Drool.

My poor Cooper.  We're teething.  I say "we" because the whole family is feeling the pain.  He's not sleeping well at all-- we do Tylenol before bed and again in the middle of the night.  He's chewing and drooling and fussy as can be.

There's been a lot of this.

And this.

But yesterday, I gave him a new teething toy.

An apple slice, his first taste of real food.

He didn't really know what it was.

But it must've been ok.

Nom.

Maybe he'll like it better next time, but for now, it gets one "toe" up.

For my boy.

Oh my Carter. 

Everything about you has been a surprise.

We were surprised to find out you were coming, growing perfectly inside me.  We were surprised by your kicks and movements, silently making your presence known.  We were surprised to find out you were breech, quite content to stay with mama.  We were surprised when my water broke 3 weeks early, announcing your arrival.

And since then, we've continued to be so surprised by your every move.  You came first and everything is new.  Your smiles and cries and dirty diapers.  Your eyes, surprise, they're just like mine.  Your sitting then crawling, then finally walking.  Surprise!  Look at me!  I did it!

My beautiful boy.

Today, you're two years old.  What a surprise.  Where does time go when it is flying by so quickly?  You have brought us such joy in your surprises.  And I do not expect them to end anytime soon.  You surprise me with your gentle love of your brother.  You surprise me with your giggles and squeals when you play with your daddy.  You surprise me with the way you love us all so purely and easily and the way you forgive so sweetly.  You are the epitome of a boy, but one with so much heart and love.

You taught me how to be a mother, showed me where I needed improvement and rewarded me with more joy than I ever could have imagined.

You are my heart. My surprise baby.  My wonderful baby.  My perfect angel boy.  You will be loved forever and ever and ever.

Happy Birthday! Surprise!

cb x 2

I know, I know.  I had a baby and fell off the world.

Somedays, it does actually feel like that.  My weekdays are such a race, such an excercise in precision- it's exhausting.  But that's what having two under two (not for much longer!) and working an hour away from home with two stops for childcare will get you.

I keep thinking about how fast things change.  How fast newborns turn into toddlers.  How fast skinny turns to fat... on the BABIES- quit imagining what I must look like!

This time last year, Carter was a relatively new crawler starting a couple of weeks before Thanksgiving.  That just blows my mind.  He couldn't even WALK this time last year, and wouldn't for a few more months.  And now? NOW?  He has a baby brother.  And he RUNS.  And he JUMPS.  And he TWIRLS.  OhmygoodnesshowIlovethatkid.

So, status update- Carter is 23 months old.  He will be two in less than a month.  Yes, TWO.  He wears 3T shirts and 2T pants.  And size 7-8 shoes (just depends on if they have EXTRA WIDE or not).  He loves to sing his ABC's- he hits the high points.  He loves Dora and Diego and the Backyardigans and loves to dance, sing and clap along with them.  He is SO smart and so dang cute. 

Cooper is a little over three months old and is wearing 0-3 month clothes comfortably and half wearing-half swimming in 3-6 month clothes.  He is such a smiling, laid-back, happy baby.  He also loves to "talk", which is something neither C or I remember Carter doing- at least not this much.  He sleeps pretty much all night- at least until 3:30 or 4 anyway, then if he's lucky, he ends up snuggling with Mama.  He is so sweet and so content.

I paint a pretty picture of how perfect everything is, but writing about the ugly part isn't any fun.  How daycare gets the best part of Carter's day- we get tired and hungry and therefore, CRANKY Carter.  How he can pitch a fit like nobody's business or how "mine" is usually his favorite word.  How Cooper has green poo and my neuroses with it.  How the house is never clean, the laundry is never finished and the meals are never ready.  But...

I'd much rather talk about the love affair between he and his daddy.  I can watch C love that boy for hours on end.  They play and giggle and roll around together in tickle fits and it makes my heart sing.  Those best things are free and I'm so blessed to have them in my life.

I keep trying to write posts because I have so much I want to write down so I can remember how sweet this time in my life is.  There are so many details I know I'm forgetting on a daily basis and that breaks my heart.  I'm going to try to write more- especially since I'm back at work and may be able to steal a moment or two to write.  Pictures will come too. 

These boys, they are my heart and my soul.  That, I will never forget.

I'm on maternity leave, remember?

Where do I even begin?

Maternity leave makes me feel like a horrible mother.  There, that's a good place to start.

I feel like a "good" mother would relish this time to have both of their children 100% of the time and spend so much quality time together.  I feel like a "good" mother doesn't look this forward to nap time or bedtime or any other "quiet" time.  My children are great so why do I want to lock myself in the bathroom just to have some peace?

This makes me feel like a bad mom.  Like maybe I wasn't meant for kids even though I cannot imagine my life any other way.  My return to work is looming and I'm not looking forward to it because I know I will long to be at home with both of my kids instead of allowing someone else to see their smiles and hear their laughter.  Where is the balance?  Where is the fairness?  Why do I feel like absolute shit for feeling like this?

I know I'm not a bad mom.  My kids are happy, healthy and well adjusted, albeit a little bit bored because their mother doesn't know how to handle both of them in public.  Oh and dirty because when bath time comes, the baby is crying and all I hear is the "NO!" chorus, so the reality of going to bed a little bit dirty isn't really that bad.

I keep thinking that tomorrow I'll get it together.  But, tomorrow comes and my mom comes over and my toddler gets so excited to see her because he knows he'll get to go outside and throw rocks and get dirty and be a boy.  And then he cries when she leaves because we all know I'm no fun.

Let's all say it together.

I'm.  No.  Fun.

Cooper's Here!

So, a little over a week ago, I was bitching about being 40 weeks pregnant.  Not for long though.  Cooper Ryan arrived on September 02, 2010 (90210, for those of you playing along) at 1:20pm.  He was 7lbs 5oz and 19 inches of pure perfection. He wasn't even breech like he'd been the whole pregnancy... somehow he'd turned and I hadn't noticed.  Apparently, he got a big gulp of fluid in his lungs right before he came out and was having a little trouble "transitioning" to oxygen, so he had to spend several hours in the NICU for observation.  His breathing was very rapid, but he quickly go the hang of it.  When the nurse brought him to me (around 6pm), she said, "He's VERY awake and VERY hungry!"  He was already chewing on his little hands like a feign.  Lucky for me, he nursed like a champ from the word go and has NO signs of tongue tie.  Yayyyyy!  On Friday, they told me that he was Coombs positive, which meant that some of my blood (O+) and his blood (A+) had mixed so he had a touch of jaundice while his body filtered out my blood cells.  So, we had to do some photo-therapy, but only Friday night.  It was still a long night because he couldn't rest in there- no swaddling and no nursing, so a kind nurse gave us a pacifier which helped a ton. 

He is a completely different newborn than Carter was.  He actually sleeps and eats the way a typical newborn should-- a lot!  Carter was so hungry from not being able to nurse that he never rested.  Poor baby.  Cooper is, knock on wood, easy. 

Here are some pictures from the day. Yes, I put on makeup and fixed my hair before surgery.  I refused to look like poo on my big day.

40 weeks

What I really felt like

In surgery.  Very serious stuff.

Cooper Ryan - mind the modesty patch.

A little bili-light on those perfect piggies.

 

 

Look!  I haz BAY-BEE!

Pure perfection.  What a blessing!

Life, daily

I wake before the sun, before my husband, before my son.  I shower and dress, while gently waking the men in my life to start their days.  Waking Carter is a love/hate act.  He is so content and so deeply asleep that some mornings, I have to lift him from his crib to wake his sleepy head.  Some mornings, he rises to greet me.  I relish in his baby-ness.  His soft, rubbery belly skin, his delicious toes and chubby hands.  This baby, half me, half him, is amazing. 

I change a diaper, put on some clothes and his day starts.  These days, he's like a little Linus, insisting on taking his blanket with him most everywhere until he forgets about it, abandoned on the floor.  His hair is unruly because his father wants a "professional" to cut it, insists it's time.  But... my baby.

The drive to work is getting increasingly difficult.  An hour in the car with an infant is easy- make sure their fed and changed and undoubtedly, sleep will follow.   An hour with a toddler requires toys and songs and the tickle monster.  I keep my eye on him via a special "rear seat mirror" and try my best to keep him entertained. 

When we make the turn to his sitter's home, the rising sun blinds us both.  I sing, "Hi Sunshine!  Good morning Sun!" And he waves, while squinting and smiling.  These little moments are ones I do not want to forget.  I want to lock them safely away so I can revist them at less happy times.

The drive home is much the same, except most days he's worn out from playing and laughing and running and squealing the day away.  A two-hour nap is not enough; the sandman will catch him in the car, too.  It makes me happy that he is at a place now where he plays so hard that he cannot help but collapse from sheer exhaustion. 

At home, evenings are a race.  Dinner, bath, bed.  He relishes in "bathtime with Melmo" (he has an Elmo bathmat) and loves the water.  Last night, in fact, he dumped a bucket of it on me.  Stinker.  His feelings are so tender now that even a harsh, "No Sir!" makes his lip quiver and tears come.  He usually comes right back for a hug and reassurance that he is still loved. 

Footy pj's are a year-round staple.  He refuses to sleep under a blanket, so, long sleeves and feet it is.  He is so adorable, so delightfully squishy in them.  He has his night-night milk and it's off to bed he goes.  Where he makes not even a whimper, just rolls over to slumber.  He's been sleeping with a humidifier due to a little cough, but I think it's almost time to switch back to a white-noise machine.  I love that the noises of an awake house do not disturb him if we add a little hum to his room.

His happiness is intoxicating and addictive.  His smiles light up a room and his snuggles.... they are incomparable. 

Soon, things will change.  Time will not be as abundant for him and sharing will be required.  I worry about him and the impending adjustment.  I worry that I'm not enough for two, that one is all my heart can handle.  But, I know that's not true.  I know it will grow.  I know we will all adjust.  We will be fine.

Adventures in Potty Training, sort of

So, a couple of weeks ago, I bought Carter a potty chair.  C kind of thought I was crazy but I figure it's never really too early for a kid to start learning.  So, I told my sitter about his sometimes-dry morning diapers and she encouraged me to let him sit on his potty.  I did and he peed.  We successfully did that 2 or three times- once after a nap, even.  Each time we cheered and danced and then I poured it in the toilet and let him flush while we said, "Bye bye, tee-tee!" 

Then, this morning.  Things started off well, but he wasn't really on the seat good and he was kind of trickling out of the reservoir.  So, I readjusted him.  Then, he dropped his plastic ball in between his legs.  Then he tried to retrieve it and each time I said "No baby, you can't have your ball...." (because it's covered in pee but I don't want to tell you it's dirty because I don't want you to think pee is a bad thing).  So, he got up and went and plopped down against the tub and cried.  And peed.  All over my bath mat. 


I knew things were going too well.... Monday's sometimes just start in the pisser. 

Where is the easy button?

As of today, I'm 33 weeks pregnant.  That means there's seven weeks left til my due date and about 6.5 weeks til my c-section.  I'm not terribly uncomfortable yet, although I think I did have some contractions yesterday due to maybe not getting enough water and maybe the super spicy Chinese food I had for lunch.  Or, maybe the baby was just pushing my belly in new and painful positions.  Who knows.  I probably wouldn't know a contraction if it bit me on the ass, even though I had a few (verified by the monitor) after my water broke with Carter, prior to the c-section.  In any case, my hips don't hurt, my boobs aren't sore, I'm sleeping fine and my general discomfort is more from my size than anything. 

Since I'm updating on the status of the baby, my doctor felt around on Tuesday and said she thinks he's probably breech too.  Apparently, my kids are ready to face the world head on-- and butt first.  Ha.  My c-section is tentatively scheduled for August 30 at 7:15am.  I'm getting ready to fax in my FMLA paper work -- everything is getting close....  it snuck up on me. 

At home, I've done nothing.  Nada.  Zilch.  Zero.  I haven't washed baby clothes, nor have I even organized them.  The biggest thing I haven't done is prepare a nursery or even clean out the room that will be the nursery.  And believe me, it needs cleaning out.  Currently, it's full of junk from the house that we stashed in there when we laid the tile in the kitchen/office.  With Carter, I was crazy pregnant hormone lady who HAD to have a nursery ready to go-- and then we didn't use it until he was maybe nine months old.  I know the new baby will sleep in our room, too so I'm not stressed about having a nursery all ready to go, but I do need somewhere to put clothes away and stash extra diapers. 

I had a baby shower at my mom's this past weekend and got some lovely things.  My kids are so blessed to have people who care so much for their parents and them- even before birth.  We're so spoiled, and in turn blessed to the highest degree.

I'm still searching for the easy button when it comes to making childcare decisions for Carter.  His daycare situation is better, but I have no plans to take him back there after my maternity leave, nor will the new baby go there.  I've toured a daycare closer to home that I would like to enroll him in while I'm on leave so he can get out of the house and do something instead of being stuck with a grouchy, sleep-deprived mom 24/7.  He deserves better than that!  I also have a friend in the town I work that is keeping kids in her house now who said she'd be happy to keep him until I go on leave if things go south at my current daycare-- but I worry that the changes would be too much for him to handle.  Not only am I potentially ruining his life by giving him a brother, but I don't want him to think I'm shuffling from here to there to there because I don't want him.  I know it's silly and he'd probably adjust just fine, so I'm blaming my hormones.  In any case, I'm finding it incredibly hard to make any decisions regarding him right now.  The thought of upsetting him hurts my heart. 

Also, what if I go in to labor prior to my scheduled date?  That's very probable since Carter came 2.5 weeks early and my scheduled date is only three days before my actual due date.  In a perfect (miserable) world, everything would go exactly as planned and my mom would stay at the house with Carter while we left in the wee morning hours to go have a baby.  By the time he woke up, we'd be ready for him to visit and he'd be able to play til his heart was content with his grandma (who is way more fun than mom and dad).  But, if that doesn't happen, I guess we just take him to the hospital with us.  And if no one can get there in time to watch him, I'll go through a c-section alone while C is with Carter.  It won't be the end of the world, but it's causing me anxiety.  I told C last night that I'm more concerned about making sure Carter is happy and cared for than I am about giving birth.  My how priorities change.

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.

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.

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. 

-------------------------------

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.

-------------------------------

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.

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?

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.**

This ain't no place for the Weary Kind...

My kid surprises me all the time.  Just for fun a few weeks ago, I said "Carter, where's your ball?" and you know what he did?  He stopped what he was doing and started looking for a damn ball.  "Ba ba ba ba", he exclaimed once he found one. 

That is so cool.  I had never thought about the day he could actually comprehend.  Now, I tell him the names of stuff all the time.  Light, doggy, truck.  We wave bye-bye to diapers when they go in the Diaper Genie.  He turns off the lights when we leave the room.   We do the HotDog Dance every morning.  He is the coolest kid I know.  Who knew parenting would be so fun... this quickly.

Pioneer Woman asked a question for a giveaway today that's really had me thinking.  More or less it was "How different is your life now than how you originally pictured it"?

It's a question that doesn't come with an easy answer.  When I was in college, I wanted to work in downtown Dallas in a skyscraper and do buisnessey things.  And I did.  I never really thought about the rest of it, I don't think.  But.

I'm married to the man who took my breath away upon meeting him when I was only 16.
I'm pregnant with his second child.
Being a mother is a job I was made for.  This love.... it's indescribable.
Being a wife is something I try very hard to be good at.
Turns out, it doesn't matter if I do perfect laundry or cook fabulous meals.

Love and respect... and time.  Those are what matters.

Numero dos.

Now that I have THAT out of my system...
(well, not out of my system, because I'm still knocked up, but, oh well, youknowwhatImean)

• I'll be having a repeat C-section, so my baby will come in August whether he or she likes it or not.
• I will spend the summer in a cheap pool from Walmart.  One for Carter and one for me, Mama Whale.
• I switched doctors for this pregnancy and so far, am very happy with my choice.
• With Carter, I had no morning sickness, heartburn or even nausea. 
• This baby, so far, has a knack for the queasy, but I haven't thrown up... yet.
• It's good though, because I've also only gained like two pounds. 
• (Where is that belly already?)
• Carter doesn't know his world is about to be turned upside down.
• Everyone says it will be fine.  He and the new baby will be best buds.
• I worry, though.  I tell C all the time that I don't want Carter to be slighted.  I don't want him to ever feel like he's in second place or that we don't have time for him anymore. 
• He assures me he won't be. 
• I trust him.  Completely.

Becoming a mom, derailed

I remember the first day that C left Carter and I and went back to work.  It was after the hardest week of my life, daily hour-away doctor appointments and more tears and less sleep than I ever imagined possible.  Thinking back, I don't know how I lived through it, except maybe on sheer adreneline.  He was mine, all mine.  The responsibility of changing all diapers, of soothing all cries, of holding him through every single nap.  But, that's when I became a mother.

I don't find motherhood easy.  I think keeping Carter by myself is exhausting work.  C says it's "fun!" but I can count the hours he has had Carter by himself on one hand.  Now that he's crawling (no, not walking yet- don't judge!), it's even worse.  Just when I settle into my nest on the couch, it's back up to retrieve him from the kitchen or the dog bowl or the laundry room.  It's keeping a watchful eye on his every move and knowing that if he's quiet.... he's up to something.  It's spotting that mystery item he's just put in his mouth, it's closing doors so he can't go further, it's making sure there are no cords or plugs or other electrical things he can get to.  It's hearing him scream when I take one of these forbidden treasures away.  It's is he hungry or is he sleepy or did he just shit himself?  Even after he goes to bed, I've got my ever-trusty monitor inches from my ear listening, even while trying to relax.  A few days ago, while in the midst of double-ear-infection-hell, I didn't wake up all night.  I woke with a full bladder at 6am startled that I hadn't heard him cry all night.  Was that the case or did I SLEEP THROUGH IT?  Oh the guilt. 

That's another thing about becoming a mother.  The guilt.  I feel guilty for being ready to stop breastfeeding, shouldn't I want to nurse til he's ready to quit?  I feel guilty for even THINKING about leaving him for a couple of hours to go do something for myself.  A movie?  A massage?  THE GUILT.  I feel guilty that he eats more snack food than real food.  I feel guilty that I work an hour away from home and that we spend two hours a day in the car.  I feel guilty though that he only gets a 45 minute nap on the way home most days.  I feel guilty that he doesn't get a bath every night (THERE I SAID IT).  I feel guilty that he's still drinking milk from a bottle and not transitioning to a cup.  I feel guilty that he isn't walking yet because it's probably my fault for HOLDING HIM TOO MUCH. 

No, I don't feel better for confessing.  I feel guilty for complaining.  And it pisses me off when I read about how mothers should "let go of the guilt".  Frankly, I think that's a cop out.  Going to get a massage won't make me a better mom, I'll just be sore because I couldn't relax over the GUILT.


Now that I've derailed my well-intentioned post straight into a brick wall of GUILT, I'm going to go take a breath.  Don't get me wrong, being a mother is the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to me and I wouldn't change a single solitary second.  I cannot imagine a life without Carter- does one even exist? 

344.5

His legs are getting longer.  New clothes fit, time to box up the not-so-old ones.  When did that happen?

His hair is unruly.  Straight with a preference for straight.  Sometimes with a little added straight.  Where did he get it?  Me, I'm sure.  Like everything else.

His hands slap against the floor as he giggles and moves so quickly.  Slow down, little one.

He is ticklish, just about everywhere if you catch him at the right time.  His squeals are delicious.

Speaking of delicious... his toes are edible.  And his thighs.  And the palms of his hands.

I'll kiss those hands even though they're covered in dirt and juice and germs.  I don't care.  A thousand times over, I don't care.

Time will move so quickly, they told me.  From the first moment, they were right.  Where did my wrinkled baby go?  The one who had such an appetite but couldn't eat?  When did those dark days filled with bili-lights end?   Where did the feet that filled those tiny socks disappear to?  Replaced now by toddler feet, anxious to explore the world?

The world awaits.  And yet, I hold him just a little bit tighter.  And a little bit longer.  Until he insists on going after it. 

He's growing up and I'm not ready.  I ache. 

No one told me about the ache.