Gathering Favorites for Me

Little One eyes the wallpaper in the powder room and makes an odd pincer-finger motion in the air.  She cups Her hands into Her chest and peeks into them.  Then She hold them up to me and calls out:

LO: "Mamma!  Here go! I picked some fowers for you!"

C: "Oh! Thank you, Little One. You picked some of the flowers from the wallpaper for me? That's very sweet."

LO: "Yah! I picked these FOR you! (Makes the pincer motion again) And! And some gu-uuuum!"

The girl knows me so well. 

Homecoming

Like I said, I stayed in the Hospital Resort for as long as I could.
The evening of my last day, J came to pick us up.  We finally filled out the name on the birth certificate, put Her in Her photo-op coming-home outfit (actually a doll dress), and buckled Her into the car seat.
It's a crazy thing taking a little person out for their first breath of fresh air.  The first rays of sun on Her skin, the first whispers of breeze in Her ears.  The first smell of parking garage in Her tiny nose.  Welcome to the world, Little Miss.

Just Before Checking Out

Taking a newborn on Her first car trip is scary. "Don't go too fast! Don't turn too fast! Her little head is flopping around! Watch out for that truck! Is it too cold in here?  The news is too violent for her! Change the station!" 
Engulfed in this gigantic car seat, She seems so tiny and so very fragile.  The big world is so dangerous, all these DC drivers are so inconsiderate.  Don't they know there's a new baby in this car?!  They should all be more careful!
But with J The King of Good Driving at helm, we did make it safely home. When we rounded the curve to our street, all the neighborhood kids were gathered in a bunch on the corner.  The were tracing shapes in the mud and picking at their zippers, as if they'd been there a long time.  I started to wonder what they were up to, when they spotted our car.  They'd been waiting for us. They all got up, jumping and waving and cheering.  A welcoming committee! 
Welcome to the neighborhood, Little Miss.  We've been expecting you.
They swarmed the car like little paparazzi, everyone trying to get the first look at the new baby.  We answered some of the zillion questions flying at us from all sides - Is it still a girl? What's her name is it my name? Why is she sleeping? Why are her eyebrows so tiny? Can she crawl yet?- and made our way through the crowd to our front door, decked in pink by my mom and Little One.
Little One came running, giddy, "baby sister baby sis-" and suddenly stopped, overwhelmed by the crowd.  She was the next victim of the well-wishers.  The swallowed Her up, passed Her around, hugging and asking Her about Her baby sister.
Finally we sent them off with promises to meet on the playground soon, and the pet-paparazzi came in for their turn.  After the dogs had sniffed Her and the Nana had hugged Her, Little One held Her and made sure all Her parts were still present.  Eyes, ears, toes, check.  She showed Her some of the good toys, She grabbed Her microphone and gave Her a song and dance.  

Welcome to your home, Little Miss.  You are very popular here.
When the excitement died down a little, we all cozied up on the couch and just hung out.  Together.  Labor, delivery, hospital, homecoming.  What a rush, like reeling a bit too fast around the curve of a highway on-ramp.
But then, there we were.  A brand new road opened up before us, stretching out as far as we can see.  Who knows what we'll find along the way?  But it's wonderful to be all together, going the same way.  A new adventure.
I basked in the newness, the sweetness of it.  I took some pictures of my children, looking all angelic.  I got some butterflies in my stomach over the "ren" at the end of "children".  I got all warm and fuzzy about it, and about being Home, with a capital H.  And then I went downstairs and, with the hospital bracelet still on my wrist, scrubbed dog poo off the basement tile. 
Welcome home, C.  Two kids. Two dogs.  Three baskets for laundry.  One big Life Highway, no speed limit.  And here we go.

Early Memories

My very first memory, ever, is of going to see my mom and new sister in the hospital when she was born.  I don't actually recall either of them, frankly. But I remember carrying the flowers, which seemed as big as me.  I remember the long, linoleum hallways and the hospital smell.  I remember that the corridor seemed huge and wide and endless.  I remember my dad's hand holding mine; my left hand.  His hand seemed very big too.  I remember him talking to me; I can remember the tones of his voice though not what he said.  I remember being excited.  And unsure what to expect. 
Little One is exactly the same age I was then.  I wonder if She will remember walking long, hospital-smelling hallways, or the tones of my mother's voice explaining where they were going, or carrying the white and lavender flowers, almost as big as She is. 
She carried/dragged them over to me, climbed up for a big hug.  And then wanted only Baby.  She exclaimed over all the details- "Look mommy! Has NOSE! Has, eyes.  Has one, two ears, see! Have some hair.  Look! These fingers tiny!" She kissed, cuddled, and generally just adored the heck out of Her sister.  She totally got that THIS was the Baby Sister that had been in my tummy all this time.  "Look mommy! Your baby come OUT! See? Right here! Here is BABY SISTER!"   
This introduction couldn't have gone better if I'd dreamed it. 
I don't know how much of it, if anything, Little One will be able to remember.  I wish so much that Little Miss could. What a wonderful welcome to the family!  But I do know for sure that those are moments I will never forget.

Admitted

After Little Miss was born and we were both all check-upped and declared in as good a shape as can be expected, considering, the medical people did a funny thing.
They said, "All right! Since this is your second baby, you can go home tomorrow if you want! Would you like that!?" 
HA ha.  Hahahahaaaa.  I laughed at this little joke, and explained, "Oh.  No, no.  I have a toddler".  
The medical people looked at me all blankly.  They must not have small children. 
So I elaborated, "Which is to say, no thank you.  I'd like to stay the full amount of time, if you don't mind".  By which, of course, I meant: "I am not vacating these premises until you drag me screaming and biting by my ankles, having broken through all ten of the fingernails I will have firmly embedded in the hospital mattress.  And I've been taking prenatal vitamins; those suckers are strong." 
Because telling the mother of a 2 year old to "go home and take it easy" is like telling a pig to go into a butcher shop and have a nice day.  And because from the point of view of mother to one such 2 year old, the hospital is a four-star resort. 
I had my own room.  AND bathroom.  Do you know what that means!? I could shower practically whenever I wanted, for practically as LONG as I wanted.  I got to shut the door, every time I peed. 
No one snored and I didn't have to share the covers.  Whenever the Baby was sleeping- even in the day time! Even in the night time! At snack! At dinner! ANY time She was asleep- I got to sleep.  Seriously! I napped! Sure, I woke up from people screaming occasionally. But I got to just nestle happily back into my pillow, all cozy with the knowledge that it was being handled by Someone Else.  This is luxury, Peanuts.
Sure, the hospital food was nasty to the point of being mostly unedible and my order was wrong every single time, but it was brought right to me, on a tray.  And the preparing and cleaning up from these meals was also handled by the mystical, magical Someone Else.  This is gourmet dining, Peanuts. 
A guy brought me water, too, anytime I wanted! It even had those fun crushed up ice cubes.  And a straw!  All my used towels went into the Someone Else bin and I didn't have to vacuum AT ALL. 
It was quiet in there.  I didn't have to do anything except cuddle and stare adoringly at my new baby.  Who was much too small and helpless to climb up my pant-leg begging for an animal cracker, or to dump out the contents of my purse.  Plus, since I delivered at J's hospital and he got to visit between patients, I actually got to see more of my spouse during my stay.  And I had free childcare (thanks mom!). In my line of work, this is what we call a vacation. 
Besides which, I thought it was the considerate thing to do, to give Little Miss a couple of days to recover from being suddenly expelled from a warm, quiet existence into the bright, noisy world before shocking Her system with the exponentially noisier, more chaotic world of toddler, two dogs, and constantly running appliances. 
I did not watch TV, I did not bring my laptop.  I did not read a book, or even a magazine.  I slept, and I chatted with visitors, and I adored my baby, and that is it.  I soaked up all those precious moments with Her, where it was just us two, string-free, getting to know each other.  Of course, I did miss my Little One, and the vortex of energy She travels with.  By the end of my stay, I was ready to go home, show Little Miss around, and start into our new family life. 
I'll miss those crazy medical folks a bit, though.  They are so funny.  Always joking around!
When we left, do you know what they said to me?  They said: "Make sure you sleep whenever She does, and take care not to lift anything heavier than the baby".   HA HA!  Those sillies! 

Schnurgles

My sweet Baby Miss is suffering the fate of the second-born. 
The reduced hand-washing, the lessened sterilization of the environment, and, mostly, the unmitigated exposure to Toddler and the resulting microbial cloud that trundles through the house infesting everything.
She has the Schurgles. 
You know the Schnurgles?  The sneezy, snotty, trying to breathe through boogers and then choking on them schurgles?  Those ones.  And a teensy fever. 
This has made for a tough time nursing because, well you try drinking without being able to breathe.  It's exhausting! So much so that She falls asleep after two minutes of wearing Herself out, only to wake up five minutes later because She is STARVING OMG FEED ME RIGHT NOW! 
It also makes for an uncomfy Little Miss who really, really just wants to be held and snuggled to feel better.  I love this.  And I hate it at the same time, because as much as I honestly would love to sit and cuddle the schnurgles away all day, I do have another customer who doesn't really love having Her snuggles placed on back-order for long, and also my husband told me that the house is "unpresentable".  (Which seriously almost made me cry.  This is like telling an artist that their paintings are not artsy.  Or a baker that their cake is not sweet.  This is my life's work people). 
So I am doing my best to attend to these matters one-armed. In fact, I am currently typing one-handed. When my kids are grown I will have had enough training, I think, to join the circus as the act that begins with "and now, with one arm tied behind my back...!" 
Other than my effective amputation and the schnurgles, however, we are all doing great. I have lots more baby-related tales to tell you! (I totally just felt the ground shaking from your collective shudder of excitement.) When I get my other hand back I will do it. Until then, how about a random, stubbornly sideways picture of my little schnurgler?  Here ya go:

The Story

At 12:06am, the day before my due date, I woke up suddenly. The first thing I saw was the big, full moon- as round as me- pouring light in the window.  I woke up because of the contraction, and in that moment under the moon I knew it was all beginning. 

Because it was just the beginning, because I felt I’d waited so long, maybe because I was delirious from sleep, I smiled a big smile, happy that I would meet my baby soon, and went back to sleep.

At 1:06am, I sat straight up.  Groggy and a bit confused, and scavenged for a pen and paper to start writing down contractions. Hmm.  I thought.  Hmm.  I think this might go a bit faster than last time. 

From then on, they came 10 minutes apart, over a minute long.  Definitely in labor. 

And would you like to know what I did, Peanuts?  In labor?  In the middle of the night?
I did laundry.  Yes.  I hauled it down to the basement and back up to the second floor, load by load, and I washed it and dried it and folded it up.  Because I am a strange, warped little person and my primary concern when faced with an impending birth was, apparently, that it was laundry day the next day and how was it going to get done if I was at the hospital? Frankly I was a bit irritated that with J still sleeping away in the bed, I wasn’t able to change the sheets.  I have a sickness, I know it.

I also tidied up the house a little, got all my things together, took a shower, got dressed.  Just taking care of business, remembering Little One’s Birth Day and how it takes time, and is a process, and how I wanted to spend as much of my labor at home as possible. 

But by about 4am, I was not smiling.  At the moon, the baby, or anything else.  I was starting to freak out a little. 

These contractions were long and they hurt more than I remembered.  I wasn’t feeling very tough, already dropping my hands to my knees and taking long breaths, with surely many, many hours to go.  I’d only slept about and hour and a half, and after just a few hours of this (ok, and a few loads of laundry up and down the stairs) I was getting really tired.  Plus. 

The thing about this baby being baked two extra weeks is that She’d had that much longer to grow.  She would be at least as big as a two-week old Little One, I figured, and maybe bigger.  In fact, maybe this labor hurt so much more because She was so much bigger.  HUGE probably! I was getting increasingly concerned about Her exit, and altogether starting to panic just a little. 

J, for his part, was just annoyed that I was frolicking about in the middle of the night. Waking him up with all this pacing around, and turning on the bathroom light, and rustling things about, and, wait, seriously? Is she doing laundry? At 3am?  Crazy pregnant lady.  Let a guy get some sleep already. 

He tried to be a good sport.  When I asked him to rub my back he groggily, dozingly complied. Even though, jeeze, now I have to give her a back rub? At 4am? Crazy pregnant lady. 

At one point, he cracked his eyes open and observed the crazy pregnant lady pacing about and taking long, annoyingly loud breaths, and wondered aloud,“are we having a baby today?”  
“Yes”.
He said, “Oh”, and fell back asleep.
When they started to seem really bad, I asked him to count, to time how long they were. 

 “…thrity two, thirty three, thirty…four..thir..ty…f…..” 

“Um, J?”

“Hunh? What?”

“Did you really just fall asleep in the middle of my contraction?”
“…”

“J?”

Such is the exhausted stupor of a medical resident.  I asked him to go downstairs and get me some juice, once. To get me water, twice. And he did. I sat on the bed next to him and squeezed the life out of his hand, several times.  And still, he never achieved full consciousness until we were loading up the car.  It’s not really that he didn’t realize I was in labor.  He just didn’t realize that I was in real labor. 

And honestly, neither did I.  Really, we both thought I was bothering him unnecessarily much.  That I was being, well, kind of a big baby about it all this time around, and why couldn’t I just relax for awhile and wait it out? Like I did before?  How could I be LESS stoic on my second time around?
But I was.
By 7:30, I was back in the shower, calling him and not caring who else I woke up.   
“J.  J!  JJJJJJ!!” 

“What? What?”
“J.  I. Think. Ah! I. Think. I. Want. To. Go.To. The hospital.”

“Already? Are you sure?”
“NO!...Yes!  I DON'T KNOW PLEASE PUT STUFF IN THE CAR!” 

By this time, Little One was up and having breakfast with Nana downstairs.  J loaded up the car and I hollered down the stairs for him.  Sheesh, I thought as I hollered.  I am not being very calm about this.  “J I NEED YOUR HELP!”

He helped me get dressed and had to help me down the stairs.  I paused on the landing and tried very, very hard not to completely freak out Little One, who wanted to know why I wasn’t coming to give Her a hug. 

“Oh no, mommy you sick mommy? You ok?  Need a kiss?”

She hugged me and I moved to the door.  I sat on the couch to get my shoes on and give Her a hug.  Another contraction and it took ALL my self-control to force a smile for Little One, who was not fooled in the least. 

Thank goodness for my mother, who very cheerfully and calmly managed to help me with my shoes, explain everything to Little One in a very reassuring way, hug me and give me one of those mom looks that instantly fortify you, and bundle us out the door, all in one swoop.  My mother is an angel. 

I sent a text to my OB, letting her know I was on the way to the hospital. 

Knowing that I’d only been having regular contractions since 1 and that I’d wanted to labor at home, she messaged back, “are you sure? Want to try taking a bath first?”
I answered no, I didn’t want to worry Little One, who was up now, and I just kind of felt like going in.  But not to rush, because I thought it would be awhile. 

We started driving.  I had been trying pretty hard to take soothing breaths and remain in control of myself to some degree.  But in the car, with no one there but J, I lost it.
I hollered like Tarzan.  Like a Banshee. I tell you, I just screamed. 

J laughed gleefully.  “This is like a movie!” 
We both laughed.  And then we sat there.  Minutes ticked by.  The contractions seemed really horrible to me.  But they were still 5 minutes apart. Which started a strange cycle of us wondering if we were going in way too early, me apologizing because I knew we’d be walking the halls of the hospital for a long time, and then a contraction hitting and me freaking the heck out.

When we got to the parking lot I was feeling really, really guilty for keeping him up all night and insisting on coming to the hospital so early.  We considered going to pick up some breakfast for him first.

Then another contraction and I started to cry.  I blubbered that I was so tired, SO tired and I just wanted to go to sleep.  I didn't want to have a baby at the moment, I wanted to go to bed instead.  I was scared.  It hurt. I was feeling very ashamed that I was handling this labor process so poorly, and crying because I was so disappointed in myself as I told J I thought I might have to have medicine this time.
I just could not imagine hours and hours more of what was happening.
I was so sorry, I said, but I just wanted to go in.
J agreed that I seemed not to be handling things as well as last time and was probably psyching myself out. But he was super supportive, both with his words and literally, holding me around the waist as we made our way through the parking lot and down the long linoleum hallways.  I kept having to stop and lean on him, but we shuffled our way to triage. 

We waited for the nurse.  I still wasn’t completely ready to let go of my hope for a natural birth, but I wasn’t sure I could make it too much longer. Maybe an hour or two... but I’d only been in labor for seven hours.  “If she says 4 centimeters, I’m not sure I can make it”, I told J.  He kind of chuckled.  “It’s just like a movie!” 

The nurse finally came in all annoyingly loud and cheerful.  Asking me questions that I could not answer (because I couldn’t BREATHE you stupid sappy cheerleader what the heck do you THINK my pain scale is right now!) But at least this time I knew the right answer to that one.  "Ten! Ten.  TEN!"

Cheerleader Nurse: “Well then! How about we check to see how far you’re dilating, and then will you be ready for your epidural?”

C: “Well….well…I think that will depend on what you tell me when you check”. 

Annoying Nurse giggled and clucked at me patronizingly, “Uh, well, I can tell you right now that you’re very uncomfortable, hun”.  
(Did she just "hun" me?! Oh no.  She didn't.  I'll kick her! I'll- wait, contraction, can't move... )

“Ok well, yes.  That’s true….but still, could you just check?”

She brought in a doctor, who checked. And immediately motioned to the triage nurse.  
“Ok, you’re having that baby NOW.”

There wasn’t even time to sign the admitting forms.  They careened the triage bed down the hall like a roller-coaster ride, fluorescent lights flying by, to the delivery room.
They said PUSH! And I did- but then I stopped.
“Wait! Wait! How big is She? Is She too big!? Is She huge?!?” 

Everyone looked around at each other. Crazy pregnant lady. Finally someone said, “um…no….no, she’s…she’s going to fit and everything, and... um..she does have to come out, so…you have to push.”

Fine.
Five minutes of waiting for the next contraction, with a roomful of people just staring at me and my rather compromising position.

“Well”, I said, “this is awkward”.  

But then it was go time again, and I was ready to be DONE.  When they said PUSH, I did. 

And suddenly, just like That-
There She was. 

She didn’t come out stretched and screaming like Her sister, She came quietly, curled up in a little ball.  They rubbed Her back until She gave a cry.  They turned Her to me so I could see Her little face.
And in that instant it was all worth it. 

The waiting, the wishing and wondering, all that puking, the swollen fingers, the aching back, the contractions and the pain and the sleeplessness.  What a small, small price to pay.  The world was suddenly right. 

And that great big baby I was so worried about being able to deliver?  Well.
Just under 6 pounds.  

We were both all cleaned up and I was nursing her when two men in scrubs came in, looking all befuddled.  “Uh..we’re from anesthesiology….? Nevermind."
Luckily I didn’t need them after all. Turns out I was a little tougher than we thought! A little. The nurses all fussed about it, saying I'd been so brave and must have this really high pain tolerance.  J and I, sharing the secret of the Tarzan scream and the tears in the car, just kept looking at each other and laughing. 

Just minutes after being born

I am blessed to have a husband who can see me at my worst; my most vulnerable and out of control, and be there for me through every second of it, keep his sense of humor about it, and love me anyways. 

We’ll probably always laugh about that, and I’m sure I’ll never live it down.  But in the end, everything worked out.  I did all my labor at home like I’d wanted, I just didn’t know it at the time.  She turned out to be even smaller and easier to deliver than Her sister, and labor altogether was a third as long.  And even though I complained about Her not coming two weeks early like my first one, She technically was still early.  By one day. 

And She could not possibly be more perfect.

And Then There Were Two

Little Miss finally decided to join us on Sunday! 

I will have more coming soon...for now I'm just trying to keep up with the diapers, balance a girl on each hip, and soak it all in.  We are home now and doing fantastic.  Life has never been sweeter. 

Rock Candy

Someone told me recently that I sugarcoat this whole parent thing.  Like I walk around acting like it's all just hugs and kisses and warm fuzzy days at the zoo.  I was kind of surprised.  I'm pretty sure I'm a first-rate complainer!
But the truth is that I really, truly, honestly do LOVE being a mom.
Some people were born wanting to be a pilot or an Olympic shot-put champion or something.  Taking care of kids is my thing.  I just like it.
I honestly also love staying home.  This gig indulges all my restless, easily bored character traits.  No two days are ever the same.  Guaranteed.
I like the freedom to decide what the day will hold, the ability to change plans at the last minute and run off to the park on a nice day or snuggle under blankets with hot chocolate on rainy ones.  It's a luxury to be able to be able to stay with my child 24-7 and ferry Her to appointments if She's sick, without having to ask permission, scramble to find someone else to do it, or worry that I'll get into trouble for missing work. 
I like that if the garden needs weeding or the maintenance guy will be here between 9 and forever o'clock no one has to stress about it, because I can be here.  I LOVE the ability to Be Here, whenever I need or want to, beholden to nothing.
I love feeling like I'm not missing any more moments that I have to. I like that my job involves tea parties and impromptu dancing.
It isn't for everyone.  But it fits me pretty well.  I adore the hugs and the tiny socks turning up in random places and the constant running commentary from the backseat.  I love the tantrums and the boogers and the shriveled raisins on the floor of the car.  I really do.
I think the total unpredictability of a life with children is fun.  Like a roller-coaster is fun, like a room full of wrapped presents is fun, like a road trip without GPS is fun.  I like the adventure of being a parent. 
I imagine that an Olympic shot-put champion thinks their job is fun, too.  I'd bet they like showing up to practice; that they look forward to stepping out when it's their turn in a competition.  They must love it, to put that much sweat and effort and thought and time and hope into hurling a disc.
Of course.  Just because they love it doesn't mean that it's easy.  I'll bet it takes a lot of work to be an Olympic shot-put champion.  I bet you get hurt a lot.  Your social life probably suffers.  It's probably hard to get out of bed for practice a lot of days.  It's probably really, really disappointing when you royally mess up and don't win.
I think that the more passionately we love a thing, the harder it is, in some ways. 
And so the truth is that even though I really, truly, honestly do love and enjoy being a mom, that doesn't exempt me from the fact (it is a fact) that being a mom is hard.
I imagine it's hard for everyone in different ways.  But in the interest of non-sugar-coated disclosure.

It's hard for me because of the worry.  Because of the continual, overwhelming worry that you will do the right things.  That the outside world will do wrong things.  It is emotionally taxing, all this fretting all the time.
It's hard because it requires effort.  Real, concentrated effort- but all the time, constantly, unendingly. The Doing of parenting if it lets up at all, does so only long enough to take a quick breath (not to catch your breath, just to suck a chestful in) and then it is back to the incessant trying of this job.  It is exhausting.
And it is hard because of the sacrifice.  Being a mother means closing your eyes and willing your fingers to loose their hold of things they have instinctively clutched for years and years. It means never again deciding anything based solely on what you want. It means taking so many dreams and goals and wishes- ones that have been precious to you as long as you remember- and wrapping them up in airtight bags, along with pieces of yourself that you once thought were too intrinsic to be separated from, and tucking them into a dark box.  Sliding it under the bed.
Maybe later. Maybe sometime, you will take a few out, polish them up, and put them to good use.  But a lot of them (maybe most of them, maybe even all of them) will just stay there.
Except for late rainy nights when you might peek in and run your glance over them before pushing them back towards the baseboards, they will stay hidden there until you pull them out with lumpy, gnarled hands.  One day when things have grown very still and very quiet around you.  And then you will turn them over in your fingers, surprised at which ones you had forgotten you placed there so long ago, and sighing over the ones you have missed so fervently each day since.
And then you take them with you.  Wherever it is we go after this life.  Maybe we get to use them there.  Or maybe they scatter into the air like star dust, and eventually drift down, and settle into other hearts. 
Motherhood is hard because it consumes you.
Like being swept up in turgid floodwater, like being sucked into a cyclone, like any other force of nature.  There is nothing you can do about it. Nothing you can reverse it with, no way to control it or undo its effects.  You can't put your heart and your life back the way it was before the moment you became a mother any more than you can repair the chasm left by an earthquake or return a mountain to its former self after it has erupted into a volcano.

I don't want to mislead anyone.  Being a mom is hard.  There are some days I just want to remember whether I've ever been anything but a mother. Some days I really miss the things I traded for this.  Some days I just really, really want one more chance to call in sick and sleep till 9 and stay in my PJ's reading a book all day.  Or go somewhere I can wear unnaturally high heels and something with a "dry clean only" label.

But for me, the truth is that being a mother is a lot like a shot-put champion who makes it to the Olympics, like the earth suffering a volcano to watch it become a paradise island, like going through the pain of labor and delivering a baby.  Hard and Worth It so often travel as a pair. 
I guess that's more sugar coating.
But the truth is...it's sweet.

Scape-horse

C: "Ok Little One, time to get these toys cleaned up so we can go swimming!"

Little One: "Uuuum....Horsey going to clean it up."

C: "Ok, sure. Go ahead, horsey.  Clean up the tea set please. Mommy will watch and see horsey putting the dishes away."

LO (stares at Horsey with hands on hips): "Hmm.  Hmmmmm.   Horsey?  Horsey.  One. Two. Tree.  TIME UP!" (hauls Horsey to the corner, comes back in and sits down).

C: "... Little One?  The toys still need cleaning up".

LO (shrugs): "Mommy I know! Horsey just... he just, not do it! Don't worry.  Little One give him time up."  

The Magical Letter O

I am picky about car seats.
My experience with the EMS field has made me a serious believer in the importance of safe car seats.
I am willing to sell minor or extra organs if I have to to finance the purchase of the very, very safest car seat there is.
Unfortunately, this car seat has been sold out of everywhere for gosh-darn ever.  And if this baby ever decides to be born, She'll need that car seat so we can get Her home with us.
I had a terrible time finding this thing.  I finally found an online store that said they had them in stock, only to order, get a receipt, and then a three word email the next day: "out of stock".
I finally called the ONLY other company I could find that claimed to have this car seat, and luckily seemed to have struck a gold mine and found not only what appears to be the LAST Recaro Signo G2 in America (they had exactly one left) but also the ONLY decently helpful customer service representative.  Maybe on earth. 
If you are in the market for a car seat, I seriously recommend you get one from this website, because they are awesome there.  I also recommend this elusive car seat, which far exceeds US safety standards and is often referred to as the "ferrari of car seats".  It is made by the same company that manufactures the safety seats in race cars. The kind that go careening around constantly on the brink of disaster.  If you have ever been in a vehicle with me at the wheel, you know that the experiences are not dissimilar. So, since I will be the primary Jeeves to Little Miss's limousine, it really was vital that this car seat be found. 
Before I found the Last Awesome Car Seat and the Last Good Customer Service Rep, I was getting fairly frustrated with my quest for this thing.  I was questing about on my laptop, when Little One observed my unhappiness:

C: "This is becoming silly".  

Little One: "Oh! Oh no mamma, what matter? Sompin wrong you momma?"

She settled Herself in my lap, between me and the computer screen, and studied us both.

Little One: "Here, let me see.  Hm.  Ok.  Ok, don't worry mommy! Little One, help you! Little One help you, yes ma'am!  Look mommy see!"

She very carefully, very specifically, pressed the letter "O" on my keyboard.

Little One: "See! See mommy, there 'go!"

She cupped my chin in Her hands and looked at me reassuringly.

Little One: "See mommy. Little One just, just push a button, make it ever-thing, all better!!! Now ok momma? You don't worry?" 

It was amazing.  All She had to do was push a button.  And like magic, even though my problem wasn't solved, I tell you I did feel all better.

And now I have one fantastic car seat, one fantastic kid, and one more of each on the way. 

No Green Beer For Me.

In answer to your many questions, no. 
Uh uh.  Nope.  Nada.
No baby. 
In fact, I had an OB appointment yesterday, and OB said that Little Miss, so encouragingly "dropped" at my last visit, seems to have changed Her mind and traveled north again.
I am currently showing no signs of impending baby, whatsoever. 
OB even went so far as to schedule me for an induction, just in case Little Miss is still ambivalent about joining the world by the end of the month. 
Please give Her some good, cheerleader-style encouragement Peanuts!  Go baby Go!
In Her defense.  My due date is technically not for 5 more days.  So all this comparing to Her older sibling (Oh jeeze, now we are those parents) and accusing Her of being "late" is really not fair.
In my defense, though.  I have never been this huge, ever. In my life.  (If you knew my in my last pregnancy you are saying, "whoa").   My rings don't even fit now.  Even my fingers are huge. 
I'm tired and sore and (obviously) whiny, and did I mention that patience is not my top virtue? 
The magic 8 ball at my OB's office said "you may rely in it" that this baby will come before my induction date.  I hope that's really true, because it is the day after my mom's plane leaves, two days after my sister will have come and gone, and why yes I suppose we were all a little presumptuous in our planning but still I think they will be a bit less than thrilled to have trekked it out here and not even got to meet Her.  So let's all work with the magic 8 ball on this one.
5 days until the official due date.
Let's hear it now:  Go Baby Go!  

She Said It With Love, Though.

Totally randomly, at dinner last night:

Little One:  "Mommy.  You nice.  Nana, nice.  Daddy.  You GRUMPY OLD TROLL!"

It probably doesn't help discourage name-calling that we all cracked up laughing. 

I Hear Crickets

Ok. 
- Nursery switched/bedroom set up, check.
- AND decorated and arranged and a new closet organization system set up? Check.
- Baby clothes hauled out/ washed/folded/put away, check.
- Swings/ bouncers/jumpers/other infant paraphernalia hauled down from the attic, check.
- bottles washed/kitched reorganized to make room/put away on a shelf, check.
- Much too much shopping done, check, check.
- Bag packed, check.
- Portraits of the baby belly, Check.
- Cradle set up with clean sheets, ready to go, check. 
- Labor plan with OB, check.
- Big "baby is coming soon" talk with Little One, Check.
- All laundry washed/folded/put away, check.
- Dogs' groomed/bathed, check.
- House cleaned/ scrubbed/ put in order, check check check.
- Mom here wrangling the tiny Diva and all the dishes, check.  
- Swollen to the point of being uncomfortable and rather over it and not to compare, love, but your sister was already here almost a week by this time and please don't get too big in there while you take your sweet time? CHECK.

Ok baby.  It doesn't get much more ready than all that. 
Maybe She is waiting for me to finish my AFC meeting today.  That is thoughtful. I can appreciate that. Ok but after that, I'm taping a pink eviction notice over my belly.

Not So Little Now!

You guys rock. 
You rock, because you sent all your cellulite-inducing thoughts to Little One, and She caught them, soaked them up, and got heavy!
YAAAAY!
Today's weigh-in went really well.  Little One has gained a half a pound.  That may not sound like much, but it is plenty enough to show that She can grow, that things are working like they should in there.
We still have to keep pushing the "milkshake" (calorie drink) for at least another month, and we still have to meet with the nutrition team (on my due date. Because scheduling appointments is that ridiculous at Walter Reed) to try to make a calorie-dense plan for the future. 
BUT I have been given the ok to tone down the nasty foods a bit.  I don't have to feel forced to give Her french fries and cookies, and we no longer need to feel compelled to perform a 3-ring circus act to get Her to finish every meal. 
Life can go back to normal a bit.  And the best news is that it's an encouraging sign that She's healthy, and that we do not have to do any horrible tests or treatments.  YAY. YAY!
We need to keep the chunking up going at least another month, so it's not totally behind us yet, but I'm going to go ahead and take my worry about this issue and boot it off my back deck.  SEE ya. 

Please Telepathically Send Your Pudge

Not that you have any.  But if you do, pass it this way.  NOT TO ME! NOT TO ME! Sheesh, let's not get confused people.  I've got an overabundance just now, can't seem to part with it.
Send it to Little One. 
Tomorrow is Her big weigh-in to see if all the bacon fat and syrup and deep-fried you-name-it has paid off.  I really, really hope so because I can only stand so much more of this. And because the alternatives are not looking fun. 
But I'm feeling very optimistic.  Personally, I think She's feeling lots heavier to tote up and down the stairs.  Now it just remains to be seen whether that's because She actually IS heavier, or because..well...because I am.  Hmm. 
At any rate, I'm requesting that you all keep Little One in mind tomorrow, and send heavy, thigh-dimpling thoughts Her way!

*Just make sure, as I said, that you aim right.  Any stray dimples land on me I will find and crush the perpetrator.  Seriously, if I step on you right now you would crumple.  Be warned. 

Last Time I Was This Pregnant, I Was In Labor

Today I am officially the same time in my pregnancy as I was when Little One was born. 
So exciting to think that we are that close to holding our new Little Miss in our arms!
Four days ago, the baby "dropped".  WAY dropped.  So far that I'm now measuring less pregnant than I am.  Girl is ready to go!
It's a little rough because She dropped Herself onto a nerve that is causing some intermittent pain/numbness in my legs, but good because now my stomach isn't so crowded, there's more room for chocolate!
We're finally starting to get all ready for Her to make Her big arrival.  My mom arrived on Friday and has been a one-woman circus act for Little One since she stepped off the plane.  Little One is beside Herself thrilled and has been having SO much fun, She's even forgotten about Dora.  Amazing. 
I've been having fun too!
Yesterday I took an entire day "off" to go run errands by myself.  I got everything I need for the hospital visit, including a little outfit to take the baby home in and all that fun stuff.  I considered conscripting some girlfriends for this shopping adventure, but in the end I decided I might want to have some time just by myself, before that becomes entirely impossible again.  It was lovely!
I even gave myself a huge treat at the end of the day, and took my sore feet to a pedicure.  I have only had two of these, one for my wedding and one for the wedding of a friend, so it felt really decadent.  And since I haven't been able to, ahem....really reach my feet for awhile now, they certainly needed the attention. 
It was a great day and I'm so glad I got to do it.  Even though I have to admit that I missed Little One all day.  What do people DO in the checkout line without a little sidekick to chat with?  Even though I enjoyed the peace and quiet, I also missed the laughter that usually accompanies me everywhere I go. 
That Little One is a chatterbox, and into everything, and She really wears me out. 
But without Her, honestly.....nothing is as much fun. 
Except maybe pedicures.  Oh.  That was fun. 
Today I'm packing my bag and settling in to wait for the big day. I'm still appreciating how easy and simple life is, especially with my mom here helping. But more and more every moment
I'm imagining a day when I'll have TWO giggly sidekicks getting their toes painted with me, and getting excited to meet this new Little Miss, and to double all that fun!

Just a Kid

So far, all of our attempts at formal family portraits have produced a few nice shots, but also have been complete disasters with plenty of tears and everyone leaving feeling harried and worn out.  But today, Little One was a dream, posing like a model and following directions to the T.  I chalked it up to Her increased maturity.

C: "Little One, you did a great job getting your picture taken today!  You listened so well.  Are you getting to be so grown up?!"

Little One: "Um, no mommy.  Little One just a kid.  Nana grown up.  Little One, not grow up.  Just kid mommy."  

Haha, true.  And I'm glad.  Especially that She's such a great one. 

Ready, Set...

My belly is humungulorific.  I'm getting tired and moving slower and feeling in many respects like a very ripe watermelon. It finally has sunk in that there will be a baby coming soon, and I've been more and more consumed by that thought.
Things are certainly much different this second time around.  For one thing, I have been getting a LOT of Braxton-Hicks contractions, sometimes quite strong ones throughout an entire day or night, and it makes me chuckle.  Because last time, I know I was timing them, getting a little excited with each strong one, and wondering, "Could this be it?!"  Ha.  This time I know that if you wonder, it's not.
So I'm much calmer overall, just sort of waiting and riding things out, where before any little change made my heart rate elevate a little.  I remember this point in my pregnancy with Little One.  I was so excited, so ready, so anxious and antsy with wondering what the whole birth thing would be like, what it would all be like.  I couldn't sit still. 
This time, though I did get a good bout of nesting energy, I also feel an overwhelming urge to slow down.  Maybe knowing in the back of my mind what a whirlwind it will be after the baby comes home makes me want to enjoy what is left of this time of relative freedom.
The last week the chores and errands have been neglected, and it has been all playdates, outings, and snuggling on the couch with a pile of books. We've spent time with all of our "regular" hang-out buddies, and many that we don't see often as well.  I guess I wanted to get in one more playdate for Little One while I can, one more where it's JUST about Little One. And maybe also, one more  conversation with a friend in which my attention is only split two ways. 
We've had lots of adventures and excursions. Now, while there's just the one car seat to wrangle, just the one meal/drink cup/wipes/etc to pack up, just the one wiggler to dress and braid and potty and heave into the car.  Just the portable tiny One to carry, along with my purse, before my arms are out-numbered and I have to start breaking out equipment like carriers and strollers and donkey carts.
I am appreciating the simplicity of my life.  I'm trying to max it out, use it up.
I'm spending a lot more time sitting peacefully, letting the laundry languish in the dryer while I read, stretch, or even sleep during Little One's nap.  I'm letting projects wait after bed-time while I play a game or sit on the couch with J, holding hands and talking.  Or just listening to the Quiet. 
I'm dropping everything when the baby moves.  Just to put my hands on my tummy, feel those kicks, and think about Her in there.  Just to appreciate what a miracle it is to be pregnant, to have a person in there.  So close that for a tiny bit longer, we're one person.  I'm trying to savor having Her that near, that safe and always with me.  From the moment She is born, I know, there will be a gradual but unstoppable pull; a reverse force of gravity, distancing Her from me until She's gone.
I'll never lie and say that I love being pregnant.  It's a (rather uncomfortable) means to a (wonderful, very worth it) end, in my opinion.  But it is amazing and incredible, and unlike anything else.  I'm so grateful to have been able to experience it. I'm trying to imprint the memory on my mind.
Maybe more than anything, I feel myself magnetically drawn to Little One.  So far, during the days the whole universe revolves and Little One and I together are at the center of it.  Our whole world, much of the time, is just about us.  It will be a big change to have that universe shaken up and given new dimensions.  A lovely change, I know, but maybe hard at first, and certainly one that will be permanent.  So I am just soaking Her in while I have the luxury of being able to do nothing but that.  I've been doing a lot of heaving my giant self down onto the floor to play, of dropping dinner prep in the middle of stirring to dance in the living room, a LOT of snuggling and hugging and curling Her up in my lap.  And a lot of just ignoring everything else and watching Her play or listening to Her talk.  I feel like leaving the rest of the world to take care of itself for awhile, to take time to really enjoy and appreciate all I have. 
This time around I'm less prepared in a material way.  The bedroom isn't finished, my bag's not even packed.  But it isn't because I'm less excited about this baby coming home, less thrilled to meet Her and hold Her tight.  It's that this time I have the benefit of knowing that the decorations on the wall aren't what matters, the spotlessness of the floors aren't what matters, the number of meals frozen in advance aren't what matters.  The best way I can prepare my home for this Little Miss is to fill it with as much love and peace as I can. 
When She gets here, the bouncer might not be set up yet.  But we'll all have been gathered up, like we were last night, cuddled under a blanket laughing and talking about Her.  When She first comes through the door, I think the bliss from those moments will be hanging in the air, waiting to welcome Her.  She probably won't notice that the crib skirt isn't on yet, but I have a feeling that when She's tucked up under the blanket with us next time, while we procrastinate another day in putting it on, She will notice something else.  This feels like Home. 

Banning the Ban

Remember The Ban?
Well. 
 In the last two weeks, my darling husband has:
*Sheepishly asked that I make an exception-and a key lime pie- because it was specially requested by someone at work who was on his ICU team and remembered the desserts I brought him to share on call nights. 
AND!
*Purchased TWO brownie and one cake MIX BOXES at the grocery store.  Mixes.  MIXes!
I am both amused and slightly offended. 
And I am hereby calling this evidence sufficient means to declare all baked-good banning void and null.
The Ban is hereby Banned. 
Tomorrow I am going to the store, and buying butter.  LOTS of it. 

Ok, Two. I Forgive You.

Today, I tucked Little One into bed for naptime, just like I always do.
We went through the regular routine, and just as I was giving Her a kiss and getting ready to leave, She pulled the blanket right up under Her chin, and grinned wide. She gave a delighted little squeal and said:

"Oh!!! Oh Mommy, thank you thank you! Mommy. Thank you snuggle me in rocka chair, thank you read me stories.  Thank you read me 'one more' story Momma! Thank you tuck me in, and give me huggies! Oh thank you for give kiss to puppy, and kiss to bunny, and kiss to MEEEEE!  SO nice, mommy, so love you.  Mommy, Little One love you SO MUCH! Thank you my tuckies, Mommy." 

I showered a few more hugs and kisses, and before I left (carrying my melted heart in a little pail) She told me that She was going to dream of being a ballerina that can fly in the air, and also an elephant.  She called one more "Love you Mommy night night!" through the door. 
And I was left to remember that the tantrums and the time-outs are just tiny flecks of dust on this great glittering 100 karat diamond of Motherhood.  When I'm reminded to look past them or brush them aside, the beauty of this whole thing really is breathtaking.  I said a few "thank you"s myself, today.