Our family has been on quite a ride for the past nine months, as I was busy growing our little baby boy in mah belly. It was an eventful and complicated pregnancy, chock full of calls to the midwives, trips to the hospital and sleepless nights. He was due to arrive on Christmas Day, but after too much adventure in the womb, he decided to take one more complicated bow and come 3 1/2 weeks early.
That, in and of itself, is another post for another time.
But take a look at this gorgeous kiddo. Can you stand the cuteness?
yeah, it's kind of stupid, how adorable he is.
Despite the surprise-factor that has completely interrupted all of our baby and holiday prep, Sean and I have really been trying to maintain some normalcy for the iToddler, keeping to her regular schedule and really enjoying getting into the holiday spirit.
Well, we try.
Christmas cookie decorating...seemed like a magical idea at the time, until the 3-hour affair turned into about 6 distinct sugar highs and subsequent crashes. Mayhem. And Sean just kept skipping around the house during her meltdowns, singing "it's so magical! it's SO magical!!!" smart@$$.
Oh, and the day we decided to make dozens upon dozens of cookies…also turns out to be Jesus’ birthday party at her weekday club…complete with singing (or SOBBING, in my child’s case…sugar crash).
And cake and ice cream.
She's STILL detoxing.
Anyway, tonight we thought it might be fun to take the kiddos to see Santa at the mall, and then to a local light display (which the iToddler has been to twice and LOVES).
Despite the fact that Sean and I had decided to not do the Santa thing with our kids, Mickey Mouse decided to introduce the iToddler to Santa in a seemingly innocuous episode. The title was something about trains. It was 60 minutes long, and so our favorite episode. And Santa sneaks in toward the end.
Sneaky little turds.
So now she recognizes (and loves) Santa. So we figured since we can’t explain anything to her until next year (she’s too young to really get it this year), we’d just embrace it this year. From a distance, Santa is pretty cool. In pictures and coloring books, magical. But in real life, up close?
Terrifying.
Stranger danger! Stranger danger!
Since Santa was a bust, we erased her memory with some dinner and then headed out to our local light display. At this point, it’s been about two hours since I’d nursed the baby, and every thought or sight of him triggered letdown.
I was aching.
And the light display takes about 30-45 minutes to drive through, with no way out once you’re in.
deep breath, we’ll all survive. he’s asleep. maybe he’ll stay that way.
We pulled into the park and got in line. Cue the baby crying. Cue the tingling boobs. Cue the wet spots on the dress.
sigh. we’ll be fine. it’s only temporary and we’re making memories! making MEMORIESSSS!
Once you’re in the park, you turn your radio to a certain station and it plays background Christmas music. It’s a nice little detail and really adds to the whole experience. So we turned on the radio to drown out the baby’s cries, and set forth to enjoy the lights. First thing out of the iToddler’s mouth was “I hear singing! Helllooooo yights! Helllloooo baby Jeeesusss!”
It was remarkably sweet.
The first song wrapped up when we were well into the park, watching thousands…millions of lights twinkling in different displays. It’s gorgeous. The baby had stopped crying for a moment and my girl was completely beside herself in wide-eyed wonder. Sean held her tightly as she oohed and ahhed through the window at flickering snowflakes and ringing bells.
Then the second song started. It was some sort of Christmas version of Pachelbel’s Canon in D. Now I should say, there are two things that are guaranteed to make me cry every time. Okay, that’s a lie. Most things have the capacity to make me cry. But two of them are Pachelbel’s Canon in D and kids singing.
And this stupid song has both.
SN: love me for embedding this because 3 notes into previewing this video I was already bawling and Sean’s was cracking up laughing at me.
So I’m driving through the woods in a park with my girl cuddling up with her dad (which of course is absolutely beautiful to watch), my eyes filled with tears as this song is playing and I’m thinking “wow, am I one lucky girl”, and then the baby starts to cry again.
And my boobs start to tingle and the milk comes down and he’s crying and the iToddler is tapping me saying “mommy, baby needs nuh-nuhs. baby is SAD and you need to give him nuh-nuhs” and Sean is laughing at me because I’m crying and the baby is crying and the lights are magical and my dress has two wet spots in pretty conspicuous spots and the kids are singing to Pachelbel’s stupid Canon and
THIS IS MAGICAL CHRISTMAS INSANITY, DAMMIT!
sigh. deep breaths.
And there are still like 3.25 of the 3.5 miles to go.
About 15 minutes later, my girl was leaning out the window, singing “Happy birthday, Jesus”. Thank the Lord Pachelbel’s Canon wasn’t playing, because I was so. on. the. edge. Despite all our failings and chaos, we’re doing something right since our two year-old gets what Christmas is all about.
The rest of the display was pretty uneventful, but at the end there was this arch where lighted presents fly from one side of the street to the other and my girl says, “Daddy, Mommy, there go presents! Presents for Jesus’ birthday.”
God love that little girl.
And then that damn song starts playing again. And the baby starts to cry again.
And.
Ugh.
I’m not even kidding.
And I wouldn’t trade that half hour (or the next 20 minutes we spent sitting in the dark parking lot of a random quilting supply store as I nursed my starving newborn) for all the perfect, uneventful moments of Christmas magic in the world.
I’m pretty well convinced that as my belly grows, so do my hormones and my capacity for immense amounts of Sobby McWeepsalot impressions. And it really doesn’t take much.
Seriously.
On Halloween day, the Today Show hosts all dressed up as members of Britain’s royal family at the big wedding…and I cried when the fake bride got out of the fake limousine for the fake wedding.
Pathetic.
I have countless stories of the funny things that made me cry when I was pregnant with the iToddler. Ridiculous things. I’m not talking Sarah McLaughlin and her “I’ll-ruin-this-song-forever-for-you-by-letting-the-ASPCA-use-it-to-show-shelter-animals-on-their-way-to-the-Ranbow-Bridge”. Not even Extreme Home Makeover (and for the record, I can’t make it through a commercial, much less a whole episode).
No, we’re talking about episodes of Dirty Jobs. Key changes in a Taylor Swift song. An episode of My Sweet 16 where Timbaland’s son gets a Lamborghini.
Dumb.
But now and then something reminds me of real life. Tonight, I saw a picture of a friend and her very very new baby (like just hours old, if that) and was immediately thrown back to when the iToddler was in my arms for the first time. The wonder, the fear, the thankfulness, all the emotions just came rushing back. We were standing in the kitchen at the time, and my girl said “Mommy, I like music! Can we dance?” So I turned on Spotify and hit shuffle, and this song came on.
She reached up for me to pick her up, and despite all my pelvis pain, I obliged and we danced. She smashed her cheek into mine and we danced as she sang along to “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” and rubbed my shoulder. I didn’t even try to wipe away the tears. Then she put a tiny hand on either side of my face and looked me straight in the eye and kept singing as we danced slowly in the kitchen.
God, I love this girl.
We went upstairs to lay her down for the night and I suddenly remembered that this is the last night she’ll be in her crib. Sean and I had decided earlier this week to move her over to her big girl room after a weekend of getting it ready enough for occupancy (still so much work to do).
So this is it, I thought. This is the last time I’ll lay her in this crib. Ever.
I sat her on the crib railing for support and held her tight. She held me tightly, too. I rubbed her back in circles and felt her tiny hand do the same to me. I whispered, “I love you, baby” in her ear and she looked at me and said, “I love you, Mommy. I go to sleep now.”
End scene.
Why is this so emotional? It’s a crib, for crying out loud. But after 2 years, we’re going from a world filled with nothing but firsts, to one speckled with increasing numbers of lasts. Last nursing session, last time she refers to Mickey Mouse as Mimi, last time I lay her down in that room, in that crib.
Maybe it’s hormones. Maybe it’s lack of sleep catching up with me. Maybe it’s just…motherhood.
Whatever it is, I’m okay with it. Just don’t judge me when I wake up Friday morning in that big girl bed with her because I just wasn’t quite ready to let go.
I decided to take a little social media break recently and so I deactivated my Facebook page. What I didn’t realize when I did that, was how essential it is to me to be able to write about motherhood and life and my funny little observations along the way. I guess there’s a part of me that truly is a writer…or at least a storyteller.
Anyway, as I enter my 9th month of pregnancy with baby BAM, I have so many thoughts. First of all,
I
Am
Huge
and I still have two months to go. don't believe the hype. it's TEN months, not nine.
Second, for all the hassle this pregnancy has been, this little guy sure does look like a keeper, don’t he?
hiya, BAM!
And third, but most definitely not least, my girl rocks. She is the funniest thing on the planet, hands-down.
Today, while I was working from home, I could hear her and Sean chatting through the ductwork. He was trying to convince her I was at work (she didn’t know I was in the house because I stay WELL-hidden when I work from home), but she was insisting…
We’re on vacation this week, visiting my parents and my mom thought maybe we could try the iToddler in a big girl bed. Even though she’s fine in a crib at home, she’s just too big for the pack-n-play she usually sleeps in here.
Getting her into the bed wasn’t too traumatic, and she slept for about 7 hours with no problem. By 3, she was up and in my bed with Sean and me.
Problem was, there’s not really room for three of us, so around 4, I convinced her to go back to her toddler bed.
With her 5 1/2 month preggers mama.
Any advice from the masses on how to have a smooth(er) transition? We’re pretty clueless…
I so wish I had a picture to share with you of what happened last night. It’s bone-chilling. My words will have to paint it for you.
My hubs has been working overnight shifts the past 7 weeks or so so he could be home to get the iToddler out of bed in the morning and put her to bed at night, because I had been on rest for placenta previa (now resolved, and a post will be coming about that soon). It’s been great…until about a week ago.
What happened a week ago? I have no idea. But about a week ago, the iToddler started waking up in the middle of the night, but ONLY on nights when Sean was working. Never when he was home. Only when he was gone.
It’s like a creepy sixth sense.
Last night was Sean’s first night back to work after the weekend, so of course little miss woke up at 12:30, about an hour after I had managed to fall asleep. I went into her room to get her and she spent the next 90 minutes in my bed, flipping and flopping restlessly. I got kicked in the mouth, head-butted on the nose, fingers up my nose, laid upon (over top my HEAD), and while she was on my head,
she. pooped. on. me.
or maybe it was the wettest fart ever. I don’t care, because I earned my Mom-of-the-Year plaque last night. And frankly, it smelled like poop.
After 90 minutes or so, I tried to take her back to her crib and that went over like an over-privileged teen not getting the right color BMW for their birthday. SO I grabbed my blanket and a couple pillows and laid down on her floor.
“See, Mom’s right here. You’re fine, baby. Now lay down and go to sleep.”
I watched her silhouette in the dark and it wasn’t budging. She just stood there, staring at me. I saw her shoulders rise and fall a couple times in deep breaths of resignation. Not a sound. But also not a movement toward the prostrate position.
Just, staring.
And breathing deeply.
Like a creepy stalker ex, the night before the PFA gets issued.
This went on for a full 30 minutes and I think I was actually dozing off despite her creepiness, when THUNK! She throws a Cabbage Patch Doll and smacks me in the face with it.
THUNK! Again. Her Nighty Night Elmo book.
I stood up and she started to cry, but I steeled my heart of stone and went back to bed without her. But dag is my kid tenacious. She screamed bloody murder for about 10 minutes when I decided, personal privacy be damned, I am taking the path of least resistance tonight.
And she came back to bed with me. I hid under the covers playing Words With Friends and consuming all of the internet as she stared at me some more, patting my back and twirling my hair.
For another hour.
Eventually the patting stopped. She kicked me in the nose and farted on me one final time and then stillness. 4 a.m. Praise God.
I don’t know why two year-olds wake up and have the inability to go back to sleep. iToddler has always been an amazing sleeper, but this little spell has been quite a challenge. But no matter what happens or why, I sure do love waking up to her tuckered out little body curled up next to me, her pouty lips all puckered up, begging for smooches. I know these days (and sleepless nights) will be gone all too soon, so even though she’s a little creepy sometimes, I think I’ll keep her.
I have never lived in a house with central air conditioning. Growing up, we didn’t even have a window unit in our house. We’d go to the neighbor’s house on really miserably hot days and sit in my friend’s mom’s bedroom all day long.
Heat never bothered me too much. In fact, I loved it. But the past two or three years have been brutal. And this muggy, pregnant summer has been the worst. I swear my body temperature is roughly 346.8 degrees.
I’ve seriously considered asking my midwives if it’s possible for a 35 year-old to be both pregnant and menopausal at the same time.
Sean and I decided last week to take the plunge and get central air, figuring it might help us to feel more motivated to do things if we aren’t weighed down by rising temps and oppressive humidity.
Today it was installed by an amazing crew from Beverly Services and I already feel like a new woman. It cost us next year’s tax refund, and I couldn’t be more proud of the way we spent the money we don’t yet have.
I’m positive it’s going to help me keep the house cleaner, as we’ll feel more motivated and less wiped out by the heat. But now that it’s installed, I think there will be some other positive results. Here are a few of my predictions:
I think we’ll all lose weight
I think we’ll be happier and be able to agree on a wall color
I might also get a raise because of better sleep and increased productivity
my hair will probably cooperate more
Sean’s goatee might be less patchy
the iToddler will start eating her vegetables
our car will get better mileage
our neighborhood will have greener grass and longer blooms on the trees
that lady at work who hates my uterus will bake me brownies
and Sean’s job will be converted to one with steady hours
I love two. I really do. What a fantastic age. She has strong opinions on dressing herself (which in and of itself gives me tons of belly laughter), speaks in full sentences and plays a terrible, but hilarious game of hide & seek. I love that I can understand her now. I love that she asks for sugar on everything.
Everything.
I love that she knows all the characters on all her favorite shows and says “Ernie” with a French accent. aaiiiirrrr-NEE!
I love that she equates the back yard with nakedness. Summer clothes for babies are so unnecessary.
Apparently our backyard is a nudist resort.
It’s getting easier these last few months. And thank God because 18-21 months was ROUGH–she could move around as much as she wanted, understood a lot of what we were saying, but couldn’t communicate what she wanted well.
It was like living with an underachieving foreign exchange student with ADHD.
Then I got another positive pregnancy test and thought, “oh MAN, what in the world did we sign up for?!” But now, now I think we can handle two. Two kids, and a two year-old. It’s pretty awesome, and I think we’re doing alright.
It’s a funny thing, expecting a baby while raising a toddler. I find myself constantly wondering what life is going to be like raising a newborn and a tornado simultaneously. Toddlers are strange, irrational, unpredictable and delightful little creatures and you don’t have to pay super close attention to catch some real gems pretty much every day.
Like today.
The iToddler was happily munching away on her Annie’s Shells & Cheese when mama’s Chinese delivery showed up earlier than expected (she was supposed to be in bed, so as to not hoard my dumplings). As soon as she saw the delivery guy, she dumped out her shells & cheese and ran up to me with her (now empty) bowl and squealed, “PPEEEAAASSSEEEE!” (Note: is it bad that she knows that delivery guy and that he comes bearing pork?)
The proof.
So she stayed up and stole my dumplings.
But it wasn’t all thievery and selfishness. Oh no. She shared the dumplings (and her milk), with her regular dining partners, Mama Panda and Baby Panda.
For the record, the pandas were a gift from Sean to ME for pushing a Volkswagen through a straw. But that’s another post altogether.
Anyway, she is very kind to Mama and Baby Panda, in general. She shares all her meals with them. They have crusty mouths to prove it.
Sharing her poo-poo (pickle).
Mama and Baby Panda are her babies. She likes babies. She likes the idea of babies. She likes to give babies gifts and pet them and dance for them and pretend to take care of them. But I don’t think she really gets that she’s about to start living with a real. live. baby.
What’s really fun for me is watching all my friends have their second babies while raising toddlers. The stories I get to read on Facebook are just so stinking funny. And every once in a while, you see a picture that requires no caption. It speaks for itself.
Thanks for the laugh, Eleni!
It makes me realize, if I thought life was funny and storytelling-worthy now, imagine what it will be like in ohhhh, say, 6 months.
I just want to go on the record officially to say: I. CAN’T. WAIT.
