Mudder's Day

Tomorrow is Mother's Day. "Mudder's Day", as Wiggle Man calls it. 

Except now I can't call him Wiggle Man.  He asked us, in a very big kid sort of way, if we could stop calling him that.  Le sigh.  So, we call him by his proper name now, and here, well, I guess I'll refer to him as W. 

Chicken Nugget is growing like crazy.  While he's average for weight, he's 80th percentile for height.  This means his onesies are super baggy around the middle, but barely button at the bottom.  Clearly, Mr. Tall and Lanky did not inherit my figure. 

He's also teething.  Again.  So between that and the constant growth spurts (are they spurts if it's all the time?) he's not really sleeping.  No, ladies and gentlemen, my baby who starting sleeping 8 hour stretches at 4 months is now waking every 3 hours.  And has been for almost 2 months.  If you see me with an eye twitch and glazed look, now you know why.

In the midst of the crazy, there's a card on the mantle.  W couldn't wait until tomorrow to give me the card he made in school.  There are thumbprint lady bugs, and fingerprint bees fly above foam sticker flowers and green marker grass. 

I think I'm going to frame it.

Mudderhood.  It's messy and joyful, heartbreaking and silly.  It makes me feel like a giant failure, and like the queen of the world. 
Happy Mother's Day,

Not Awesome

I'm sitting here waiting to see if Chicken Nugget is actually going to nap or not.   I gently laid him in his crib, drowsy but awake as per all the expert's suggestions.  Now we wait.  And I'm certainly not going to start anything productive until I know he's actually asleep.

So I thought I'd make you a list.  A list of things that are Not Awesome.  So here it is:

Things That Are Not Awesome:

Finding one of those hairy little spiders that look like teeny tarantulas in the car.

Losing him before you can squish him.

When your 4 year old walks in just as you've put the baby in the crib and loudly asks, "Whatcha doin', Mama?"

The face I make as I shoo him from the room.

Buying pj's for your 4 year-old's pajama day at school, because said 4 year-old only sleeps in his underwear.

Finding Scooby Doo jammies, only to find that the smallest size at Target is two sizes too big.

Buying them anyway.

Paying $17 for jammies that will, in all likelihood, get worn once.

Baby spit up.

Socks. 

Baby socks that never fit, but are darn cute anyway.

The fact that as soon as I finish this list and start doing something, Chicken Nugget will wake up. 

Kisses,

Little Comedian

Let me tell you--Wiggle Man has been on fire this week.  Just now, I picked him up to give him a kiss, and he informed me, "You smell like oven."  (Awesome.)

I asked him what he learned in Sunday School this week.  He told me his teacher taught him about clouds and storms, and that Jesus would protect him from "storms, and ghost-es and haunted houses."  (You should know at this point his favourite book right now is Scooby Doo and the Haunted House.)

So I said, "That's why we don't need to be afraid of those things, right?"
Wiggles:  "Nope.  But I don't think Shaggy and Scooby know that."

Me:  "Well, someone should tell them."

Wiggles:  "Maybe Fred."

Earlier this week, he asked me about breastfeeding.  Pointing to my chest, he asked, "Mama, did I sip out of those when I was a baby?"

Me:  "Yes, for a couple of weeks, and then you drank bottles."

Wiggles:  "Did Chicken Nugget sip out of those?"

Me:  "For a couple of days, and then he got bottles, too.

Wiggles:  "Oh.  Do you make chocolate milk?"

No, Wiggle Man.  Mama has enough trouble making regular milk with these things, let alone specialty varieties. 


Kisses,

Life With 2 Boys

I'm slowly adjusting to my new life as mommy to 2 boys.  Granted, one of them does a lot of sleeping, and the other has learned to, you know, poop in the potty and stuff, but still.  Mama to 2 of the little stinkers. 

Most of the time, they manage to make me laugh.  So what if that laughter occasionally verges on the maniacal, and I'm telling Wiggle Man that he may have to come visit me in the Asylum. 

Wiggles is at that lovely point in life where he knows enough about certain of life's, um, more delicate procedures, but not enough to understand when and where to talk about them.  For instance, a hushed furniture store is not the place to happily prance out of the restroom and loudly annouce, "Mama, I just made a GIANT poop!"  (Complete with hand gestures approximating size of said poop.)

Wiggle Man is convinced that the Rev's sinus issues have to do with rogue beard hair that has traveled up his Daddy's nose.  I'm not sure if he thinks the hair has grown upwards, or if it traveled there post-shave. 

Then there are his Wiggle-isms. 

"Mama, I want to eat with chomp-sticks, so I can be like Kai-lan."  (Thanks, Nick Jr. for your foray into multi-culturalism.)

"Don't leave fer-out me!"  (Oh, Wiggles.  We'd never leave home ferout you.)

"My day is RUINED!"  (He's a bit of a diva, what can I say.)

"Police la-di-da."  (Feliz Navidad, judging by the tune.) 

His baby brother, whose nickname we are still debating, has his share of humour, as well.  Cranky Man, as the Rev seems to think he should be called, causes fits of laughter every time he sticks out his sad, sad little lower lip to cry. 

Chicken Nugget, as I like to call him, still has a slightly odd shaped head.  I can't remember if that's normal still at 3 months, or due to the torticollis.  Regardless, it makes him look a little like a cartoonish evil genius.  So when he gets really angry (like, say, his bottle is 2.56 seconds later than he'd prefer) his face gets all red and he shakes with tiny, tiny rage, I keep waiting for him to shout, "Curse you, Perry the Platypus" or something like that.

Anyway, that's my life these days. Diapers, preschool, bottles, stories, and occasionally, to curl up on a chair with Wiggles and a Cranky Chicken Nugget, and have a bit of a nap. 

Police La-di-da, and Happy New Year, y'all. 

Kisses,

Good News/Bad News

It's been a while since I've done one of these posts, but I thought it might be fun to bring it back, so here goes:

The Good News is that Wiggle Man is feeling better after a weekend long cold, and is actually eating normally.
The Bad News is that eating normally right now includes informing me that the mac n' cheese I made him for lunch "tastes disgusting."  I then attempted to add some shredded cheese to it for him, but was told that I had "scrunched up" the cheese. 

The Good News is that Bam Bam has a new nickname.  While he's as strong now as he was in the womb, he's so laid back that Bam Bam doesn't seem to suit him.
The Bad News (for him) is that I've taken to calling him Chicken Nugget.  I'm sure he'll love that in about 10 years.

The Good News is that the humongaloid spider in Wiggle Man's room this morning was not, in fact, a Brown Recluse as I suspected, and that the Rev graciously, and without mocking me, removed it for me.
The Bad News is that there was a honking humongaloid spider in Wiggle Man's room when I woke him up this morning.  UCK.  (*Cue extensive shuddering*)

The Good News is that Chicken Nugget is perfectly content to sleep through his big brother's temper tantrums.
The Bad News is his big brother's temper tantrums.  I am not as adept at blissfully ignoring them.

The Good News is that I can zipper and button my "big" pre-pregnancy jeans, and zipper and almost button (using the good ol' hair elastic trick) my "tiny" pre-pregnancy jeans.
The Bad News is there is a serious case of muffin top in both instances.  Also, I'm trying not to get too optimistic, since the first couple of weeks after Wiggle Man was born I was almost back to my pre-pregnancy weight.  Then things got very, very scary.
The Good News about that is that my midwife thinks she knows why my body did that, and what we can do to prevent it this time around.  Here's hoping.

The Good News is that I love banana bread, and made a pretty awesome healthified version of it last week.  Whole wheat flour, applesauce instead of oil--next time I may even throw in some flax seed.
The Bad News is that I cannot imagine banana bread without chocolate chips.  And I may have consumed the entire loaf myself over the course of the weekend.  There's nothing wrong with banana bread for dinner, right?  (Before any cyber-detectives jump on this--yes, I know eating tons of banana bread and popcorn is not likely to prevent the scary weight gain from recurring.  I promise, I usually eat very well; my calorie intake is not the cause.)

The Good News is that Chicken Nugget slept long enough for me to eat lunch, and type this post. 
The Bad News is that I have to now wake a sleeping baby to feed him...and waking a sleeping baby's never good.

Kisses,

He's Here!

Bam Bam has made his appearance!

On Friday morning, I went for my regular 38 week appointment.  At my 37 week appointment, I was 4 cm dilated.  Before she checked me on Friday, my midwife wanted to know how I'd feel about stripping my membranes if I was 5 cm dilated.  Then she checked me and said, "Uh....how about if you're 7?!?"

Yep, I was walking around town 7 cm dilated. 

We decided the best thing was for me to go home, get my things together, pick Wiggle Man up from school and get him settled at his friend's house, then the Rev and I would head to the hospital.  Once we were at the hospital, I wanted to see if I could get some stronger contractions going without resorting to pictocin.  I had pitocin with Wiggle Man, and that plus having my water broken equaled some sudden, painful contractions.

So this time around, I walked.  I walked around and around and around the floor.  I sat on a birthing ball.  I sat in the jacuzzi tub.  I walked more.  I sat on the ball more.  And after 4 hours I'd made it all the way to 8 cm.  I know.

So we started the pitocin.  At this point, my water still hadn't broken, but the contractions were picking up.   The Rev made a great labour coach, by the way.  He was fabulous, and I couldn't have done it without him.

Eventually, we realized I wasn't getting past 8-9 cm without my water breaking, so the midwife did that.  Since I have already scarred friends of mine with a detailed account of that, I will save you the visual.  But it would have made a great scene from one of those teen comedy movies, I assure you.

The very next contraction I was ready to push, and about half an hour later, Bam Bam joined our family on "the outside."  The put him on my chest while they cleaned him up, and the midwife waited until the umbilical cord stopped pulsing before she cut it. 

I remember when Wiggle Man was born it was hard to feel anything beyond the relief that I had done it; I had actually delivered this baby.   This time was more emotional for me.  I think knowing how much love I have for Wiggle Man helped me feel that maternal swell of love for Bam Bam right away.  Although, I will admit that some of my first words to Bam Bam were "Thank you for coming out!"

Wiggle Man is so gentle with his little brother, it makes my heart melt.  He gives him tiny kisses on his forehead, and strokes his dark hair.  When Wiggle Man came to the hospital to meet his baby brother, Bam Bam turned to look at him as if to say, "Oh, I know you."   It was darling.   I'm still waiting for the sibling jealousy to kick in.  I'm sure it will, but for now I'm loving every second of my two boys.  And my big one. 

Speaking of Bam Bam, I think he needs a different nickname.  While he certainly was strong and active in the womb, his personality so far on the outside is very laid back.  At the risk of jinxing everything by saying this, he's a really calm baby.  It's a little unnerving.

Kisses,

This Week

Well, I'm still pregnant.

Which is good, really.  Today is the 36 week mark; when I go to my appointment tomorrow I find out if I am allowed off the couch this week, or next week. 

Things have been quiet around here, for the most part.  I hang out on the couch, I crochet, I read, I check my email more times a day than is good for anyone's sanity, and try and keep Wiggle Man occupied.

We have been super blessed by a church family who is taking wonderful care of us. 

Oh, and I try not to eat everything in the house.  Like, this afternoon I had a cheese stick, a pudding cup, and some popcorn.  And I'm seriously considering a bowl of mashed potatoes covered in cheese.  For some reason, the last month of pregnancy for me is always a killer.  I do great with my weight until that last month, when I no longer crave fruits and veggies, but carbs, carbs and more carbs.

In other news:

This big guy had his first day of school today:

He was sooooooooo excited to go to school.  The Rev and I were sooooooooooo excited to have him go.  He's been in need of some routine and some time out of the house.  When he came home, we made a craft for each set of grandparents.  He's been adamant we need to make them something for Grandparent's day, which according to the Sprout channel is coming up.  (Sorry Mom and Dad--I didn't know!)   I'd show you a picture of our craft, but I'd spoil the surprise for Grandma and Poppa, and Grammy and Pop Pop when they get their presents.

Plus, Wiggle Man wrote his name on a piece of paper that was actually legible.  Whoa.

Kisses,