So glad Google Remembers EVERYTHING

So I was randomly reviewing my Facebook settings and saw the link to this blog.  I clicked on it with a combo of interest, guilt, and embarrassment.  I remembered that at some point a few years ago I accidentally deleted all the pictures associated with anything posted.  I couldn't remember how long it had been since I simply fell off the blogging bandwagon- and seeing how long it had been made it worse.  But I started reading, and just as I predicted in my very first post I was delighted by the memories and stories recorded for me to come back and find.  I spent a good chunk of time last night catching up on myself from 8-9 years ago, and it was a pretty good time.  I sound young to my self, yet exactly me.  I think it is that same feeling I have ( and I bet you do too) that wondering- when I am going to feel like a grown-up?  I can see from reading that I am older now, but still exactly the person who wrote those posts. 

No way am I going to keep up with this- my track record speaks for itself.  But I might remember to visit for a while and record some new memories that I can stumble upon in another decade and enjoy again.  My Ben needs some attention here; maybe work should make an appearance; Will is so big now, and of course more baking.   I have lost and gained people in my life.  The world has become stranger, and yet also the same. 

Like visiting an old friend that I really enjoy but can't know when I will see again- instantly connected, perfectly comfortable, and happy to spend whatever time we have together with no guarantee when the next time will come.

2 is more than twice the fun (and work!)

So you dear readers finally got a detailed account of my baby boy's arrival and first weeks in this world and then I disappeared for 6 months.  I didn't really disappear though, I just had more tasks, more hugs, more life to live than I had hands to hold it or time to share it in this space.  This time has been wonderful and hectic, a tiring and emotional adventure.

 I never like it when this much time passes between posts because I know I am letting so many moments slip past that I would otherwise share here.  I can never take enough pictures or record enough stories, mostly because I have to choose to live in the moments or merely record them.  Guess which one wins out most of the time?  But I want to pause now for a moment to acknowledge the fact that my baby is about to celebrate his first year with us.  The next days are going to be busy with planning and preparing to celebrate that day, and if I am lucky I will have pictures and stories to post next week.  It truly blows my mind that a year has gone so quickly.  I have a beautiful, smart, funny, HAPPY boy.  I have a walker already, a daredevil who sees no obstacles in front of him, merely things to be climbed. He grins at everyone, knows no stranger, and makes some of the goofiest faces/noises you could possibly imagine.  Mister Personality could be this guy's title.  He crawls like a speed demon bulldog puppy, and when he tries to meow like the cat, it sounds a little more like someone is strangling a cat.  He says Momma, Dadda, Bubba, and cat.  He points at everything and says "isthis?"  At church, he sings during the hymns and will not let the pastor give the sermon without adding his own thoughts.

 I have another big boy about to celebrate a birthday of his own in a month who is turning into quite the big brother.  He is so grown up sometimes it scares me a little, and yet often still my little guy who wants to cuddle in my lap.  He starts his first full year of preschool in a couple of weeks, and he is so excited to go back and see some of the friends he met in January.  I can get nothing past this child, and he is as stubborn as his father, and I hate to say it but he argues as well as his mother ever did (does).  He is starting to tell jokes, which are hysterically bad/funny, and he will make up songs to sing in the car about what he is doing or about to do (just like his Dad).  He makes up these elaborate stories combining all of his favorite story/tv characters.  He loves watching spooky kids shows, but then won't walk down the hall by himself to wash his hands or go to the bathroom.  He plays Angry Birds better than I do.  He is so tall and grows in such fast spurts that his joints hurt him sometimes (he gets that from his granddaddy) and unfortunately he also has the Davis clumsy gene.

These are just a few things the boys do now that make life so much fun, and occasionally such a challenge.  Hopefully I can share with you dear readers a bit more often now that we are beginning a schedule of sorts, but regardless this snapshot gives you a glimpse of my great guys.  I hope all is well with you, and I will see you here soon when I can.

A Brief History of Benjamin Armstrong: Part 2

Part 2 of this brief history covers Ben's 5th day of life through the following week.   A short window of time, I know, but very eventful for our family.

The day we checked out of the hospital, (technically day 3 for Ben)we were both checked out by our respective doctors.  Both of us were given a clean bill of health, though Ben's pediatrician did note that his bilirubin levels were slightly elevated, but had not been increasing quickly and weren't high enough to cause concern.  We packed up, changed Ben into his cute little blue and white striped one piece outfit, and made the 45 minute trip home.  Any of you dear readers who have experienced bringing a newborn home, it is wonderful, miraculous, life changing.  It is also stressful, terrifying, and anxiety-filled.  While it is true that I did not feel the same overwhelming feeling of terror and adrenaline that I felt with Will, bringing Ben home had its own set of ups and downs.

                                                       On our way home from the hospital.

The first 2 nights home were just as hard as we expected, which is actually a good thing because they could have been worse than we expected.  Sleep was minimal at best, but I think we both had the feeling that we were going to survive a little better than before.  My only problem was that as time went on it was getting harder and harder to nurse Ben.  He was extremely lethargic, to the point that by the time I actually got him awake enough to eat, he was so upset that he wouldn't eat for screaming.  We would go on like this for 45 minutes to an hour, after which he would finally eat, but not for very long before he fell asleep again.

(Small break for a soapbox moment here.) As far as the old adage "never wake a sleeping baby"- which people have felt the need to say to me on far too many occasions- it is NOT true for newborns.  Many newborns take quite a while to respond to their biological cues, like hunger, and their systems are not meant to go too long without eating.  They actually will sleep even longer if you don't wake them, but because they go into a shutdown mode where their bodies think they have to conserve energy because they are not getting food when they need it  As they get older this changes, at which point the adage makes more sense.  So when I say I had to wake my baby to feed him, I was doing it not only based on my own reading on the subject, but based on specific instructions from his pediatrician and the hospital staff.  (End of soapbox moment.)

I was getting very frustrated with the nursing situation, but honestly even then I wasn't overly worried because I had such difficulty nursing Will, and had to use so many aids to get through, that I was still just impressed that when the little guy finally did eat he was doing so completely naturally, and reasonably efficiently.

That Wednesday, 2 days after we came home from the hospital, we had an appointment with the pediatrician for a weight check.  This is a normal part of the routine with our pediatrician (and most I believe) to keep track of weight gain until it is clear the little guy is thriving.  I dressed him in a cute little outfit and we all loaded into the car to make the 45 trip to the doctor (I know, a long way for a doctor, but you go where the good doctors are, right?).  We all had to go because as a post-op patient I couldn't drive, but I also couldn't stay home with Will because I had to be with Ben to feed him before the drive home. (One of the downsides to not living close to any family; no one to watch little ones on the fly.)

When we got there, I noticed that Ben looked a little orange under the florescent lights.  Ok, he looked ORANGE.  Not yellow, not tan, but bad fake tanner orange.  When our nurse Kay retrieved us from the waiting room to take a us back for the check-up, she notice his color too.  She weighed Ben, and he was 11 lb exactly, which was his weight the day he left the hospital.  I was actually pretty happy about that number because babies will often continue to lose for a day or two before they start regaining their birth weight, so no change was a good thing.  The doctor came in and did the normal checkup, and was generally happy with his responses.  I told her about the nursing problems, but since he was having plenty of wet and dirty diapers, the doctor wasn't overly concerned, feeling we still needed to find a routine that worked for us.  She then told me that she thought Ben's billirubin was probably somewhat high, given his color, and she wanted to test him to make sure the levels were not too high.  She said that levels under 14 were fine for his age and weight, and levels between 14-18 were elevated and might require a home billirubin bed for a few days.  

I have to say that I was very unconcerned with this information, all things considered.  I know several people who had to "bake" their babies in a billi bed, and it all sounds very routine.  A little jaundice seemed like no big deal, and honestly I was relieved to know that Ben's sluggishness to nurse had an easily identifiable cause.  So I took the lab sheet the Dr. gave us and took Ben downstairs for the heel stick.  Any time your child has to have blood drawn or a needle used on them in any way, it is not fun.  Heel sticks are bad particularly bad because they often have to squeeze the heel to get a good flow to fill the tube.  Little guy turned pretty red on top of that fake tanner orange, and everyone got to hear just how strong his lungs were, but thankfully it was over quickly.  Following the Dr.'s directions, we then headed home- if his levels were high enough for a bed she was going to send home health to the house to set up the bed and show us how to use it.  

We drove the 45 minutes home and decided to stop at the park to give Will some much needed playtime and bake the baby in a little natural sunlight.  The baby slept peacefully while Eli ran Will as hard as he could.  We then came home and made lunch.  I had just sat down to have my sandwich when I got a call from the Dr.'s office.  She asked me if we were home yet, and I happily told her about our trip to the park.  She then apologized to me and told me we would need to come back to the hospital because Ben was going to have to be re-admitted.  Ben's bilirubin level was 22.9, and if the levels increase past the mid-20s and up into the 30s, a condition called Kernicterus can set in.  The NIH describes Kernicterus in the following way:

Kernicterus is caused by very high levels of bilirubin. Bilirubin is a yellow pigment that is created in the body during the normal recycling of old red blood cells. High levels of bilirubin in the body can cause the skin to look yellow (which is called jaundice).

In some cases when there are extremely high levels of bilirubin in the body or the baby is extremely ill, the substance will move out of the blood and collect in the brain tissue. This can lead to serious neurological complications, including brain damage and hearing loss.

I was crying before she got much else out.  She apologized again and again, but honestly, I saw the same things she did, and in my follow-up reading on the subject I agreed that Ben really didn't present symptoms indicative of bilirubin levels that high.  I was so upset that we had to go back the hospital, but I was never upset with our doctor.  I always felt she was doing what was in Ben's best interest, and glad that she was cautious enough to go through the testing despite the fact that Ben didn't have all the symptoms.  So I got off the phone with her and spent the next 10 minutes crying and repacking bags that hadn't even been fully emptied.  Eli ran all over the house for me grabbing things for us.  I was being admitted with Ben since he was a breastfeeding baby, so I would have the luxury of a bed- which is so much more than many parents get when their child is in the hospital.

We arrived at the hospital and went to the small section for Pediatrics.  The nurses were waiting for us and had a room set up.  They had me take Ben's clothes off so he was just in his diaper, and after taking his vital signs, they slipped and eye mask on him and put him on a flat bassinet with no bedding, under lit with a strong blue light, and rolled another large blue light over him.  He hated it.  He cried and cried, and of course I cried too.  He couldn't be swaddled, which is a  big way newborns get comfort and security when they aren't being held, and we could only hold him to feed him.  Thankfully, he was able to get comfortable after a while and drifted off to sleep.  

So we were admitted Wednesday afternoon, and the plan was to keep him under the lights as much as possible, and re-test his bilirubin levels every 8-12 hours.  Eli and Will went home after a couple of hours because Will just couldn't be expected to stay still and calm for so long.  I know Eli absolutely hated leaving us there, but without anyone close by to help, we had to be practical.  So I mostly sat in this room by myself, either watching Ben, or mindlessly staring at the tv.  As the afternoon went into evening and I started getting used to the routine they would take us through, I was able to relax a little and read some.  I was still nursing every 2-3 hours, and they were having me supplement him with formula after I was finished nursing, since one of the causes of jaundice can be a lack of fluids when breastfeeding isn't yet well-established.  

They checked his levels fairly late that night (another heel stick) and were happy to report that his levels had come down a bit.  The next morning when they checked again the levels had dropped even further, and after a check-in with the doctor, it was decided that if he continued through the day at the same rate we would be able to go home the next morning.  I was so happy that he was responding to the treatment.  Friday morning came, and as expected his levels were great- 14.3.  When he came out of the bed and took his eye-mask off you could tell a big difference between the exposed and unexposed skin- he was all pretty and pink where the lights had shone, and had yellow raccoon eyes where the mask had been. We went through the discharge paperwork, and the Dr. asked us to come in the following Wednesday for a weight and color check to make sure everything was back to normal feeding -wise.  

We went home and basically started the routine of settling in all over again.  Ben was definitely more alert starting out, and nursing was going a bit better.  We got  through the weekend and the couple of days that followed, and I looked forward to his appointment to see how much weight he gained.  

Once again, when I took Ben into the office, he seemed orange to me again, and while our nurse noticed the color too, she didn't seem too worried.  Ben had only gained 2 oz  though, and when the Dr. examined him she decided we should do another bilirubin test just to make sure.  She told me that in 14 years of practice she had never had an infant get re-admitted twice for jaundice, but just to be safe we should stick around the hospital until the results came back.  

When the results came back, his levels were at 23.2- even higher than the first time.  The Dr. came in to talk to us as they were getting a room ready for us on the Pediatric floor.  I sat there nursing Ben with tears streaming down my face as she explained that they were going to have to do a much more in depth series of tests, because this kind of rebound in the bilirubin levels was not at all typical, and they needed to check his thyroid, kidneys, and do lots of blood work.  She also told me that I would have to completely stop nursing, at least temporarily, to make sure my milk was not contributing to the problem.  

I am going to stop here as this post has already gone on forever.  I will finish this part of the story in the next couple of days I promise, but typing all this out is a little emotional, and I want to clear my head and start fresh tomorrow.

A Brief History of Benjamin Armstrong So Far: Part 1

I had to go back and read my previous post because it had been so long since I looked at this blog that I couldn't remember the last thing I had written.  So much time has passed, and so much has happened, that it would be laughable for me to try to catch things up in any consequential way.  I have decided to try and cover the highlights from Ben's birth to now in a series of posts to keep any one post from turning into a novel.  This post will cover Ben's arrival.  This is going to be a walk down memory lane for me too, since I haven't had a chance to organize my thoughts and memories until now.  I will try not to go on forever :)

Just as had happened with Will, the night before the c-section I was sure I wouldn't sleep at all.  And just as with Will I slept soundly.  I think the body just takes over and says "you have way too much to do to worry instead of sleep".  I wish that would happen more often.  We were up early the next morning and I got to cuddle Will for a little bit before we left.  I gave him my pillow to sleep with since I was going to be gone for a few days.  (He still has it.)  I have to admit that I was pretty emotional. I felt like I was about to betray him a little.  I knew I was about to change his world in a major way that he would not really understand.  He had been the only little guy in our lives and he was about to lose that status.  I would imagine most parents experience the same moments of sadness and guilt I felt when a new baby is about to come into the home.  He mostly looked at me like I was very strange and went on as usual.  He was more excited to go play at his friend Jake's house than anything else.  

So we dropped Will off with our friend Julie and made our way to the hospital.  Unlike our first delivery day, when we were extremely early, traffic snarled and we were actually late by about 15 minutes.  I HATE being late, so that didn't help to calm me at all.  But they took it in stride and immediately led us to the surgery prep room and began the ridiculously long paperwork. I forgot my wallet at home, which gave me another goose of adrenaline that I didn't need while wondering if they would send us home to retrieve it, which they did not thankfully.  

I got changed and loaded onto the gurney (loaded is the closest I can come to describing what it is like to get a large woman carrying a child the size of a VW Bug onto a table just wide enough to hold Kate Moss) and then came my least favorite part of the ENTIRE day.  I hate IVs.  HATE them.  My few and faithful regular readers have been informed of this fact on a couple of occasions now, and my hate has not lessened in the time since.  But a miraculous thing happened.  I got a nurse who was capable and NOT AT ALL BUBBLY.  For those who know me at all, I am a talker.  Get me nervous and I cross right over to a babbler, a nervous, non-stop, stream of consciousness spouter of nonsense.  I always hope to have a happy, cheerful nurse to join in my babble, because I think it will help me.  I learned that day how wrong I have been all this time.  What I need to stay calm is someone who is older than me, extremely capable, calm, and not at all swayed or impressed by my babbling, constant questions, and whiny requests.  The first couple of times she left the room to grab something I made comments to Eli about her lack of bedside manner.  By the time she was putting in my IV I was grateful for her ability to intimidate me and her lack of interest in engaging in conversation.  I know this seems backwards, and I certainly wouldn't want this particular personality to handle my recovery care, but God bless this woman for being the introvert she is.  I sailed threw my IV and didn't even have the shakes.  

The next 30 minutes or so was basically a waiting game.  The anaesthesiologist stopped in to go over what she was going to do (In retrospect I did not pay enough attention to this discussion.  More on that later.) and my doctor stopped in as well.  On her way out to prep she asked us to guess about the weight.  I can't remember what Eli and I guessed, other than we were both in the 10 lb range.  Dr. V guessed 11 lb, 1oz, and I remember being a little pouty because I didn't want her thinking Ben was going to be so big.  Boy was I in for a shock.

Finally it was time, and the nurses wheeled me into the operating room.  The epidural was not nearly as scary this time, and I had the presence of mind to get situated on the table BEFORE I lost all feeling from the chest down.  I remember more of the surgery this time, which isn't saying much considering with Will I was basically passed out most of the time.  Other than having the shakes I was actually pretty comfortable.  We had a few bad minutes just after they got Ben out.  As a mom, you are just waiting to hear that  first cry.  Well, I didn't hear anything, and only knew he was out because I saw a nurse carry him over to the warmer. I kept asking if he was ok, and they would just say they were working on him.  Eli was allowed over there so I knew they weren't in emergency mode yet, but it is still very scary to know something isn't right.  It took a couple of minutes, but I finally heard that wonderful, mad little cry.  They told me afterwards that he was completely non-responsive.  His only sign of life was a heartbeat.  No breathing, no muscle control, bad color, the works.  They bagged him for a couple of minutes and roughed him up a little, and suddenly he got the hint and woke up.  They watched him for another minute or two, but it was clear he was just slow to get going- again like his brother, if a little more dramatic.  I once again thank God that Eli is both calm and very smart.  He knew what was happening, and I know he was scared too, but he was a trooper and kept me calm and stood right there with our boy until he was ok.

Eli then got to follow the nurse out to the little room adjacent to the operating room to see Ben get weighed and measured.  I couldn't see them to know when they came back in, and to be honest I was distracted by the fact that the Dr. was requesting some dye to insert into my bladder to make sure I didn't have a leak.  Ben had compressed several of my internal organs and they just wanted to make sure I was in good working order. (I am.) Next thing I hear is one of the nurses saying "11, 12" and I wondered what they were counting.  Turns out they were telling the room my son's weight.  Yes, 11 POUNDS and 12 OUNCES.  The entire room, including me and my doctor, began exclaiming over the size of this boy.  No one was expecting an almost 12 lb baby.

So, the doctor was finishing up with me when I began to feel pretty nauseous.  Remember that talk with the anaesthesiologist I should have paid more attention to?  Well in that talk, she told me she would be giving me a cocktail of pain medicine along with the epidural to help manage my pain once the epidural wore off, which sounded fabulous to me.  My mistake was not following up that information by asking what kind of cocktail. I cannot take pretty much any narcotic pain killer without getting very loopy and throwing up.  Turns out my cocktail was Demerol and morphine, so on my way out of the operating room a nurse was holding one of those little crescent shaped bowls to my mouth so I could be sick.  I spent the next 4 hours or so barely being able to keep my eyes open, except for every 15 minutes or so when I would get sick.  I am very thankful for 2 things: first that you can't eat anything for 12 hours before surgery, and second, the the epidural kept me from feeling any of my stomach spasms.

After 4 hours of being a space cadet and being sick every 15 minutes (while also trying to hold and nurse my baby in between) I passed out for a couple of hours.  When I woke up, I was clear-headed and my nausea was gone, but my right arm was swollen.  Very swollen.  Swollen like someone had hooked me up to a basketball pump and gone crazy.  Turns out that sometime in my sleep I jarred my IV just enough that it wasn't flowing properly.  Thankfully, they decided that I didn't have to have a new IV put in, so I just spent the next 12 hours wrapping towels around a very sore arm.

While all this was going on, I did still get a chance to examine my new little guy.  Well, little is a relative term. Ben's hair was much lighter and there was less of it than his brother had at birth.   He was fantastically chubby, quite pink, and his general expression at that point made him look like an angry trucker.  He was beautiful. :)

The rest of the that hospital stay was pretty uneventful.  Despite the my disaster of a delivery day, I actually recovered very quickly, and was up walking around without much discomfort the next morning.  I was evidently doing quite well the next day- the on-call doctor had to recheck my chart to verify that I had in fact had a c-section, because I wasn't acting like I had.  My dad came in that weekend and braved taking care of Will overnight on his own that first night for us.  Eli brought Will to see us on Sunday, and I will be forever grateful that my Dad had the video camera going when Will saw his brother for the first time.  I could not have asked for a sweeter introduction if I had choreographed it.  Will was instantly in love and climbed right onto the bed with us and gave his brother a big kiss.

So much for being brief- but this may be my one opportunity to write all of this down, and I don't want to neglect details for the sake of brevity.  There is much more to tell, and I will try to get another chapter in our saga written before another 5 months passes by.  

The Home Stretch

Again two weeks has passed since I last wrote, and those two weeks have been very full indeed.  To follow-up on my last post, I did get to see The Dark Knight Rises about a week after I wrote, and was so glad that I did.  I thoroughly enjoyed the movie, even despite the fact that about 35 minutes in, someone thought it would be a funny prank to bang loudly on the exit door of the theater.  It is amazing how stupidly people can behave.

As of the moment I write this, I have 14 days, 13 hours, and 5 minutes until my scheduled c-section begins and Ben enters this crazy world.  Most of my energy this last two weeks has been dedicated to the normal care of Will and preparing the house for our new arrival.  The nesting instinct has been very strong this time, perhaps more obviously because we are not just settling into this house as we were with Will.  We decided to purchase a new crib, as the old one was a drop-side that had been modified and rattled, and the rails were covered with chew marks from Will's teething.  (Will the Woodchuck)  We finally got it put together this past weekend, so the nursery actually looks like a room for a baby to sleep in and not storage.  I have washed baby clothes, organized closets, cleaned baby gear, stocked the changing tables, set up the bassinet,  and worked my way through a huge laundry list of chores that I feel compelled to have complete before leaving for the hospital.

I should mention I have not done this alone.  Eli has been drafted into many chores and thankfully takes my nesting very gracefully.  On top of my flurry of home activity, we also had Vacation Bible School for four consecutive nights, and while I ran registration, Eli soldiered through with my not quite 3-year-old, who as you can imagine was not focused enough to sit through all the activities quietly and calmly.  I have also continued my daily visits to the YMCA, and thank goodness for yoga and water pilates for keeping swelling to a minimum and my range-of-motion and general mobility much better than I could have hoped for.

On the fun side, I have also enjoyed an hour-long massage (Not  suggested, but required by my husband for me to get at least one before and one after delivery.  Isn't my life terrible :) )  and I got to go on a girl's night out with a couple of friends to the Melting Pot, another first for me.

So busy, busy, busy- and not surprisingly there have been many nights that I would have liked to write but was too tired to think (or move from the couch without assistance).  I  am so excited to meet my new little guy.  I am nervous too, but thankfully this time the nerves are well-balanced with my happiness and excitement.  I am beyond grateful that Eli will be able to be home longer this time, for so many reasons.  I am  looking forward to watching Will meet his brother, with all the normal highs and lows that will bring.  Mostly I think I am looking forward to not jumping into the abyss so blindly.  I have no illusions that I am going to suddenly know everything the little guy needs unfailingly or instantly, but I don't think I have experienced anything scarier that the first 4 days we were home with Will.  Part of that is postpartum hormones racing through the bloodstream, but the rest is blind terror at the realization that you are responsible for a life and have no idea how to take care of it.  I can't control the hormones this time, but hopefully experience will help temper things a bit.

So the countdown is on.  It is constantly in the back of my mind, which, as you can imagine, makes every minute drag.  So I am going to continue to try and stay as busy as possible.  Will automatically keeps me reasonably busy, and add in the Y and play dates with friends and church activities I am going to try to keep my eyes (and my mind) off the clock as much as possible.

14 days, 12 hours, and 33 minutes.  :)

New Battery, sad day

I am back on the information super highway thanks to quick ordering by my husband and the resulting new battery and power supply.  I still have all those wonderful, fun things to talk about, but my thoughts are not on them.  I just want to ramble for a moment about the news I have taken in today about the shooting in Colorado.

There is no sense to be made from a senseless act.  We are human, and therefore will try to make dots connect whether they do or not because we want most of all to understand things that scare us and feel like we have some amount of control.  I have already read commentaries that either place blame or defend any number of variables from last night's attack that will inevitably come under scrutiny.  I am not interested in placing blame on anything or anyone other than the individual that committed this act.  There will undoubtedly be circumstances uncovered about this person that will provide one label or another for his actions.  Regardless of those labels, I know that he ultimately is the only responsible party.  I am sad for his family, and beyond sad for those who were victimized by his actions- directly or indirectly.

I am also sad because this shooting has placed a dark cloud over a favorite pastime for so many in our country and around the world.  I know reasonably and calmly that this act could have taken place in any number of places, but the fact is it happened in a movie theater; a place where, more than most others, we choose to lower our barriers and lose ourselves in a story, collectively making ourselves vulnerable.  It is a wonderful form of escape and one that I have loved since I was a kid.  And while I am absolutely a supporter of not letting bad events or bad people take things from us because of fear, I can't help but feel some reservation returning to a theater in the near future.  I really don't think that the shooting last night was anything but the random act of a disturbed person, but sitting here 8 1/2 months pregnant, I can't help but imagine the unthinkable, and wonder if it is the most responsible thing to do on my part.

As I arranged my mat and prepared for my yoga class to begin this morning, I started thinking to myself about what I would do if someone violent came into the space I was in.  I visualized multiple scenarios and thought about what I would do.  I know that this sounds very paranoid and a little crazy, and I can't say that I don't agree.  The saddest part of this confession however is the fact that I have run through these kinds of scenarios in my head for years.  And I am not alone.  Since the shooting in Paducah in 1997, when I was a sophomore, and then again in 1999 when the Columbine shootings took place, I have had these scenarios run through my head, and even had group conversations with my friends about what we would do should something like that happen.  Every couple of years another horrible event takes place that causes these imaginings to re-emerge.  Of course, the imaginings run from blatant survival to heroic acts.  It is a sad reality of the kids of my generation and those generations following that we have good reason to think about these things.  When I was in college I became friends with a guy who I later found out had been hurt in the Paducah shooting, and whenever something like this happens I think about him and wonder what his thoughts are.  He is an extremely intelligent and calm person, one I admire very much, and while I know he has the maturity and presence of mind to handle these horrible things (probably more than most) I hate to think of him hurting again because he really knows what it is like to be in that situation.

I am not sure I am making much sense, but I needed to vent a little of what I have been thinking about this today.  I am still really excited to see The Dark Knight Rises, as I have been a fan of the series and have my theories about how the film will bring the trilogy to a close.  I just need to think a little longer about when and how I am going to see the movie.  I feel so much for those who were attacked in that theater, and pray for them and their families.  I hope they can get the help they need and the support they deserve.

The Computers Hate Me

I am stealing Eli's work laptop to quickly update for my dear readers.  I haven't forgotten you.  I have many topics that I would like to ponder in this space but for one obstacle.  The computers in this house HATE me.  Eli would argue that they hate him too, but he does still have his fabulous, MOBILE work computer to work with.  Both our home laptop and desktop have gone on strike, and it will be some time before an agreement can be reached( agreement being us forking over the funds to fix the fickle things).  I am not completely without means of communicating with the world wide web, but my Kindle Fire is a browser, and not great for any kind of serious typing.   So please know this isn't me slacking- I would love to tell you about my cupcake successes of late, the adventure of preparing the house for a second child, and the antics of my almost 3-year-old, just to name a few.  As soon as possible I will share.  I may be able to steal this marvelous machine again soon with more time to write.  Meanwhile, I am reading the posts of my fellow friend/bloggers, and will try to catch up on commenting soon as well.

In case you think I've forgotten...

I promise I haven't.  Forgotten to write that is.  Just went through one of those periods when I have more to do than time to do it.  And if you dear readers will be patient with me for just a couple more days, I will have plenty to share.  I have cupcakes to share, as well as decorating stories (with pictures!). Just wanted to check in though and say I am still here and haven't abandoned this blog yet again.

My Giant Little Baby

So today we had our 28-week appointment, and an ultrasound to get a size estimate.  I love any opportunity to  see my little guy, and today we had the added bonus of getting a 3D photo of Ben's face.  We never had a 3D image of Will, so it was very exciting to see one of Ben.  His little face is so cute!  His eyes were closed and his little lips were all puckered up.  He put on a bit of a show for the ultrasound tech, rolling and kicking whenever she would get a good shot.  It seems he never stops moving!

For those of you who don't remember, Will was an exceptionally large baby.  10 lb, 7 oz at birth.  Yes, I did type that correctly.  There is a reason my son came through the sun roof.  And before you ask me in your head, no, I did not have gestational diabetes, and Will had no blood sugar issues after birth.  He was just a big baby.  He has never been below the 99th percentile in height, though his weight percentile has been on a gentle decline throughout his life.  All these factors are the reason I had an ultrasound today.  My doctor, whom I love dearly, made an educated guess that our next child could likely be large.  And since I was hoping for a VBAC (vaginal birth after c-section) delivery, keeping up with the size of this child is important.

So we got in the ultrasound room and our tech started getting measurements.  Two pictures in she said, "Yeah Mom, he is going to be big".  And I just sort of sighed and rolled with it.  As she continued to take measurements we got to see our perfect little guy.  She commented multiple times on how good everything looked, and when I asked she pointed out that there was no fat accumulated on the baby.  She indicated several areas where fat pads develop later in pregnancy, and there was no fat to find, which was fabulous news.  If there had been fat accumulation she would have been concerned about my blood sugar.  She told me, "you have no control over this.  It is genetic- you just make big babies".  The best part was I knew she was telling me the truth.  I love our ultrasound tech as much as our doctor, and while she is a lovely, kind woman, she would have no problem telling me if she thought something wasn't right.

So at this point Ben is measuring 4 weeks larger than he is.  After the ultrasound I had my regular appointment, which also went well.  We decided that unless something changes pretty significantly in the next month, we are going to have another c-section.  I am a little sad about this, but I know that my safety and Ben's is most important.  And the up side is that if we do have a c-section I can schedule it a week before my due date- makes things easier on me and gives Ben one less week to become giant-sized in my womb.

I am a little bummed about how things have turned out because I have been working so hard to exercise and control my weight-gain with this pregnancy, and ultimately it didn't change the outcome.  I don't regret the work because of the health benefits we have both received, but it is frustrating not to be able to control this more.  On the other hand, I do not feel guilty.  When I found out Will was big, I was devastated, and felt so guilty.  I transferred a lot of my unhappiness about my body image and weight to guilt that I was making Will unhealthy, which turned out to be completely wrong, but I couldn't see that until much later.  This time I know I have done everything I could to be healthy, and I can hear what my doctors are telling me and know it to be the truth.  Eli sat there today and kept smirking at me and wiggling his eyebrows and when I would ask him what he was doing he would crow about making big strapping boys and swelling with macho pride. I am taking my cue from him and will proudly tell anyone interested about my giant little baby.

A half a year gone, and look what happens

Two friends, one a long-time blogger and one just starting, have by example made it clear to me that I have neglected this blog for far too long. One friend decided to start a blog to remove herself from the Facebook craziness and share her family adventures with friends, and another has returned after a rough patch of dissatisfaction with her creative direction and loss of motivation. Both write for different reasons, but both have committed to writing consistently, which has inspired me to get back on the horse.


 The last time I wrote, I was welcoming the beginning of a new decade of my life. What I did not mention in that post was that Eli and I were also beginning the journey to welcoming a new life into our lives. On my birthday I was just shy of 6 weeks pregnant, the tiny life so new that we had not yet been to our first prenatal checkup. My excitement about this pregnancy was and is beyond description. We had a long road of trying and disappointment leading to this new life, and the relief of success and joy following is such a gift. 


Pregnancy has been good the second time around, though more different than I would have suspected. Unlike my first pregnancy, I have had a multitude of symptoms to deal with, including 3 months of morning, afternoon, and evening sickness. Yuck! Aside from said sickness, none of the other symptoms have been particularly bad, though my repressed immune system has made allergy season much, much worse than normal for me. I have such sympathy now for those who go deal with severe allergies every year. I don't know how I would cope.


 One of the good differences about this pregnancy is my exercise routine. When pregnant with Will, there basically was no routine between working until 7 months along and then moving to a new city almost 1000 miles away from our apartment in Baltimore. This pregnancy I have been at the YMCA as much as possible. In the first 2 trimesters I was there 5 days a week more often then not. These last 3 weeks have not been as good because of travel and appointments, but I am back in gear this week and plan to continue this routine through the end of the pregnancy. I feel so much better and have not gotten nearly as big as I did the first time around. May I just ask, where has yoga been all my life? I scoffed at yoga for years but have now seen the light. I have a yoga class every day of the week and it is my favorite activity by far.


We found out in mid-March that our new bundle is a little boy! Will is going to have a baby brother, and I may apply for combat pay. :) In all seriousness though, I am delighted to have another little boy. Before we knew, when asked Eli and I would both say it would be nice to have a girl, to have one of each. And there was plenty of talk about how wonderful a little girl could be. When the ultrasound tech was taking the images, she initially thought we had a girl, only to correct herself two minutes later when the umbilical chord moved out of the way. If there was ever a sure-fire way to know if you truly had a preference, that would be it. Thankfully, I was just as happy to learn he was a boy as when I thought he was a girl.

                                                             Baby Boy at 21 weeks


 Choosing a name for this little guy was a bit more of a process than with Will. Will's name had been decided upon long before he even existed. This time, we had plenty of girl names ready, but not another boy name. I went though one of those giant baby name books and made a list, then made Eli do the same thing without seeing my list. The list of common names between the two lists was depressingly short, so it sat untouched. The day we found out the gender, while we were waiting for the doctor, I asked Eli what he thought about Benjamin. Eli, in his customary way, thought for a quiet minute, then said he liked it just fine. A few weeks later, after learning that Benjamin happens to be a family name on Eli's mom's side of the family, we agreed on a middle name from my side of the family. Benjamin Armstrong Roberson is what we decided upon, and Will very gladly will tell you that "Baby Ben" is in my tummy.


Speaking of Will, good grief is he growing up fast.  He is all boy, and such a talker!  ( I know, big surprise he is a talker, he is my child.)  He loves to play pretend and lines all his toy vehicles up to make them into one huge train.  He is currently obsessed with the movie Cars, and runs around the house quoting lines from the movie.  Potty training is happening slowly but surely,  probably more slowly than necessary but that is totally on Momma and Daddy.  He graduated to a toddler bed in early  March, and has done much better than I could have hoped.  We still find him sleeping under the bed fairly regularly, but he is staying out of things for the most part. He likes to tell stories and play at the park, and he absolutely knows how to turn up the cuteness factor to try to get what he wants.  Will is also going through what I am told is the typical emotional, dramatic 2-year-old phase.  Everything is either a huge joy or a huge tragedy.  We get several mini-meltdowns on any given day.  The funny thing is if you can get a word in edgewise to tell him what is going on, he normally calms right down.  I will offer something and he will scream and moan " I don't WANT that!!", and if I can get through the noise enough to remind him he isn't being forced and ask him how to say it nicely, he will calm down immediately and say "no thanks, Momma."  


 In a couple of weeks my best friend will be coming to visit in order to paint the spare room to become Will's new room.  We are going to decorate it with Thomas the Tank Engine decals and the walls will be painted sky blue and grass green.  I think it is going to be great, and I know Will is going to love it.  We will also be adding a waterfall to the murals in the nursery, along with a big turtle with Ben writing in the shell markings.  Plans for these rooms have caused me to start nesting early, and I know I am driving Eli out of his mind.  But I get so anxious worrying about all the things around the house that I want done before Ben arrives, because I know it will be months before we are really back to any kind of normal once he arrives.  I got in such a tizzy Saturday that Eli let me have my way, but only once I promised that Sunday afternoon I would take a break and go see a movie in order to protect every one's mental health.  I agreed, and as usual in these situations, Eli was right.  


That is as much as i think goes in this particular blog.  I have several entries under the topic of baking, and books I have read that I will share shortly, and if I am a slacker please feel free to call me on it.  I truly want to be more consistent with this blog.

A New Year, and Goodbye to my 20's

So we welcomed in 2012 very quietly at my house. Eli and I made it to midnight, but just barely. I know that 2011 was not a good year for many people, but we really can't complain. Given the ups and major downs of 2010, 2011 was nice for us because it was steady. No huge highs, but also no terrible lows. Given the circumstances I say that counts as a pretty good year. I am looking forward to all that 2012 will bring for my family.

Just a day after saying hello to a new year, I have had to say goodbye to a decade. Today I turn 30-years-old. I am no longer in my 20's. To be honest, this doesn't bother me a bit. I would be lying if I didn't admit this birthday has caused me to pause and reflect, but I came to no negative conclusions. I am glad to be 30. I hope that my 30's will be a time of really enjoying adulthood and being confident and satisfied with my decisions and the direction of my life. I want to be less concerned with what I "should" be doing, and more concerned with what will make me and my family happy. A decade of not worrying what other people think sounds really wonderful, doesn't it?

5 Years and Proof My Husband Knows Me

In just a few shorts days, my wonderful husband and I will be celebrating our 5th wedding anniversary. It really seems crazy that we have been together for 7 1/2 years, and married for almost 5. Crazy because that time is both forever and a blink of the eye. I am so incredibly lucky that I am every bit as happy today as I was on my wedding day; happier really as our lives are so much fuller.

We have done so much and grown in a multitude of ways since we began dating. We got together the summer after college graduation; I started to make a list of some of the things we had experienced/survived together but stopped because I realized that the particulars aren't necessarily interesting to you dear readers, and regardless a list wouldn't begin to explain our experiences and history. I would imagine that most couples that have travelled more than a handful of years together happily (at least mostly) would say the same thing.

So to celebrate what we both consider our first milestone anniversary, we agreed to be a little extravagant with our gifts. We talked about general budgets and went on our merry way. I puzzled for a while over this- Eli is not particularly easy to buy for as he rarely has a burning desire for any "thing" and what items he puts on a wish list tend to be very modest. After a lot of thought I decided to get him a new subscription to satellite radio, and a pair of replacement ear buds with microphone for his Iphone. When we bought the Caliber in 2008 it came with a full year of Sirius free, but we had to let it lapse at the end of that time because we didn't feel we could afford such a luxury item. Eli had been sad to see it go, especially since we were just transitioning to the daily commute that would be keeping him in the car up to 2 hours a day. I was able to get him 15 months worth of the radio and stay within budget (yay free previews and discounts for being a return customer)!

Strangely, all through this talking and planning time, Eli never once asked me what I wanted. Even more strangely, I didn't really notice. Typically Eli will ask for my input before buying a gift. He doesn't always get the things I suggest,(which I actually really like) but he at least asks. But the time came and went and one day he just let me know he had ordered my gift and it would be arriving in a couple of days. He had it delivered to the lab so I wouldn't see it by accident if it was left on the stoop by the deliverer. Of course this lit a fire under my behind and I immediately ordered the subscription. The plan was to hold on to our gifts and actually present them to each other on this Friday. Unfortunately, in my haste to catch up with him, and the haste of the person selling me the subscription, the radio was activated the day I purchased the subscription, rather than our anniversary. I spent a fruitless 20 minutes on the phone trying to get it corrected with no success, so I told Eli we would have to exchange gifts early. He didn't seem to mind this, and in fact seemed very confident about his gift.

It was only in the day leading up to the exchange that I really started to wonder what he may have gotten me. My sister and best friend were both full of ideas- they got me so excited that I started getting nervous. I had been messing with Eli and told him that I had to go pick up his present because it had been delivered early, and I needed the Caliber and a tape measure to measure the hatch because I wasn't sure if it would fit. This really threw him for a loop. So after we put Will to bed I asked him if he wanted his present 1st or 2nd. He said first, so I made him put his shoes on and go out to the car, closing his eyes as he approached so he couldn't see anything. Once inside, I first gave him the ear buds, which he was delighted with and laughingly said could be his entire present. I told him to hush and turned the car on and the radio. He was so excited. It was probably the best gift giving I have ever done.

As we walked back into the house I was getting more and more nervous. He retrieved my gift from the basement. It was in a big black garbage bag, so I had no idea what it could be other than it obviously was somewhat heavy. Eli made me look at the ceiling while he removed the garbage bag. What I saw when I looked down made me immediately start crying- I was beyond excited. What he gave me was:



That's right dear readers, a 5 Quart Kitchen Aid Artisan Mixer!!!! I have wanted one of these since we got married! This, the Cadillac of all stand mixers, and it is mine!!! If I ever had any doubt about how well my husband knows me, and how much he really does pay attention to things (even if his short term memory isn't always the best :) ), that doubt is gone forever. This was the most thoughtful, wonderful gift he could have possibly come up with. I know that some women would consider various forms of bodily harm towards their husbands if given a kitchen appliance as an anniversary gift, but not me. This present was perfect.

The Cake

Ok, I know I have shocked you. 2 posts in one day blows way past expectations for this blog. But this has been a big week, and I have LOTS to share!

So, as mentioned in the previous post, Will's birthday was Sunday. We decided to have a party for him on Saturday the 24th. We went with a Thomas the Tank Engine theme,(one of Will's favorites) and I decided we would make individual homemade pizzas for dinner. We invited all our friends from Eli's lab, and our friends here in Festus who have a son 6 months older than Will. All-in-all I think we had a good plan. I decided we needed a festive cake to go along with the party's theme; a cake that would really make Will excited. I can tell you I succeeded in giving Will that surprise. I can also tell you I almost killed myself getting it done.

The Friday before the party, Will and I went to the St. Louis Zoo with our friend Julie and her son Jake, our frequent play date partners and good friends. Julie's father joined us and Eli even came from the office to walk around with us for a while. A good time was had by all. Julie, being the saint that she often is, offered to keep Will for me the rest of the afternoon so that I could get busy baking the cakes. I took her up on the offer and went directly home.

The cake I chose to make is from an idea on sproutonline.com. Sprout is a cable channel composed entirely of PBS shows for preschoolers. It is currently Will's only source of television, and regularly shows party and craft ideas. The cake is actually relatively simple- instead of using traditional cake pans, bake two standard size cake recipes in 12 mini loaf pans. Once baked, use 2 of the mini cakes to form Thomas (I cheated and used unrolled and stacked swiss cake rolls for the barrel of the engine), and decorate the others as train cars. Create a track out of sugar wafer cookies and crushed chocolate cookies, and top frosted train cars with candy freight. Not too bad, right?

Well I never accurately account for the time needed to put big baking projects together. I did get all the baking done on Friday afternoon with no trouble at all. I made half of the cars from a banana cake recipe that I knew Will loved. I made the other half with a great moist chocolate cake recipe- both can be found in the Better Homes and Gardens Cook Book. The banana cake got cream cheese frosting and the chocolate cake got a fluffy white frosting with a touch of orange extract. Saturday I spent the first hour I was awake doing little chores and ushering Eli and Will out of the house (Eli took Will to the Transportation Museum so I could work on the cake without interruption or chance of Will seeing it too soon). I began putting the cake together at about 9:15am. I didn't finish until almost 2:00pm. This was for a simple cake!!!

Needless to say, the party went very well. Will was so excited about everything- and didn't immediately realize he got to eat the cake. Below are some pictures of the work-in-progress and the final product.

Birthday Boy!

If you would be so kind, we will all just overlook the fact that it has been seven months since my last blog post and move on. Thank you so very much.

We celebrated my son's 2nd birthday this past weekend. It is impossible to fathom how much my life has changed in those 2 years, or how quickly that time has passed. I am so thankful that I get to be with him throughout the day; perhaps more thankful that I AM thankful at this point, because I remember all too clearly that it was not all sunshine and daisies in the beginning.

Will is, I think, a very normal 2-year-old little boy. Just like all kids his age he is ahead of the curve in some areas, and still catching up in others. We had his check-up on Monday, and he is 38" tall and weighs 31lb, 6oz. He is so far off the height chart at this point that they show us the chart, and then point to his dot way above the top percentiles. No need to say anything else. His weight is average, as is his head circumference (things you don't realize you will keep track of before becoming a parent). We assume that all this height at his age attributes to his, well, clumsiness. Of course, the Davis klutz gene can't be ignored either. He can't quite get both feet off the floor yet when trying to jump, and while his climbing has improved at a scary rate, he can still fall down in the middle of an empty room for absolutely no reason at all. His fine motor skills are improving too, but we aren't jumping ahead developmentally there either.

Where my son really shines though is in language skills. Imagine, a son of mine being a talker!! At 24 months they want to see him putting at least 2 words together. Will has been putting 3 and 4 words together for several months now, and even goes for a 5 word phrase once in a great while. The funny thing about this though is that unless you are around him all the time you would never know how much he talks. In public my son turns into his father- quiet and observant until he feels comfortable, which can take a while. Once he finally lets loose, he usually surprises the people around him.

We have had so much fun with Will, and it just keeps getting better. He waits for his Daddy to come home so they can go play in the backyard or the car. He loves playing with his fire truck or school bus, but also loves to cuddle his puppy or teddy bear. He is experiencing those wild swings in mood and emotion that often result in the dreaded tantrum, but thankfully they are usually brief and handled without too much trouble. On the rare occasion when he truly loses control of his emotions he seems as much confused as to why he can't calm down as anything else.

We have also entered the phase where he wants to make all his own decisions. This one is hard for me, mostly because I have been so accustom to his laid back personality. Now I have to remember to present things to him in such a way that he feels he gets a choice, which when you are in a hurry isn't always easy. He wants to be independent so badly, and boy what a tug-o-war that can be for a Momma. We are working through it just like everything else.

I am so looking forward to what this next year brings. Of course, I am also worried too. We have some big milestones to get through in the not too distant future, including potty training and a big boy bed. I get the worry lines on my forehead just thinking about that. But it seems like every big worry looks so silly in retrospect, so I know we will get through it all with a happy little guy.

Filling in the Branches of the Family Tree

(I should preface this entry with a confession: My on-again status regarding my family tree is due entirely to the fact that I am so easily swayed by things on television. Eli swears I should be a marketing test subject, because I respond so strongly. NBC has started showing a new season of "Who Do You Think You Are" which is basically one long commercial for www.ancestry.com and after the first episode I immediately jumped on and started filling out a tree. I have promised myself that if I make enough progress on my own I will purchase a one month subscription so I can actually see and print all the documents I am searching through.)


Since my early teen years I have held an on again, off again interest in my family tree. I have always loved history (eventually deciding to minor rather than major in the subject in college once political science had wooed me away) and exploration of the family tree is a very personal way to experience history. I shared this genealogical interest with my Great Aunt Corinna, sister to my Gran, and someone I honestly didn't spend much time with. However, when she learned of my interest, she was pleased enough to share what I consider to be treasured documents with me. Through much hard work and many hours of combing through records, Aunt Corinna had compiled a a family tree (well specifically one very long branch) of her father's (my great grandfather's) line. And by very long, I mean the the first entries date back to 1146 ad.

I know, it seems hard to believe. Certainly hard to believe that one could trace their heritage back accurately to such a distant point in history. But it seems that such things happen more than I would have suspected. In the case of this branch, accuracy can be depended upon because this branch had historical significance. I was told Aunt Corinna went no further back than William Marshall of England because she believed he was an orphan. My recent research reveals that in fact there is a record of William Marshall's parents, and I am excited to start researching a bit further back.

So who is William Marshall? Well, according to multiple sources, "Sir William Marshal, 1st Earl of Pembroke (1146 – 14 May 1219), also called William the Marshal (Guillaume le Maréchal), was an Anglo-Norman soldier and statesman. He was described as the "greatest knight that ever lived" by Stephen Langton. He served four kings — Henry II, Richard the Lionheart, John and Henry III — and rose from obscurity to become a regent of England for the last of the four, and so, one of the most powerful men in Europe. Before him, the hereditary title of "Marshal" designated head of household security for the king of England; by the time he died, people throughout Europe (not just England) referred to him simply as "the Marshal"." Specific to me, he was my great (x29) grandfather. Yes grandfather 29 generations back.

This is very exciting for me, since I particularly love English history, but also because it makes following the family tree down to my grandmother's family much easier because the children, grandchildren, great grandchildren, and on down the line of William Marshall were members of the royal family or at least members of Court. They married other noblemen and noblewomen, and essentially kept themselves in the record books for long enough that by the time history stopped caring about them we have come forward enough in time that Aunt Corinna could and I can verify their offspring easily by more conventional methods.

Having such a huge head start on one branch of my tree has motivated me to learn as much about the rest of my family as I can. This will be much harder work though for two reasons; first, I have no one forging ahead of me to give me so much to go on, and second, estrangements on both sides of my family (some before my time and others involving me) make it hard to get information that normally you could just call an older family member up and ask about.

Despite those obstacles, I have made some progress. I have learning things in conversation with my father and grandfather that I never knew. I have found that my paternal great great grandmother used to be a telephone operator in the old switchboard days. I have learned I have many farmers in my family, on both sides, and a few coal miners too. I have learned that distant relations on my mother's side helped to form the state of Maryland. All of it is fascinating to me. Everything from the knights to the miners is a little piece of my history. I cannot wait to find out more.

P.S. If I can figure out how to make an image you can actually see, I will post a picture of the hand-written tree my Great Aunt Corinna gave me all those years ago. It is beautiful, and a testament to the hard work she did to provide this information for our family. It is several feet long and all done it tiny, perfect script.

Dirt

Boys get dirty. Little boys seem to make their top priority finding any kind of dirt or mess and covering themselves in as much of it as possible. It isn't to say little girls don't get dirty too. I never had a brand new pair of white tennis shoes that didn't find a huge mud puddle within days (sometimes hours) of purchase. If there was a puddle within a 100 feet of me, I would manage to fall into it. Craft time meant paint, glue and glitter on the elbows of my shirts and somewhere on my pants. But I would argue that my dirt interaction as a little girl was more a by product of my play or lack of attention on my part, where as with little boys (and specifically my son) dirt seems to be the aim from the get-go. Playtime is what happens when you busy making a mess.

Turns out I am a bit of control freak about messes. (NO! Say it ain't so- not you! Yeah yeah...) If going purely on instinct I would have a wet wipe always in my hand and my son would be playing outside wrapped in plastic. He would have come out of the womb knowing how to use utensils and place his napkin neatly in his lap. And I don't get it. I am not a super neat person. I am controlling and want to be the boss of many, many things- but I wouldn't consider neatness to be high on that list. I was a horrible slob as a child. My room was the stuff of legend. But somehow with the birth of this child, a switch has been flipped. I clean his toys up every time he lays down for a nap or goes to bed for the night (though to be fair he does help me clean them up- good habit rather than developing compulsion I hope). I had such a hard time making the leap to Will feeding himself completely that ultimately Eli made the transition for me while I was gone for a week. I will strip Will of his clothes whenever I think a meal is too messy.

It is a compulsion I suppose, because when I actually stop and think about things, I tend to take a deep breath and relax. His clothes will come clean, I know. Dirt won't hurt him at all, I know. And when I take that breath, we have SO much more fun. Playing in dirt is part of learning for Will. So I am working on it. Today we played in the park and he was playing with wood chips and sand and on his hands and knees on the jungle gym having a blast. And I had such a good time watching him that when he fell on his hands and knees in a big puddle, I just laughed and told him to get up and go on. Next thing you know I will be out making mud pies with him in the yard. But I will still pick his toys up multiple times a day. Compulsions must be dealt with one step at a time.

Getting started... again.

I am under orders to post a blog today. I have a terrible time getting started again when a lot of time has passed because I feel the need to share things in chronological order. When you let months go by without sharing new info, this need to go in order makes it seem impossible to be interesting. So I am going to ignore my need for order and march on.

We have had a wonderful warm snap this past week, which is much welcomed by me and my love of light and warmth. I feel a push of energy and desire to accomplish as much as possible when I can walk outside without a jacket and see the sun shine on everything. For Will this means lots of "trips" as we call them to run errands, and visit the local park. He now regularly requests to "seeside" which for those of you who do not speak toddler, is a request to "see outside". Sometimes this is accompanied by the adorable "peasss" or "please" with a grin already developed to charm anyone within range.

Will is such a little boy now. I had the chance to help my best friend out with her new little guy a couple of weeks ago, and the stark difference between that newborn and my giant son could not be ignored. I came home and was sad to realize that I would never think he was a baby again. To top off this mental transition for me, I bit the bullet and decided with Eli that it was time to cut Will's hair. For those of you who didn't see it, my son had a glorious head of curls. It had gotten so long though that when he bathed his wet hair fell half way down his back. Baby mullet is not cute, so with a sad heart we took him to Great Clips for a real haircut.


Will just before Christmas.


Will just after his haircut.

As you can see, with a few snips of the scissors, my child went for a baby to a little boy. It was hard to watch, and I admit I shed a tear or two. However, it was time, and I don't want to fall into that trap of limiting my child because of who I want him to be rather than recognizing and enjoying who he actually is. And boy who he is right now is a hilarious, sweet, mischievous piece of work. He is learning to climb everything in sight. His vocabulary is exploding, and anything he doesn't know on his own he will happily mimic (meaning any slips of the tongue can have SERIOUS consequences). He is also so fun to watch when he is trying to figure something out. Like all toddlers, he can get emotional when a task frustrates him, but like his Daddy he is content for much longer than I would expect to trying things on his own. He has been introduced to time out, and has spent his fair share of time on the dreaded time out spot, but we are in that glorious stage where he hasn't figured out that he can protest his consequence beyond crying on that spot.

I am looking forward to more consistent warm air so he can enjoy wearing himself out in fresh air. But for now I am content to spend my time reading him the same 5 books over and over again at his demand, playing with Elmo, and chasing him around the house. If it is to be, warm weather will hopefully also bring the beginning of another pregnancy, and the journey to bringing a sibling home for this little guy to play with. Now that this first one back is over, I also hope to get back on the wagon of writing regularly. I certainly enjoy keeping up with my favorite bloggers, and feel it's time to contribute back to the pool of experiences shared.

Auld Lang Syne

Or, for the sake of old times as it is loosely translated- I hope you all look back at this past year fondly and look forward to coming days with joy and anticipation for all that is possible. With or without a resolution, I hope to do just a little better this year than I did last in all things, and to enjoy life rather than rush through it. I hope for you to achieve whatever hope or goal you put before yourselves. Happy New Year faithful readers!

The Last Three Months, by Samantha Roberson

I had to take a moment and re-read my post from September 21st so I would know where to begin my story. Rather than pick up with the house, I am going to try and work through events of the past 3 months chronologically so I can catch up more quickly to fun things that have happened more recently.

Just 4 days after that mournful post, we celebrated my son's first birthday. It is extraordinary to me how much our lives changed in the course of his first year of life. After spending the first 6 weeks wondering if I was physically and mentally capable of caring for this small person, life began jumping ahead at an alarming rate. He is such an amazing little guy, and I truly hope his childhood doesn't all fly by so quickly.

We decided to invite 2 girls from Eli's lab who have done some babysitting for us along with their significant others to a birthday dinner. One of the guests is a vegetarian, so I took the opportunity to use a recipe I have for black bean pineapple enchiladas, cilantro-lime rice, and a green salad with Mexican influence. I also decided that I was going to make Will's cake, and go all out. Eli and I decided that a turtle cake would be perfect, first because I have the Bake-n-Fill pans that make dome shapes very simple, and because Will would love it.

I started with a crumb layer and let it set in the fridge overnight. Then I piped on the pattern for the shell.

Then I filled in the pattern, added the limbs and head, and added the face.

This cake, and the cupcakes I made in addition, started on Friday night the 24th, and took me most of the morning and early afternoon of the 25th to decorate. I am not a particularly experienced or skilled cake decorator, so I was stressing about how it would look. I ultimately was happy with this first attempt, and Will thought it was all wonderful.

Will in the bathtub, about to enter a cake coma.

Among Will's many wonderful birthday presents, we got him a convertible walking toy, that starts out looking like a scooter that he could push to help him learn to walk, and then converts into an actual car he can sit on and push himself. Our guests were kind enough to assemble it for us while we were giving Will a bath and cleaning up after dinner. I was not quite ready for Will to walk, but I knew he needed the practice.

After Will's birthday things settled down a bit. Will and I had been lucky enough too meet another mom and little boy close to Will's age, and we started having weekly play dates with them and occasional outings to local kid appropriate activities. It was so nice to find someone to hang out with during the day, and it has been good for Will's development too as the other little boy is 6 months older than Will, and can show him new things. I cannot stress what a life-saver this has been for me.

Meanwhile, we were still going through the process to secure a loan to fix the house. We FINALLY got through the paperwork, and had the appraisal for the house. We were beyond happy to find that the appraisal actually came back significantly higher than it was even just a year before. I guess the market was not as bad as we were led to believe and the improvements we had already made to the house had been smart investments. We got the approval for the loan, and signed the paperwork at the end of October. Work did not begin for almost a month after that.

End of October also meant it was time for our favorite holiday. We had talked for a LONG time about making Will a flying monkey, and we actually got the costume made. We decided to dress up with him, so I was the Wicked Witch and Eli was the Wizard of Oz.



We spent Halloween with our new play date friends and had a wonderful time taking Will around the neighborhood. He didn't last more than an hour, but that was perfect as far as we were concerned.

The beginning of November I started getting antsy for Will to start walking. Our pediatrician, as well as all the mothers I had been meeting, assured me that Will was just fine and would walk when he was good and ready. Some of our family on the other hand just couldn't understand why he wasn't walking and were quite vocal about it, which I admit added pressure for me. I tried to explain that he was perfectly healthy, and very, very tall for his age, which can actually delay walking a little, but I started worrying despite my own knowledge. Well, my son will always do things in his own time. Saturday, November 13th, we got up as usual and out of nowhere he just started walking into the middle of the room. No real practice, no easing in- he just started walking, and once again Eli got to tease me about worrying too much.

Work on the house started the week before Thanksgiving, and continued (with breaks for the holidays and for certain elements to set) until December 1st. We are really happy with the work, and even more importantly the general contractor who did the HUD inspection was also really happy with the work. We were even able to take some of the contingency money that we were required to hold out to replace the sliding glass door in the basement that had been damaged earlier in the year. Now we get re-frame the wall and put up drywall, finishing the basement the correct way.

Thanksgiving was very different compared to last year, in a really wonderful way. Last year one thing after the other went wrong, and this year NOTHING went wrong. The turkey was cooked perfectly, the sides were delicious, and the pie as tasty as it was pretty to look at. Will LOVED everything we offered him, which as those who deal or have dealt with toddlers will tell you, is unheard of. I braved the crazies and cold weather in the wee hours of Friday morning to go to Home Depot and snag a 7 ft LED pre-lit Christmas tree at an unbelievable price to replace the ragged, bargin bin tree we have had for 5 years. We got to decorate the tree and enjoy Eli's long weekend.

Since Thanksgiving, I have been in full Christmas mode. I love Christmas, and I tried really hard this year to do the things necessary to keep stress low. So far so good. I however, will save holiday talk for my next post. I know I have glossed over 3 months in just a few paragraphs, and I may think of other tidbits that i must share, but for now that pretty much catches things up.

Yes, I am alive. Yes I am a very, very bad blogger.

I don't even remember when my last blog entry was posted and I didn't pause to check before starting to write this one. I believe that the last time you heard from me I was having a HUGE pity party about my house falling apart. I have much to catch up on. Like my son's first birthday (and the awesome cake I made), Halloween, the house getting fixed (yes, FIXED!) and a wonderful Thanksgiving. I will share all these things with you, dear readers, very soon. But not right now. Right now I am acknowledging that I am a terrible blogger. But that is all I can say for now, because I am preparing for a Christmas party this Saturday. A party Eli and I are HOSTING. I am making TONS of food. I am simultaneously in heaven and stressed beyond reason. Think of me dear readers. I will be back soon.