Hi, Baby Boy

My list

Things to do before Small Fry debuts:

1. Everything

The End.

It's been a while since I've said it

Daycare is one of the hardest, most stressful parts of being a working mom.  I was wrong to think that mine would be a one-size-fits-all ages and stages.  I was wrong to think that just because one class was ok that another would be too.  When you lose confidence in the people you are paying to take care of your child for 8-9 hours a day, it's time to make a change. 

If only it were that simple.

About a bathroom.

I have a theory about my office bathroom (newly remodeled).  There are three main stalls and then a couple of handicapped stalls that no one uses because they were finished after the main three and frankly, I don't know if they are actually finished or not.  So, we have the main three stalls.  All identical, yet each with their own... "characteristics".

There is the one on the end against the wall, which is kind of dark and has the fart fan directly above it.  Clearly, the people who use this stall prefer their privacy (ifyouknowwhatimean).  Then, there's the middle stall (which I'll come back to) and the first stall.  Forget that the first stall is connected to the handicapped stalls because again, no one uses them so they may as well not even exist.  The first stall is HIGH TRAFFIC and preferred.  I wish I knew the psychology behind it because I'm sure there is some.  I guess no one wants to sit next to a pooper. 

So, the majority of the people (I'm talking 99%) go in the first stall unless it's occupied and then they choose the last stall.  What does that leave?  That's right.  MY STALL.  The perfectly good, perfectly unused middle stall. 

A couple of months ago, the germaphobe in me (cultivated by my husband) realized that the middle stall was always empty.  So, I started using it.  Literally, I've been out of the office for a doctor's appointment all morning, come in around lunch and the seat is still up from the previous night's toilet cleaning.  NO ONE USES MY STALL BUT ME.  In an office, do you realize how awesome that is?  AND, if anyone else does use it, the traffic is very sparse which makes my bottom very happy. 

I can't believe I just wrote that much about my office bathroom, but I think about it everytime I go in there, so I figured that was the universe's way of telling me to share.  Or, maybe I'm just nuts.  ZIP IT.

Music Speaks

dance, dance, dance

Oh 20's, you were a necessary evil weren't you? 

10 years ago today, I was turning 20.  What a pointless birthday that is.  Nothing good happens at 20, besides the fact that you're no longer a teenager.  My early to mid twenties are a blur.  Lot's a drinking and music and miles.  There were bad decisions and there were better ones.  My twenties were full of girlfriends and laughter and good times.  And then, my twenties changed my life by bringing two magical men into my life.  Marriage and birth at 28.  That was a great year.

And now, 30.  On the cusp of another birth, another male to love.  My past has been void, but now it seems... full.  Men come from me.  They need me.  They fill my life with love and laughter and worth.  This life is a funny journey, for sure. 

The grey hair comes with aches.  The energy goes.  It's all a dance.  And it's one I hope to continue for a very, very long time.  Until I can dance no more.

Life is so surreal. 

A few short weeks ago, our office celebrated the retirement of a wonderful man who had worked for the company for 47 years.  This past Sunday, he had a heart attack.  Today, his family made the impossible decision to remove life support.  His brain had been deprived life giving oxygen for too long, their father, friend and husband was gone. 

How fleeting it all is.

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.


Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.


He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.


The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good. - W. H. Auden

Seventeen Months

You are JOY, little boy. 

You live each waking hour with such zest and energy that I envy.  When I sing "diaper, diaper" (to the tune of Dora's "backpack, backpack"), you run to our bedroom for a diaper change.  You say and do things all the time that only I see and then you refuse to replicate them for your dad.  It makes me look silly, but I know the truth.  Your daddy can get giggles out of  you that I can only dream of, but when it's time to snuggle you are mine. 

You've been sick twice in two weeks now, most recently with your first stomach bug.  I always considered us lucky that we'd made it this long without checking off that experience and thankfully, it appears to be a light one.  I hate when you don't feel well because I know how miserable it is, but I do love the cuddling and snuggling and mama time that I get.  You're too busy on normal days.

For several months, we've had a bedtime routine of pajamas, milk, then rocking to sleep in your room.  As soon as your dad or I carry you to your room, your head is on our chest before we can even take a seat in the glider.  I relish those moments but I'm afraid we've created a monster that will soon cause us all severe grief.  We never should've started rocking you to sleep because now it is near impossible to stop, but we will... eventually. 

You are perfection.  You don't even have a freckle!  I asked a dermatologist when things like that will appear and he said around age two.  I love your smooth, perfect skin and I have a bottle of SPF 55 ready to go for our outside fun. 

I wish I could put the love into words.  The joy I feel when you look for me.  The exuberance of feeling your little hand in mine.... like a big boy now, not a baby.  As you grow, I can only hope that we can teach you love and tolerance.  Patience and kindness.  Peace and the knowledge to make good decisions.  Hope and big dreams.  Acceptance and humility.  And always grace.

Seventeen months have flown in an instant.  Slow down, little one.  The world will always be waiting.

I'm ok, I'm alright.... Carry on.

C & I watched Edge of Darkness this weekend.  In the first five minutes of the movie, the main character's adult daughter is shot and killed on his front porch, in his arms.  As we watched the grief unfold, I became aware that I was holding my breathe.  The ache.... oh the ache.  For those without kids, I'll never be able to explain it.  We both commented that watching shows where people lose children is 100 times worse now that we have one.  My thoughts kept drifting to that angel sleeping in his bed and how my life would never be the way it used to be.  I think my words were, "If that happened to me, I would fall down dead right next to him.  Dead."  But, I know that's not true.  I cannot begin to imagine how I could ever think about living again. 

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I love this:

This is a creature on fire with love, but it's still scary since most people think love only looks like one thing, instead of the whole world.

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The end must be near, pigs must be flying and hell must feel a little bit chilly this morning because I HAVE A FACEBOOK.  I'm not posting the link, nor am I friending every person I've ever known and their dog. 

So.  Anyway.

Meet the newest member of the family

This is Foghorn. 

He's a pretty good looking chicken, isn't he?  Also, very well behaved.

"He" is probably a "she", too.  But at this point, it's just semantics, right? 

And in case you're wondering, C has a friend whose family has chicken houses.  The chicken takers came and picked up chickens, but left 30 or 40 and my husband, who can't pass up an animal, brought home the first one he caught.  Maybe Foghorn will get a friend next go round.

And here's one of my boy since I just can't help myself.

Mom x2

A friend is thowing me a baby shower.  I've said all along I don't need a thing, especially since it's a boy, but she's insisting.  Probably because I gave her one.  Anyway, the only thing I think I need are clothes since Carter wore a butt-load of hand-me-downs from my sister-in-law's little boy who is only 6 months older than him (and now about 5lbs lighter and the same height.  Dainty.)  And even then, I don't actually know how much I really need since it's been a while since I've been in those boxes. 

In any case, I guess I'm asking for must haves that maybe I don't know about.  Especially when you have more than one kid.  Or maybe something that is SO COOL that I originally thought was frivilous, but maybe can indulge in this time.  Spill it, mom's and those who regularly peruse the baby aisles. 

Also, I'm registered on Amazon.com.... is that tacky?

Finding Joy

I'm going to sign up for this super cool photography e-course from Willette Photography called Finding the Joy: Capturing your kiddos through Photography.  Anyone want to join me?  If you register by 05/15, it's only $90 for a 6-week, do-at-your-own-pace course.  I'm pretty darn excited about it and maybe it will inspire me to do a little less talking..... and a lot more action.

This is why I'm dreading it...

Me:  What do you think of the name "Hudson"?

Him:  Umm, NO!  As in Rock Hudson?  Gay and dead?

Everyone asks if we have a name picked out and I give the same response every time:  "No."  We couldn't agree on the name "Carter" until I was filling out the BIRTH CERTIFICATE in the hospital.  Seriously.  The man is beyond picky.  Everything I suggest is a "no" and yet, it's my job to come up with choices.  So, help me.  Leave a comment with every boy name you have ever liked.  Please.  For the sake of my marriage.  For the sake of my SANITY.


Edited to add:  While I'm a lover of things a little out of the ordinary, my husband is a complete and TOTAL SQUARE.  So, while I happen to love the name Jackson, all he can think about is a mule.  And he will not have our child ridiculed for his name.  So, try to keep them sort of inside the box.  If they're borderline, I may be able to sway him!

Making {new} Plans

In all honesty, I was making plans.

Plans for dresses and tights.

Plans for ruffles and bows.

Plans for tutus and pettiskirts.

Plans for pink.

But, you can't win 'em all. 

And, I think I'm pretty much already a winner.

I mean, who would want to raise another me?

**The pictures are linked to the incredible Etsy stores where I found them.**