So You Want to Know How Things are Going?

The other day a friend I haven't seen in a while said he was glad I was blogging again. I think he was being facetious.

I used to think blogging was hard when I had one baby. Psh. Way wrong.

More than two months since my last post. I hang my head in shame.

Mentally

Part of the reason why I haven't blogged, and probably the biggest reason, is that I think my brain has died. I'm in this constant fog of poor memory and fragmented thoughts and sentences. I tried reading a book a few weeks ago. I reread the same pages over and over and finally gave up because I had no idea what I was reading. It wasn't even a hard book. I also have pregnancy induced dyslexia. I read words as another closely spelled word, i.e. "peace" was actually "beach". I missed a church meeting this week because I've forgotten how to read calendars. An attorney friend of mine is convinced I will at some point work for her part time. I keep telling her that the academic part of my brain that enabled me to do my awesome paralegal-ing is gone. I worry it may be permanent.

In my defense, I have two babies under 16 months. Two babies. Not two children. Babies. We put our trash out the other day and the trash people brought it back to the house and dumped it out on the front porch because we'd reached the weekly limit of rank diapers. [Okay that's a lie but don't think it hasn't occurred to me it might actually happen.]

Physically

I am the heaviest, most out of shape I have ever been in my life. If I tried to play basketball right now, I would die. Luckily my pre-Holden-pregnancy jeans still fit. But I could maybe fit a leg in my pre-Sydney-pregnancy jeans. Some overly cheery OB doc said that your body is its healthiest right after you have a baby. Bahaha! Where'd she get her degree?!?!

From my favorite TV show: "You joined a gym??" "Yeah." "When??" "After I had Rory to lose the baby weight." "Did you go?" "Heck no. I was WAY too fat."

Sleeping

I've told Jericho on a number of occasions that he shouldn't expect anything substantial for dinner until Holden starts sleeping through the night. We have a somewhat working system for nighttime Holden duty. The first plan was for me to take duty on the nights during the week when Jericho works and he would take the weekends. After the third night of doing this, I woke in the morning to Jericho saying goodbye as he left for work, crying before I could even say anything. I was practically sleep crying. I'd reached a new area of ways to cry.

We now share the nights. Consecutive nights is what brings on the psychosis. Sometimes we do every other night. Sometimes we each take one in the same night. Sometimes the plan falls apart during the night because one of us has become immune to the sounds of the waking babies. One of us being me. Seriously. Some mornings I have to ask Jericho if/when Holden woke up. Holden sleeps five feet from my head.

Eating

Holden eats all.the.time. Sometimes during the day he eats almost every hour. I'm glad I decided not to nurse because it would have killed me. At his two-month check-up, he weighed in at one pound shy of doubling his birth weight. The average time for babies to do this is 6 months. I worry what his teen years will be like.

Outings

I've managed to venture out of the house with both babies. My first destination: Target. It was awesomely therapeutic. I made it out to the van with two happy babies - Syd in the cart, Holden in the Bjorn- looking around for my Mom Award. My next destination: Harris Teeter. I have a Wal-Mart and a Lowe's Foods two seconds from my house and the Harris Teeter is twenty minutes in an entirely different city. The twenty minute drive was so worth being at my favorite grocery store and, the real reason I made the drive, to get Sydney to fall asleep. The cashier asked me how old my babies were. One month and 14 months. She said I had my hands full. Why, yes, I do. Thanks for noticing. She didn't even ask me if I needed help out. She called over a nice man named Lee and he wheeled Sydney and my groceries to the mom-mobile.

[Aside: Do you hate the comments about having your hands full? Sometimes I want to respond with things like- "Actually, not really. I'm practically a superhero at this whole mom thing and it's total cake. I'm thinking of going on fertility for the next pregnancy so I can have triplets. I'm that good at this."]

This is my world. Jericho asks what I have planned for the day. Oh ya know, feed babies, change diapers, and if I have time, I'll eat something, maybe go to the bathroom a couple times, and if I can swing it, shower.

My world may often bring me to tears or cause me to drive around my town for half an hour listening to the soothing sounds of Harry Potter while both babies chill out. But every day I get to see these little faces. Sydney is a nut that constantly makes me laugh at her nuttiness. And Holden is the most angelic little stud. He smiles and sleeps and eats and smiles. I know every parent thinks it but I know my babies are the best.

Birth Story/Timeline

I'm on the fence when it comes to birth stories. Do people really care? Should I post it anyway so I have the record somewhere? I usually just skim through others' because they typically contain lots and lots of details. Some of which kind of gross me out.

Sydney's birth story is more or less in my personal journal so I never put it on the blog. Perhaps we'll give it a go for Holden's story since it's much simpler.

In reality, I could probably sum up my delivery with Holden in about 2 sentences.

We'll stretch it out a little more for dramatic effect.

Friday
10:00 am-        Weekly OB check. No dilating. No nothing. No signs of early delivery.
Sunday
7:00 pm-          Parents over for dinner. "I wouldn't mind having the baby early just so long as it doesn't happen this week and keep Jericho from going to Rob's wedding." [Rob=Jericho's BFF and he's in the wedding].
Monday
12:20 am-        Woke up yet again to discomfort and random contractions. [Been happening for a couple of weeks].
1:00 am-          Go online and re-read "real" versus "fake" contractions. Concluded still fell into "fake" classification. Cursed at fake contractions for not letting me sleep.
1:00-3:00 am-  Awake... time for cereal. Remember after I poured the milk that there's ice cream in the freezer. Blast!
3:30-                Sydney wakes up. Cause that's what she does now. Feed and play with Sydney. Put her back to sleep.
4:00-                Call midwife on call with explanation of mystery contractions. "Take a bath." "A what?"
4:15-                Take bath for 45 minutes. Woke up Jericho to update and explain why I was taking a bath at 4:00 in the morning. Read book. Timed contractions. Amazed I was able to fit in the bathtub with minimal water displacement.
5:00-                Contractions even out. Call midwife. Leave message.
5:00-7:00-        No call back from midwife. Contractions further apart and inconsistent but get more painful and like I could pee fire. Half-heartedly start packing my hospital bag, tell Jericho to do the same.
7:00-                Call back midwife.
7:00-9:00-        No call back. Put friend on alert to watch Sydney for the day. Put on makeup in preparation for gross post-delivery pictures.
10:00-              Call midwife. Talk to her this time. Tells me to come into the hospital just to get things checked out [since office is closed due to holiday] and since my contractions are so... whatever.
12:00-              Get to hospital. Check in. Meet with midwife. Checks my progress [Most painful part of the entire delivery. Imagine getting a tooth pulled via your sphincter]. Turns out I walked in there at a 5. "Good. If you'd said I was only at like a 1 and sent me home, I would have been so pissed." Smile at the comments of my obvious high pain tolerance. 
1:30-                Get epidural [b/c I'm not that tough]. Broke water. Dilated to 7/8. Let me sleep some with my happy, happy epidural. Jericho runs home to get all the stuff we didn't pack. Frown at my ugly toes that never got their pre-delivery pedicure.
4:00-                Check back. Dilated to 10. Wait it out a little because baby is still sitting high. "Page me when you start feeling pressure."
5:00-                Can't feel a single thing. Check to make sure baby hasn't come out without me knowing.
5:30ish-           Check back again. Baby time. "Push right here." "Where?" Laugh because still can't feel anything and have no idea if I'm pushing. "Am I doing anything??" Push as best as I can figure and then we have a baby. Done and done.

And that's pretty much it. The worst parts all happened before I even got to the hospital. I don't know how many times Jericho has pointed out how different this delivery was from Sydney's. I've had more complicated dental procedures. Clearly this baby knew it was time and got here without any fuss. Plus it also helped that my epidural was still there for the actual tough stuff this time. My first go round it didn't make any sense to me why people got epidurals because I still felt everything when it came time for the actual delivery. Mad props to all those that go sans-epidural the whole time.

Things were so different for this delivery. Not just the logistics but the overall emotions and atmosphere with this baby were so different. Nobody cried [except for Holden]. Nobody was leaving in a couple of days. Nobody was strung out on anxiety and lack of sleep and hormones. Nobody hesitated to send the baby to the nursery for the night. Nobody forgot to bring the Harry Potter DVDs.

 

This little boy was ready to get here. He started out without us knowing. And he pushed his way into this world two weeks early with no notice. My friend said of her two youngest that are closer in age that maybe in the pre-existence they were so close that the younger one couldn't wait to join the other here on earth. What a sweet thought. I hope that's the case with Sydney and Holden. I hope this means they'll be the best of friends and never ever fight and spend their days holding hands and singing Carpenters songs.

We're bottle feeding again and I'm totally fine with it. Nursing is beautiful and wonderful and instinctual for some and for some it produces panic attacks. Sydney was bottle-fed and she's a rockstar and so will Holden.

Welcome to our world Baby Holden! We love him so much already [even though he was way squishy newborn alien-like when he was fresh out].

And do we like the name Holden? I've concluded that I don't identify my babies with a name until they're more than a week old. Holden is still just "baby", "little guy", "buddy", "honey".

On Having a Boy

When I was pregnant with Sydney, before we knew she'd be a girl, I was weighing out the pros and cons of each gender. One of my biggest fears about having a girl was raising a teenage girl. There's a lot of drama-rama that goes on in the mind of a teen girl. I know. I was one. I worry about her being 12 and wanting to dress like she's 25. I worry about her listening to Justin Bieber-type blah. I worry about stupid boys disrespecting her. I worry about mean girls bullying her. I worry about her developing enough self-confidence and self-respect and knowing that the girls who put out at 16 are not cool and happy.

When I found out that this current pending baby is a boy, the worrying shifted, and if anything, got worse. I thought for sure, having a boy would be less worrisome. But raising a boy is huge, especially a teenage boy that has to learn how to be a man and all this stuff I don't know how to do. Luckily that's where husbands come in.

With a girl, I worry about protecting her and teaching her self worth and how to be feminine and kick-A at the same time. With a boy, I worry about him becoming a good, quality man in this world full of really, really crappy stuff. I remember a friend of my brother's telling me once the reason why parents worry more about their girls than their boys was that girls tend to get into trouble where the boys are the ones that start the trouble.

I'm a girl so I know how a girl's mind works. With a boy, I have no idea how his mind works, but I know what it's like to be the observer of boys and how it looks like their mind works. [Yes, you should bathe every day]. Therefore, I have some fears on how I raise my boy.

Here is my boy-specific wishlist.

...wants to go to college and have a career.

...shakes people's hands and looks them in the eye.

...knows how to talk to people face to face and not solely via electronic devices.

...finds enjoyment in going to church and learning the gospel and won't sleep through seminary.

...if skinny jeans for boys are still in style in 14 years, he will NOT wear them.

...is not going to think bodily functions are the epitome of humor. Or will at least grow out of it by the time he's 12.

...finds the right friends and stands up for what is right.
 

...have hair like Patrick Dempsey.
 

...asks girls out on dates. And will open doors for them, regardless of how anti-feminist this will no doubt be by the time he's dating. And will talk to his date's parents with respect.

...never spends countless hours playing video games.

...gets a job. Any job. Saves money.

 

Do any of you mothers of boys have similar fears? One thing I'm grateful for is that my boy will grow up with a sister. I think boys with sisters learn valuable lessons on how to treat women. I have known plenty of high-quality guys growing up. Perhaps I should do a Q&A with their mamas to get some tips. Not in the least should be from my own mother and mother-in-law, since two of the best men I've ever known are my older brother and my awesome husband.

 

But times are changing. Things are getting a little ickier out there.

 

In Sydney's first days on this earth, I whispered all my wishes for her while I held her and fed her, i.e. "please don't hate me when you're 14". Now I'll do the same for my son in just a few weeks. He'll be new in this world, hearing his mom whispering pleas to take baths when he's smelly and not burp at the dinner table. That's not too unreasonable is it? What do you whisper to your sleeping babies?



Stuff and Things

Jericho came home on July 4th. Since then my computer usage has dropped significantly. Partially because I hang out with husband and baby all the time. Partially because my computer chair doesn't cater well to pregnant ladies. Now that things have settled some and I hijacked Jericho's laptop and can therefore blog in my comfy bed, I've vowed to stop neglecting the blog. There may be a lot of posts very suddenly. My apologies if you get sick of me.

Like I mentioned, husband is home. He's been home nearly two months. He's back to work. And out of town. How mean is that? He's out of town for a few days each week but then we get him work-free for almost four straight days. I could complain but I'm very grateful he has a good job. And that I get him at home more days than he's away.

We got a van. It looks like this.

We are a van family now. It's a little weird. I'm having slight identity issues. I'm not just a soon-to-be mother of two but am also a van-mom. I'm 30 and I drive a minivan and almost have two kids. When did I grow up?

I have about 4 weeks left until baby boy gets here. It's the homestretch. A very uncomfortable homestretch. I'm not sure if I'm going to make it. Can you put yourself on bed rest? Does that make me a wimp? I'm so hot. All you people complaining about the summer heat, I don't want to hear it. Try being a walking oven in this heat. I sweat in air conditioning. No more summer pregnancies for me.

I used to think that having days spent in stretchy pants without hair or make-up done would make me sad. Turns out I'm fine with it.

Boy names are hard. I have this fear that any name we give him will be stolen by the girls during his lifetime thanks to people like Jessica Simpson.

I turned 30 last week and it's hardly phased me. Since it was a day of the week that Jericho was home, we got to go out for breakfast AND dinner. We took Sydney to Cracker Barrel for the first time. Baby loved her some grits and biscuits and gravy. I also convinced Jericho that since I'm now in my thirties, my birthday present should be decent skin care products to keep me looking like the young trophy wife that I am.

Parenting with a second parent in the house is revolutionary. I highly recommend it. Baby gets a parent that she can play with on the floor. I get to nap and take longer showers and without little hands yanking open the curtain. Go to the bathroom by myself with the door closed. I talk about things that need to get done and they happen. The floor gets vacuumed. Groceries and laundry are put away faster. Having a second parent is awesome but having a second parent that is Jericho is magnificent. I know what parenting-life is like without him and now know what it's like with him and am completely spoiled by the latter.

A Year of Sydney

On July 29th, my wonderful baby turned one. 

Physical stats: 19 lbs, 6 oz; 28.5 inches tall; eye lashes- .5 inches

Favorite foods: yogurt, cheese, scrambled eggs, anything someone else is eating that she's not

Teeth: at least nine. accurate number is unknown due to tendency to bite any fingers while attempting to check

Walking: a lot, not all the time, but an impressive amount. she's a rockstar.

Fears: vacuum cleaner, blender, popcorn popper

Loves: crawling up the stairs, progressively putting everything in our house on the floor, cell phones, keys, baths, being the center of attention

Life aspirations: to take flight from the back of the couch, unroll the entire roll of toilet paper, own a cell phone, take up residence inside the dishwasher

One year ago, I had a new baby, said goodbye to my husband, and was staying at my parents' house while I adjusted to my new world. I reminisced with Jericho about those first nights in the hospital with our new baby. He remembers me crying a lot. I told him more about what it was like for me that first week that he left- the hardest week of my life. This year has been challenging, educational, dramatic, lonely, depressing, character-building, and precious. I'm still amazed that it's done. I owe so much to so many people for helping me get through it.

In the past year, I've spent roughly 97% of my time with Sydney. We've done everything together. I took her shopping and consulted her on purchases. We watched TV and I taught her the greatness of Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings. I took care of her every night when she woke up. Changed nearly every diaper. Given her 10 million hugs and kisses. Took naps with her on the couch. Cried with her. Fed her. Sang her songs with my winning singing voice. Snuggled and cuddled and nurtured her.

With all the priceless time I was able to spend with her over her first year of life, Jericho came home and after two days, she already liked him better. I think he's been sneaking her ice cream when I'm not around.

[how she gives "kisses"]

While this year was crazy difficult, the one least affected by it was Sydney and that's what we wanted. She will never know life without her dad. She'll never know how hard life was for her parents during her first year. All she'll know from this point forward is our happy little complete family.

Happy first birthday to my crazy silly baby. I'm continually amazed at how much joy she brings to so many.

Speaking of joy, here are some snippets of Sydney devouring her birthday cupcake. She made us proud.