What are you looking at?

I'm so glad we had this time together

Indianapolis started school almost a month ago, but for the Frema-Useless Clutter household, we are just now closing our chapter on the season that is summer.

Nathan started his parents' day out program yesterday. He was so excited about it that he ran into the classroom ("Terrific Twos!") before Luke and I could hug him good-bye. As it should be, even if it did stab my heart a little.

Kara would have started along with him in the Thriving Threes and Fours group as was planned earlier in the spring except that Luke and I decided to mix things up at the last minute in light of my recent pay increase and upgraded her registration to preschool. Compared to others, her classroom time seems relatively light at just two afternoons a week, but for us it is the perfect amount of exposure to new concepts and reinforcement of what she's already mastered at home. She's even completed her first homework assignment, doled out at last Thursday's open house, if you call cutting up magazines for an "All About Me" poster homework, which I totally do, because hello, the girl's only three. Her first session was today.

Meanwhile, the newest addition to our family turned 10 weeks old this morning. He continues to delight everyone in the house with his smiles, coos, and poops. He isn't sleeping through the night yet, but he does pull some seriously long stretches from mid-evening to early morning. Now if only his stupid parents would use this time to sleep instead of watching Friends reruns and loading the dishwasher.

As for me? Well, today was my last day of maternity leave.

What to say about these last ten weeks? It's been amazing, relishing in newbornhood one more time, and spending days upon days clocking hours of snuggle time in our glider, building robots out of Legos, playing catch up with Pixar, and overall just enjoying my babies. They are all such funny little people, so smart and charming, and Kara and Nathan were so patient with me during my pregnancy with Liam. They deserved this time to bond with me, too, to get caught in the rain with me at the zoo, to have me drive them to and from tumbling class, to share a blueberry muffin with me at Starbucks after a random trip to Target. I was introduced to Mater and Ladybug Girl and Yo Gabba Gabba!, and they were reminded that their mother is capable of doing more than visiting the doctor and sleeping on the couch. It's hard for them sometimes, watching me with Liam when they'd rather have me for themselves, but these growing pains will become easier to handle as he gets older, and they pale in comparison to how much fun we have when we're all together.

I think everything is ready for tomorrow: outfit ironed, lunch packed, professional shots of Liam ready to be added to my desk. I've got a fresh hair cut, new purse, and filed nails. I'll certainly look ready to be back at work, even if the pit in my stomach indicates otherwise. 

Having pushed through this hurdle twice now, I know in the end it'll be okay. I work with wonderful people who will help me transition back to office life, and the kids couldn't be in better hands with Luke. Good things are ahead of us. I just wish time could've stopped a little bit longer.

Outnumbered, overjoyed, undermedicated

 

A week ago yesterday, I gave birth to Liam. And in this past week, I have dealt with two sick toddlers, 48 hours worth of c-section recovery without the aid of narcotics, and nursing difficulties that once again rocked me to my core.

On the surface, it all sounds pretty craptastic. Yet, that isn't the case at all (mostly - Kara and Nathan's colds weren't fun for anyone).

I've given myself 20 minutes to post, so most of the bloggy goodness will be shared over time, but here is what I feel compelled to share at this particular moment about having three children - or, more directly, three c-sections.

RATION THY NARCOTICS.

In the hospital, I was taking two capsules of my OB/GYN's drug of choice every four hours; as a result, I was feeling well enough to shower, meander through my corridor, receive visitors with a smile (if not  without bloated ankles and droopy eyes), and leave within two days of surgery, which become a primary goal the minute Liam was out and we were both deemed healthy. Because I was afraid of losing my post-partum high, I continued this regimen once I returned home, which meant by Monday morning, I was out of meds. No worries, I thought. I have one refill. I'll just refill it! So imagine my surprise when, after Luke called in the prescription, the pharmacy's auto robot denied my request because it was too soon to have depleted my supply.

(Are you imagining that scene from Wayne's World where Mike Myers walks into the guitar store and sees the "No Stairway" sign over his favorite piece? If you weren't, you totally are now, aren't you?)

The bottle said I could take one to two pills every four to six hours, so I didn't see anything wrong with following the bare minimum of directions. Apparently, though, the on-call OB/GYN who released me did. Which meant that entire Monday all I could depend on for relief was Al*eve and Ty*lenol.

Tuesday came, but I was afraid to call in again because what if the pharmacy's auto robot was keeping track of this and thought my profile matched that of a bonafide street addict?

Monday and Tuesday were not good days.

Luckily, then came Wednesday, and I was brave enough to call again, and the gods were smiling upon me, because I received another dose of happy pills. Of which I am now taking one, every six hours, and am no worse for the wear.

If they don't want you to take two pills every four hours, they really should just make that clear on the damn bottle.

I'm very sorry for wasting so much of your time with my pill-popping story, but this is an issue that quickly became very important to me, so I would like to spare all of you similar pain if I can. You are welcome.

Okay, okay, more pictures.

 

Kara is in love with Liam and constantly refers to him as "my baby." She can't help herself from kissing his hands, feet, cheeks, head, etc. Luckily, her fever/cold is just about gone, so  I should be able to allow her to make contact with his sweet little face again.

 

Nathan, poor thing, took the brunt of the summer cold this time around, but is thankfully now on the mend. He loves his baby brother just as much as Kara does, and they are equally concerned for his general welfare. Whenever he wakes up or cries or does anything even remotely resembling an awake human being, they immediately start shouting, "Mommy! Daddy! The baby NEEDS you!" until Luke or I stop what we are doing and tend to whatever the issue is requiring attention.

They've said some pretty funny things about Liam, too. I wish I could remember them all, but here's a sample.

Kara: (after staring at him intensely) Is Liam creepy?

Nathan: (after waking up and finding the two of us on the couch) Oh, Mommy! The baby is still here!

I have passed my 20 minutes, but there is one more thing I wanted to share before signing off. Mainly because I don't plan on talking about it in-depth and prefer that it not turn into an "Is she or isn't she?" lingering kind of issue.

I am no longer nursing.

I did it while I was in the hospital, and I'm glad I did, and continued a bit when I got home, but that first night was extremely difficult, and I quickly realized what I personally would need to do to make it work for my entire family. In the end, I decided it was not my path. So Liam is now formula fed, and I am at peace with it. So, if anybody would like a half-used box of Mother's Milk tea and a completely new bottle of fenugreek for their upcoming breastfeeding needs, just let me know.

Alright, fine, one more picture.

 

I am seriously over my time limit here, but how can I let you go without telling you how amazing this baby is? Because he is. Everything about Liam is wonderful, from his Danny DeVito hairline to his piano-player fingers, from his bright blue eyes to his ruby-red lips. Right now we are in the honeymoon phase that is the first week, during which they sleep almost ninety percent of the time and therefore trick you into thinking they are absolute angels and that their agreeableness is the result of your mad parenting skillz, and then somewhere between weeks two and three they wake up for longer than 90 minutes at a time and trick you into thinking you don't know anything at all. So I very well could be pulling my hair out seven days from now over the latest development of his personality. But right now I am grateful that he eats, pees, and poops well and is content to sleep almost anywhere and takes all the poking and proding from his older siblings in stride. Also, that he is a happy, snuggly baby, a miracle baby that I am so, so grateful for.

The five of us, we are going to be unstoppable.

The Toddler Days of Summer

The last day of Kara's parents' day out program was last Friday, and since families were invited, I took the day off work to attend the annual end-of-year carnival with Luke and the kids. There were game stations and dollar-store prizes, a bounce house that neither child took to very well, a fire engine tour they both adored, and a creepy old-man magician that had Luke and I rolling our eyes every five minutes. Overall, though, it was a neat way to pass the time.

 

This picture has nothing to do with the carnival, but man, is my family gorgeous or what?

The closer we get to bringing this baby home (five weeks from tomorrow, not that anyone's counting), sometimes it's hard to remember that the two kids we have now actually started out as newborns. Babies are lovely for sniffing and snuggling, but the older Kara and Nathan get, the more fun we all have together -- even planning for the future has become more interesting, as we imagine what lies ahead for our party of five.

Precisely because they aren't babies anymore, and also because one of my biggest stressors is making sure the kids have a fun summer despite the initial turmoil that is sure to result from welcoming a new baby, Luke and I are working hard with the money we have at our disposal (thank you, savings) to sign them up for a couple of things that force us to get them out of the house. They'll both take a nine-week tumbling class at our town's rec center starting in two weeks, and Kara is signed up for a week-long nature camp sponsored by a local park for late July. We also learned of a week-long vacation Bible study class offered through the same church that runs our parents' day out program, for the low, low price of FIVE DOLLARS, so we'll register Kara for that as well. I wish there was more for Nathan to do, but those last two require the kids to be fully potty-trained, so he'll just have to wait until next year. Really, though, just getting him in the tumbling class is a big deal, since he's never done anything like that before. It should be a nice transition into his starting "school" in the fall.

We researched a number of activities in the Indy metro area for ideas of things to do, but the nearest YMCA doesn't have anything for the toddler age range, and the closest Gymboree is 45 minutes away. Also, frankly, our bank account can't handle many more unplanned expenses without putting our maternity leave savings at risk. Still, though, I'm excited about what we do have planned, and we recently renewed our zoo membership, and we're already frequent visitors of our local library, and there are several neighborhood playgrounds in our zip code, which means there are plenty of opportunities for additional fun. Once Baby Brother is here and we know he's healthy, Luke and I have already talked about using more of our savings to buy additional memberships to the city's Children's Museum and the rec center where tumbling is being held, as it has fantastic indoor and outdoor swimming facilities AND a gym AND exercise classes AND is within walking distance from our house. There's even been talk of going to the beach again, like we did last year.

I've been trying not to get so hung up on our summer plans, but it's hard. There were actually a couple more classes at the rec center that we could've enrolled the kids into (dance and music), and I would have done it without a second thought until Luke wisely talked me down, reminding me about the zoo and the library and the parks and also of our commitment to keeping them active even while I'm recovering from my (last!!!) c-section. That's been the kicker for me, I think: knowing it will take me the majority of the first six weeks to feel anything like myself again and how unavailable I will be during that time to do things like hike, swim, or even take long walks on the trail.

Fortunately, Luke and I have already talked at length about this, and we agree that it will be important for him to be out and about with them just like he is when I'm at work so that I recuperate from surgery without feeling guilty. After that, though, I hope to be more on my feet so that we can make the best of the second six weeks we have left. This summer will definitely have its challenges, but I still want to make it the best one we've had yet.

What are you doing this summer?

I'm a big kid now (times two)

This past weekend, Luke and I took the first tangible step in preparing our house for a new baby by moving Kara and Nathan into the same bedroom. The Big Kids Bedroom. A bedroom that now contains a twin bed, a toddler bed, and two children under the age of four.

 

A view of Nathan's big boy bed. You'll notice we nixed the idea of themed wall art and instead went with that famous line known as "Cheap Pictures We Liked From Target."

We've been talking about this merge ever since we found out about Baby Brother, and we've been discussing it with the kids for almost as long, but it wasn't until last week when I was reading stories to Nathan in his glider that it hit me: Oh my gosh, my baby is losing his room. And his crib, and his dresser, and all those other baby things that we picked out just for him.

I thought about how he might not be ready, and how, as one of two boys, he may never have his own room again, and how adorable, kissably soft, and baby-like his cheeks are, even though his favorite statement of late is "No, I want to do it by myself," and I ended up crying myself to sleep. Oh, the tangled emotions involved in making room for another child, and forcing watching the children you already have grow up in the process.

But JC Penney wasn't aware of my misgivings, so Kara's twin bed arrived on Saturday as planned, and Luke and I spent that afternoon washing bedding, rearranging furniture, and transferring Nathan's things into Kara's closet and dresser. Between the two of them, Nathan actually had the largest set of drawers, but I wanted to keep all the matching furniture together, partly for the baby and partly for (eventual) showing purposes; in the end, we made it work by designating the closet for all shirts and pants and the dresser for socks, underclothes, and pajamas.

 

A close-up of Nathan's big boy bed, which looks perfect against the yellow paint, in my frugal lazy humble opinion.

Fortunately, ironing out the logistics of The Great Bedroom Merge turned out to be a lot of fun; while I'm no Martha Stewart when it comes to decorating, I rise to the tasks of organizing, removing extraneous clutter, and finding a proper place for belongings that make the cut. It also helped that Nathan LOVED the idea of sleeping in the toddler bed; pair that with his fondness for his quilt from godmother Auntie Molly, and you get a charged-up little boy who was more than ready to roll around in the covers and play with his animals the minute his set-up was complete. The car pillow was a new purchse and proved to be a hit with both kids. 

 

A view of Kara's newest big girl bed. Is it wrong to kind of want it for myself?

Because it took all day to get things settled, both kids missed their naps (not that Kara takes them very often, anyway), so it was a challenge to get them settled down come bedtime. They didn't want to read stories in the rocking chair as is our usual way, opting instead to camp out in their respective beds, and their attention span was extremely short; plus, Nathan typically goes down about 30 minutes before Kara, and Kara doesn't fall asleep as quickly as he does, so we weren't sure how difficult it would be for each of them to fall asleep in the presence of the other. The cherry on top was following through with our decision to attempt to wean Nathan from his pacifier; I was so sure he would call us on this and put up a fight. 

At 8:06, we showered them with kisses, left the room, and braced ourselves for a long night ahead.

By 9:02, they were out like a light, with Nathan pacifier free.

That is not to imply the fifty-six minutes in between were perfect -- several times they tumbled out of bed, and Nathan did mention his pacifier once while being tucked in. But overall our son took his new role as a big boy very seriously, and big boys stay in their beds, so he did, and pacifiers are meant for babies, so subconsiously I think he deemed it inappropriate to push the issue. Also, his stay-put example definitely inspired Kara to follow suit, as she's never had any problems abandoning her big girl status to visit Mommy and Daddy more frequently than TV shows air commercials. She actually fell asleep earlier with Nathan across the room than she typically does on her own. SCORE AND SCORE.

Luke and I were not as enthused when Kara jumped into our bed at five o'clock the next morning and Nathan sobbed for his pacifier at six (insert stab to the heart here).

We held firm on the latter, though, and Luke eventually tried to appease Nathan by bringing him into bed with us, but four people + a queen-sized mattress does not = restful sleep for anyone. It was a long Easter, let me tell you. And Nathan hasn't fully processed the permanence of the arrangement yet, because occasionally he still asks to read stories in "his room." But at two and a half nights in, we have a consistent pattern of both children falling asleep before 9:30, which has NOT been our experience in the past, so at this point I am inclined to declare the Great Merge a smashing success.

 

Here is our boy, all tucked in and ready for Dreamland. He was delighted with his big boy pillows and adamant about laying his head on the stack of them, which I think is one of the reasons it took him so long to fall asleep that first night. It was clear he was uncomfortable having his head elevated so high. "You don't have to use both of them if you don't want to - you can cuddle the car pillow like a stuffed animal or even move it to the other side of the bed. Whatever you want," I told him, but he wouldn't hear of it.

He must have considered the suggestion on some level, though, because eventually we found him like this:

 

Luke wanted a better-looking photo than that for our albums, though, so he took some artistic liberties to achieve this:

 

How is he not on the cover of a Golden Book? Those cheeks!

Meanwhile, Kara adjusted to her own upgrade pretty well and was especially taken with her new quilt. This shot is only slightly staged:

 

It took a lot of self-restraint not to crawl in there with her, for a mother-daughter cuddle.

At this point last week, I was so sad about Nathan shedding another layer of his babyhood, but now I am so happy for him, and proud that he was able to handle these big, important steps so easily. My favorite part? I can give those baby-toddler cheeks another kiss good-night once he's fast asleep, just like I do with Kara, now that we're no longer separated by crib slats.

 

We are getting so close to Baby Day, and there is still so much to do, but this merge? It was a good thing, and a step in the right direction.

On breastfeeding (or not) again

One of my biggest, all-consuming fears about having baby number three is breastfeeding.

Part of me feels ridiculous admitting that to anyone. After all, I've gone through this twice already! Shouldn't I be a pro by now? Or, at the very least, accept that breastfeeding is not my fight and write it off altogether? After all, to say I've been unsuccessful at nursing would be a vast understatement. To say I'm excited to try it again? That would be a lie.

It's funny; the content of this post has been on my mind for weeks, but now that I'm writing it, I'm not sure what to say.

When I found out I was pregnant again, I resolved to do everything in my power to make breastfeeding a reality for my family. I have read The Books, and the blogs, and the comments to those blogs, so the health and bonding benefits of breastmilk (and, consequently, the drawbacks of formula) are not lost on me. Plus, it's no secret that we are living on a pretty tight budget, so the cost savings aren't anything to laugh at, either. More than anything, though, was this feeling of wanting to overcome a hurdle that has previously appeared insurmountable.

I'm not blaming low supply because honestly, I'm not convinced that was the problem. With Kara, I couldn't keep her on the breast for more than a couple of minutes before she was crying and pushing me away. The lactation consultants at the hospital checked her latch several times, and it seemed fine to them, but who knows? It's not like I had any idea what I was doing, despite reading all those books, so it's very possible my technique was off or Kara's positioning wasn't right or any number of things related to my management of the situation. I never got more than a couple ounces from the pump in a session, whether I pumped every two hours or four, but again, what the hell did I know? Maybe my volume would have increased over time. Maybe I should have just been happy with the amount I was producing and made peace with supplementing the rest of the time.

I didn't try nipple shields, and I didn't attend any support group meetings (though I did call about the one offered through our hospital, and sorry, that once-a-month get-together slated for next Thursday isn't going to help me RIGHT NOW). It's not like I kept at it until my boobs had nothing left to give. It truly was my decision.

So for those who think I didn't try hard enough, well. I suppose they are right. But during those initial weeks of breastfeeding, my mind went to some very dark places. I felt terrible about myself as a mother, which in theory should have been enough to make me go the distance for as long as I could, but even more than that, I hated the idea of doing all those things and STILL most likely failing. Aside from the first couple of days of her life, feeding Kara was a source of stress, self-doubt, and guilt. At some point before the six-week mark I decided that suffering through those feelings for even one more day was more than I could bear. The reality of motherhood, I quickly learned, is that sometimes, when there's a conflict of interest between what you could ideally accomplish as a parent and what you can realistically handle, your own mental sanity has to win out. Second best just has to be enough.

... And THAT was breastfeeding with Kara.

With Nathan, things felt like they were getting off to a better start. I had still had trouble perfecting my latch, but he didn't fight my efforts and ate as often as I would let him, so I was hopeful that this time, please, this time, things would be different. However, at his two-week appointment with the pediatrician, my stomach dropped after the nurse checked his weight and announced a paltry two-ounce gain. TWO OUNCES. My God, did I feel like shit then, and my mind immediately went back to my experience with Kara, and how I fucked that up, and by the time we saw the doctor, any shred of confidence I had about nursing was gone. I continued to pump for another couple of weeks, but I don't think I ever put him on the breast again.

And now, I get to do it all over again with baby number three.

Like I stated above, when I first learned we were having another baby, I was set on doing everything within my power to make breastfeeding work this time around, and hey, third time's a charm, right? I talked about it with Katy, who nursed both of her boys into toddlerhood; borrowed more books; researched lactation consultants; and gave myself numerous pep talks that this time, things would be different.

But now? I honestly don't know. I hate that my first months at home with Kara and Nathan are tainted with such strong feelings of failure. As a working mother, that time to bond means more to me than almost anything else in that first year, and Luke and I are doing everything we can to stock our bank account accordingly so that I can take all twelve of those precious, job-protected weeks off without suffering serious financial repurcussions. I cherish that time to connect with my babies, to snuggle them in the rocking chair and take naps with them on my chest and cover their hands and cheeks and toes with kisses and overall just get to know who they are. It would be so much easier to say, This is not for me, and release myself from ever having to think about this again.

Then again, this time, things might be different. Baby Brother 2.0 could prove to be a fantastic nurser and all my worries could be for nothing. (Kind of like all those "Should we have a third baby?" conversations!) And I do appreciate the benefits, and I do really want those cost savings. Just not at the cost of my self-esteem.

One of the most popular retorts I've heard spoken by the more judgemental nursing mothers and that has most enraged me about the entire breast-or-bottle discussion is the whole "Well, if you aren't willing to make sacrifices for your children, why did you bother to have them?" It makes my fists clench and blood boil and and smoke shoot out of my ears, because really, when did how you feed a baby in the first year of life become the sole measuring stick for quality parenting? And who is anyone to say that I don't make sacrifices for my kids? Luke and I bust our tail to live on one income so they can enjoy all the benefits that go along with that. We painstakingly chose our house because we wanted to make sure they could go to one of the best public school systems in the city. We pack their meals with fruits and vegetables and whole grains, and they have yet to even try soda. We have slashed our household budget more times than I care to count in order to enroll both of them into Kara's day-out program this fall. I can't tell you the last time we bought clothes or shoes or even a magazine for ourselves, but Kara and Nathan get everything they need and then some. 

I did not become a mother because I wanted to breastfeed. I became a mother because I wanted to experience the joy of raising children and because I thought I could do a good job. I did not promise to make every right choice. I did not promise to always put myself last. But I do strive to give my family the best that I have as often as I can. I am proud of the home Luke and I have made for our kids and the life we are able to give them. And when I don't have it in me to reach the ideal, I will forgive myself (eventually) and try to move on.

This all sounds so good in black and white, doesn't it? Let's see how well my heart can embrace it, come June.

She trims her bangs, her bangs

Last week, I was all set to sacrifice a proper salon experience for the sake of my family's budget. It would be an adventure! I told myself optimistically in an effort to calm my fears. And good blog fodder to boot! I OWE IT TO THE INTERNET AND ALSO THE COMEDIC GENRE TO GO TO GREAT CLIPS. This was happening.

Then I talked to Gina, my girlfriend since kindergarten who back in high school introduced me to Brenda, My Favorite Hair Stylist Ever, and who appreciates the ability to do good hair even more than I do. When I explained to her my financial dilemma and adventurous plan over a two-hour chat Saturday night, I could practically hear her shaking her head on the other end of the line. "Breain, you can't go to Great Clips. You just can't," she said, and eventually convinced me to call my regular salon and ask about a bang trim, since they were the primary frustration reason I had for scheduling an appointment anywhere. And you know what? It was SIX DOLLARS. So I booked a visit for yesterday after work, and ten minutes later I walked away eight dollars poorer but also two free samples richer AND mentally a million dollars happier. Apparently, friends don't let friends go to Great Clips. Thanks again, friend.

-------

Another happiness boost: today is payday, and this morning I realized with a start that it marks the third payday of not having to dip into our savings account OR having to charge anything to our Visa. Step by painful step, our plan to live within our means, pay off our credit card debt, and save for the future is working. It works partly because I am no longer fighting the word "no" -- no, you can't run to Chipotle with the girls; no, you don't need eight subs AND pizza for Kara and Nathan's party, even if you do feel like a cheapskate for serving cold cuts. I know that I wear the same handful of clothes to work every day, eat the same kind of lunch every day, and it doesn't bother me like it did before. Luke has to run in below-freezing temperatures to train for the Indy 500 Mini-Marathon because we can't afford a treadmill or even a monthly gym membership, and he is doing it without complaint. Gifts to nieces and nephews have been drastically scaled down for occasions like Christmas, birthdays, and baptisms, but we do it and just remain grateful we can afford to buy them anything at all.

However, this new reality only works because Luke and I have undergone a huge shift in mindset and a willingness to ask, "What are we really working for? What is the priority here?" while embracing the amount of money we have to work with right now, instead of looking to the future for some magical solution. For example, I mentioned in an earlier post how I thought that our situation would resolve itself after receiving our tax refund check and my annual merit increase, which is typically issued at the same time every year. Well, recent events have made it clear to me that the type of increase I was expecting to get isn't something I can take for granted (the economy is affecting everyone, it seems!). And the tax check will be good, but it won't eliminate our Visa balance, so every paycheck prior to Baby Brother's arrival will continue to be carefully orchestrated to make sure we can axe off this debt, pay my OB bill, and maintain a small nest egg to compensate for what paid maternity leave and short-term disability benefits won't cover. Now more than ever, I reflect on Suze Orman's long-ago-uttered mantra, "I have more money than I will ever need," and strive (along with Luke, of course) to make this true for my family. 

But not everything is a wash. This month is fall registration time at Kara's school, and Luke and I are committed to sending both Kara and Nathan for one day a week this year. Technically, Kara is old enough for preschool, which meets for two and a half hours twice a week, but not only was it slightly more expensive, it also required Luke to finagle three small children -- including one newborn -- out of the house multiple days a week. By keeping Kara in the same type of program she's in now, she and Nathan can be out on the same day for the same number of hours, making drop-off and pick-up logistics infinitely easier on Luke. It wasn't an easy decision, knowing that Kara is capable of (and would enjoy) participating in a more education-based curriculum, but there's always next year, and we do plenty at home, and again, we're just grateful she can continue an activity she loves and that we can offer the same opportunity to Nathan. After all, THEY are what we're working for. THEY are our priority. We would gladly give up a lifetime of gym memberships and a million fast-food tacos for them.

For he's a jolly good fellow

Nathan's second birthday was a picture-perfect day.

Our January 31st started bright and early with breakfast followed by PRESENTS!

 

He and Kara adore jigsaw puzzles, but Nathan is especially smitten, so Luke and I stocked up on a few of those (the 24- and 48-piece Melissa and Doug ones are my favorite) and thew in some books for good measure. Man, am I grateful for how easy it is to please toddlers when it comes to gifts.

The day continued with a prohibited picnic lunch at an Indy-area park.

 

In my defense, I had called the facility ahead of time like a good little park enthusiast to ask about a suitable place to eat our food and was easily directed to the nature center; however, we were hit in the face with "No food and drink allowed" signs immediately upon entering the building. So Luke and I felt a bit like rebels here. I was stuffing plasticware into our picnic basket as fast as we could empty it. Totally worth it, though. The kids were captivated by the view.

 

After lunch, we spent a considerable portion of the afternoon camped out in the children's activity center, which featured small animals in tanks, toys, books, games, and puppets. And since it was a Monday, we had the whole place to ourselves.

 

Look, a toad! Their knowledge of toads is limited to the aptly named character in one of Kara's favorite series, but they were pretty taken with this one.

 

The insect bucket was also a huge hit.

 

HUGE. As was the owl puppet Nathan is clutching here.

 

LOOK MOM A PUZZLE CAN YOU BELIEVE IT.

 

Nathan would not enter this cave. Would. not. do it, and in fact felt the need to confirm this decision on multiple occasions for the duration of our time: "You don't have to go in the cave if you don't want to, riiight?"

 

Kara, meanwhile, had no such reservations. That's my girl.

 

We wrapped up the day with snickerdoodles and a wagon ride through the park, which lasted all of ten minutes because Nathan didn't like his cookie and didn't want to stay in the wagon but didn't want to walk and he was too wiggly for me to carry and he was fighting Luke tooth and nail. Clearly he was suffering from an unfortunate yet common toddler condition known as Dude, where's my nap? itis. We promptly left the park to oblige.

 

The day could end no other way, of course, except with cake. Nathan doesn't actually care much for cake and typically only takes a few obligatory bites when it's placed in front of him -- it's like he knows he should go batshit crazy over this delectable combination of carbs and sugar and doesn't want to disappoint his peers. However, he adores the idea of cake, and it was all he asked about in the days leading up to his big day.

"You can have cake on your birthday, riiight?"

"It can have candles?"

"You can have letters on it, riiight?"

Luke, the maker and baker of all edible goods in our household, did not disappoint.

 

Like I said, picture-perfect day.

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One weekday morning last week, Luke and I were still in bed when I heard the sound of rustling through the baby monitor we still keep in Nathan's room. Then, a few minutes later:

"Daaaaddy.... Daaaaddy...."

Silence, then:

"Daddy, I pooped my pants."

[pause]

"It was a big poop."

Luke got up to investigate, but there was no number two in sight. Probable culprit? Flatulence. Honest mistake. Could've happened to anyone.

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He loves to count but often forgets the number five. He's an easy-going eater but rarely drinks all of his milk. He often asks to sit on the potty before bedtime and has even gone once. His current favorite book is an I Spy compilation Kara received for Christmas, and he is insanely good at identifying all the objects, sometimes more quickly than Kara. He loves to help and is quick to throw out a "Sure!" whenever I ask him to put away his trucks or help Mommy pick up blocks. He loves trucks and trains and dinosaurs and his Build-A-Bear panda. He is more articulate than a lot of toddlers his age I've seen but still has adorable pronounciations that mark his still-visible babyhood, like "meelt" for milk and "bannas" for "bananas," and "Kara" often sounds like "Tara," with a bit of an East coast accent. He's a demanding child when he's got his eye on something, and it's not uncommon to hear him shout out commands like "I want my meelt!" or "I want ranch, Mommy!" He's also very loving and is generous with thank-yous for even the simplest of tasks.

He soaks up his time with Kara and constants seeks out her feedback and companionship. "Hey, Kara, come play trucks with me!" "Let's play with the doctor set, Kaaara!" His favorite songs to sing are "A Bushel and a Peck" and "You Are My Sunshine." He loves to dance to "the Energy song, Mommy!" and will shout "Be! Be! Energy!" as he skips in circles during the chorus. He STILL hates having his diaper changed and is not a fan of brushing his teeth. He enjoys finger painting and coloring and playing the new Goodnight, Moon game received at his and Kara's joint birthday party last month. His cheeks are so soft it's impossible not to shower them with kisses. He's a daddy's boy in many respects but thankfully still likes to cuddle with Mommy. Though cuddling is for daytime hours only; he has yet to want to sleep in bed with Luke and me. Good thing, too, seeing as it's crowded enough what with HIS OLDER SISTER thrashing about a handful of nights per week.

How many ways can I say it? He is amazing; amazing! It blows my mind to think that soon he'll play big brother to another little guy just like him. Except that nobody will ever be quite like Nathan.

 

Happy birthday, buddy. We love you.

Video courtesy of Luke and the outdated Photoshop Elements program on our computer.

I Want (To Know) Your Sex

To be sung to the tune of the classic George Michael song or uttered like a blood-thirsty vampire. It's like a Choose Your Own Adventure for blog titles!

On Tuesday, I will be nineteen weeks pregnant. Tomorrow, Luke, Kara, and Nathan will accompany me to this month's ob/gyn appointment, also known as The Big Day. Private Parts Day. ULTRASOUND DAY!

[Include grand proclamation-type trumpet sound here]

"You know, we're not guaranteed to find out the baby's sex," Luke informed me, but we'll cross that bridge if we come to it. Until then, this baby's giving up the goods, y'all.

I have mixed feelings about this. Not about finding out, but what I'm hoping for.

When I was expecting Kara, I wanted a girl. After all, I'm a girl. I know what girls are like and how they think. I had dreams of sharing my childhood interests with a girl while she was young and sharing my vast perspective as a wife/mother/daughter/career woman as she grew older. Of watching her take that information and use it to shape her own path. Plus, girls' names are more fun to play around with. When I was a kid, I kept a notebook of potential character names, and my list of girls' names was more than double my list for boys.

Anyway, we all know how that turned out. My baby was a girl! Hooray for me.

When Luke and I found out we were expecting Nathan, most people assumed we'd be gunning for a boy, playing into the whole "one of each" mentality that seems so ingrained into the picture-perfect middle class family. But once again, I hoped for a girl. I am one of four daughters and am extremely close to two of my sisters; so close that I watched one of them GIVE BIRTH. You can't predict the quality of relationship your children will have with each other as they grow up, but nonetheless, I wished for this same type of connection for them.

Of course, we didn't have a girl, and of course, I have no regrets. Nathan is amazing and has brought more happiness to our lives than I ever could have imagined. I never longed for a son the way I did a daughter, but I couldn't be more in love with my thoughtful, quirky, joyful little boy.

Upon learning about our latest bundle of joy, true to form, my default reaction was to wish for a girl. I still love the idea of being a mother to sisters and watching them bond, and again with the more interesting pool of girls' names to choose from. (To date, Luke and I agree on one boy's name. ONE.) I also like the idea of Nathan being known as our boy and not the middle child. Then again, I think about how much fun it would be to have two little boys running around and to watch that relationship grow. And if Kara were to be our girl, well, that could only bode well for her in the long run. Though maybe not her boyfriends.

In the end, I guess what I'm saying is no matter which type of parts present themselves tomorrow, I will be delighted either way. Be sure to check in for the news!

On living honestly

This morning, Luke and I registered Kara for preschool.

Well, technically, not preschool. It's categorized as a children's ministry program, offered through a nearby church. Four hours a day, one day a week. The program isn't accredited with fancy acronyms, and the staff members don't have teaching licenses, but there will be free play and music and snack time and show-and-tell and take-home bulletins once a month. Plus, we'll have to get her a backpack and lunchbox. So for a two-year-old girl who's been hanging out at home with her dad and her baby brother almost her entire life, it's close enough.

It's plenty close for her parents, too.

-------

In an effort to get a better handle on our finances, Luke and I are trying something new at home. Suze Orman calls it the back-to-cash movement. I like to think of it as our new reality.

The new reality is this: Gone are the days where we put everything on the credit card and pay for it at the end of thirty days (which, near the end, wasn't working out so well, anyway). Good-bye to Excel spreadsheets that were intended to help us budget on a monthly basis rather than per-paycheck. From now on, if we want to buy something, we are going to the bank, making a withdrawal from the ATM, and paying for it in cash. There will be occasional exceptions, of course, like purchases online or the occasional Redbox rental, but ninety-five percent of the time, them's the rules.

We started on October 1. Six days in so far, and doing well.

 

-------

Luke and I have been talking a lot about what we want to accomplish in the short term--realistic goals we can achieve in the next six to twelve months. In the short term, we want more social networking opportunities for Kara and Nathan (not the Facebook and Twitter kind), to give them a chance to explore interests outside the confines of our living room, interacting with adults who are not us. We want to enjoy financial freedom and not have to itemize every single penny of a paycheck two months in advance in order to afford concert tickets or Christmas presents or a random date night. We want to formally close the baby chapter of our lives by New Year's and put our house on the market come spring. And I want to volunteer.

However, we're also in agreement on what we don't want. For example, we are not quite ready to enroll Nathan in any sort of program that takes him out of our care. He can have a few more months of home time with Luke and Kara, and enjoy the precious one-on-one time he's about to score with his dad, and at least blow out the candles on his second birthday cake before we re-evaluate our position. Also, we are not ready for Luke to go back to work, even if we could put another salary to good use ($1,600 worth of car repairs on the Outlander, I'm looking at you). We appreciate and depend on the benefits of being a one-income family: the extra bonding time for Luke and the kids, the flexibility of managing only one work schedule, the ability for me to concentrate on my corporate to-dos as needed instead of tossing my laptop into a bag the minute the clock turns five. We wouldn't be any worse for the wear for having those issues, but they would most definitely complicate things, and we have all the uncertainty we can handle right now, thankyouverymuch.

We've talked about me picking up some freelance work or Luke taking a part-time job with night and weekend hours to bring more money through the door, but honestly, right now we are content to just buckle down and do the best we can with what we have today. There is enough to pay the bills and buy the organic yogurt we like and travel north and even score dinner out once and a while. We are beefing up our short-term savings and still making regular deposits into our health savings account for medical expenses. We don't need a second mortgage, and we aren't defaulting on Sallie Mae. In every area that counts, we are fine. And believe me, we are thankful.

But still, we are making hard choices, like back in August when we discontinued satellite. This month, we stopped all contributions to my 401(k), an account that's been funded every two weeks rain or shine for the last five years AND saw generous matches from my employer, to make room in the budget for Kara's tutition. I am disappointed over this and understand there may be long-term ramifications come our golden years, but I do not regret it. Luke and I have been preparing for the future since before we even married. We're proud of the money we've accrued for retirement already. But right now, it is time to plan for now.

 

-------

In a conversation with Molly earlier this fall, she used the phrase "living honestly," and it has stuck with me ever since. Because that's what it feels like we're doing now: living a life that reflects our priorities and our resources, and sorting out the white noise that only gets in the way. For the first time in a long time, we're putting our money where our mouth is. What's that worth to you? I ask about almost everything now, from wedding RSVPs to a bag of Gummi Bears to preschool. What are you willing to sacrifice to make this happen?

Our short term is paving the way for the long term, a reality in which we are mortgage-free and in a position to entertain housing options that bring us closer to our loved ones, who I am missing more than ever these days. A reality that has both of us in careers that we love and best align with our strengths and passions. A reality that includes another child, obtained in a non-traditional way. It will take baby steps, but we will get there. I know it in my bones.

 

-------

As Kara and Nathan grow older, I become more aware of all the ways we can screw them up. I know, I know, they're only babies, all they need is love, blah blah blah, but even at this young age, we are setting the bar for how they will realize their potential. Take Kara's "school," for example. She'll be three in December, and is intellectually capable, I think, of handling a (slightly) more rigorous curriculum than the one we are placing her in; kids younger than her do this all the time in daycare, yes? But that benefit of school is not important to Luke and me right now, and as a result, her experience will be missing that formalized educational component. We'll revisit our feelings next year, obviously, but for now that's where we stand. 

We are also setting the bar for ourselves, I suppose, in regards to what Kara and Nathan can expect from us as parents. We did what we felt was necessary to get Kara into school, but we didn't even consider placing her more than one day a week (baby steps, remember?) or research more expensive options like the Goddard School or Montessori. We already know that retirement savings will always trump a 529. Many parents have different opinions on this, and that's okay. But as much as Luke and I want to give the kids the very best of ourselves, we are going to make ourselves a priority, too, and not apologize for that to anyone.

 

-------

I have come to learn that as a mother, I enjoy the toddler years far more than the infant ones. Kara's humor and sass are shining through these days, the product of two wise-cracking parents, to be sure, and builds upon both by relying on her razor-sharp memory. One day while we were eating dinner, she thought it a good idea to let milk dribble out of her mouth. She laughed as the milk traveled down her chin, and I hid a smile as I said, "Kara Leigh, please don't do that, that's not funny," and she replied, "Well, maybe a little funny," a phrase Luke uttered in passing the day before. (Thank you, dear.)

Meanwhile, Nathan speaks in full sentences and punctuates the majority of them with a question mark. "What's that noise, Mommy?  Want to build Mrs. Potato? Where's the moon, Mommy? Is that a oak leaf, Mommy? Want to read Turtle, Turtle, Watch Out? Should Momma hooold you?" And so on with the inquisitiveness. He is so curious, so observant, so willing to sit back and watch the action unfold. That is, when he's not bouncing off the couch, roaring like Michael Jackson circa "Scream," or body slamming his torso into the nearest gate.

They both have insatiable appetites for reading, which has been further enhanced by the recent discovery of our local library. At first I was worried they wouldn't get the concept of borrowing books, afraid they would pout and fuss when it came time to return them, but they totally get it, and now live for the next chance to play with the trains and scramble through the catepillar tunnel featured in the kids' room.

Our new reality is that our toddlers are becoming full-blown children. And man, do we just want to do right by them, and ourselves, too.

 

On the day he was born

Nathan turns 20 months old on Friday, and as the present clouds memories of yesterday, I regret more than ever my almost two-year delay in writing his birth story. I was so tired those first few months, and trying to make the best of a rushed maternity leave, and then coping with going back to work, and mothering a newborn and very young toddler besides. But now I have no excuse except that the details aren't as top of mind as they used to be, and I'm afraid that committing the day to "paper" will only reveal everything I don't remember. That problem will only get worse the longer I wait, though, so here is what I can tell you.

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Those of you reading at the time of Nathan's birth might remember that my c-section, originally scheduled for week 39, was moved up by six days due to my showing mild signs of pre-eclampsia. Surgery was moved up to 8 a.m. on Saturday, January 31, which meant he would share a birthday with my sister, Ryan. The day before I put in a half-day at work, sending frantic updates on active projects and cleaning my office of personal effects I thought I might need at home. There was dusting and vaccuming, upstairs and down, the cleaning of toilets, folding of clothes. Also a trip to Red Robin, a sort of last-ditch effort at a low-key Night Before, except it wasn't a low-key experience at all because they gave Luke the wrong burger. He didn't care too much, but I insisted on calling the manager, because hell hath no fury like a fully baked pregnant woman wronged. He promised to comp Luke's meal and actually voided the entire transaction, which we learned a couple weeks later when reading our bank statement. And I didn't even have to cry.

Luke's parents arrived shortly after dinner, primed for Kara duty for the length of my hospital stay. Bedtime went smoothly. I puttered around in Nathan's room arranging onesies and blankets. I blogged. Sometime after midnight, I finally went to sleep.

Luke and I woke up at 5:00 a.m. to start getting ready for the hospital. I showered and shaved my legs, fiddled with my hair. Kara woke up at 6:00, so I was able to hang out with her a little bit before we left. And surprisingly, I wasn't nervous about leaving her anymore. She and Luke's parents get along famously, and Luke was going to be alternating between home and St. Vincent's so as not to completely abandon her routine. It was going to be okay.

We left the house by 6:15 and made it to check-in around seven.

 

Primping for my date with the scalpel.

There are a few details I can recall about being prepped for surgery: the first nurse's botched attempt to insert my IV, watching cartoons with Luke while waiting for my obstetrician, getting updates from Molly en route to Indianapolis. Once in the OR, I learned that my anesthesiologist was acquainted with my employer's CEO. The spinal was administered without any problems; a tight pinch at the beginning, but otherwise so much quicker than the epidural. Once it was fully working, in went the catheter.

The most important thing I remember is my sense of calm. I was finally ready for Nathan to be born. Good thing, too, because sometime around eight, the procedure began.

Due to my pre-eclampsia symptoms, they didn't waste much time cutting right to the chase (no pun intended). At 8:39 a.m., out came Nathan, screaming at the top of his lungs, giving us a small taste of what was to come. He weighed 9 lb 5 oz and measured 22 1/4 inches long. At 38 weeks! Let's not even think about what those numbers could have been at 40.

Surgery was uneventful, thankfully, just like last time, as was the pressure in my chest when they pulled him out. I remember cracking jokes behind the curtain, making the doctor and the nurses laugh, so happy that this moment was finally here, and that we were getting to meet our son. 

He wowed the hospital staff with impressive his lung capacity, as well as his handsome little face, but soon he settled down and humbled himself to the flash of Luke's camera.

 

Post wailing.

Luke and I tossed around several names throughout my pregnancy - Liam, Peter, Toby, Benjamin, Alex - but Nathan Byron is the name we had ready for Kara had she been gifted boy parts, and it still remained our favorite, so Nathan Byron it was. Nathan because we liked it, Byron for Luke's middle name, in memory of his late grandfather on his mother's side. We figured we could call him Nate for short, but not once have we done that so far (though family members have). Just Nathan, or Buddy, or BooBoo, or Little Boobah. (Don't ask about that last one. We don't know, either.)

 

Unlike his sister, Nathan was able to wear more than one newborn diaper.

One of the main reasons Luke and I loved our hospital so much (aside from the private rooms and 24-hour room service) is that the staff considers "mommy and me" time to be top priority, so minutes after I was properly stitched up, Luke was placing Nathan in my arms. He felt so warm, and compared to Kara, so tiny. Words can't describe how much it meant to have him there, another tangible product of my relationship with Luke. I was so in love, with both of them, and Kara, too - my family in its own infancy, shiny and perfect and new.

 

I snuggled him close as they wheeled me into recovery, where Molly was waiting for us. She held her godson for the first time while Luke made phone calls, and then it was time to nurse. He latched on easily and fed for a bit on both sides. Afterwards, it was snuggle time, his face resting on my chest, my hands running over his back, my mind at peace. Feeling exhausted but oh so happy, enjoying my perfect little piece of the universe.

I remember looking up at Molly and saying, "Now I know why some mothers have eight children. I could see myself having ten just to relive this feeling."

 

Nathan and Molly, who, based on her expression, appears fully on board with this plan.

An hour and a hour after surgery, I was brought into my room. I remember struggling to stay awake and scratching at my arms and legs constantly, the itching a side effect of the spinal. Luke held Nathan while Molly updated the Internet and I drifted in and out of sleep. I briefly called my boss, and others, too, I'm sure, but I don't remember anyone else. I was starving but wouldn't be allowed to eat anything solid for several more hours. Thankfully, the catheter was still in, so I didn't have to worry about getting up to pee.

By mid-afternoon, Molly was on her way back home to snuggle her own baby and Luke was off to have dinner and bedtime with Kara, leaving Nathan and me to our own devices in the hospital. It was pretty uneventful. I was still so tired, and scratching everywhere, and my butt was sore from lying in bed all day. In the early evening, Samantha, Dan, and Danny Jr. showed up from Chicago to meet their first nephew and visit with me in all my incoherent glory. They were my only relatives to make the trip to Indy, and I was so, so grateful they were there.

 

Auntie Samantha loving on her nephew.

Late that evening, Luke came back. At one point I devoured a glorious postpartum dinner of a roast beef sandwich, vanilla shake, and lime sherbet. I always load up on the sandwiches whenever at that hospital - they could easily stack up against any deli in town. And okay, I drank two shakes, not one, but hey, twelve hours of nothing but liquids = PRIMAL HUNGER.

The following day brought a lot less itching and a few more visitors. Luke's parents, Kara in tow, Luke's brother. They all came together and didn't stay terribly long, but it was so good to see my little girl, and it strengthened my resolve to leave the hospital on day three, to get back to my life. She didn't show much interest in Nathan, or even me, for that matter; she kept running back to Grandma and Grandpa, which was just fine, because I kept worrying about her accidentally kicking my incision.

 

At least one of us was pretty in pink. Also, please disregard the inappropriate flash of thigh. I'm too lazy to go back and recrop the shot and also I am just that comfortable with you all.

 

Nathan with Daddy and Grandma D.

That day also brought on the removal of my catheter, at which point I was charged with the monumental task of emptying my own bladder. It was hugely difficult after Kara, and not accomplished without many tears, but R.N. Susan-Marie gave me a fantastic tip that moved things along much more efficiently and with a lot less pain: get a glass of water and blow bubbles into it with a straw while you're pushing; this gives you something tangible to focus on. That was my biggest problem last time - my body was so out of touch with the act of bearing down that I had no idea how to direct my efforts. Genius!

I can't stress enough how wonderful my hospital stay was this time around. Nathan fed, pooped, and slept with no problems, I ate to my heart's content, and Luke and I received an adequate amount of rest, even sending Nathan to the nursery once for a good four hours so we could get sleep with no interruptions. There were no jagged breakdowns over nursing, no feeling like a bumbling idiot in the hours before we came home. There were no looming doubts over how the hell am I going to do this?

 

Luke and Nathan scoring some father-son time before our release from the hospital.

There were several major obstacles we faced in those first few weeks home: slow weight gain (Nathan's, unfortunately, not mine), nursing and bottle-feeding troubles, constant spit-up, ear-piercing crying, and through it all, nobody nearby to help us. But I love thinking about those first few days when the world felt paused on its axis, and all that mattered was enjoying my new family.

 

Party of four in the hizzouse!

I think the reason I put off writing Nathan's story for so long is the lack of drama surrounding his birth. Kara's story was fraught with suspense at every turn - Will my cervix fully dilate? Drugs or no drugs? Will the baby ever drop? - and I knew readers would get a kick out of the minute-by-minute play-by-play I was able to provide. With Nathan, though, I had all those questions answered before the second trimester by taking them off the table. Water breaking, dilation and effacement, pain relief, pushing, episiotomy or natural tear. Deciding on a c-section eliminated most of the unpredictability. The pre-eclampsia threw a wrench in our plans, sure, but only in regards to timeframe. (And thank God for that.) The execution remained unchanged.

But whatever Nathan's birth lacked in story-telling potential was made up for in spades with peace and love and joy. I can more than live with that.

 

It took two years for you to write all THAT? Geez, Mom, you are so lame. Also, so is your cell phone. Pony up and get a Droid already.

Running from scissors

Not Nathan. Me. Because even the idea of chopping off my secondborn's beautiful golden curls was enough to trigger a small heart attack. Can you blame me? Kara's managed for two and a half years without so much as a trim.* Why should Nathan have been any different? So what if he occasionally gets mistaken for a girl? He's manly. He can handle it.

 

See? Orange shirt. Alligators. Manly!

Sadly, though, his father cannot. And since neither of us has the ability to do good hair, we made an appointment with a chain whose name just happens to rhyme with Bookie Butters.

Okay, even I admit, the boy could pass for one of Ricky Bobby's hooligan sons here. Coming at you like a spider monkey!

Once the boy was strapped into his tractor-chair and looking appropriately confused as to what the heck was going on, my initial request involved simply cleaning up his bangs so he could once again experience life without being blinded by a veil of human hair. But when the stylist asked about the back, I just froze like a deer in headlights (not the curls!) while Luke practically had to be restrained from doing the deed himself.

Those cuuuurls! Be still, my heart.

Nathan was a champ from start to finish, though he did seem a little taken aback at the thought of losing his mullet. I wept for the both of us.

It's too early for bathtime, so why did this woman just spray water on my head?

 

This is my "confused but adorable" face. You like?

 

First they take my breakfast bottle, and now this? Oh, the humanity!

 

Hmmm. Well. I do appear rather dashing now, don't I? Presidential, even. Now excuse me a moment whilst I stare thoughtfully at some random object and mentally compose my acceptance speech.

Not so fast, Little Boo Boo. Momma's not done with you just yet.

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Nathan is shedding his babyhood faster than I can blink. At his 15-month well-baby visit two weeks ago, he clocked in at a respectable 24 pounds and measured 32 inches long. He is bottle-free and getting better and better with using utensils; he is also fiercely independent and will at times scream his bloody head off if you even think about trying to assist him (though he definitely still needs the help). He loves cheese and bread and carrots and will eat almost anything you put in front of him, on his own timeframe. He says dozens of new words almost every day and learns even more by chirping "Is it? Is it?" while pointing to the next big thing.

He adores birds and is fascinated by ants. He sleeps with his pacifier, a blanket, and a stuffed duckie that Kara received from Luke's parents before she was born. He'll give you a kiss, but only if you ask. His current go-to books include Because a Little Bug Went Ka Choo!, Are You My Mother?, Penguin Pete, Busy Bunnies, Animal Babies in Seas, The Rainbow Fish, Shapes, and Elmer and the Lost Teddy. He still loves blocks, puzzles, Kara's tea set, and our Little People collection. During walks through our subdivision and on our trail, he's been spending more and more time outside the stroller and running around to study rocks, sticks, and leaves. He watches some TV but never seems too terribly interested in it. He loves Kara with a passion and takes all of her "aggressive" hugs, kisses, and sharing attempts in stride.

He is a bubble of personality, and I can hardly believe how lucky I am, to be able to call him my son.

* Her appointment is this week, only not at Bookie Butters because we would never be able to tear her away from the slide. Getting her out the door was the hardest part of the appointment!

One year, again

For Kara's first birthday, I spent all night sizing pictures in Photoshop and racking my brain to extract stand-out moments for each month of her life. It only took three weeks for me to write her birth story - a four-part, minute-by-minute installment no less. I filled a quarter of her baby book by the time she turned eight weeks old. In other words, I've never had a problem formally documenting her life.

Yet I've been chewing on this post all weekend.

Originally I planned to weave my thoughts into a twelve-month update like I did for Kara's two-year post, but seeing as I published his eleven-month update just last week, I'm not exactly drowning in material there. Then I thought it might be a good time to finally write his birth story, except I haven't been able to purge more than a few sentences before I'm  breaking into a cold sweat because I DON'T REMEMBER EVERYTHING and my observations from the hospital aren't as detailed as they were with Kara. A freaking year ago, and still I need more time.

It's a hard pill for me to swallow, the fact that Kara's received so much literary fanfare while Nathan waits patiently for me to get my act together. I know he's only a toddler (a toddler!) and doesn't care a whit about such things; as a boy, he may never even ask about his baby book, but I am his mother and it matters to me. I made time for these rituals for Kara. Why is it so hard for me to do the same for him?

Trying to answer that question could very well eat me alive, so instead of rushing into some neatly packaged entry just to bring my son up to par with his sister, I'm just going to say what's in my heart.

Which is this: I have an amazing boy. Amazing! He is walking and chattering and eating pizza and drinking milk and just this afternoon we donned him in winter gear and pulled him around in a sled in the backyard. A year ago I couldn't have imagined this day, I was just nervous and excited to have another baby, and it was impossible to fathom that one day he would grow up to be older, to not be a baby, to become his own unique person instead of "just" my second child. I knew the basics of dealing with a newborn, I dreamed about the kids being eight and nine and the four of us having incredible adventures, but I have never been able to see Nathan as any age older than what he is. Even now with hair brushing his forehead and four teeth fighting to break through his top gums, I can't picture what he'll be like at two years old, or even eighteen months. I can see Kara, sort of, probably because she's a girl and bears such a strong resemble to me, but also because for as long as I wanted to be a mother, I have visualized having a daughter. Everything about Nathan - from his personality down to his very conception - has been a wonderful, complicated surprise.

To be honest, though, sometimes complicated outweighed the wonderful. Those first few months were some of the hardest of my life. Before Nathan was born, Luke and I thought we had it all figured out, having already parented one baby and experiencing all the ups and downs of that tumultuous first year. We knew we didn't have to follow every single piece of advice doled out by a medical professional, knew the importance of sleeping when the baby sleeps, knew it was okay to trust our gut on which routines and choices would best work for our family. What we didn't know was how truly easy we had it with Kara - her willingness to sleep, her ease in taking to the bottle, her acceptance of having her diaper changed without breaking glass with the volume of her cries. And on top of all that he was screamy and gassy and I was already paralyzed with guilt over not wanting to nurse anymore and we weren't sure if it was the formula or the bottle or what. All that knowledge gleaned from Kara and still we had to start over.

 

If you can't beat 'em, sob with 'em.

But it was a good lesson to learn, that parenting will always humble you, that children in the same family can be different in ways you never expected and battling through each challenge will make you appreciate their individuality even more. Nathan didn't sleep like Kara, didn't read like Kara, didn't even grow like Kara, but his character traits have been equally endearing nonetheless. His vocabulary at twelve months is larger than Kara's was at a year and a half; he's more adventurous with new foods (so far, anyway) and more spirited overall, thriving in chaos and noise, especially if he's the one making it.

I may not document all his quirks and mannerisms as often as I should, or even remember important facts as vividly as I should, but oh, my goodness, do I love my little boy. I love his bright smile and grabby fingers and cuddly neck and infectious hyena-like laugh. I love that he wants to sit on my lap at dinnertime even if keeping him from turning over my plate turns into an Olympic event. I love that he clings to me so much despite us being apart for such a large chunk of the work week.

Have I told you how much I love my son?

Happy birthday, Nathan, my favorite little handsome.

Month One

 

 

 

Month Two

  

Month Three

 

Month Four

 

 

Month Five  

 

 

Month Six

 

 

 

Month Seven

 

 

 

Month Eight 

 

 

Month Nine

 

 

 

Month Ten

  

 

 

Month Eleven 

  

 

 

Month Twelve (aka today)

 

And last but not least...

The One-Year Recap

And what a year it was.

My eleven-month-old...

… walks! Unless he's in a major hurry to get to some book or toy, Nathan is on his feet for the majority of the day. With his baby pot belly and bow-legged stride, he looks like a little muscle man parading around the house.
 
… had his last drop of formula on Martin Luther King Day, when Luke and I introduced whole milk instead of buying another container of Similac. Nathan took to it like a champ, and other than finishing his bottles more readily, we haven't noticed anything different, so there you go. Chapter closed. A tiny part of me is sad that he's taking this big-boy step already, but my bank account has no complaints.

… went from drinking five formula bottles a day to three milk bottles in a span of two weeks. He was fighting the mid-morning one something fierce, which was also the first to go for Kara, so it was quickly replaced with a snack and sippy cup of water. Since he was giving us similar problems at bedtime, we skipped that one, too, and offered water instead, which he accepted just fine. We increased the amount of milk he gets at meals to make up for the reduction in frequency, and again, golden. What this child has cost us in REM sleep he is slowly making up for in the eating department.

... sports two teeth on his top gums.
 
…is a chatterbox and makes sounds resembling "kitty," "cat," "duck," "dog," "puppy," "bunny," "night-night," "no," and other random words Luke and I are still deciphering. He’s been saying "mama" and "dada" for a while now, and he's also fond of "bop." If you think this is adorable, you would be right.
 
… enjoys playing with mega blocks, his Laugh and Learn puppy, Kara's tea set, and the figurines from her fire truck. He's also a big fan of trying to choke himself with the utensils from the play kitchen he and Kara received from Auntie Samantha and Uncle Dan at Christmas.

... loves to splash around in the tub.
 
… is more enthusiastic about reading, especially the books Bear Snores On, Little Bear's Bedtime, Barnyard Dance!, Big Dog, Little Dog, The Fire Engine Book, Can You Cuddle Like a Koala?, Good Night, Little Bear, The Foot Book, and the Animal Babies series.

... freaks out over snowmen and loved pointing to the gel window clings we had fastened to the sliding glass door.

... is now rocking the convertible car seat. I can't believe the Chicco lasted as long as it did - almost a year! We didn't make the switch until New Year's before our drive up north, and it was only due to his length; weight-wise, he was still well within the acceptable range. Nathan prefers this new arrangement much better, the extra space and increased visibility during travel, but his feet are cramped against the back seat, so we're counting the days until we can finally turn him around.
 
… gets a skin rash from raspberries.
 
… will eat just about any kind of table food you put in front of him. He loves sampling from our plates and goes wild until we share.
 
… is mesmerized by snow.
 
… likes to pounce on Kara and pull on her hair during diaper changes.

... continues to fight his own diaper changes, especially on the changing table. You'd think we were pulling his toe nails off one by one without anesthesia, he gets so upset.
 
… can crawl up the staircase fairly well (but never without supervision).

... still has a blank baby book. Seeing as his eleven-month update posted a week before his first birthday and his birth story still only exists in my head, I'm guessing you're not surprised.

... celebrated his big day with cake and presents three weeks early.

... is finally getting easier to manage when it comes to bedtime. He allows us to put him in the crib awake most of the time, and though he does fuss for a couple of minutes, he will go to sleep. He still goes down faster for Luke, though, and I continue to struggle with naptime, but it means so much to me to share the last few minutes of his day without choking back expletives while he thrashes against my chest. Now he wraps his arms around my neck and buries his face into me, and I tell you what, there is nothing better.

 

Contemplating life's mysteries as revealed in That's Not My Snowman!

 

A struggle-free diaper change? For serious? Momma, you crazy.

 

Mega (blocks) Man.

 

They're cousins, identical cousins (almost - in height, at least).

 

You want a piece of me and my turtle, on which I love to sit but have no semblance of control?

 

Evidence. 

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And finally, footage of my wittle baybee walking (sob). So amazing, such a miracle, he is. How can he go and turn ONE on me? Be still, my heart.

My ten-month-old...

… took four steps last Wednesday! Then yesterday he walked from the sofa to Luke’s arms—a good two feet. He could very well be running by the New Year.
 
… finally holds his own bottle, though the occasional indifference to eating mentioned in last month’s update still applies.
 
… is still taking things slowly with table food. He’s had bits of pancakes, bread, mashed potatoes, broccoli, and turkey, but that’s about it. His stomach is just too sensitive, as evidenced yesterday morning when he took a sample of whole milk from Kara’s sippy cup and promptly threw up five minutes later.

... will bring you his favorite books when he's in the mood for a story (or so I hear. Luke is the only parent who can testify to this at the moment). Those books include The Shape of Me and Other Stuff, Moo Ba La La La, Chicka Chicka ABC, Big Dog Little Dog, Frosty the Snowman, and The Fire Engine Book.

... hasn't figured out the proper way to hold his books yet, so he can be deep in concentration while looking at a page that is upside down reading right to left. To each his own.

... doesn't care for socks. It used to be that at least one would fall off through the natural course of play, but now he pulls them off deliberately. During a diaper change at church last Sunday, he even peed on one. Way to guarantee at least partial nakeness, son.

... has a list of nicknames, including Buddy, Boo-Bah, Boo-Ba-Dee-Boo, and Momma's Little Handsome (my personal favorite).

... loves to play with his mini Taggies blanket, a set of Tonka trucks Molly brought with her to the hospital, Little People farm horses, and pretty much anything else that semi-fits into his mouth. He's also taken to pushing around the shopping cart walker we bought for Kara's first birthday last year.

... likes to roll around on pillows, the same red pillows Kara's been attached to since she was six months old.

... looks adorable in denim overalls.

... has bangs that are quickly growing into his eyes. Luke asked me when I wanted to cut his hair for the first time, and I gasped out loud and clutched my chest and told him there will be no scissors near my precious baby's head for...I don't know. A while. Definitely not today.

... is never placed in front of the TV, but there's no denying he watches it. Kara watches anywhere from two to three Max and Ruby episodes a day, depending on the day (though it hasn't been three in about a week, after a recent pledge to cut down her screen time), and while Luke is great about making sure it happens when he's eating or sleeping or otherwise occupied, when I'm home, more times than not he's hanging on the entertainment center, staring up at the screen, mesmerized by the colors and voices, at least for a few minutes.

... is still rocked to sleep for naps and bedtime, though he seems to switch his positioning based on the parent in charge of getting him down. Luke has the best luck with the traditional newborn cradle, while I find it easier to cuddle him on my shoulder or sit him on my lap with his head nestled in the crook of my arm. Not that he starts out that way, mind you--he thrashes around a bit trying to get comfortable until exhaustion eventually overwhelms him, and suddenly he's curled into my neck or sprawled over my arm. For a while there I dreaded bedtime with him, had plenty of choice curse words to share while bouncing him up and down through the squirming and crying, but now that he's a teeny bit more cooperative, the whole routine is more manageable.

... usually wakes up two to three times a night and requires anything from assistance with his pacifier to removal from his crib so he can be rocked to sleep all over again. His prime wake-up times seem to be between 9:30 and 11:30 p.m., with a third thrown in right after Luke and I turn out the light, no matter what time it is.

... is on the fence about bathtime. Sometimes he screams the entire way through, other times he's content to munch on one of his rubber boats. Keeps things spicy!

... has made a number of friends at church, with his eye smiles and boyish grin.

... tucks in his lower lip when he's lost in thought.

... adores playing with Kara, sometimes a bit too much. Sometimes, he's so excited that he ends up smacking her in the face repeatedly, no matter how many times we move his hand away. Luckily, Kara thinks it's funny.

... is still all about the pointing.

... loves full-on mouth kisses.

... will be the honored recipient of my first completed crocheting project--a short black scarf I actually started in college and finally put the finishing touches on today. I think I originally wanted it to be for my dad, but when I picked it back up again I found that the stitches were so tight that I couldn't add more than two or three rows before my needle just couldn't fit through another hole. It's way too small for an adult but perfect for a person who can't yet wipe his own butt. At first I felt bad, having something handmade for one child but not the other, until I remembered that Kara's closet contains at least six blankets handmade from family and friends, and Nathan has Molly's beautiful quilt, but that's it. It's not a terrible thing to try and even the score.

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As promised, here are some fun Nathan outtakes from his first professional photoshoot the Sunday after Thanksgiving. He was a pretty happy guy for most of the morning, so we even got him in two sets of clothing. Once again, the last one is my favorite, though we did get a handsome shot of him wearing his sweater vest, too.

 

If you're really, really, ridiculously good-looking, you can get away with not owning wearing shoes.

 

Doesn't he look like a mini-version of Richie Rich or something? So spiffy!

 

Cool! Fingers!

 

His eyes seem to change depending on his outfit, anywhere from green to blue to gray, but in this picture it's the wonderment that gets me, not the color.

 

Happy ten months and some change, buddy.

My nine-month-old...

... clocked in at 19 lb 7 oz and measured 28 1/2 inches long at his last well-baby visit, though we're pretty sure that's at least a full pound short since the boy was writhing and screaming bloody murder the entire time Luke had him on the scale.

... says "Momma"! In addition to his typcial mamamamama stream-of-consciousness babble, just as often he'll stop after the second syllable and look directly at me. Hello, heart-breaking!

... points at things he's interested in, especially during reading time. He's also taken his sister's cue and started pressing his face against the pages when he sees something he likes, giving his best imitation of a kiss.

... claps just as enthusiastically whether he's happy or ticked off.

... has decided that Hand, Hand, Fingers, Thumb, his former Most Favorite Book in the Universe, is now tainted with evil. You can bet any amount of money that the tears will fall before the first monkey can even think about laying a hand on his drum. Current loyalties lie with the Animal Babies series, Kate Tom's Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star, and Inside, Outside, Upside Down.

... will get two or three Cheerios in his mouth for every twenty placed in front of him. We'll find them under his legs, in between the folds of his shirt, on the floor, and sometimes on his chin.

... is still happily eating level-two jars of baby food. We've tried chunkier ones, but he has difficulty swallowing the pieces and ends up gagging himself. (Luke still makes his own occasionally, but in the depths of all the sickness we experienced last month, it fell off our long list of priorities.)

... can hold his own bottle but seems indifferent to it these days. There are times when he either stops after a couple of ounces (that alone taking twenty minutes to accomplish) or refuses it altogether. The nurse at our pediatrician's office explained that sometimes when babies are teething, it hurts for them to suck and drink. Or he could just be growing tired of the bottle. No complaints there, so long as he continues to take in an ample amount of formula.

... has two whole teeth (with more on the way, if his nighttime waking is any indication).

... fights diaper changes every. single. time. EXCEPT when he's on a public changing table. Thanks, I guess?

... is cruising along furniture and pulling himself up on any available object (or person) in arm's reach.

... celebrated his first Halloween as a pumpkin, just like his sister did, except that his costume came from my co-worker's sister because Kara's was size 18 months and Nathan is just now fitting into 12-month clothing. Samantha, Dan, and baby Danny (who's really not a baby anymore, why do I keep calling him that?) came from Chicago to trick-or-treat with us in our subdivision, but since he and Kara both spiked a temperature that evening, our visitors had to go solo.

... was baptised on the first of the month, with Molly taking on godmother duties and Luke's best friend Tom as godfather.

... adores the quilt Molly made him in honor of the occasion. He loves to roll around on it and study the patterns.

... can entertain himself for several minutes just staring out the window.

... laughs like a hyena. I don't know how else to describe it. He's always sounded this way, but the older he gets, the more pronounced it becomes and therefore more contagious to anyone within earshot.

... considers diaper wipes to be a suitable snack and will zero in on the container whenever it's in his line of vision.

... still fits comfortably in our Chicco Key Fit 30. By six months, Kara's legs were dangling over the seat, but Nathan just might last until his first birthday. (Kara was in a convertible at this point.)

... behaves splendidly around family and friends during daylight hours, but at night, only Momma or Daddy will do. (One of several reasons I've been dragging my feet on the whole "finding a baby-sitter" thing, though I did ask one of my co-workers for the names of his sitters since he was gracious enough to offer. I don't actually have the list yet, but good intentions and all that.)

... isn't as comforted by his bedtime lion as he used to be.

... continues to have dry, extremely sensitive skin and requires several applications of lotion plus one treatment of cortisone cream a day.

... embarked on his first "Mommy and me" road trip two weekends ago so that I could see my sister Ryan while she was visiting from Germany. She came to Nathan's baptism and got to meet him there, but only for a few hours; our original plan was for the whole family to make the drive, but then Kara got sick in addition to putting on a fantastic show at all hours of the night, and there was no way we were putting ourselves through that hell in someone else's house. So Luke stayed home with Kara while Nathan and I went to Chicago, and this will sound silly, but I was so nervous because it was my first time traveling alone with one of the kids, and I was afraid I would forget Nathan was with me and, I don't know, leave him at a gas station off I-65, but it was great. He was a dream for ninety percent of the car ride, and he only woke up a couple of times that night, and he so loved all the attention he received. Plus, it was such a treat to spend that one-on-one time with him--a rarity with second children, I'm fast learning. But he takes it all in stride.

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And now, because I am a mother wracked with guilt over posting her son's update more than half-way through the month, allow me to bombard you with pictures.

Under normal circumstances I would consider this picture too blurry to publish, but I know you, Internet, and I knew you would want to see Cheerios' newest poster child in action.

 

The cutest, manliest pumpkin-and-monkey set you ever did see (at least in the state of Indiana).

 

The birthday buddies together for the first time, with proud Daddy D waiting his turn and little Jack chillaxing in the background. (Doesn't Ryan look fabulous? Marriage and Germany so agree with her.)

Enjoying the fruits of his godmother's creative labor. 

 

Checking out the cool toys at Auntie Samantha and Uncle Dan's house.

 

My boy and I at our favorite apple orchard in northwest Indiana, taken mid-October during a three-day weekend with Luke's parents.

 

Working on becoming the next Houdini.

My eight-month-old...

... cut his first tooth yesterday! And even though he's been screaming his fool little head off at random intervals throughout the night for the last few days AND gnaws on everything in sight AND is at the prime age for teething, it was still a complete shock for me to come home from work and spot a shiny white nugget in his bottom gums while shoveling peas into his pie hole. In my defense, Kara's first tooth didn't make an appearance until she was ten months old; I just assumed Nathan would follow suit. It's almost like each child is born with unique physical and developmental character traits. Wow, what a theory! Now excuse me while I curl into a fetal position and mourn the loss of his innocence.

... grunts and babbles all day long, entertaining us with sounds like nuh and rrrrrr, mamamama and dadadada and even "Yay!" at dinner tonight. I think. But only because I said it first.

... freaks out when left alone eighty percent of the time.

... is still comfortably rocking the nine-month clothing despite consuming solids three times a day and boasting limbs that now resemble tree stumps instead of sticks. At this point Kara was close to outgrowing her TWELVE-month wardrobe, so again, more head-scratching on our parts.

... continues to build upper- and lower-body strength by pulling up on anything he can get his hands on--the couch, activity table, my foot, a chair. Over the weekend, just for kicks, I planted him in front of Kara's baby doll stroller and I'll be damned if he didn't push that sucker clear across the room. And did it again once I turned him around. What is happening to my widdle-bitty baby? Doesn't he realize that hitting all these milestones only makes Momma feel old and weepy?

... will finally get baptized on the first of next month at our new parish. What do little boys wear to baptisms when beyond the newborn age? Please advise.

... has hair long enough to brush his forehead.

... likes to crane his head to look up at me when I sit him on my lap during dinner and waits patiently until I plant a closed-lip kiss on his mouth and hum until he laughs.

... loves pictures of real animals more than illustrations, just like his sister.

... has little to no interest in holding his own bottle.

... thinks diaper changes are now torturous punishments from God.

... still can't crawl properly in pants or sleepers.

... is getting heavier and heavier to sport around in the Maclaren, but I'm not ready to give up on baby-wearing quite just yet.

... is finally taking naps that are consistently longer than thirty minutes.

... scrambles towards me eagerly when I come home from work, anxious to grab onto any part of me within his reach.

... is quite the snuggler, oftentimes nuzzling his face into my neck and flapping his arms around my shoulders when I pick him up, especially after a long day.

... is one of the most fun people I know.

Thanks for noticing me. 

Strike a pose. There's nothing to it!

"Help! I'm in a nutshell! How did I get into this bloody great big nutshell? What kind of shell has a nut like this?"

One of his last toothless pictures. (Sniffle.) Seriously, what is going on with my baby?!