged.

4. Do you prefer chunky jewelry or simple and understated pieces?

Have at it.

Lil' stinker, seriously

2010-09-07T21:12:00.000-05:00

Noah's taken a slight interest in the potty so we've been doing some diaper-free time lately to encourage the using of the potty. Also, the dog has taken to pooping (would you prefer doo-dooing?) in my family room on a regular basis because she's pissed at me for going back to work or something ridiculous...regardless, she gets yelled at a lot. Keep both of these developments in mind. Also, who wants to come over HERE for dinner? Anyone? No?

So the other day we arrived home from work/school and did the whole "No, Lily! No pooping in the house!" dance while wagging my finger back and forth at her and cleaning it up. Later that evening, Noah was having some diaper-free time while playing with his toys in the family room and Tim and I were on our respective computers in the dining room. All of the sudden I hear Noah's fast footsteps coming toward us and I hear him start saying "No, Lily! No pooping in the house!" Noah arrives in the dining room, buck naked, saying "Mommy, Lily pooped in the house. No pooping in the house! Bad girl!"

Of course I immediately jump up to investigate and I see the dog come trotting into the room from the OPPOSITE side of the house from the family room. Hmmmm. Lo and behold, I find a small mess RIGHT where I left Noah after removing his diaper. Seems to me someone has learned the time-honored tradition of lying to the parents and blaming it on the dog. Lil' stinker, indeed.

The Great Daycare Debacle: Part 3 (and The End)

2010-09-01T22:13:00.000-05:00

We went on like that for a few weeks: text messages from our caregiver every time Noah so much as threw a fit and negative reports when I picked him up in the evenings. Our energy and "bullshit handling" reserves were dwindling fast. On Wednesday, July 21st, the day after Noah's 2nd birthday, the shit hit the fan, the straw finally broke the camel's back. I received an urgent text message that Noah had hit the baby with a wooden block and had left a bad bruise...my attention was requested that evening to address the matter. When I arrived to pick up Noah, she thrust the baby at me and pointed out his bruise. There was a small cut and bruise and of course I felt terrible that Noah hit him. I expressed how sorry I was and asked what I could do to remedy the situation.

She informed me that she was concerned about Noah's aggressive behaviors, that she had two more infants starting in a couple of weeks and she was worried that Noah would hit the infants and how was she to explain that to the parents? This is the point when I nearly lost my shit with this woman. Instead I clammed up while I listened to her tell me she needed to see a major improvement in Noah's behavior by the time the infants started or...but she never said what the "or" result would be. Good thing I heard it loud and clear: we had two weeks to shape up or (implied) ship out.

At this point I gathered up Noah, mumbled some more apologies (like a big ol' wuss) and loaded Noah into the car to head home. Once home, I broke down. I called Tim crying that our son was aggressive and anti-social and what happened to our sweet, kind baby? Being the smart man he is, he gently asked me why I thought the problem was only with Noah and perhaps had I considered SHE was the one with the issues? Good point. I decided to write her an email asking, as clear as day, how she planned to keep the infants and toddlers safe, separate and engaged at the same time. I figured that was a good question to ask (again). Her answer: there is only one of her and they will all play and be together other than at nap time. Well then. Do you think she had considered the ramifications of having three immobile infants and two highly active toddlers in the same room all day long? How would she ever be able to manage all the children and meet all their needs, alone? I know there are some in-home caregivers who are masters at this...ours was not.

Tim set his mind to looking for a new daycare for Noah while I was willing to work it out with her (again with the desperate, sheesh). We went back the next day, Noah was a good boy all day, but when it came time for me to pick him up, we had another (and I didn't know at the time, but final) discussion about Noah's behavior. Her tune changed and drastically. Rather than telling me we had to change Noah's behaviors in a matter of days, she began to say how she thought Noah would really benefit from a more structured, school-like setting because he's so smart and she felt she wasn't going to be able to give him the attention he needed what with all the infants coming soon. Now, instead of us getting fired, we were being pushed to resign. Sneaky.

That very next day I called two daycares thinking there wasn't a chance in hell we would get in. Remember, wait lists are the norm. One daycare called back. They had a last minute opening for August 1st in their 2 year old "preschool", would we like to take a tour? Hell yes we would! The tour was that Friday, by Friday afternoon we were turning in our application, by Friday evening we had informed our caregiver Noah's last day would be the 30th. He started at his new school on the 2nd of August and we haven't looked back.

We are absolutely in love with Noah's new "preschool". It is clean, bright, structured, well-appointed and most of all, Noah has great reports everyday (well, he did bite a 3 year old one time but that was totally in self-defense...the kid is like twice his size). And you know what? The teachers handled it. They didn't freak out and call me. They didn't let that one instance affect how they perceived Noah moving forward. They adore him and tell me so. They tell me how he's thriving and learning so much and how they enjoy him. Noah skips into his classroom without a backward glance or any tears. He brings home art projects and can spell S-T-O-P. He can count to 20 and recognize the numbers. He can sing his alphabet and Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. He's growing. He's learning. He's doing so very well.

Maybe she was right in the end. But that's not the point. The point is that SHE was the caregiver, SHE was the one who positioned herself as the expert in childcare, SHE was the one who decided to open the daycare with mixed ages. And yet, we were the ones made to feel terrible about our poorly behaved child. There were so many things that didn't happen the way I wished they had: I wish I had taken more time vetting her out, I wish I had interviewed more caregivers, I wish I had allowed myself to look at "centers" rather than thinking an in-home would be a better environment for Noah, I wish I had paid better attention to WHY Noah was acting out rather than trying to quickly "fix" him when nothing was broken. I can't take it back, but oh how I wish I could. I wish I had trusted myself a little more and listened to my instincts when they said to "walk away" after that first day.

I'm constantly learning and evolving in this new(ish) role as Mother. I don't have all the answers, I don't always know which way is right or wrong, but I do know that I my son depends on me to take the best care of him that I can. I am so grateful to his new teachers for helping me do that...and in a way, I am grateful to our old caregiver for pushing us to leave. We never would have ended up where we are otherwise. I am learning to trust myself a little more and feel more comfortable in these shoes I wear. If Noah's happiness is any indication, then I'm doing a pretty good job.

Interruption

2010-08-29T16:27:00.000-05:00

I have to interrupt the daycare saga for some very important, Grandma-requested, photos. It seems I have been remiss in posting enough photos to satisfy the weekly quota. My deepest apologies (to my mother as she's the puppet master).

Chicago Air & Water Show 2010:

Yes, son, it was loud. Your father was in heaven.

Goober alert!

Who doesn't love a pair of ill-fitting, neon orange shades?

Friday, post-work, pre-dinner:

Why yes, this IS how city children run through sprinklers.

Wheeee!

Almost made it!

Annnnd, PAUSE!

See ya, Mommy!

How was YOUR weekend?

The Great Daycare Debacle: Part 2

2010-08-25T09:32:00.002-05:00

Where were we? Oh, right. I wasn’t feeling so confident with our decision to put Noah at the in-home daycare. I spent many hours convincing myself this was a great decision and convincing everyone I told about it. My mother was dubious once she heard there would be three infants, two toddlers and one caregiver. Hey, Mom, next time? A little louder, please. Mothers always know.

Alas, we moved ahead with our decision and the first day of daycare was upon us. Now, what would you expect from your care provider on your first day taking your child to her home? Even more specifically, HER first day being in business? Would you expect that she would be showered and dressed? Would you expect her home to be immaculately clean? Would you expect her to answer the door looking bright-eyed and chipper? Call me crazy because that’s what I expected but it wasn’t what I got. Instead, I was greeted by a sleepy, pajama’d woman with a floor covered in Cheerios and cat hair (warning no. 6). Looking back, now I know why leaving Noah that first day made me want to curl up in a ball.

Here’s the thing: she seemed to be a really nice person. I truly did trust her to take care of my child. I just happened to overlook the things that should have been bright red warning signs in the name of securing childcare and getting my life sorted out in a quick fashion. The first week went by relatively smoothly. We had talked up going to daycare so Noah was excited every morning. I was getting great reports each evening when I went to pick him up: he was napping well, eating well, and having a fun time playing with her little one. There were walks to see the trains go by, and park visits, and art projects. By the end of the first week I was feeling better about our decision...Noah seemed happy, therefore I was happy.

How soon things changed. The second week started off well but by the end there were tears and they were all mine. You see, I was starting to get reports during the day (by text message) that Noah was having some behavioral issues. Reports that ended in “we need to talk when you get here this afternoon.” I don’t know about you but being on the receiving end of those messages was like a punch in the guts. What was happening to my mellow, easy-going baby? Who was this toddler with “behavioral issues”? Of course we were having our share of not-quite-two year old behavior--shrieking, acting out, tantrums, etc. All actions I considered perfectly normal for his age and development. Then why were these actions worthy of “discussions” every afternoon? Why wasn’t she handling it? In my opinion, that’s part of the job as a caregiver: you handle the issues.

Then Noah started to hit. And then he bit our caregiver. Twice. My heart began to race on the train ride to pick him up, never knowing what kind of report I was going to get at the end of the day. Some days the text messages would set me up for disappointment in Noah’s behavior. Other days she would wait until I stepped into her home and unleash the day’s events on me. She was never cruel or heartless when talking with me about Noah but something started to change over the course of the next couple of weeks. I began to hear more negative reports and less positive ones (warning no. 7...I’m sure you’re now wondering why the hell I wasn’t catching on. Hindsight is always 20/20, is it not?). We exchanged emails and had conversations about how we could all help improve his behavior and yet each day was getting worse. Noah was acting out more and more and her attitude towards him continued to worsen.

I hate to admit this but MY attitude towards my son was worsening as well. After a long day of work, of commuting on a crowded train, I would receive an endless monologue of Noah’s transgressions from that day: hitting, ramming himself into walls, throwing wooden blocks, acting aggressively towards the baby, not listening, refusing to obey in time-outs, interrupting naps, so on and so forth. My reserves were drained by 5 pm so hearing all this just made me mad, mad at Noah. That was so wrong of me. I know that now. But in those moments, I just wanted to scream “Mommy had a hard day too! Can’t you just listen and make this all easier???” Instead, I called friends, some of you. I called my mother. Tim and I spent hours talking about it at night after Noah was snuggled in bed. I’m pretty sure I was the only one who thought the problem was with Noah and not with our caregiver. I wanted to believe that the place I had chosen to send my baby, my darling son, was the right place for him. Sadly, that was so far from the truth.

To be continued...

The Great Daycare Debacle: Part 1 (of who knows how many)

2010-08-20T20:21:00.001-05:00

Noah started at his second new daycare on August 2nd. That’s two daycares in three months. This is a lesson in listening to your instincts, in following your gut, in paying attention to your “mama” radar. It’s true...when you give birth you also grow an antenna on your head that is on full-alert mode 24/7. It flashes green or red depending on the circumstances and is a constant buzz in your ear. I didn’t listen to that buzz and I wish I had.

I got my job back on May 9th with a start date of June 7th. We had one month to figure out childcare for Noah. One month in a city where daycare wait lists are two years long, decent nannies are hard to find, and lord help you if you don’t have Grandma living nearby to come watch your kids. Nothing like a little fire under your ass, am I right? But let’s back up a week, shall we? Before I went to my meeting with my former employer I started looking into childcare. I knew I would be working SOMEWHERE, I just didn’t know it would happen so fast. I found our first daycare provider on Craigslist. I know some people think Craigslist is populated by serial killers but I have had great luck with it as a resource. Why not give it a shot for childcare too?

Her ad was well-written and linked to the well-designed website she had built for her business. She was a young, seemingly energetic woman who was just starting out in the in-home daycare business (warning no. 1). She had a background in elementary education and art. She had a young, infant son who looked cute and well-cared for. Her home was a mile from our house and a mile from the train I would need to take to work. She was taking two infants and two toddlers in addition to her son. She had one toddler spot left. This is me thinking “Score!”. I called right away and set up an appointment for the following afternoon, May 8th.

I walked into her townhome and right away noticed that it wasn’t in the best shape (warning no. 2). She had told me over the phone that it was a rental but had permission from her landlord to run her daycare out of the space. Perhaps I am too forgiving because then she told me her townhome was for sale and they may need to relocate come March. I forged on. She took me to the dedicated play space set up for the kids...it looked cute and well-appointed with toys and activities, if a little on the small side for a couple active toddlers and three babies. She was sweet and reminded me of one of my good friends. On a personality level, we clicked pretty quickly and fell into an easy conversation. Her rates were affordable and she would be feeding the kids two meals and all snacks. She said there was a deposit if we wanted the spot and warned that she had a couple more appointments set up with parents for the toddler spot so I should let her know right away if we wanted it. She wasn’t taking kids until July 1st at the earliest because she hadn’t gotten her DCFS license yet (warning no. 3). I told her I had an interview the next day and would let her know.

I went home and told Tim that I liked it, it would be fine (warning no. 4), we should secure the spot. We decided to wait until after my meeting with my former employer before deciding what to do. The next day I went to my meeting and got my job back with a start date one month away. And then I went home and panicked. I knew we would never find anything we could afford in such a short period of time and that we should take the in-home spot. But I didn’t feel 100% confident that the in-home was the right place for Noah (warning no. 5). To be honest, I didn’t know what it was, I couldn’t identify the feeling I was experiencing. I chalked it up to being terrified about someone else taking care of Noah in my absence and needing to adjust to the idea of working again. In hindsight, it wasn’t going back to work or the fear of change that was really nagging at me.

I called her the following Monday and asked to drop off the deposit and contract. We secured our spot at the in-home daycare with a start date of June 21st. My first day of work was June 7th so my sister took one for the team and stayed with us to help take care of Noah for those two weeks. We love her for it. I was waiting for the wave of relief to wash over me. I got my old job back in a matter of a week, we found a daycare solution for Noah that seemed perfect (on paper), and things should have been falling into place. That wave of relief never came.

To be continued...

Judgment is not the best form of flattery

2010-08-12T20:56:00.000-05:00

(Here’s some salt. Take a grain of it while you read.)

I hate the game. You know the game. The Mommy Game we all play where one Mommy is a Good Mommy and the other a Bad Mommy. Good Mommies have only wooden toys handmade in the mountains of Appalachia and purchased at the independent toy shop down the street. Bad Mommies buy their mostly plastic, battery powered toys at the local Mega Store. Good Mommies serve only organic, locally-grown, hormone-free, pesticide-free, cage-free, free-range, grass-fed foods to their whole families while Bad Mommies do their best but don’t get worked up if the local market is out of organic milk. Good Mommies have all their preschool applications completed months before they’re due. Bad Mommies didn’t know they were a month behind. Good Mommies sign their kids up for a wide-range of classes so their kids can find their “passion”. Bad Mommies miss the sign-up deadline and just say “we’ll try for next session”. Good Mommies stay home and raise their children. Bad Mommies go to work and hire someone else to take care of their kids. (Here is where you need that grain of salt.)

It’s a terrible game to play, the Mommy Game. No one wins. The self-declared Good Mommies sit smugly atop their gilded thrones while the Bad Mommies have no idea they’re being judged from above. At what point does the Game end? When do the Good Mommies and the Bad Mommies start to play nicely together? How do we move past the judgments? Aren’t we all just trying to do the best we can with what we have?

Everyday as a parent, as a Mommy, is a struggle. So why do we always make that individual struggle into a group competition with no clear winner? I’m ready to step up and say “You do your thing, I’ll do mine, and let’s just throw the kids in the sandbox together”. There is no need to “one up” each other when what we really need is to support one another in all of our incarnations. We’re all Good Mommies, at least in the eyes of our children.

A little about me...feel free to skim

2010-08-05T18:26:00.000-05:00

It’s been suggested by those who have gone before me, aka BlogHer attendees from years past, that I write a few interesting tidbits about my glowing personality so anyone who comes here after getting one of my business blog cards (thank you, husband, for mocking me) can see what I’m all about. But then I laughed and laughed because in all reality I am not that interesting and just really good at pretending.

But, in the interest of being a team player, here you go:

I’m short and feel frumpy in flats but will most likely be wearing them because I feel silly in heels outside of the office. Oh and my fabulous wedges broke a strap the other day and that rightfully pissed me off.
I used to be painfully shy. Then I went to college, joined a sorority (In The Bond, bitches) and got myself elected president. I am kind of really proud of that accomplishment even if all I did was act important and save us from social probation on more than one occasion.
As if you didn’t know, I am the mother to the world’s smartest two year old (proven) and the wife to a husband who thinks he can learn all he needs to know in life from the Discovery and History channels. Those addictions are why we can’t get rid of cable, not my love affair with Bravo.
I love my dog and hate my cat. There. I said it. I have become a cat discriminator.
I think wine on the back deck in the summer with friends and the kids running in circles is the best happy hour in the world.
I love lipsticks/glosses and forget everyday to reapply. To those of you who remember, I am supremely jealous of your shiny lips.
I live in a 130 year OLD OLD OLD house and bought it because of it’s “original! hardwood! floors! and! beautiful! white! trim!” and now I wish I lived in a brand new house. Squeaky floors lose their charm after the 100th time the baby wakes up when you walk down the hallway.
On the surface, I pretend I am a “just in case” kind of girl and I usually have a little cosmetics bag with basic necessities in my diaper bag. In reality, what I usually need is never in that little bag but the other moms always have it “just in case”. They drive me crazy.
I constantly feel like I am not “old enough” to be someone’s mom. I look at the other moms at daycare pick up and think “I bet they have it together and know what’s for dinner.”
Lastly, I get nervous meeting new people and will either be really outgoing to the point of scaring you or so painfully shy you’ll think I have never been allowed in public before. Hand me a cocktail and I’ll be ok.

There you have it, folks. I hope you like me if you meet me and if you already know me, feel free to tell everyone how fabulous I am. There may be a treat in store for you.

Suited up for battle

2010-07-30T22:50:00.000-05:00

This is going to be short because it is a) LATE and b) I am going to see her (squeee!) tomorrow morning with her (yay!) so I have a road trip to prepare for and by prepare I mean get to sleep. Anyhow, in the great, magnanimous City of Chicago (and yes, it is ALWAYS capitalized like that because we think we are more important than we actually are), come June one must purchase a city sticker for their vehicle. This is mandatory and if you don't do it (as I have learned the hard way) you will be ticketed to the tune of $150-ish buckaroos. These stickers are damn expensive so it's not something I take to kindly. Tim drives a Prius which is classified by the city as a "passenger" vehicle (I know, brilliant) and therefore his sticker cost is $75. I drive a 2003 Acura MDX (SUV) which is classified as a "large passenger" vehicle (again, the City of Chicago amazes me with the clever naming) and my sticker cost is $120. Hell no, that's ridiculously expensive for the right to park my car on the streets.

Let me just say that living on a tight budget for a couple of years makes me question the list price of everything. Oh, you say, you haggled with the CITY? No, my dears, I did not. What I did was lookup the city code that governs the laundry list of vehicles that are classified as "large passenger". The city says that for your vehicle to classify as "large passenger" it must have a curb weight of 4,500 lbs or more. Acura MDXs are on that list. However, I couldn't take that at face value. I KNOW car manufacturers change the weights of their models all the time, especially when the model has been RECENTLY redesigned (MDX redesign in 2006-7). Do you see where I'm going with this? I looked up the curb weight of my 2003 MDX and found that it is 49 lbs shy of 4,500 lbs, or the minimum weight to classify as a "large passenger" vehicle. NOT SO FAST CITY OF CHICAGO.

That is how I found myself at the City Clerk's office at noon today shoving my findings in the face of the poor, overworked city employee (which, NO, Chicago city employees are neither poor nor overworked) and requesting (nay, demanding) that I speak to someone about this discrepancy. Lucky for me, the city employee had no desire to deal with my complaining. She gave the papers a look over, decided I wasn't trying to scam the city, and gave me the $75 "passenger" vehicle sticker. I am now the proud owner of a 2003 Acura TL coupe, at least in the eyes of the City of Chicago. And my wallet is $45 heavier. Not bad for a day's work fighting the system.

If you made it to the end of this story, then BRAVO, because it was not short as promised. I need to come up with better material.

Spinkles, Mommy!

2010-07-20T21:25:00.000-05:00

Dear Noah,

Happy Birthday to you! Today you are TWO! TWO! I can hardly believe it. At two, you are: funny (SO funny), dramatic, spirited, joyous, energetic, talkative, demanding, gentle, and most days, kind. You have such a way with words...a vocabulary and understanding I didn't anticipate at two years old. You are my little parrot, repeating everything I say, and I do mean EVERYTHING. Your new favorite phrase is "Peee Ewww, Mommy! Noah stinky feet!" which is kind of true most days.

These past couple of months have been tough on you. I went back to work and you started at daycare at Miss S's house. We've had a few rough days adjusting to our new routines but we're getting there. You love your new friends at Miss S's and ask for them every morning when you wake up. I love that you love to be there...knowing you're happy makes being away from you a little easier. In truth, I have had a harder time leaving you than you have had being away from me. I'm so pleased you're an adaptable little fellow. Now I just need to learn from you.

Thank you, Noah, for continuously teaching us how to be better parents. We have been entrusted with the greatest responsibility in raising you and we're so proud of the little boy you're becoming.

You are the brightest part of my day. I'm so excited to see what the next years have in store for us, for our little family.

Happy 2nd Birthday my love.

Love,

Mommy

I claim that there was not fair warning

2010-07-14T21:11:00.000-05:00

Did you know that working full time and then taking care of a CAH-RAZY almost two year old makes you so tired you can't string two words together let alone write a meaningful blog post? It's true! I'm living proof! My brain is fried by 5 pm. This post is a short placeholder until I can get Noah's TWO YEAR OLD post done. How is he TWO? Explain that to me. Go ahead.

A little less happy

2010-07-02T22:04:00.000-05:00

I was all sorts of excited to purchase my BlogHer conference party pass today with my first paycheck (yahoo!) and THEN! IT WAS NOT AVAILABLE. Gone. Dunzo. Not happening. BUT I HAVE A PLANE TICKET! THAT IS NOT REFUNDABLE! I AM YELLING AND MAD ABOUT THIS!

So, friends, do YOU know anyone who wants to sell their pass? I'm buying. If I don't get a pass, I'll be the girl with her face smooshed to the glass door of the Hilton yelling "LET ME IN!!!!!". Please don't make me be that girl. Please.

Happy

2010-06-30T21:03:00.003-05:00

For a number of reasons, I’m feeling pretty good these days. First, I got my (old) job back. Second, I started working and found that I liked it...far more than I could have anticipated. Third, Tim’s software development business has rapidly picked up and he’s busier than ever. Fourth, I’m going to BlogHer (can I get a HOLLLLLEERRRR on that?). And lastly, but almost the most important for me (and as you all know by now) I was recently offered the opportunity to contribute to another blog I adore, Style Lush.

You guys. I nearly cried when Jennie sent me an email asking if I was interested in writing for her (and Elizabeth’s and Jonna’s) style blog. I’ve always wanted to write. I started this blog as an outlet for the tiny creative side of my brain that was fighting for a little attention. The past two years that I was home with Noah, I toyed with putting myself out there and finding ways to write more but never did. Maybe I was a little nervous that no one would like what I wrote. Maybe I didn’t have confidence in my words, my ideas. Maybe I thought blogging was a silly little thing I did for fun and could never be more than that. Jennie thought differently and for that I am so very grateful.

Now, I go to work everyday to make money to help support my family. And after work, after the family is fed and the boy is in bed, I get to do something for myself. I get to write. I get to spend time doing something that is so, so good for my soul. It feels good to be happy and fulfilled again after such a long road of disappointments and setbacks. Thank you, ladies of Style Lush, for your warm welcome and I can’t wait to meet as many of you as I can in August. I am forever grateful for this opportunity to be a small part of something so great.

I'm a cheatin' fool and I don't feel bad one little bit

2010-06-29T11:06:00.001-05:00

I'm cheating on this blog a little and writing over at Style Lush today. Come visit me and check out how to throw a fabulous baby shower on a budget! (Leave a little comment love over there if you can!)

Best time of day

2010-06-28T20:45:00.001-05:00

These past couple of weeks I’ve taken over Noah’s bedtime routine with a vengeance. I push Tim out of the way and demand our baby all to myself. I want to watch him splash in the tub and create imaginary storylines between Elmo, Ernie and their boat. I want to chase him, dripping, down the hallway towards his room, leaving the towel in his wake. I want to slip his little feet into his jammies and hear him say “Feet INNNNN!” and giggle uncontrollably. I want to brush his hair and his teeth and sing our songs about getting clean. I want to help him pick out his favorite books to read and watch his face light up when we settle into our rocking chair with the well-loved story about farm animals. I want to hold him close to me while we read “one more story, Mommy”. I want to rock him and sing to him and run my fingers through his hair while he begins his descent into sleep. I want to lay him in his crib and hear him ask me to “rub back please” before slipping out the door.

Of course I will, baby. Of course I will for as long as you need me to.

What once was a rushed process to end our long day has become my absolute favorite time. I get so few hours with Noah each day and I'm savoring every minute that we have together. At this time of day, I watch the clock less and settle into the two of us resting together. I remember reading some of your accounts rocking your babies and I never realized just how precious that time is to a working mother. I get it now. I really get it.

Sick and tired (no, really, just sick and tired)

2010-06-23T23:00:00.003-05:00

Oh hi, I’m sick. I caught the dreaded cold/achy flu/feverish chills from a co-worker. The lovely part: Tim came home from work early and handled Noah’s evening routine as well as a grocery run for milk and bread so I could pass out at 6pm. The not so lovely part: I had to come into work today even though I felt like death warmed over. I don’t have sick days yet. I haven’t worked long enough to earn any time off (and yes, I know this accrual based system is a benefit to the employers and not the employees) and when I do have time accrued I know I need to save it for when Noah’s sick. Which, according to a lot of your accounts, will be always now that he’s in daycare.

Speaking of daycare, we had a great week with it last week but this week he’s acting up. Currently, Noah’s attending daycare with only one other kid-our caregiver’s 8 month old son, H. Noah pretty much has the joint to himself and demands S’s (caregiver) undivided attention to the detriment of H. Noah yells at S when H needs her and takes her attention away from him. He throws blocks (hard! wooden! blocks!) at H when he gets mad. He kicked H in the face (H was totally fine and wasn’t hurt at all...just more surprised that his new buddy kicked him). He’s yelled at H and taken toys away from him “Noah’s toy NOT H’s toy NOOOOOOOOO”. Noah’s ALWAYS played nicely with other kids. I’m not lying when I say that. So this behavior is really unsettling for me. I know it’s only week two so he may still be adjusting and acting out his frustration by terrorizing the little baby. I know he’s really a kind little boy under this bad attitude and I need to find a way to express that we don’t hurt our friends EVER.

Also, now that I’ve turned this into a plea for help, how do I handle the daily reports of bad boy behavior from daycare? I think she’s on top of telling me because it’s directly affecting her son so of course I totally understand. And she’s handling Noah’s behavior issues very well: implementing time outs for hitting/kicking/throwing/etc. and reminding him over and over how to play nicely. I just have major guilt when I pick him up and get the run down of his day and it always starts out with “well, we had a little issue today...”. I start to cringe on the walk up to her front door, worrying about what she’ll tell me and then how I have to attempt to talk to a two year old about it when we get home. Aren’t little kids kind of like dogs though? Me reprimanding Noah hours after the incident in question seems a little counter-intuitive. Also, I think I feel bad that someone other than myself is having to deal with Naughty Boy Noah. That’s her job though, right? That’s what I pay her a handsome sum of money each week to do, yes?

Sigh. My motto: it’s only been two weeks. It’s only been two weeks. IT WILL GET BETTER.

Roaming

2010-06-14T20:47:00.000-05:00

We ended a long week with a lovely trip to see some friends. Friends like her and her. Friends that I met through this here blog. Friends who are good for my soul. Friends who have beautiful, funny, joyous children. Take a peek...

The closest I got to all four kids in one shot. They are FAST little buggers.

Charlotte spotted the mud from a hundred yards away and beelined it.

Noah wasn't far behind.

Mud pies!

Cass and Lexi. This shot makes my heart sing.

Between a real photographer and a wanna-be (hint: the real one isn't me)

Ok, so MAYBE I kind of fell in love with this girl.

Noah approving of the mess.

Sawyer looked so bad ass with his mud eye patch.

This day trip was just what the doctor ordered. Good food, good drinks, and most importantly, good people. Thank you ModernMatriarch for hosting us and for letting us track dirt all over your clean carpets. We had a fabulous time.

Probably only applicable this week but let’s go with it

2010-06-10T20:37:00.002-05:00

I feel mentally energized. Renewed, perhaps. I hesitate to write those words because once they’re out there, it’s hard to take them back. But for now, for today, and maybe tomorrow, they ring true. This is not to say that going back to work after an extended two year absence is easy because it’s not, not at all. When my alarm rings at 5:45am, I immediately groan, kick the dog on accident, and slap the snooze button. I’m physically exhausted by the time I drag myself off the train and into the car to head home. But once I get home, once I get back to Noah, once I scoop him up and hold him close, I feel calm…centered…dare I say, happier, than I have felt in a long time.

My house is in massive disarray, there are loads of laundry to do, and gardens to weed. We’re headed out of town for a short road trip Saturday and I am wholly unprepared and unpacked. The Sara of two months ago would be fretting and wringing her hands over the state of things. The Sara of today can’t be bothered to worry about it. The house will eventually be put back in order, the laundry will be washed and folded (somehow), the gardens will be weeded, the bags will be packed in time for our departure. It will all get done. For now I am focused on learning our new routines, making sure Noah is well-cared for, and kicking ass at work for 8 hours a day.

Maybe taking this job will prove to be one of the best decisions we’ve ever made. Maybe I was burned out staying home for two years with an ever-changing newborn-baby-toddler. Maybe I need this time out of the house and doing something for myself, for a potential career. Maybe I’ll figure out that I really am better at home and I’ll go back someday. I don’t know. The future truly is unpredictable, no matter how well-laid your plans. What I do know is that I am a good mom to Noah, working or not. I am a good wife to Tim, dinner made every night or not. I am a good daughter, friend, and employee. Above all, I am good to, and for, me. And that, my friends, is a revelation.