First trimester: The pie chart edition

Hello!

What have I been up to for the first week of 2014?  Well, I'm so glad you asked!  

I've been a little incapacitated, but I thought that some super-nerdy charting action would make up for it.  And so, I present to you...

Ta-Da!  As experienced by yours truly, the first trimester, divided out all accurate and geeky-like. 

I mean, sure, I could also tell you about the memory loss.  Like that time when I was at Chipotle (see the red category above, only this time hubby wasn't available) ordering my much-dreamed about carnitas burrito with black beans, rice, verde and corn salsa, lettuce, cheese and... and my mind drew a complete and total blank.  I could see it in front of me, but where once there was a word that defined it, there were now only several little dust bunnies.  And they were pointing and laughing, just for good measure. 

You know, that green stuff...

Whatsitcalledagain?  That green stuff that's not salsa.  It's kinda thick.  It's made from avocados (hey, that's a pretty good word! I'm not totally crazy!)

Luckily, as the impatient mouthbreather behind me began inching closer, invading my personal space - HEY! Back off, dude, you're not going to make me move any faster by sighing and breathing on me.  That's right, I smell that Coors Light at 4:37 in the afternoon, take it down a notch! - my pathetic look and wild pointing must have done the talking for me.

"Guacamole?" says the lady behind the counter as I shoot her a relieved look and nod furiously.  YES!  Guacamole!  Thank God there's a word for it in someone else's brain!

Or, I might add that the crying isn't limited to commercials.  Or TV, for that matter.  It could be the neighbor children playing outside; a song on the radio; a comment from my sweet Leah.  Sheer exhaustion.  Casey making a run because I asked for something (red category again).  Yellow category, for sure.  Heck, the green category has been at fault more than once if I'm being totally honest.

Or, really, the waterworks can begin for no apparent reason at all, which of course makes me look even more like a mental patient than I already feel, particularly when you add my very intense new-found love of sweatpants and lying horizontally on the couch.  At 10:00 in the morning.  ...  Aaaaand maybe also at 3:30 in the afternoon.  Really, name a time throughout the day and I'll probably find a way to make it horizontal-in-sweatpants o'clock (see also: big blue category above).

In the past, I would have ended with some comment about gratitude and how worth it this all is.  I haven't changed my tune, exactly, it's just much harder to feel that way with two little ones running around, what with their needing to be fed and have attention paid to them, and the fact that they're not nearly as excited about sweatpants or being ignored while I lay horizontally.

It's weird, really... almost as if they're not all that impressed that Mommy's growing a human.

So we've been really lucky that Casey has been home - up until this week, anyway - and that he's not afraid to pay it forward by single-parenting.  I'm awfully lucky to have that husband of mine.

I'm lucky too because I know that in just a few short weeks, most of this craziness will go away.  Maybe not the pointing helplessly because I've randomly blanked on a word, but certainly the sweatpants and need to be horizontal, at least for a while...

Yes, in a few short weeks, I'll forget again all the reasons I'm currently stocking up that no one in their right mind would ever go down this road another time.  That baby will start to move in my belly, and true love will again be upon me.

Actually, even as I think about that soon-to-be moment, I've decided that maybe the first trimester's really not so bad after all...

Adventures in swimming: A naked story

"Leah, go grab your swimsuit so that we can go to the pool."

Standing in the kitchen, I have an armful of towels that I'm wrestling into a bag that's proving to be too small.  Casey is bagging animal crackers, popcorn, sandwiches and other snacks so that we can venture down the street to the pool, which has been open all of about 3.5 seconds.  I'm so excited that I can hardly stand it: we live two blocks down from our neighborhood pool, and it might be my dream come true.

I can hear her upstairs.  I'm sure there will be some sort of pile when I walk up there, but before I have to, her little fleet fly down the stairs and she makes her appearance in the kitchen: thoroughly proud of herself, sunglasses on, Dad's flip-flop in one hand and swimsuit in the other.

And completely buck nekkid.

She grins and giggles, obviously pleased with the reaction her antics have attracted.

And then, drops everything and bolts -

running around and around the island.

There is also a crazy song and dance that goes along with her merriment

about how excited she is to go swimming.

Nekkid running aside, she might be her momma's girl.  Can you tell?

She's a little rocket.  She can't be stopped.

Until...

...she spots the animal crackers sitting on the counter, and realizes that would be a really delightful nekkid treat.

It's going to be a good summer. 

What a dishwasher wants to be when it grows up

...or, it's possible that we're just very, very tired.  And Leah was in bed.  And all the letters had to be used. 

Have I mentioned that we're very, very tired? 

The Frederick Experience

It all started with a simple doll.  Darn you IKEA and your irresistable, cheap crap.

 

 

My sister has one of these, and sometime around November when we were at her house, Leah began playing with it.  Oh and also?  FYI, if you google images of "IKEA wooden mannequin," you will get lots of pictures of these little guys doing all sorts of sordid things.  Not what the manufacturers intended, I am certain.

 

When asked what his name was, it was decided that he would be called Frederick.  And from there, Frederick took on a life of his own.

 

Since then, Frederick has become her imaginary friend.  For the record, he is a friendly monster who lives in California with his mommy.  Yet, he also frequents our dinner table, Leah's room, the car and, when the occassion warrants, he becomes Baby Frederick and can be rocked/sung to/swaddled or otherwise mothered. 

 

Yes, Frederick and Leah have had quite the adventures.  I even snapped this picture of them building a tower together.

 

 

Aren't they cute?



A little friend for life: An anatomical love story

Pop culture would have us believe that great chasm exists between boys and girls.

At the ripe old age of almost 6 months, that gap seems not so much chasm-like, but more like the fence that divides two yards: although it runs through two different households, the grass is still grass on both sides. 

Logan's babyhood has been remarkably similar to his sister's.

Except for one thing, and it involves... well, his thing. 

Leah went through a very brief phase of exploration which was unquestionably linked to the fact that we were naming all of her anatomy.  Elbow, shoulder, ears, fingers, knees.  For a week or two, when I would change her diaper, she would look at me curiously as if to say, "we haven't talked about this one yet."  It was an indictment, really; just shy of an accusation. 

My sweet baby boy, on the other hand, has reached this phase all on his own, and it is in no way due to the fact that we've been naming body parts.

In fact, I worried last week that he'd given himself pink eye due to that curiosity.  I can't keep those little fingers out of there during diaper changes!

Part of me wants to yell: stop that!  If you play with it, it will turn green and fall off!  (I hear that's a good deterrant, no?)

The other part of me just chalks it up to boys being boys. 

Because this kid of mine?  He grins like he's won some kind of prize and looks as pleased with himself as if he's just ushered in world peace every time he reaches down and finds that his little diaper buddy is still, in fact, there.

Good grief.   Boys.

Daddy snowman has a smile down there

On Christmas eve, Leah and I made these snowmen to use as place cards:

I absolutely loved how they turned out; it was a fun project for her to do, and it was cute as can be on our family's Christmas table. 

The thing about my daughter is that she is incredibly literal. The snowmen got either coat buttons (the ones with three dots) or belly buttons (the ones with one dot or triangles). She explained how what were supposed to be arms according to the package were actually "chicken legs," and she proceeded to put them in the "right" spot. 

All that being said, if you look closely, you can see that Daddy's snowman has an extra little smile. 

(I didn't know it when she was making these, but it actually started out in a different location - a wee bit further south - and serves a rather important purpose.) 

An - ahem - anatomical "smile" if you catch my meaning.

We've been pretty consciensious about where and when Daddy, er, hangs out.  Not to say that we're cautious of it, because it's perfectly natural.  But we don't take family showers, nor does Casey walk around nekkid in front of Leah if he can help it.  (Sidenote: It's hard to help it when your two year old pops in every time you're trying to go to the bathroom, but that's another story.)  We do have a glass shower, and now that she has a brother who we didn't think twice about letting her bathe with, she is certainly aware that there is a difference between her bottom and his, but it's not something she seems worried about at all.  Neither are we.  Nor should we be. 

I always thought I would be one of those people to teach my children the correct anatomical names for things.  When it came down to it, though, Casey and I both seperately decided that our one year old didn't need to know that she has a vagina any more than she needed to know that she has an anus.  We unanimously called it her bottom, and all this time we've differentiated between the "front" and "back" of her bottom. 

We've done the same with her daddy, and now with Logan.  It's not that we won't teach her the proper names for things or that somehow by not naming them we think they're "bad;" it has just seemed like one of those things she doesn't really need to know until she needs to know it.   

So it was very interesting to see just how much she's aware of the fact that boys' bottoms look different than girls', and to see that played out - so-oo accurately, I might add - in her snowman. 

Although we didn't say anything at the time, we did move it before setting it out on the Christmas table.  And - behind her back, so she wouldn't think we were laughing at her creation - we had a good laugh, because really... she gave the daddy snowman a twig and berries!

She is learning oh so many new things as a big sister.  And Casey and I are getting a chance to think about how we'll handle certain conversations that may arise in the future...

Grateful for

Baby giggles.

How easily I've forgotten that beautiful little sound.  Like hope and promise bubbling up and brimming over. 

The love it awakens, those sweet peals of tiny person joy. 

I love, love, love that boy. 

Because pregnancy is too funny not to talk about

1/8/12

It's not exactly a milestone.  In fact, I'm not really sure where it has come from at all.  I certainly don't remember this happening with Leah.

I do love the constant little reminders that I'm pregnant.  It's another little indication that everybody in there is safe and sound, which means a lot to me - even if the reminders aren't exactly glamorous.

My right boob is bigger than my left boob.  Yep.  Like, noticeably bigger.

If this keeps up, I'm honestly going to have to take a page from my middle schoolers and start padding my bra.  Just the one side, though.  I've forgotten the technique; do you use a sock if you're a girl or a boy???

I once saw an app for people who are trying to get pregnant that involved a baby bottle when you were supposed to be ovulating, and flaming boobies for the first day of your menstrual cycle.

I keep thinking about those flaming boobies, because that's what I've got: disproportionately-sized boobs of fire that ache pretty much all day.  Running is out of the question, because, let's face it, I'd probably be off balance anyway what with one side of my chest weighing double the other side.  Besides that, a person just can't run with sore ta-tas.  Too much bouncing.  It's a rare form of torture seldom used in industrialized countries.   

In other, less invasive news, I'm getting really excited to go to the doctor next week.  Even though it's still early, I'm pretty sure I can't keep it under wraps much longer.  Just about the whole staff knows I'm pregnant, and the kids have already started to ask questions.  I'll feel so much better once we get the all clear from the doctor, early or not.  Besides, I only have 4 shirts that effectively hide my belly, and cycling through those over and over for the next month isn't exactly an attractive option. 

The best news, though, is that I'm past week 6.  Both times I've miscarried, I've never gotten that far.  In fact, the first time I saw Leah on an ultrasound, she was 6 weeks and 6 days, and we're darn close to that now.  My confidence grows every day that early doesn't have to be a bad thing, just a place to start. 

Plus, when I start to get worried, the flaming, uneven boobies are a pretty good reminder.

Baby, talk is cheap.

"Nana, stay here.  Couple weeks." 

This is what Leah announced over dinner a few days ago as Nana was getting ready to go home.  I'd say her request is pretty clear, no? 

I also heard: "Know what?  I love you" in the car on the way home on Friday.  She's been experimenting with everything from "YUCK!  No like it" to "Bless you, Daddy!" after a sneeze.  And, of course, the girl knows how to ask for food.  "More oranges, please" she says. 

At dinner tonight, this pearl was overheard:

Poopy comes sometimes.

(then there was a little song that goes like this...)

Poopy tiiiiime, la la la.

Fa la la la poooopy tiiiime.



My mom always told me that we'd never laugh so hard as we do when we have kids.  So, so true.
My favorite might be, "Hi baby.  What'cha doin'?"  (Obviously this is something a certain someone in our house says to her.  The phrase is now repeated to everyone and everything.)

I'll admit it.  I totally love the vocab on this girl.  It's awesome, sweet, and more often than not, hillarious.  She keeps us in stitches with the random things she says and the amazing things she knows.

Thankful for

Today's posts are accompanied by some truly, truly fabulous photos!  Because, let's face it: a picture really is worth a thousand words...

Daddy doing a little coloring...

...and apparently this is what happens when you have girls.

She did this one all by herself... (on another note, do ya think she's growing some molars?  Enough spit on her shirt??)

Yep, those would be pants.  She decided to wear them as a hat.

I love when her shirts speak the truth!

  So much to be grateful for!

I used to worry when you were loud. Now I worry when you're quiet.

Casey was out of town until Saturday morning.  So Leah and I reverted back to our summertime routine: with no one else to watch her, I turned on Sesame Street, got out her toys and hopped in the shower. 

Typically, I don't worry about her, although I do tend to rush through my showers and sometimes can't remember if I washed the conditioner out of my hair.  But really, the outlets are covered, there's a gate at the top of the stairs, the cabinets are childproofed, and generally I feel pretty confident that she's at an age where she can't do too much damage in a matter of 15 minutes.

Besides that, she always comes into the bathroom to check in on me, and I hear her babbling away to herself and her toys, so I always know she's okay.

So when I was washing the shampoo out of my hair and hadn't heard a peep from her, I got a little worried.  I called her name, expecting her to come running.

No answer.

I tried again.  Still no answer.

Edging a bit closer to panic, I stuck my head out of the shower. 

Which is when I saw what she'd been up to the whole time:

It seems Casey has a hidden stash that a) I didn't know about and b) was somewhere Leah was able to find. 

No wonder she was so quiet!  She wasn't too pleased when I got out and had to lay a finger on her Butterfinger...

Can you spot it?

Every parent will probably tell you that they love bed time.

Besides the obvious, what with it being the end of the day and finally having a little time to themselves, it is a such a nice time of day that allows for some sweet family time.

Leah's bedtime routine is no exception:  bath and play time, lotion, jammies, hugs and kisses, milk, a book, some snuggling and finally, laying down in her crib for bed.

We've taken to letting her run around nekkid after her bath, partly because bare baby cheeks are too cute to resist, but also to give her a chance to air everything out.  You know, down there (I assume diapers must be pretty stiffling, right?).

Last night we took this cute picture.  On the surface, it looks like a smiling, naked post-bath girl.  It wasn't until after that we noticed that something was a little... off.

Did you spot it? 

No? 

Maybe this will help.

Can you see it now? 

Still no?!

Let's try this again...

That's right, folks.  This is what you get for lettin' the kids run around au natural. 

Isn't bedtime sweet?

Beautiful, the mess we are

Welcome to our day:

Jealous?

I thought so.

Just how "non-toxic" are we talkin', here?

I am a perfect mother.

OH - sorry.  You couldn't see it, because this is a blog, but what you missed was me laughing hysterically as I tried to type that sentence. 

Okay, so I might not be a perfect mother, in the traditional white-apron, high-heels, tidy-house sense.  But I do try.  Really, I do. 

I mean, look at my sweet little pumpkin and her art project.

Look at how well-thought out and intentional I was about introducing her to art projects for the first time!

Note the painters tape, put down to prevent her from pulling up and eating the paper.  And, of course, I had to use painter's tape because it would come up easily without leaving any of that nasty tape-essence behind.

And how well I modeled using markers!  Doesn't this look like it's going well?!

C'mon.  Props for that, right?

So when this happened...

...and the marker went right in her kisser and she sucked up a BIG OLE' MOUTHFUL of Crayola, it's okay, right??  Because I made such a good attempt.  That's what counts.  Besides, they're non-toxic markers. 

Admit it.  I make you feel better about yourself. 

Things I'd never admit to in public

I like to fancy myself a pretty open person. I don't keep many secrets (come to think of it, do I keep any secrets?). I can't hide anything, because if it crosses my mind, you're probably going to see it on my face. That being said, there are a few moments I'd prefer to keep to myself.

So naturally, I'm going to share them with you.

1. I cannot even begin to remember how old I was, but for a while I was totally hooked on Star Wars fiction. Not fan fiction... I was pretty little and didn't even know that existed. But fictional stories that expanded on the original Star Wars films. Yep.

2. Until college, I thought the word sandwich was spelled with a /t/. Sandwitch. And yes, I was already an English major at that point. Yep.

3. I once convinced my sister that I had seen Bigfoot. As in sasquatch. Using walkie-talkies, I pretended to be out in the woods behind our dad's house in Conifer and wove this whole fantastic story about seeing him (it?). Really, I was sitting on the back deck the whole time. She believed that story and told people about it until she was like 12. Yep.

4. I read Jurassic Park when I was in 4th grade. No - that's just the set up to the story. The rest of it involves the fact that I read the sequel, The Lost World, when I was in 6th grade. And then I wrote Michael Crichton to tell him about how much I hated the casting of the movie Jurassic Park. And also to ask if I could audition for the movie version of The Lost World. Yep.
5. I dreamt about snakes for the first 8 weeks after Leah was born. I have absolutely no idea why. I am terrified of snakes, and I dreamt about them regularly during those first 8 weeks. Yep.

6. I cried so hard during the first 15 minutes of Up that I couldn't watch the rest of it. I was too upset. And don't even talk to me about Toy Story 3, it's just too painful. Yep.

7. My deepest ambition is to be a stay-at-home mom. I love my job, but I love the idea of professional, intentional motherhood more. I think it's womanhood at its very finest. Yep.

Did I ever tell you?

As I've written this blog over the last year, I've tried to include everything that was memorable and worth remembering.  Of course, with so many important events in the past year, some things definitely got left out.

So here are a few of the things I forgot to mention when there were so many things to mention, but I definitely want to remember.

1. Sushi
Did I ever tell you that my sister Kelsey brought me a feast of sushi while we were in the hospital?



Isn't this a lovely picture of me?  Do ya think I had a baby the day before?

 
 I had been dreaming of sushi since I got pregnant.  The day after Leah was born, once I got the okay from the doctor, I absolutely had to have some.  Kelsey delivered in a really big way!!!

I adore this picture... Kelsey, Jessica and I are all wearing the exactly the same expression - mouths stuffed full of sushi!!  It was the most generous and sweet thing she could have done, and that sushi tasted so darn good after not having any for nine months!

2. Hospital visits
 Did I ever tell you that on the day Leah was born, we had only a few hours to ourselves early in the morning? After that, it was a constant stream of people from about noon to 9pm! Although it was extremely overwhelming, and I remember literally missing my baby at times, it was such a blessing to have everyone we love see us and meet Leah on the day she was born.





Grandmas and Grandpas, shortly after Leah's birth - about 10 am. 



 

Uncle Andrew visits at about 2:30 pm

Kostas and Erinn stopped by to say hello at about 6. 

 John and Maggie came by around 6:30.

 Auntie Jessica came back to visit baby Leah (after seeing her early in the morning before work) around 7 pm.

Jeff and Dani rounded out the evening at almost 8.  I know we missed a few people in here, too.  I'm not really sure how that one happened, except that I had just had a baby, so I wasn't exactly at the top of my game.


3. The many faces of Leah
Did I ever tell you how hard I've laughed as I've looked at pictures like this:

Leah at 3 days old.  I love her little old man face!  Newborns are so goofy!

And this: 

Leah at 4 months

And this:



Leah's "Home Alone" face - 5 months

 That girl is a hoot!  I sure love her many, crazy faces!

4. The No-Diaper Incident
Did I ever tell you that on the day we had Leah's newborn photos taken, she pooped all over me?  Not dainty little new-baby-girl poo... we're talking full-on, explosive, long-range poop.  While my hand was on her bottom, no less. 


Yep.  Welcome to motherhood.

 


  5. Reader's Marathon
Did I ever tell you that we finished the Harry Potter series?  We began reading it in September of '09 while I was pregnant.  It took us a little over a year - November '10 - to finish all 7 books.  Granted, much of that was Casey reading about a page a night because pregnant Melissa couldn't stay awake much longer than the bottom of the page.  After Leah was born, we kept reading to her every night as we put her to bed.  It was pretty slow-going, but eventually we made it!  I don't know what I'll do if that girl doesn't love to read...

My, my.  What an amazing year it's been.