Surprise!

I'm pretty sure no one reads this little blog anymore, and that's ok. Like friends who come into our lives at certain times because we need them, I believe that is what this blog has been for me. I needed this community and this blog. In some ways, I still do, but in others, my life has drastically changed and I don't need this particular outlet anymore. I love writing and I hope to see that passion play out in my life.

But in the meantime, I guess I'm done here for now.

And I'll leave with this...

I'm pregnant. Unexpectedly. Surprisingly. With baby 3.

We were done and didn't make it official, so now we will welcome baby #3 in March. I'm hoping for another boy, but we will see.

When you decide to go home from vacation and sell all the baby stuff, good ol' Murphy steps in and bam, positive pregnancy test the next morning. And things are never easy with kids, but man, they've been pretty great with the two boys. Not without three-year old tantrums or brotherly fighting, but good. So baby 3 will rock our worlds I'm sure.

Thank you, little blog, for seeing me through this crazy ride. From loss to unexpected conception, I say we've come full circle.

XOXO,
JB

A Day in the Life

One of my very favorite lifestyle bloggers posted a "Day in the Life" post and I thought I'd follow suit, considering the last one I did was forever ago, when I thought my life was crazy with one kid. Oh my, how naive I was.

What's funny...this whole first part really hasn't changed lol.

I start the day around 4:45 am (ok, 4:39 now to be exact). I roll groaningly jump out of bed with the first sound of my alarm.  Sparks continues to be amazed--even after 6 (ok, now 9) years of marriage--that I have never "snoozed" in my life.  I mentioned the other day that I don't even know how to snooze on the iPhone (yup, still true).  Shower, wash hair (well, every other day) and I mention washing hair because washing, prepping, and drying crazy curly hair (c-c-c-curly!) is a task in and of itself (yup, and I no longer dry this crazy hair. thanks, kid #2).  5:15, coffee pot beeps, big cup of coffee, get ready.  In kitchen by 5:55 (scratch that, in kitchen by 5:40). Put away clean dishes, do a load of laundry and/or unload dishwasher, shove a bowl of oatmeal down my throat (still eat oatmeal, just do it in the car now), feed dog, give dog medicine.

And then the crazy starts

6:20--upstairs, turn on lights in D's room so that he can roll out of bed and whine; go get Cam out of crib. Change Cam while arguing with D about why he has to go potty and why he has to brush his teeth.  Clothe children, brush teeth, wash faces. Try to keep children from killing each other. Try to keep Cam from falling in bath tub while I'm helping D brush his teeth. Try to keep Cam from falling down stairs. 

6:35 (on a good day)--downstairs. Shoes on. Fight with D about who knows what. Maybe why the sun is still asleep. Maybe why he can't wear rain boots because it's not raining. Pop breakfasts in microwave. Try to calm Cam down as he incessantly says "I want THAT" pointing to food and then cries because he eats breakfast at daycare. Convince D to give the dog treat to the dog, not to his little brother.

6:45--lug children into car. One or both typically will cry for reasons known only to them because carseats are apparently TORTURE CHAMBERS for toddlers. Try to keep D from pulling Cam's legs off in the car. Drop Cam off at daycare.

7:30--arrive at work, let D play in his nonna's office for 5 minutes, fight with D about going to class. Drag D to his preschool classroom. Finally get into my office by 8:00, and I'm ready for a nap, or about 6 more cups of coffee.

3:20--go get D from his classroom. Go pick up Cam from daycare.

4:00--strap boys in carseats, try to convince Cam he does NOT need a snack until we get home in five minutes

4:15: unload car and children, calm Cam with food. Try to convince D not to chase the dog; try to convince Cam it's almost dinner time. Wash lunch dishes and endless sippy cups, prep lunches, prep boys dinner. All while one or both children are running around like crazy people who obviously HAVE NEVER EATEN BEFORE AND MUST EAT RIGHT NOW. And answer "why can't I watch Curious George" 800 times.

5:15: boys eat (or more likely for one or both, don't eat). and then I clean up for like a hundred years because cleaning up after two boys is like cleaning up glitter. except the dog can't eat the glitter that falls on the ground

5:30-6:45: prep dinner for hubs and me, take a walk, try to keep D from stepping on/pushing/pulling Cam. Wait impatiently for hubs to come home

6:45: praise the Good Lord it's bath time. Bathe children. Keep D from drowning Cam (see a theme here?) 

7:15: Give Cam bottle (yes, he's 15 m and still taking a bottle because I can't give it up. I love this time with him). Cam in bed. Take D downstairs

7:45: Fight with D about bedtime. Wrangle him to brush/floss teeth. Finally get him upstairs. Sit by D for "5 minutes." Sit by D for "5 more minutes." Rub D's back "one more time." Promise him there's no rain and no thunder about a hundred times. Tell him I'll come check on him in "5 minutes" (seriously, I'm in trouble when he learns how long 5 minutes really is)

8:00: finish making dinner, watch trashy TV, eat, talk to hubs. fall asleep on couch. and then we're in bed by 10 to do it allll again the next day.

And it is crazy, and the boys are nuts and pushing ALL of their limits right now. But it's my crazy, and we make it work :) 

#MicroblogMondays 73: solidarity

One of my college roommates texted this morning to say that she was 9 weeks pregnant, went in for spotting, and the baby had no heartbeat.  This is her second miscarriage since October.

Secondary infertility is heartbreaking, and I'm devastated for my friend, her husband, and her children.

Thoughts and prayers appreciated as we stand by her in solidarity, an unfortunate sisterhood of loss.

A Mom by Any Other Name

We are STILL having sleep troubles with Daniel, as in he still won't go to sleep in his bed (or anywhere, for that matter) unless one of us is sleeping in his room with him.  We're going on two weeks of this now, and I realize that two weeks out of the 150 weeks of life he has lived is not much, but right now it feels like FOREVER.

I know this next part will sound spoiled and maybe selfish, and as a preface, I adore my children and wouldn't change my life as a mom of 2.  Hubs and I worked really hard to sleep train the boys when they were little, and as such, they are both great sleepers.  Cam was harder, but he's a great 7-6ish sleeper now.  So, hubs and I got used to having our evenings to ourselves, 7:30 on.  And it was lovely. We talked, we cooked dinner, we watched TV--we relaxed. We both work full-time and rarely have any time to talk until the kids go to bed, and often hubs doesn't even walk in the door until 6:30 pm.  Here's the selfish part: I MISS THAT TIME.  I miss having a couple of kid-free hours to myself at night to unwind and just relax.

I literally have a child clinging to me from 4pm-9pm right now (Cam until he goes down, and then Daniel) and y'all, it's draining me.

I told hubs this. I told him that I wanted just 5 minutes to myself to to feel like a person again, and not just a mom. And he said, well maybe you shouldn't have been a mom if you wanted that.  (he was NOT being mean when he said this, trust me)

But that made me think...does a mom have to be a mom every second of the day? Does she have to completely sacrifice so much of herself that there's nothing left except drool-covered pants, sleep-deprived eyes, and a messy bun? So often moms are expected to do it all, and I think sometimes women feel that looking like they do it all is a mark of success.  Like, if you look like you didn't sleep last night you're obviously doing something right. Is that what makes a good mom? I will always do what is best for my children, but I also need time to be me and to be a wife.

So maybe I am (or was) spoiled because my kids sleep (slept) very well and go (went) down very easily.  Am I a bad mom because I don't want my kids clinging to me until I go to bed at night? Am I a bad mom because at 8 pm I want to curl up on the couch with a glass of wine and watch Modern Family? I don't think so. I'm a mom struggling to recharge herself enough to be able to give everything back to her children again the next day.

I desperately want and need Daniel to get out of this crazy pattern that he is in.  Right now, we are putting a bandage on it, and trying to figure it out, trying to be what he needs us to be. One of us goes to bed with him until he falls asleep and then comes downstairs.  Then, around 10, one of us goes back upstairs to sleep in the twin bed in Daniel's room. Again, this can't be a long-term thing, but we are just trying to make do and find some semblance of normalcy in this crazy phase Daniel is in.

You ladies ROCK

As always, this community never fails to dissapoint. Thank you ALL for the advice yesterday.  We didn't let him cry last night. We haven't heard back from pedi yet.

Progress:

• He will stay in his room by himself with lights on and iPad without even complaining.
• He only woke up once last night and barely even cried.
• He will stay in room with lights off and iPad.
• He isn't making himself throw up.
• He will nap in his room by himself.

No progress:

• still throws a fit when we try to leave at night, even after preparing him for it the whole day and talking about what will happen at night.  We offered a special breakfast with momma, and that incentive didn't work.  

So...on to it again tonight. I will post what finally ends up working.  We obviously want to do what's best for Daniel, but I would be lying if I didn't say it's starting to take a toll on hubs and I.  We have a baby-free trip to Nashville next weekend, so nighttime issues or not, we get a break in 9 days...

#MicroblogMondays 72: parenting gone wrong?

I know I don't visit here often, but ladies, I need some help! I'll keep it short, microblog style.

Daniel, almost 3, started having terrible nighttime anxiety after NYE. He's been an awesome sleeper since 10w old, and until now, we've been able to rub his back and he goes to sleep on his own, no issue.  Now, though....screaming, tantrums, made himself throw up...unless someone is literally in bed with him. So, we started trying to help him. We have successfully made it out of his bed but we still MUST be in his room or he has a tantrum.  One of us has to sleep in a twin bed at the end of his bed.

We have tried: flashlight, essential oils, special toy, life-sized minion (seriously, no joke), nightlight, white noise/music, everything. We tried leaving the door open but his screaming just woke the baby so that wouldn't work. He won't fall asleep with the light on. We've tried letting him fall asleep watching the iPad, no luck.

I think he's over the fear, but how do I know if he's just being defiant? When is it time for tough love? I love my kids, but hubs and I can't go to sleep with him at 7:30 at night just because he needs someone in there to fall asleep. He thinks he can just go downstairs with momma and daddy instead of going to sleep. He needs his sleep, too.  The screaming in the middle of the night has lessened, and honestly, he was waking once a night and calling for me before this all started, and i'm fine with that. I just go up, pull up his blankets, and he would go back to bed. For some reason, this has all changed now.

I'm really not sure what to do and I would welcome some advice. We are TIRED and in desperate need of at least one baby-free hour in the evenings :(

Is this real life?

I'm sitting at work, currently icing my finger that may or may not be broken.  I probably shouldn't have done an hour of hardcore pilates with it hurting last night. Oops.

Daniel has been waking up screaming at the top of his lungs at least once a night.  He's almost 3. This is wake-up frequency circa 8 weeks old.  He also wet his pants last night, the first time he's ever done that and he's been potty trained since August.

Cam chugs along pretty smoothly, until he decides that 5 is a FABULOUS wake up time. With daycare trying to transition him to one nap...who knows how this night will look.

Hubs took a new position at work.  This means: late nights, early mornings, grumpy hubs.  But it also means job stability, so I'll take it.

I had 3 cups of coffee this morning. THREE. And I still feel like I need more. And least you think 3 cups is not much, my mug is the size of a small bowl, because really, who drinks coffee from a small mug?!

I gave Daniel Cameron's breakfast this morning just to keep him from having a temper tantrum. Sorry, Cam, you got the crappy pancakes.

I wish there were a diet that consisted of chocolate and wine, and that it would somehow help me train for the half marathon in January for which I have lost ALL motivation.

My baby turns ONE in 2 weeks. How is this possible?

#MicroblogMondays 67: Remembrance

Not sure what #MicroblogMondays is?Read the inaugural post which explains the idea and how you can participate too

Four years ago, Malachi grew his wings. Four years ago, I was 7 weeks pregnant and then, not pregnant.

In some ways, it feels like a lifetime ago.  But then I can still remember how I felt at each moment during that hellish week.

I can't imagine my life without the boys I have now, but there will always be a spot in my heart for my Malachi.

Sweet Malachi, would you look like Daniel? Would you be rambunctious like him, or would you be happy-go-lucky like Cameron? Would you have your daddy's eyes and your momma's nose like both of your brothers? I'm sad that I never got to meet you, that I never got to squish you in my arms, that I never got to rock you to sleep and smell your sweet baby smell.  Every time I see your Christmas ornament on our tree, I can't help but wonder.

Thank you for making me a momma that first time.

Forever in my heart, MEB.

Reflections, Reunions, and Wrinkles

My ten-year COLLEGE reunion is next weekend.  We all graduated in May 2005.  I went to small, private, Catholic college, and I only graduated with about 190 other students, 80 with whom I spent 5 months on a tiny campus in Rome. We were all very close, and I will admit that by graduation I was ready to spread my wings, but I think that was due to some serious boy/"finding myself" drama.

I've been reflecting a lot going into this crazy reunion.  More than anything, I'm THRILLED to see everyone, pump some keg beer, sit around a campfire, and act 21 again.  Ok maybe not 21, but definitely not 32.  The boys are not coming (hubs either), so it's a me-night, which doesn't happen very often.  But there's also something else I'm feeling, something deeper, more empathetic, more "32" of me.

What I don't know is what so many of my friends have gone through in the last ten years.  I know that many have miscarried one, two, three babies.  I know that my roommate of 3.5 years lost two of her daughters in the most horrific car accident I can imagine, something I think about every single day of my life.  I know that at least one person has fought a major medical battle and won.  Will these things be evident? Will I notice this in their smile, or in the crinkles around their eyes or the wrinkles in their foreheads that weren't there ten years ago?

How do we wear our grief and our past? Some of it we push down so that it's only a spec, only visible if someone truly knows you or if the moment is *just* right.  But I also believe that some of it is always visible, in a smile that's not quite as bright as it used to be, in a conversation just a little less upbeat than it would have been ten years ago.  For some of us, grief and loss have changed us irrevocably.

We can't undo the past or the loss that has left its indelible mark on our hearts, on our faces, just like as hard as we may try, we can't undo the wrinkles with which time has marked us.  And as hard as we may pretend, we can't go back ten years to be the people that we were. I--for one--do NOT want to be that girl again anyway.

Ultimately, I won't know who has suffered.  I will see the old friends before me, and we will catch up. We will talk about babies (and I'm not exaggerating when I say that there are probably 100+ babies that have been born to my class over the past 10 years) and husbands and food and jobs, and all the things you talk about when you're filling in the blanks from F.book posts.  But we won't talk about grief, about loss.  It will be there, in a glance at a brand-new baby.  It will be there, in a turned-down smile.  It will also be there in the unspoken way we have all changed and grown up.  Like it or not, it has shaped us into these 32 and 33 year-olds we are now.

So we will sit around that campfire and sing the songs we did when we were 21, probably drink the same beer we did when we were 21, and pretend--just for a night--that we don't have so many wrinkles.

"hello?" she whispers into the cavernous void...

"is anyone still out there?"

....silence....

Maybe not.  Most days I'm not even sure if I'm here.  But maybe you are. And maybe you're reading this.  Or maybe I'm just writing for myself, and that's ok as well.  Or maybe I'm writing because our internet keeps going down at work and I can't really get anything accomplished.

Cameron is 8 and a half months old, y'all.  SERIOUSLY. Where is the time going!?  Something weird happens when babies hit 8 months.  It's like a woman's ovaries go into overdrive and all of a sudden I WANT ALL THE BABIES.  And not in a creepy "A Modest Proposal" sort of way, but in a please-just-let-me-smell-the-baby sort of way. Ok that's kind of creepy too.

Somehow, a smiling, happy, mama-mama saying baby can erase the anxiety and the hurt and the fear of the first three months of his life, almost.  I say *almost* because I can't quite seem to forget the feeling of those first three months.  Even now writing this, I feel my chest tense up.  And if--somehow--I could just manage to forget, just a little bit, I could consider having another baby.

My brother and his wife had a baby girl three weeks ago.  When we went to visit them, they had her in the swing with the music playing, and the memory of that swing and music sent me in to panic attack mode.  It's real, y'all.  So maybe I can't do it now  Maybe all I can do is to focus on the two precious boys I have.

So...here's a round-up of what's going on around here.

Daniel is 2 and a half and started PK2 at the school where I work.  He potty trained like a freakin champ.  I feel like we're going through a purposefully rebellious stage right now, acting out at school, peeing in his brother's trashcan, throwing food in the dog's water bowl, but maybe that's just being 2 years old.  Parenting is an ever-changing thing, and we're just working to figure out what works in terms of discipline.  He's a very auditory learner so we have a lot of discussions and repetition.  But he's the sweetest boy. He never sits still (unless to watch the same Curious George episode again) and he adores his daddy and his little brother. And his teddy.

Cam is close to 9 months.  He smiles at the drop of a hat and rarely cries.  He crawls and is in to EVERYTHING, his favorite things being Daniel's toys.  He sleeps in his crib all night (and yeah, that didn't happen until almost 5 months).  He still seems to hate naps on most days, but we're getting better.  He sleeps through the night most nights and is an early riser like me and his brother.  He wants to stand and walk so badly, but he's not quite there.  I could squish and kiss him all day, and I'm pretty sure his favorite place to be is sitting on my hip.  He refuses most purees in favor of real food, which makes my life easier because I can feed both boys the same thing  We made it to about six months of nursing, and then my supply dropped and I went back to work, so I swallowed my guilt and my pride and started him on formula. He's growing like a weed (maybe more out that up!) and we call him our little linebacker, a stocky, squatty little boy.

As for me...well I'm here.  Trying to survive every day as a full-time working momma of two boys. Some days I feel like I rock it (like when I take the boys for a dinner picnic to the park); other days I want a glass of wine by 9 am. I'm currently training for a Tough Mudder and 3 half marathons. Because that's what I do for ME.  I don't have time to get my nails done, but this I do and I do it for me only.  It keeps me sane.

So in a nutshell, I'm here.

Even if no one else is.

...I'll fill the cavernous void with some words, at least for right now...

Where I've been

Cameron is almost 14 weeks. The first six weeks of his life he screamed unless he was sleeping. Sleep at night consisted of 40 minute stretches, sometimes on me, truly wherever he would lay down. He was always squirming in pain, crazy flailing his arms and legs. We tried reflux meds to no avail, and finally tried one that worked. Weeks 6-10 weren't great, but they weren't as bad, at least for him. Parents of colicky babies get it. There was nothing anyone could do to quiet him. I felt like a failure. I cried daily. I was sleep deprived. Thank goodness for my mother who saved me multiple times. And thank goodness for my husband who made me go see my therapist. 

I'm not sure if I was/am suffering from PPD, but definitely PP anxiety. My anxiety level was through the roof. My chest felt heavy, and I wanted to throw up all the time. I felt incapable of taking care of either child. Poor D got snapped at because I was at the end of my rope. I called my mom one night when I thought I couldn't go on. I was outside, C was screaming, and hubs had D upstairs. She came over and stayed with me for two days. That's when I realized how bad I had gotten. 

My therapist was amazing, and now at 14 weeks, C isn't necessarily easy all the time, but with more sleep, I'm doing better. C went off his reflux meds three weeks ago, and he's a pretty happy baby during the day. He only naps 45 minutes at a time and our nights are all over the place, but it's better. D was such a great sleeper--I wasn't prepared for this!! C will sleep all night for a couple of days in a row and then have a crappy night, but I did speak to a sleep consultant and we will start sleep training at four months. 

I know this post isn't eloquently written, but I wanted to get it out there. I'm sad that I didn't love the first ten weeks of C's life. I loved him but not the circumstances. I'm enjoying him now, but the anxiety is still there when he throws a shit fit. We have all survived, and some days, that's all you can ask for. 

Coming up for air

I'm here, we are all alive and baby C is a thriving chunk of a 12 week old. But the last 12 weeks have not been easy. I literally feel like I'm just now able to come to the surface and take a breath. Post-partum anxiety, colic, reflux, and poor sleep have put us through the ringer. I can honestly say it's been the hardest three months of my life, and of my marriage. 

I do plan on writing soon. About PPD and the struggles of having baby #2. Now that C is starting to have some sort of regular sleep, I'm hoping to get back on my computer. If anyone still reads this that is!

better late than never!

Thank you all for the kind words and congratulations on our new little boy!  I'm finally able to sit down and write his birth story.

We were induced on Monday, 12/29, at 40 weeks.  I was not in labor that morning, so I actually put on makeup and curled my hair a little bit. Since I chopped off my curls, I couldn't use my go-to messy bun or pony tail.  Plus, who knew when I'd have any time to curl my hair again!?

Our nurses were wonderful. I was 3 cm when we got to the hospital (that explains the terrible contractions I had intermittently the entire weekend before!).  I really wanted to feel my labor, so I waited for a while to get my epidural.  The epidural was honestly the worst part!  Pitocin started at 6:30 am, I was 3-4 cm until about 11 am when things picked up.  Somewhere in there I got the epidural, and it took 20 minutes to kick in which was pretty painful.  After that, I felt great. Relaxed, chatted with Sparky, and tried to enjoy the experience.  Around 11:30, Sparky got back from eating lunch and my favorite nurse checked my status.

To our utter shock, I was quickly progressing...from 6-8 cm! At 12:45, I was ready to push and just waiting on the dr.  Dr. got there, and 2 pushes later, Cameron Louis was born at 1:15pm.  Lots of laughter because he pretty much shot out as soon as I pushed!  My dr. thinks it's hysterical that I'm such a good pusher.  As soon as they put him on my chest, I just knew he was smaller than his brother. 7 pounds, 8 ounces, 20 inches long, so a long skinny baby with blue eyes and shockingly dark hair!

Here's the craziest part of this whole thing: we did skin to skin immediately this time, before the cord was even cut.  It was amazing. He nursed immediately for about 40 minutes.  (and now the crazy part) I feel that I immediately bonded with C.  It took me at least 2 weeks to bond with D...do you think this could be the skin to skin connection? I don't know, but it's been amazing.

Baby C nurses like a champ and wants to eat all the time! My recovery has been very quick as I only had a slight tear from pushing him out too quickly.  Big brother is slowly adjusting, but the tantrums have picked up and we have a little night waking from him too.  He loves to see the baby and kiss the baby, but he definitely craves his one on one attention from me, which is ok.

We had our first stretch of 4 hour sleep last night which was great! After that, baby C was up every hour or so, but I'll take one good stretch.  He's getting better about sleeping when he's not curled up on someone's chest. As much as I love baby cuddles, I want to make sure baby C can sleep in his bassinet too!

I guess that's it for now. Sparky goes back to work on Monday...and then real life will set in I'm sure.

Thanks again for the support from this community.  I never, ever thought we would be this blessed. The road hasn't always been easy and I know that it won't always be as easy as wearing a newborn on my chest while I type this blog. But today, this is pretty perfect.

#MicroblogMondays 18: here we go

Well, baby boy will be here today. In typing this from my hospital bed, waiting for the nurse to start the pitocin drip. 

Nervous and excited to meet Cameron Louis. 

Happy last Monday of 2014!

#MicroblogMondays 16: does it still make you sad?

One of my BILs was over watching football yesterday and we happened to get on the topic of babies and loss. He asked: does it [my loss] still make you sad, do you still think about it now that you have D and another baby on the way?

The short answer: no, I'm not sad every day all the time about losing Malachi, but there are days (like 2 weeks ago on the 3 year anniversary of our loss) that I do remember him, and I am sad.

The long answer: that loss fundamentally changed me, but not just the loss--the whole experience of loss, infertility, and conception after loss--THAT'S what I think about, not daily, but often.

What truly makes me sad, for myself, for my SIL, and for anyone else who has experienced loss and infertility is the stripping of the innocence and joy of being pregnant.  And my heart breaks for those who are irrevocably marred by that sobering realization.

#MicroblogMondays 15: I whip my hair back and forth

I have curly hair--c-c-c-curly as Carrie Bradshaw would say. I didn't embrace my curls until late college, and I've spent these past 8 years growing my curls into variations of lengths, but never shorter than my shoulders.  I think I was traumatized after chopping my locks in high school, much to the dismay of my now-husband who said he "hated" that haircut in high school (mind you, we had dated and broken up, and we didn't speak for six years, so that haircut had absolutely no bearing on him).

Well, at 37 weeks pregnant, I decided I needed to feel pretty and pampered before Baby Boy #2 comes on the scene and I have no more time ever end of story.  I went to my tried-and-true hair stylist who specializes in curly hair, and I showed her a picture and she said ok I'm cutting it "here," motioning below my shoulders, still a good 4 inches to cut off.  I said OK! and bam, it was done. However, if you have curly hair, you know that curly hair straight and wet is NOT curly hair dry.  Upon drying my hair, below shoulders suddenly became much, much shorter.  And I cried. Not in the chair, but when I got home.  I've never been that attached to my hair, but suddenly not feeling those curls hanging down my back was a traumatizing experience.  I love long hair; I love the options of buns and updos, and I regularly twist my hair into various styles and pride myself on my ability to do so without professional help.

I don't know why the change shocked me so much, but I felt terrible about myself.  I woke up Sunday morning wishing it had grown back but it hadn't.  I showered and washed it and styled it and well, now I actually love it.  It's very Carrie Bradshaw, season 5, a look I always said I wanted, if I was brave enough to try it.  I guess I was brave enough, just not by my own doing.

I think Baby Boy #2 is a similar experience.  I'm excited for the change and for him to be here, but I also think there will be a period where I will feel that oh-my-goodness-what-have-we-done.  But when it's all said and done and washed and styled, I know we will not remember or miss our lives without him.

(sorry it's a little longer than a #MicroblogMondays.  Wondering what that is? See the inaugural post here)

Waiting in the wings

I'm still here, waiting in the wings for something that feels post-worthy. Between D's double ear infection and my subsequent sinus infection from hell, I haven't really had the mind to write.

We had a lovely Thanksgiving, despite illness, and I'm looking forward to the next few weeks of Christmas gatherings before baby is scheduled to make his appearance.  I'm fine with him waiting until his due date to come; I'd (selfishly) like to enjoy Christmas with Sparky and D.  And of course, now that I've said that, I'm sure baby boy will come sooner.

Probably the most exciting news is that I'll be a part-time stay at home mom starting in January.  I won't actually be going into my office at all...at least on a scheduled basis. Instead, I'll work from home 3 days a week while D goes to school 3 days a week full-time.  I'm excited that baby boy 2 will get some one-on-one time with me, but I'm also petrified that I won't be good at the whole stay at home mom thing. What if I suck at it? What if my temper is on edge? I mean, D is a toddler...

More about that when my head is less foggy and I can think enough to write down my true feelings :)

xo, and happy weekending

#MicroblogMondays 12: used to be

Sometimes I think my college-self was way smarter than my post-college, administrator/teacher/wife/mother self. I'll read back through literary analyses that I wrote in college and think, man, that was some good stuff!  Perhaps even better than what I wrote when I was getting my M.Ed.  

I love being in education, but I do miss reveling in literature, seeing what others don't see.  Maybe that's just a gratuitous past time that paved the way to who I am today, but there are days I miss who I used to be, that college-self, able to spend hours discussing T.S. Eliot, measuring my life by coffee spoons.  

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#MicroblogMondays: a brief pause

I started to write about the craziness that is my life right now, but then I realized....let me just step back--for just a moment--and be thankful for what makes my life crazy. Despite the diaper rash from hell, despite the ongoing bathroom remodel, this is my life, and I am forever grateful that I get to live it and that I get to be a momma to these 2 boys and a wife to an amazing man. 

Curious about #MicroblogMondays? Read the inaugural post here 

#MicroblogMondays--toddlers and Dickens

When Dickens penned the now-trite phrase, "it was the best of times; it was the worst of times," I'm pretty sure he was talking about toddlerdom.  Last week Daniel had both Sparky and I questioning if we were the worst parents in the world; temper tantrums, sleepless days, and a miserable lack of eating at dinner time (thank God for hotdogs)--we surely had to be doing something wrong.  Don't even think about taking him out anywhere because you would pretty much guarantee a public breakdown, Brittney Spears' style.

Yesterday, after picking D up from my mom's, I could've sworn she gave us the wrong child.  We actually WATCHED a football game at our friend's house while D played happily with the cats, the dog, the ottoman, the videos on my cell phone, and everyone else around him.  Sparks and I just looked at each other thinking, WHO IS THIS CHILD?!  He was funny and cute and--gasp--easy.

A lovely Sunday memory to start our week :)

he was entertaining himself by pretending to fall of the ottoman and cry

What is #MicroblogMondays?  Read the inaugural post here