That's a Daddy Question.

There are numerous reasons why I love being married to my husband. He is kind, he is funny, and most of all, he is an active partner in parenting.

I was particularly grateful this morning. While I was getting Caleb dressed, he kept pulling at his underwear.

"What are you doing, Buddy?"

"I'm trying to put my hand in my pocket."

"That's not a pocket Bud."

"What is it?"

"Go ask your father."

Orange Cat

I have a new man in my life.

Let me rephrase that.

I have a new used-to-be-a-male in my life

His name is Orange Cat, and he is wonderful.

We initially met one day while the entire family was out for a walk in the easement property, and there was this small, orange cat lying on the large pile of grass clippings that we had accumulated over the summer. I was initially very skittish and worried that he may be rabid or wild, but those fears were quickly assuaged after Callie went up for a smell and this little cat wrapped himself around her legs. The first words out of my mouth to Scott were "Looks like we have a new cat!" to which he replied "No, we don't."

Over the next three weeks, we (Scott and I, just to clarify) put out small bowls of food for our new friend. Caleb would wake up every morning and want to go outside to see Orange Cat. We often found Orange Cat sleeping outside in Chloe's stroller (which we leave on our porch for ease of use), and if we went for a walk in the neighbourhood, he would follow us along.

Then we found out he was cheating on us. Three other families in our area were also feeding Orange Cat - but he went by different names: Kit Kat, Tom, and Kitty. No one, however, seemed to know where he came from, and he was just too friendly to be a wild barn cat.

Barb, my next door neighbour, and I both tried to find Orange Cat a home. I tried to pawn him off on my patients, particularly those that had expressed an interest in getting another cat. I even tried to give him to the lady that cleans our house. No luck.

Finally, when the weather started turning cold last week, Scott said "You better take Orange Cat to the vet and make sure that he is healthy before we bring him into the house with the other animals." And just like that (!), Orange Cat became ours.

The first night in our house, Orange Cat curled up on my lap and took an hour and a half nap: safe, warm and secure.

I have tried calling him different names ( I am really partial to Oliver), but both Caleb and Scott insist that his name is Orange Cat. So, Orange Cat it is... and it suits him.

Back to the Land of the Living

We have had a household of sick people this last week - varying degrees of sickness, but sick nonetheless.

Chloe started it all with a stomach virus that she was kind enough to share with me.

Then Scott decided that he should get the worst migraine known to man and be hospitalized for three days while the doctors ruled out diagnosis after diagnosis, including my personal favourite: brain hemorrhage. Let me tell ya, there is nothing like getting a phone call at 9:45PM from your husband and him saying: "They just did a lumbar puncture and now they have to send me for an MRI because there was blood in it. They think I might be hemorrhaging from my brain. I love you."

I sat up most of the night waiting to hear from him, but the doctors had him too sedated trying to control his pain and nausea. Finally at 5:00AM I called the hospital and was relieved to find out that he had been admitted, that there was no hemorrhaging and that they were trying to rule out viral meningitis.

The whole experience has put a new meaning to the season of Thanksgiving.

The past few days I have been watching Scott with new eyes, and loving him with a renewed heart. I feel so blessed to have such a wonderful, caring, and compassionate man in my life. I've even stopped nagging him about the popsicle wrappers he leaves everywhere. ;)

We went out for lunch today, the first time we had done so as a family of four. Amazing that it took five and a half months.

Kate Inglis's Meme

I've already mentioned my admiration for this author www.sweetsalty.com and NOW I have a chance to win a copy of her first book: http://www.dreadcrew.com/ through her "authoress" website http://www.kateinglis.com/blog/2009/10/13/the-dread-crew-meme-stories-that-stick.html?lastPage=true#comment6075904

I hope you find my answers entertaining - many of you yankees may be confused by some of my answers as I am pretty sure it is Canadian literature ;)

1) You are facing an epic journey. You may choose one companion, one tool and one vehicle from any book or film to accompany you. Or just one of the three. It's up to you. What do you choose?
Companion: Ramona Quimby
Vehicle: Cinderella's Pumpkin Coach
Tool: Harry Potter's Wand

2) You can escape to the insides of any book. Where do you go, and why?
Pfft.. easy. "The Neverending Story" because my imagination changes the landscape and everybody needs a luck dragon.

3) You can bring one literary character into your current life. Who do you choose, and why?
Atticus Finch. I need sound reasoning and a calming voice in my life right now.

4) The Princess Bride is my go-to book. I could read that book fifty-seven times in a row without a break for food or a pee and not be remotely bored. In fact I’ve already done that but it wasn’t fifty-seven times. It was sixty-four. And that was just during my first year of university.

5) Of all the literary or film characters that made an impression on you as a kid, who was the most enviable?
The Child-Like Empress. Something about looking 8 and ruling over another dimension....

6) Of all the literary or film characters that made an impression on you as a kid, who was the most frightening?
Jack Nicholson in the Shining. Why oh why would you let a group of 10 year olds watch that at a slumber party?? Since then, I've not been able to watch a scary movie.

7) Every time I read The Stone Angel, I see something in it that I haven’t seen before.

8) It is imperative that Don Cherry's Hockey Stories and Stuff be made into a movie. Now. I am already picketing Hollywood for this—but if they cast Julia Roberts as Rose Cherry, I will not be happy. I will, however, be appeased if they cast Rachel McAdams.

9) Where the Wild Things Are is a book that should never be made (or should have never been made) into a film. Seriously? How do you get a feature length film from a book that was 10 lines long? Second runner up: Flowers in the Attic. (Another sleep over mistake.)

10) After all these years, the interactive television scene in the book & movie Farenheit 451 still manages to give me the queebs.

11) After all these years, the "As you wish" scene in the book/movie "The Princess Bride" when he is the Dread Pirate Roberts still manages to give me a thrill.

12) If I could corner the author William Faulkner, here’s what I’d say to them one minute or less about their book, As I Lay Dying: I love your book, but why so many narrators? I had to keep flipping back to figure out who was family and how everyone was related. I hate making flow charts for books less than 500 pages long.

13) The coolest non-fiction book I’ve ever read is Gorillas in the Mist. Every time I flip through it, it makes me want to pack up my career as a physio and follow my dream of working with animals.

New Shoes

I took Caleb shopping with me today.

I should have known better.

The day started off innocently enough. I dropped Chloe off at daycare then Caleb and I headed to Sam's club to pick up "essentials" like, oh, formula and pull-ups. (If Target is the $100 Store, Sam's is the $200 Store. Why oh why do I always spend so much money there??)

I had an item that I had to pick up at Babies R Us, so I drug Caleb along with me. I usually love to browse around Babies R Us, but today I was going to be all business. Emphasis on the was.

As soon as we walked in the door I began regretting the Venti, 1/2 caff, non-fat latte that I had consumed, so we headed to the restroom. Judging by the droopiness of Caleb's pants, he had "relieved" himself earlier, so I brought in one of our newly acquired pull-ups to change him as well. I decided that my bladder took priority, so we headed into the handicapped stall (I mean, really, have you tried fitting yourself and your purse and your 2 year old in a regular sized stall?) I did what I had to do, then I decided it was time to change Caleb. No sooner had I started attaching the velcro tabs to fold the diaper and he started peeing. Everywhere.

Then I heard these words coming from me:
"Stop peeing. STOP PEEING! STOP PEEING!!!"

Like a fool, I held the already folded up diaper under him trying to catch the flow. This of course didn't work because the outside of the diaper is impermeable. Instead, I caused pee to splash everywhere! Finally I came to my senses and picked him up and plunked him on the toilet where he finished.

The aftermath was tragic: Pee all over the floor. Wet pants. Mortified Caleb.

As I was trying to clean up with the completely useless papertowels that they had in the restroom and I said to Caleb:
"Buddy, why didn't you tell me you had to pee?"
"cuz"
"It's okay honey, but when you've got to go potty, you have to tell Mommy, okay?"
"okay"

The primary purpose of the shopping trip had been to buy Caleb some new shoes. We hadn't made it to the shoe store yet, so I began weighing my options.

1. We could go home and forget the new shoes.
2. We could go home, change, then come back the 20 miles and get the new shoes.
3. We could buy some new pants, then get the new shoes.

New pants it was! So, how hard could it be to find size 2T pants in a store that has a plethora of baby clothes?

A. Lot. Harder. Than. You. Would. Think.

As I am pushing Caleb around in the cart, trying to get him to stay seated so that as few people as possible would see his drenched pants. *growl* I come to the little boys section and realize the sign says "Layette: 0-9 Months". Are you kidding me??!? I began cursing Babies R Us under my breath.

After 5 more minutes of careful searching, we finally found A pair of pants that fit him. Paid for them, changed him in the car in the parking lot (I wasn't going back to the bathroom!) and headed off to successfully find a new pair of shoes.

Next time, Scott is taking him shoe shopping.

Definition

During Caleb's nap today, I was able to catch up on one of my favourite reads http://sweetsalty.com. I really enjoy this writer's voice, and I was really moved by her "one day in the life" entry.
She had come across an article written by a midwife with this quote: your birth is the most important event in shaping your life as a mother.

"Really?" I thought.
"Really??"
No, this can't be true.

I have many friends who have had many babies, many different ways. Some chose to give birth naturally. Some had natural births, but not by choice. Some planned natural births and were shocked when they heard themselves screaming for the epidural. Some, like myself, felt that drugs were going to be a good thing, and planned to have an epidural. Some were induced. Some had c-sections. Some had emergency c-sections. Some had babies at term. Some had babies early. Some had babies late. Some had babies too early. Some were shocked that they required interventions like forceps or vacuums. Some were just happy to get the baby out. And some didn't give birth at all, but they are nonetheless mothers.

I look at my friends and wide variety of ways that we have come into motherhood, but in no way do I feel that those that have non-medicated births are better than those who had c-sections. And I doubt that my friends who had epidurals are lesser parents than those who are step-moms. And my dear friends who have adopted - no crotch tearing involved - are still in the root of their being mothers.

How these children came to be in this world makes them no less loved, no less longed for, nor does it make them any less apt to drive us CRAZY. And it does not define us as mothers.

Being the New Kid

I was really fortunate growing up: I lived in the same small town from kindergarten to high school. I even stayed in the same school Kindergarten through Grade 8! Being the new kid was never something I had I to experience.

When I went away to college, I was the new kid, but so was everybody else. There was this unspoken need to find kinsmanship with others and to make friends with people -- and quickly. You didn't want to be the person that was never invited to go eat dinner with others, or be that girl who spent every Friday night alone in her dorm room.

So, I made friends. Lots of friends. Circles upon circles of friends. Friends, whom I doubt that 13 years later, would remember my name, and some whose names I wouldn't remember. I had friends from the dorm, friends from work and friends from class. I had a hard time walking around campus without finding someone to talk to, or at least say hi to.

Even moving to, literally, another country to attend grad school, I had a built in group of friends. There were only 40 of us and we were going to spend half of our waking hours together: how could we not be friends?I think that is why this transition has been so hard for me.

I have never, as an adult, had to make friends. And quite frankly, I'm not very good at it. I feel almost as if I have had to start dating again. I put myself out there, give out my phone number, smile a sweet, and what I hope is outgoing, smile and then wait. Sometimes my prey ( and yes, I really do feel at this point that the people I am hunting to be friends with are prey) will return a smile, and even a phone number. Sometimes not. When they do, there becomes a whole new logistical arrangement of trying to meet up. Do I offer my house? Do we try to meet on neutral ground? What is neutral?

I have been choosy with my prey as of late. I am trying to find people who are in the same stage of life that my husband and I find ourselves in. Married, with two young children, and not into hanging out at the bar every weekend. Scott and I have been together for almost 8 years now, and we have pretty much been homebodies the entire time.

B.C. (Before Children) we would occasionally meet someone for drinks, or spend an early morning weekend at the gym. But usually, you would find us at home, doing some type of make work project in the house, in the yard, you name it. After our son was born, we became even more boring. I mean, who would want to do something at a smoky bar when you could watch your child drool? (I think you really have to be a parent in order to grasp the truth in that sentence.) Leaving the house for us now is a momentous occassion. I get excited about outings to Target. Really.

So here I am, living in a new town, without any friends. Don't get me wrong, the people I work with are great and I have met so many interesting people through my work, but no real friends. There is nobody here that I could call at 9:30 and say "Hey, want to come by for some muffins? I'm just pulling them out of the oven." (** Note: Re-reading that sentence reminds me that a) I am not that domesticated, and b) I would have to REALLY be on my game to have muffins made by 9:30AM, but I digress.)

But, truth be told, that is the companionship that I am longing for: someone who I could call to spend time with, or chat with, and not have to make plans with 2 weeks in advance. I haven't met anyone that I can vent to when my husband is doing stupid stuff, or when my kid is driving me crazy can talk me down from the butt whipping that I am planning in my head. Hopefuly, in the near future, I will find someone, that special someone (here we go, back to the dating analogy) that I can give a part of myself to, and they will do the same in return. Because isn't that what friendship is really all about?

Aching

I start work again on Monday.

Today was the first time that I dreaded it.

Today was the first time that I allowed myself to cry over leaving my baby in someone else's care.

Today was the first time that I realized how much shorter our snuggle time together is going to be.

No one else can calm her like I can.

No one else instinctively knows what she needs like I do.



This morning, I was cleaning the bottles that I bought yesterday and it just hit me. And I ached. I physically ached inside. I wanted to curl up on the kitchen floor and have a good cry. But I couldn't, because how do you explain to your two year old that you feel like you are breaking inside?

And how do you justify to him that it is okay for Mommy to drop him off to school because Mommy doesn't come apart in the parking lot any more like she did the first week when he was only 10 weeks old and soooo tiny and vulnerable. Because now he is this big boy, who gives you a quick peck on the cheek and goes off to play with his friends. And how do you explain that you are so proud of him, but that you know that it is going to be a blink of an eye and his sister is going to be doing the same thing. And that you're not ready - not ready for him to be growing so fast, and not ready to lose the baby that she is. You're just not ready.

I'm just not ready.

How things have changed...

I admit that I haven't had an all out birthday "party" since I turned 17. It is not that I don't enjoy celebrating my birthday, or that I ignore it. My birthday falls during a precarious time: the beginning of the school year. When I was in college it was pretty easy to talk a few friends into "Ringing in the New Year", but now that we are older and supposedly wiser, it is a little more difficult.

This year I had glimpse of birthdays future: and they most certainly did not revolve around me! First of all, my morning started of at 3A.M. (thank you Chloe) and then again at 6A.M. Although she had been on a good schedule with sleeping and napping, this fell by the wayside during our recent drive up to Canada and having an upset tummy for, oh, two weeks. We are slowly getting back on schedule but it has been a difficult transition for all four members of the household.

I am tired and a little cranky, but I figure it is nothing that some coffee won't fix. As I was preparing my precious cup of caffeine, Caleb wakes up and he is loaded for bear. I don't think that there is anything closer on this earth to perpetual motion than a toddler. I promise you, he hits the ground running. And shouting. The concept of *inside voice* is completely lost on this child. Caleb knew that today was going to be his first day of swimming lessons and he was "super excited".

We managed to get through the morning until 10A.M. without major problems, but after I got the two kids and all of their gear loaded into the SUV, I realized that the GPS (which I need to get to the YMCA) is not in the vehicle. Scott has it. In his vehicle. Half an hour away. I ended up calling his office and spoke to the lady in customer service (who thankfully knows that I am not completely Looney Tunes) and she was able to mapquest directions for me. *sigh*

We got to the pool super early because (a) we had never been there, and (b) I had to drop Chloe off at their child watch center and didn't know the protocol. When we arrived, I attempted to confirm that we were enrolled in the class and the lady at the desk said "Well, if you signed up online, you must be in there." Warning bells should have gone off at this point. After a quick tour of where the change rooms were by our instructor, we made our way up to child watch and filled out all the appropriate forms.... or so we thought. I have to say, being that it was my first time leaving Chloe with someone who was not family, I did really, really well. I didn't even well up!

Caleb and I head to the change room, get changed and head out to the pool. He sees the water and immediately begins "Iwannagointhepool!!! Iwannagointhepool!!" about 3957 times in a row. I try to explain to him that it isn't safe for us to get in the water until the teacher says it is okay. Then I try distracting him. I am almost at the point of putting duct tape on his mouth when other mommies and their lovely non-verbal 12 month old babies start filing in. Now I am trying to keep him quiet, still and amused. Not so easy.

The instructor comes over and begins to tell us about the class and what the objective will be for us as parents and our kiddos. Then she does role call. We're not on the list. Thankfully, the aquatics supervisor is there and agrees to let us join the class, we just have to register by next week.

Finally it is time to go in the water. Caleb puts his big toe in and starts "I wanna go see Chloe!!" I basically drug him into the pool (it was a bit cold) and forced him to participate in the hokey-pokey. Mean mom, I know. I tried all of my old swim-teacher distraction techniques, but he was having none of it. We left the pool with him in tears and my nerves frayed.

I rushed upstairs to get Chloe, only to find out, child watch is for members only. "Oops. Sorry. It won't happen again." Double ugh.

As I am trying to get Caleb registered for lessons he is doing everything in his power to get my attention. When he started whipping a toy around Chloe's face he got a firm tap on the head and told "We don't hit our sisters."

I later felt horrible about physically disciplining my child in public. I mean, its not like I pulled down his pants and paddled him, but I hated that I had lost control of my temper and resorted to that. When he woke up from his nap later that afternoon, I said "Caleb, do you think I'm a mean mommy?" He looked at me with those big brown eyes and said "No, you Tarrah."

Scott made a delicious dinner of pasta, salad and red velvet cake - and I had a large enough glass of wine that my nerves weren't frayed anymore.

Not quite like my bar hopping days, but I wouldn't trade this stage of my life for anything.

Blast from the Past

We recently returned from a road-trip (i.e. one-way ticket to insanity) to Toronto to see my dad, step-mom and grandma. In case you were curious, driving 8.5 hours in a car with a 2.5 year old and a three month old is not a recipe for fun.

Long story short, my grandma got to meet her first great-granddaughter. I would love to be optimistic and say that she will be around to see many more great-grands, but I am the oldest grandchild by 8 years and none of my cousins are planning on starting or adding to their family any time soon. Plus, Grandma is turning 85 this year and no longer travels.... Anyways, it was a really special moment for everyone there - and Grandma felt strong enough to hold Chloe which I think warmed both of their hearts.

At my dad's house, Mary Ann told me that there was a section of boxes that I needed to go through at some point. I bravely trekked down to the dungeon and found boxes of old memorabilia that would make even the bravest of organizers on Clean House flinch. I had two Rubbermaid tubs filled with letters and cards. TWO. Some of the letters were notes from high school, others were from people that I had met during my travels and no longer kept in touch with (or remembered, I am ashamed to say...) but the flower among the thorns was the collection of letters that my mom and I wrote each other while I was in Switzerland. I haven't been brave enough to read them, and I think I will wait for a snowy winter evening and steaming cup of hot chocolate. I am curious to see how my 17 year old perspective on the world has changed in the past 15 years, and eager to "hear" my mom's voice again.

Aside from the Swiss letters (which I plan to keep for Chloe and Caleb), I am having a difficult time parting with the other notes - which is silly - no one else really cares about my 10th grade crush, or the random post-card I got from a guy in Austria. I feel emotionally attached them and even though I know that these "things" aren't the people in my life and won't take the place of my memories - I don't know how to get rid of them. Any suggestions?

Not for the faint-hearted.

Today was one of those days. You know the kind where you wish that you could hide under the covers for another, oh, year, and then come out feeling refreshed and able to face the world?

My day started off really well. Chloe slept 11.5 hours last night (*I know, can you believe it!?!?*) but it turns out that sleeping that well all night meant NO naps greater than 3o minutes all day today. Ugh.

Then I had my typical power struggle with Caleb to get ready for daycare. You'd think now that he is only going three days a week that it would have gotten easier, that he might be excited to play with friends all day. Ahhh, no. So after a mild fit while being buckled into his car seat (I swear, one day a neighbour is going to call Child-Protective Services on me the way he screeches) we finally arrive at daycare and while I am wrestling Chloe and her car seat out of the CRV, Caleb decides to run up the hill besides daycare. Now, I have a few choices:

1. I can calmly talk to him and try to persuade him that coming down the hill is a really good idea.
2. I can use that threatening tone of voice that you don't really like to use around other parents.
3. I can put Chloe down and chase him up the hill, or
4. I can TRICK him into coming down the hill.

I opted for #4, telling him that I was going to win the race to the front door - and it worked... until he wanted to do it again. (sigh)

My husband also had an uncanny sense for calling just as I was putting Chloe down for a nap. Now, the sleep training is working (Hello!?? 11.5 hours!) but she still takes quite a while to settle, and I am always worried that it is daycare calling to say that Caleb has been hurt so I feel like I have to go get the phone. (grumble, grumble)

After my long day with a screaming baby with an upset belly, I go and pick up Caleb who is being quite good. The phone rings (just as I was putting Chloe down of course) Scott tells me that he has been given a free ticket for a baseball game tonight. I tell him to go ahead and not to call because he keeps waking up the baby.

I finally get Chloe to sleep and Caleb has a toy he wants to show me. He comes running and shouting up the stairs but I manage to stop him on the fourth step and tell him we are going to make dessert but we have to be quiet. He turns to go down stairs and falls on his head on the hardwoods. He starts crying and screaming, this wakes Chloe up and the cycle starts again.

Sigh. Hopefully we'll all get some good sleep again tonight.

Sleep Training

Part of the reason why I haven't been great about blogging since Chloe was born, is well, Chloe. The girl is *not* a sleeper.

This is very bizarre for me to adjust to because Caleb was all about sleeping. He put himself to sleep at a very early age, could sleep anywhere and through anything. Sure, we had a bedtime routine that we followed, and we tried to stick to a bedtime, but pretty much when Caleb looked tired, we put him down. Scott even recalls a time that he had something to do in the living room, so he put Caleb in his crib so that he would be safe and returned 5 minutes later to a sleeping baby. No. Joke.



When Chloe first came home from the hospital, she was frightened of her crib - I think it was just too big of a space for her little brain to fathom. We then tried having her sleep in the blue chair that Christy bought for us (Note: Caleb spent weeks 5-9 in this chair due to the severity of his reflux). The chair would work for a while, but she would rarely nap beyond 20 minutes. Keeping her asleep was easy -- if she slept on you or beside you which is how I ended up sleeping in the nursery. We have a double bed in there, which I guess she will use at some point, and that is where we fitfully sleep together, night after night.

Chloe

Caleb

Plus, there was the whole ordeal of getting her to sleep. Rocking, bottles, nursing, singing, pacing, bouncing - you name it, we tried it. Of course, at the advice of lactation consultants, we did not use a pacifier for the first 3 weeks of her life, and she didn't really take to it that well when we tried to introduce it later.



It has not been for lack of trying that she has slept in the bed with me. I have tried over and over again to put her in her crib or the blue chair, but she would not have any of it - or only for 20 minutes at a time.



This past weekend, I decided that I needed to do something pro-active about the sleeping situation. Scott graciously gave me Sunday afternoon to myself and off I went to Borders, planning to buy a book about the Ferber method. When I found the parenting section, I was surprised at the number of books on sleeping. I finally narrowed it down to three: The Ferber Method, Healthy Sleep Habits: Happy Baby, and The Baby Whisperer. After briefly skimming, I decided the Ferber method was not for me. We had just spent at week with my niece (who has colic) and letting a baby "cry it out" did not sound like something my nerves could handle.



After getting home and reading both books, I decided that the Baby Whisperer had a method that I felt that I could handle. The premise behind the whole book is putting your child on a routine. In a three hour time frame you feed your child, do an activity with them, and then put them down for an hour and a half nap. You put your child to sleep by tapping their backs while in the crib using a heartbeat rhythm and repeating "Shush". You go to your child when they wake up and help them fall back asleep using the same method. You repeat at 7, 10, 1, and 4, with a bedtime of 7:30 following a bath.



We have been following the plan for two days now, and while Chloe isn't totally on schedule,(she fluctuates between 2.5 and 3 hours) she is successfully sleeping in her crib! (Four hours straight last night!) I know that at 11 weeks this wouldn't be a milestone for some parents, but I could jump up and down I am so excited that we have found something that works for her!



I hope that I haven't jinxed it by writing about it! Last night at 9:00 I was walking around the house. Scott looked at me funny and said "What are you doing?" I told him "I don't know what to do with myself. It's 9:00 and I am not frantically rocking a baby to sleep. I feel weird." He just shook his head and laughed.

An Unexpected Gift

About this time eleven years ago, my mom's cancer returned. Every year, the end of summer, up until October 1st (the day she passed) are typically a difficult time for me. Scott has learned to let me be slightly more emotional and continues each year to love me in a way that I don't think I deserve.

This year has been especially tough. I don't know if it is hormones, or lack of sleep, or the fact that I now have a daughter. I have been missing my mom and her motherly advice (more so than I did with Caleb at this age) and I find myself getting teary eyed when I become overwhelmed with the love that I have for my children.

God works in mysterious ways and comforts us with unexpected gifts. My gift came in the form a photo on a friend's facebook page. It was a picture of Kathleen with her two daughters - healthy and smiling. I began to think back to last time that I had seen her and realized that it was the day after her youngest daughter, Molly, was born.

Kathleen delivered at the small hospital in my hometown where my mom was a patient. I happened across her down the hall and asked if she would bring Molly to see my mom. Our families had been close at one time and our moms continued to keep in touch. My mom ( in her previous life ) was an obstetrics nurse for five years. She loved delivering and holding babies and I knew that seeing little Molly would distract her from some of the pain and anxiety she was experiencing.

Kat graciously agreed and brought Molly into the room. Any trace of pain that had been on Mom's face vanished as she confidently held this little bundle. She laid Molly down on her crossed legs and smiled at her little sleeping face. In that moment, she was a nurturer and devoid of any illness.

I have held that memory close to my heart, and today I realized that Mom's reaction to Molly would have been similar for any newborn, including my own. I feel blessed to have Mom's smile at that moment ingrained into my memory. And now when I wonder how Mom would have reacted to my children I can see her soft smile with eyes twinkling and know.

Thank you Kat, for my unexpected gift.

Picture post

Gunka and his girl

Little Miss Curious

Baking Muffins

GQ, here I come!

The many faces of Ms. Chloe

Sibling Love

Ms. Curious strikes again!

A quick story about Caleb and his Sanka:

Many months ago I purchased a "back-up" Sanka for Caleb. It was going to be used in the event that Sanka went missing or became too disgusting to have around any longer (I mean, we wash him...) I hid the back-up at the top of my closet and left him there.

About a month ago, Scott let Caleb take Sanka to daycare - which is fine - but forgot to pick him up at the end of the day - which is not so okay. Bedtime came around and Caleb began to cry that he didn't have Sanka. Scott thought "Aha! Not a problem, I'll get the back-up!"

Scott didn't even get across the doorway when Caleb began to cry "That's not my Sanka!!"

At first Scott tried to convince him that it was Sanka.
"Nnnnnnoooooooo Daddy!! Too soft."

Then he tried to tell him that Sanka had had a bath.
"Bath Daddy?"

After careful examination: "Sanka broken!"

Finally, Scott resorted to telling Caleb that, yes, Sanka was broken, but that Ms. Tina (his daycare teacher) would fix him for tomorrow.

Caleb woke up the next morning "Tina fix Sanka?!?" Scotta assured him that Sanka had been fixed and then had to explain to Ms. Tina how she unwittingly saved the day.

Sanka doesn't go to daycare anymore.

Your Daily Giggle

I am really grateful that Scott's mom was able to come and help us for a week, and VERY grateful that my dad is here for a month ... I love free labour!

Truthfully, we came up with some "projects" for my dad to help us with while he was here, like pretty much painting the entire house. Not kidding. Kitchen, dining room, living room, entryway, staircase and entire second floor landing. In order to prep, dad has done a lot of patch work with spackle to cover up the previous owner's nail holes and dents in the wall.

Scott was noting an area that dad had fixed. Caleb looked at him and said "Gunka did it Daddy."

"Oh, Gunka fixed the wall buddy?"

"No. Bird poop."

Snippets

The thing that worries me most (that I feel I may have some control over) is that I will forget all of the little things that made Caleb so "Two". So here is an unconventional Ten on Tuesday.

1. Since Grandma Joan's visit, the boy is all about washing dishes. I missed capturing any images on my camera - they are all on my MILs. :( The thing that is really funny about "doing dishes" is that he doesn't actually help too much with the washing, more the sink just becomes a large water table for him to play with. His favourite thing is trying to drink the dish water when no one is looking. I am glad that grandparents have infinite more patience and can let little ones be little ones...


2. The boy is really attached to his Sanka. For those of you that have not been formally introduced, Sanka is Caleb's lovey: a large beanie baby elephant who gets dragged around the house and on every car ride. We no longer bring Sanka to daycare, but I'll explain that in another post.


3. I fear that we are growing out of afternoon naps. The naps themselves are becoming shorter, and the struggle to get him to lie down is longer. Not to mention it takes some firm discipline to get him to be quiet in his room.


4. When he does actually want to go to sleep, Caleb insists on having books. He doesn't necessarily want the books read to him, but he wants them on his bed to sleep with. Have any other mommies encountered this?


5. After many months, Caleb will take a bath again! This was of course, prompted by the fact that Chloe takes a bath. Sunday night I sat in the bathroom with Chloe in the blue baby tub and Caleb in the big tub, trying to share his toys. Every few minutes he would look at me and say "No poop, Mommy." I would reply "I know that you are a big boy now and that you know when you have to poop. I know that you aren't going to poop in the tub Cay-man." "No poop, Mommy," with a big cheesy grin.


6. When taking a shower, he no longer wants Scott or I to help him. "I shower myself."


7. Caleb also loves bubbles - he particularly loves the bubble gun that Stacey Manolio bought him as a big brother gift. The trick is getting him NOT to do it in the house.


8. He really loves daycare, especially his teacher Ms. Tina (who Scott and I think is pretty great too!). On the way home from daycare he will cry that he wants to stay with Tina. While that doesn't do much for my ego, it makes me feel really confident in the childcare that he is receiving.


9. When Grandma Joan left to go home, we tried to explain to Caleb that Papa Murray needed her at home to make him supper. Somehow, in his little mind, this was changed to "soup". Now when we ask him where Grandma is he says "Make Papa soup!" He has also started making soup with Play-Doh. If you ask him what his soup tastes like, the answers varies: lemon juice (his version of lemonade), carrots, or cheese.


10. He is still in love with his sister, and that is the best feeling of all!

A moment of sanity

Things have been a lot more challenging this week than we initially anticipated. Last Saturday, I developed mastitis. (This may be an overshare for some of you out there in blog-land, but I am nothing if not honest!) I felt like I had been hit by a truck, not to mention that I had a fever of 102 while trying to care for Chloe and Caleb while Scott was at work. I called him crying on Saturday morning, begging him to come and help me because I could barely drag myself to the bathroom, let alone chase after my two year old. Oh, and did I mention that my MIL was flying into town that afternoon? Caleb was trying his best to be good, but he had the double whammy of being excited to see Grandma and being two.
I've decided that two isn't so much terrible but torturous: it is just Caleb learning how to emote himself. The biggest problem is that he hasn't learned a happy medium between bouncing off the walls happy and temper tantrum mad. He also has not learned to verbalize when he is frustrated versus physically hurt.
Back to the story - so Saturday night Joan arrives with presents and toys for both grandkids. Caleb happily accepts his new Lightning McQueen pajamas and asks to go to bed. He has been coughing a bit during the day, but Scott and I decide that he is probably just a little tired from being so wound up all day.
Wrong.
The next morning, Caleb wakes up with a fever and his cough has worsened. We spend the day alternating Tylenol and Motrin to keep his temperature down, and trying to keep him away from Chloe. I have to say, there is something really heartbreaking about a big brother who just wants to cuddle his little sister when he is sick. Of course, we couldn't let him too close to her for fear that she start running a temp. We kept him home from daycare on Monday because he still had a temp, but fortunately not a fever again until later that evening. Tuesday, we went to the pediatrician: Caleb, Chloe, Joan and myself all packed into the SUV and taking the 30 minute drive to the doctor's office. We arrived a few minutes early and I had to nurse Chloe. No sooner did I get her latched on and we got called back to the office. I was quite the sight to be seen with my hooter hider, infant underneath and my two year old hanging onto my leg as we walked back to the office. Thank goodness everyone was a medical professional - I fear they may have gotten an eye-full!
Dr. Forti diagnosed Caleb with the Croup and a middle ear infection. I was thankful to hear it was viral because there have been two cases of pneumonia at his daycare - can you imagine that??? Caleb stayed home the rest of the week with Grandma and Mommy which really through his routine out of whack, not to mention that he was sick and dealing with a new sibling.

Ten on Thursday??

I know that the typical format for these posts are 10 on Tuesday, but hey, I finally have more than 5 minutes to myself, so here goes nothing.

1. Chloe is such a sweet baby, and so far, she is a really good sleeper. She has been sleeping about 4 hours at a time during the night, wakes up and eats for about an hour, then back to sleep for another 3-4 hours. Seriously.
2. Scott says that we have to stop buying lottery tickets because we hit the jackpot with her!
3. The most frequent question I get asked is "How is Caleb adjusting?" It hasn't been a completely smooth ride, but he's two and two year olds are bound to have moments of frustration, both on his part and on ours. We keep trying to set boundaries and maintain those boundaries because I am firm believer that children crave limits and rules in order for them to establish their sense of right and wrong.
4. Our most frequent discipline tool with Caleb is to count to five and he knows that at the end of five there is a consequence. He rarely receives a punishment or consequence because it is his choice to change the outcome, however, after a count of five and being warned that if he doesn't change his behaviour, sometimes you just can't reason with a two year old. We are a little worried that one day at school he may be asked to count and will say "One, Two, Three, Four, Spanking, " but right now it is working for us.
   
   
5. Caleb is very concerned about his little sister. He wants to see her first thing in the morning, and the last thing at night. Mom and Dad are of little use to him except as food and toy fetchers. Last night he sat in a chair beside me while I fed Chloe, stroking her hair and saying "Hi Chloe. Love you."
6. He really loves to watch and help with tasks that are "Big Brother" tasks like getting diapers and wipes for Mommy. He also is trying to share his toys with his sister and, in turn, we are trying to find things that she can share - hence, he has a new fascination with sleeping with receiving blankets instead of his quilt on his bed.
   
   
7. Speaking of helping, I was confused our second day at home when Caleb was watching me change a poopy diaper and he said "Mommy! Chloe big poop! Get it, get it, get it!!" After diaper #3, I figured out that he was talking about the umbilical cord stump. Any ideas on how to explain that one?
8. Scott went back to work yesterday and Caleb is attending daycare full-time which leaves Chloe and I on our own. It was a good thing today, because I had a nice little nap while Chloe did and feel ready to handle Cay-man when he gets home.
9. My mother-in-law is coming in two more sleeps!! We are so excited for her that she is taking a vacation for herself after having dealt with a lot of stress with her own MIL. Besides, how exciting is that she'll be here when Chloe is 10 days old?
10. My dad comes on the 29th for one month. At that time we are going to switch Caleb to three days a week at daycare. The structure that he has had over the past four months has been invaluable while I have been on bedrest and while we are all adjusting to this newborn period. But hey, Gunka is a pretty cool cat in Caleb's eyes, and I know that they are going to have a great summer together!

Welcome Baby Girl

One week ago, I was bemoaning my fate about how long this pregnancy had been and wishing to have the baby OUTSIDE of my belly.

Wishes come true!

Welcome Chloe Marie Aikenhead. Born June 3, 2009 at 9:37 AM, 7lb 2.5oz, 19.5 inches and perfect in every little way.

I promise to write a more thorough entry soon!

No baby yet

If you had asked me 12 weeks ago when I went into pre-term labour if I EVER thought it was possible that I would successfully make it to 38 weeks, I would have looked at you as if you fallen off your rocker. BUT, here we are, successfully at 38 weeks, and with the build up over the past few months, all I want to do is get this baby OUT of my belly. I think I have tried everything short of Castor oil, but I continue to remain minimally dilated with very few contractions.

In other news, Caleb is talking up a storm. Over the past two weeks, he has gone from the very rare three word sentence, to mostly using 4 word sentences. The favourite of all of these words seems to be "my". "My daddy at work?" "Mommy change my diaper?" He is also repeating everything, which means we have to be extra careful. My favourite line yesterday: He was walking into the living room with a piece of chocolate, stumbled and dropped the chocolate and belted out"Oh my gosh!"

We have been trying over the past two weeks to do some things as a family of three - again, I don't know how much Caleb will remember, but it makes Scott and I feel better ;) We have been out for ice cream, down to the local "lake" to feed the ducks, and yesterday we went to Lititz to the Wilbur Chocolate factory. If you are ever in the area, Lititz is close to Lancaster, near Amish country and has the most charming little downtown area. I would highly recommend going and checking out the shops and little alley ways to more shops and restaurants. It was a little difficult exploring with a two year old, but overall, he was really well behaved.

Caleb has been a lot better about trying new foods lately. The best thing is that if he doesn't like something, he'll put it back on his plate rather than spitting it out on the ground! This is a major accomplishment at our house!

Life with my two year old...

I would hate to think that anyone reading this blog thinks that I take myself too seriously - or that I have grandiose opinions on my ability to parent. Here are some recent vignettes from our life.

After literally weeks of procrastination (I don't know who is more adept: Scott or I), we finally took Caleb to buy some new shoes. I had noticed that the soles on his shoes were wearing down, ummm, around his birthday, but I had neglected to take him shopping because a) I was on bed rest shortly after his birthday b) he wasn't complaining about his shoes and c) we were trying to clear up the ear/sinus infection. (Excuses are the biggest tool of the procrastinator!) A few weekends ago, we headed off to the speciality shoe store to try to find some shoes for his Fred Flinstone feet. If you haven't seen Caleb's feet in a while, they are about as long as they are wide and he needs a wide width shoe.
The shoes that he had been in were a New Balance 5 1/2 extra wide. When we got the store, they measured him and determined that he needed a 7 1/2. My jaw dropped. I had no idea that I had been cramming his little foot into a pair of shoes that were literally 2 sizes too small. Bad Mommy.

In order to appease my conscience about the amount of TV Caleb has been watching, I have been talking to him during the programs, particularly the movies that he loves to watch over and over again. We talk about feelings and what to do when you feel that way. We also talk about the characters' reactions and if they were "nice". It has really helped when I am trying to get him to treat the pets differently, or his friends at daycare.

We have also been doing what I call the "This or That" quiz while driving in the car. I have been trying to work on opposites like fast and slow, big and small, over and under, and stop and go. Things were going pretty well, I thought until we had this conversation.

Me: Caleb, the light is red.
C: Red.
Me: Do we go or stop on red?
C: Stop, Mommy, stop.
Me: That's right Buddy! We stop when the light is red.
(I sit feeling pleased that he has mastered this question and decide that I am going to challenge him on the next one)
C: Mommy, helicopter!
Me: That's right, Caleb! A helicopter. Does a helicopter fly or swim?
C: (Pauses for a minute, seriously considering question.) Fart, Mommy, fart.

So there you go. Stop at red and helicopters fart. I think I hear Harvard calling.

HOORAY!!

I

AM

OFFICIALLY

DONE

WITH

BEDREST!!!

Just wanted you to know! ;)

And now we exhale...

Our weekend was unexpectedly and blissfully boring.

Haha! Gotcha! I live with a two year old, remember?

Friday night I had a series of weird dreams, the last ended at 1:27 AM and I was awake until 4:00. Saturday morning, I woke to a little voice in the next room saying "Mommy. Mommy? Mommy!" I went in and had my morning ritual with Caleb.

(Set scene: 6:22 AM, Mommy and son on opposite sides of door. Mommy has really interesting hair and t-shirt borrowed from Daddy that advertises beer, hockey or both and mismatched bottoms. Son has equally interesting hair, but is matched impeccably.)

Me: I'm coming sweet boy.
C: Mommy?
Me: Yes honey, I'll be right there.
C: Mommy? (as I open the door)
Me: What do you need Angel-bug?
C: Mommy? Poop.
Me: Okay sweetie, let's get you changed. (I lay him down on the change mat - there is never a poop by the way, for those he likes to walk around the house until he becomes so malodorous that Scott or I notice)
Does that feel better?
C: Better. (Long lashes blink in agreement that make my heart melt) Mommy? Daddy?
Me: Daddy is at work/sleeping, Cay-man.
C: Oh. Work/Sleeping. Hugs Mommy?

Got to love the sweetness of being two.

***************************************

Let's start off with how my husband saved us $1000.

When Scott and I first moved in together 5 and half years ago we were hesitant about making BIG decisions together. Don't get me wrong, we had talked about getting married A LOT, even talked about having a family together. And yes, we had dated for over two years, but most of that had been long distance. We had had the discussion many times that it was easy to be whomever the person needed you to be for a weekend, or even a week, but that the true test of our relationship was going to come when we actually lived in the same city. After living together for two months (the first month of which was NOT pretty, but that is a different entry for a different time) we finally decided to make a large purchase together. We went to Sears, selected a washer and dryer, and at that moment, cemented our commitment to each other. (I know, I know, there is nothing more romantic then buying household appliances together...) We were in it for the long haul, or until the warranty ended. ;)

Over the past week and a half our dryer has been slowly dying. We have been having to dry things 2-3 times in order to get them less moist - not even bone dry. Scott discovered on Wednesday that the dryer vent hose had water in it. He later discovered that our outside vent needed to be resealed, but he was unable to do it because it rained EVERY day this week. The laundry ritual has been comprised of Scott putting in a load, emptying the hose/duct thingy, and on really good days, me going down to re-set the dryer after re-emptying the hose/duct thingy.

Finally, on Saturday morning, there had been no rain, but the hose was still full of water.

"The dryer is on the fritz," he said with a slightly stressed out look.

We had a long discussion about whether to call someone to repair it or to just go and buy a new dryer. We finally opted on a new dryer, thinking that in the long term an energy efficient one would save us money. (Note: We also discussed buying a clothes line, but thought if we had another week where it rained every day that this would not be a great option, plus new baby = LOTS of laundry.)

So, my sweet husband went to detach our dryer hose and made an interesting discovery: at the top of the hose, where it connected to the exterior wall, there was a bird's nest. The water that was trapped inside the hose thingy was the moisture from our clothes that couldn't escape because of the block! Hooray! Money saved, and crisis averted!

After a quick trip to Lowe's we are the proud owners of a new duct/hose thingy and a vent that won't allow birds to get in.

Good Report

I had a good report at the doctor on Tuesday - the baby was moving well, I hadn't had any pre-term labour and my blood pressure was where it needed to be. I was a little surprised to find out that I had begun dilating - 2cm already! I am taking this with a grain of salt because I hung out at 1-2 cm for THREE weeks with Caleb before my doc finally decided to induce me.

I am also really thrilled to say that I went to the BEST consignment sale last Friday. I was able to get Caleb's entire summer wardrobe for $56 - including a rain jacket! The best part was because I went early, I was one of the first ones in the Boys 2T section and scoped out all the cute GAP stuff. ;) My little guy will be well dressed this summer!

As for bebe #2, s/he will be decked out in plenty of yellow, white, green and orange and various duck patterns for the majority of the summer. The nursery didn't get completed (despite my earlier post about laying down the law) because Scott had a stomach virus Thurs-Sat. My doctor's appointment has lit the proverbial fire under his butt, and he promises to have things DONE by the end of this weekend.

We also had our hospital tour yesterday, 10 waddling moms to be and the bedrest queen in her wheelchair. I didn't realize that Harrisburg Hospital was SUCH a big facility. There are 36 mother and baby rooms, not to mention 12 labour and delivery rooms and 3 O.R. suites dedicated to C-sections. It was reassuring to know that there is a neonatologist available at all times, but I was a little disappointed that we didn't get to see the NICU. My MD keeps telling me that if bebe comes before 36 weeks that there is a good chance that s/he will be in the NICU and I wanted to have that visual of where the baby may be going. Scott told me that it was probably a good thing that they didn't include it on the tour because it might freak some parents out. I can see his point, but....

Perspective

We have been watching more television than I care to admit at our house lately. Caleb gets at least 2 episodes of Blue's Clues in everyday and sometimes a movie. The movie he has loved watching the past few weeks is "Ratatouille". There is a character in the movie named Anton Ego who is a food critic. All of the characters, even the other villain, are afraid of Ego and his scathing reviews. When he shows up to critique the restaurant and the new chef, the waiter asks him what he would like and his reply is "Perspective." The first time I heard that line I laughed, but the more I dwell on it, it seems like such a difficult order to fill.

Throughout this pregnancy, I have been sorely lacking in perspective. I have taken everything that has happened and immediately tried to assign blame. Most of the blame I take upon myself, other blame I pass on to over-reactive doctors and inexperienced medical personnel. It occurred to me this morning that I have not been viewing things from the proper perspective. I have focused on numerous small details and frequently need to be grounded by my wonderful husband about where everything is in the "big picture". Once grounded, I usually can put my priorities in order: What is most important to me and what I can and cannot control.

I can control how much I move around in a day.
I can control that when I am with Caleb that I am completely present with him.
I can control being a supportive wife and partner.
I can control my thoughts, particularly the negative ones about childbirth and NICU.

I cannot control when I will go into labour.
I cannot control my two year old at all times. He is, after all, two.
I cannot control the added stress my husband has at his job.
I cannot control the financial pressure that we are both feeling.
I cannot control the crazy dreams that I have been having, but I can control my reaction to them.

Things that are important to me:

My growing relationships with my faith, my husband and my children.
Continuing to be a friend to people - because my life have a stumbling block right now, but there are many others that I know personally who have experienced much worse and continue to strive to overcome.

Things I need to continue to work on:

Remaining present in this pregnancy. It will be my last and I need to savour all of these little moments and milestones. It has been so easy to be caught up in the stress of everything that I have frequently forgotten that at the end of this journey, there will be another life joining our family. I need to prepare myself for that, and enjoy our last few weeks as a family of three.
Trying to help Scott with the stress that he has by maintaining our home and doing what childcare I can so that he too can have some alone time to achieve perspective.

Ten on Tuesday

1. Scott got to make an emergency trip to the dentist on Thursday because his far right bottom molar cracked in half. We are now trying to decide when he should have surgery to remove the rest of the tooth.


2. Our weather was beautiful this weekend. Sadly, Scott didn't get to enjoy much of it as he was working a clearance sale at the warehouse.


3. A combination of chasing after C-Bugs and heat caused some contractions Saturday night, but I got them calmed down after a couple of hours... without going to the hospital!


4. Caleb was pretty well behaved most of the weekend. The only time he got grumpy was right before nap time which is pretty huge in the 2-year old world.


5. I discovered the joys of Play-Doh again. :)


6. Everyone should invest in a Little Green by Bisel. I love mine! Especially after it got regurgitated french fries and chocolate milkshake out of the carpet in Caleb's room. ('nuff said)


7. I had a great report at the doctors today. They said to keep laying low for another three weeks, but that if I went in to labor after Saturday they wouldn't do anything to stop it. "We have to think, if the uterus is trying to expel the baby from the body, there has to be a good reason." Thanks, I think?


8. We all ate ice cream on the deck tonight - Caleb in only a diaper eating a Shrek push pop. Love it.
9. The nursery still is not completed, but I am going to crack the whip the weekend and get it done! We have to move the computer desk and hang the blinds. (We, of course, being Scott - no heavy lifting or climbing ladders for this prego!)
10. This is how Caleb is counting: " One, two, five, six, seven, eight, nine, eleven, twelve, six!"

Just a little scared...

My sweet sister-in-law Susie ... wait, both of my sisters-in-law are sweet... but I digress..

My sister-in-law Susie is due a week before me. It was really fun during the first 12 weeks of our pregnancy to hear everything that was going on with her, especially because this is her first baby. She would call to complain about morning sickness, and I (green at the gills myself) would say "I tried this with Caleb" not letting on that I was in the process of trying it again! When we finally were ready to tell our families (at 12 weeks) Susie was the most shocked. Our conversation went something like this:

Me: So when exactly is your due date?
Susie: June 6th, or that is what the doctor said at least.
Me: So you're due exactly one week before me.
Susie: What!??
Me: Our babies are due a week apart.
Susie: Why didn't you tell me!?!

I has been really neat experiencing the pregnancy together and talking about ultrasounds and measurements and all the prep work that comes along with a new baby. When we had our 20 week ultrasounds, Scott made the comment that Susie's baby looked like our baby. I said "Of course it does, they're cousins!" We have also joked about who the favourite grandchild is going to be and Susie's husband Ross said that the title of favourite would go to whichever baby was born first. (Sorry guys, looks like we are going to win that race!)

Last night Susie called to fill us in on her ultrasound. At 33 weeks, they are estimating the baby's weight at 6.5 lbs. ALREADY. My nether-regions hurt just thinking about how big this kid is going to be at 37, let alone 42 weeks (Susie was a whopping 11lbs 2oz and 2 weeks late).

I am really hoping that our little noodle doesn't decide that s/he needs to play catch-up... maybe the Frattaroli cousins can have the claim to fame of being "large". I'm quite happy having another 7lb7oz baby thankyouverymuch!

The Terrific Twos continued...

Parenting has brought a lot of changes into our home. Our house, while never spotless, has now become a large storage area... for Caleb's toys. The largest shelf Caleb has been able to find is the living room floor. We do have a designated play room, and while I try to do a lot of activities with Caleb in there, being on bedrest has bent and broken most of the rules. I am happy to report that the majority of things that he likes playing with are "quiet" play items. (We have strongly discouraged family from buying toys that make noise - not to say that he doesn't still have some things... I can only imagine trying to lie on my left side while setting up a Hot Wheels course... *shiver*.) His current favourites are puzzles, colouring and books. In particular, the boy loves to paint with his finger paints, and I think his "big brother" gift is going to be an easel with paints and brushes.

Two year olds also like to "store" things in "safe" places. An inventory of what I found under my sofa cushions this week:

1. Puzzle pieces from at least 3 puzzles
2. Blocks from the shape sorter
3. Felt covered cheerios
4. A stuffed snake
5. 2 story books
6. 5 mangled crayons
7. Non-edible raisins
8. Multiple stickers that had been torn
9. The remote that I originally went looking for.

That being said, having a two year old has brought out some things that I guess I just thought were "known" behaviours, not "learned". The following are phrases that I have said in the last week:

1. We don't climb on the dog.
2. The dog is not a horse.
3. We don't climb in the dishwasher.
4. We don't eat worms.
5. No chocolate for breakfast.
6. Cars don't go in the dishwasher.
7. Hands out of your pants!
8. No boing-boinging on your bed!
9. We can't eat Popsicles for breakfast.
10. Put that back in the garbage!
11. The cat is not a horse
12. No throwing in the house.
13. Bats are not for hitting cats.
14. Do not let the dog lick your fork!
15. The dog doesn't like it when you touch her bum.

So the adventure continues. I wonder what I am going to find under my sofa cushions this week....

Baby Drama

Thursday was a big day - my last ultrasound and finally I was going to no longer be "high risk" or so I thought...

I went for my OB appointment at 1:00. Dr. Hank said that I looked good, baby was growing well, and (yipee!!) I was NOT dilated! We discussed the options that the high risk MDs had given me, in particular, having my uterine contractions monitored every week. "I don't want to treat you like a sick person, and I think having you come in that often and getting worked up every time you come in is going to do us more harm than good. Take it easy, I'll see you in two weeks, and at 34 weeks we are going to lift all of your restrictions." To make it even better, he said, "I have a feeling you are going to be one of those patients that despite all the bedrest I am going to have to induce at the end of 40 weeks."

Are you kidding me?!?! I was so excited!! Maybe now I could start feeling like this baby was actually coming, and was going to be healthy... and maybe now I could figure out where I put all those newborn clothes...

My last ultrasound appointment was at 2:30, but because the offices are literally down the hall from one another, I went over and asked if there was any way that I could be squeezed in early, either for the monitoring or my ultrasound. The staff was very accommodating and at 1:40 was settled into the nice recliner enjoying my murder mystery. Scott came in about 2:20 (I had told him that I thought I would be okay for the OB part of the visit) and we talked about names and what a good report I had gotten from Dr. Hank.

We finally got pulled back for the ultrasound at 2:50 and our tech very diligently took all of my measurements and went to see the doctor. Scott and I talked about grilling out and I said I was going to treat myself to a Chik-Fil-A Lemonade (my current craving).

Dr. Martinez walked in. "So, what's new, Ms. Maynard?"
"Nothing! Exactly how I want it to be! No contractions, I feel good - "
He cut me off. "That is not what I am seeing on the monitor. Right now your contractions are 3-6 minutes apart and your measurements have decreased significantly from last week. I am going to have to admit you to labor and delivery for further evaluation and monitoring."

My jaw must have hit the floor. Contractions? Aren't I supposed to feel those?? I mean, when I went into labor at 26 weeks I definitely felt like something was going on. Admitted?? Are you kidding? Being admitted is for people who are in labor.. or in danger of going into labor... I feel good! Besides, the bag that I packed to go the hospital with last week is sitting by my front door! So I said the only inarticulate thing that came into my head.

"Shit."

Fortunately, Dr. Martinez laughed and said "That's the best you can do?"

Scott and I waddled off to labor and delivery (in the same hospital fortunately), I got changed into a gown and Scott went to drive his vehicle back to the warehouse where he works. Carol, the midwife in my OB practice, hooked me up to a contraction monitor and a fetal heart monitor. About an hour later, Scott came in and needed the parking ticket for my vehicle because he had to make the half hour drive to pick up Caleb from daycare.

Within 45 minutes, Carol had decided that I was merely a bit dehydrated which was making my uterus irritable, and that because I had consumed about 800mL of water, I was free to go. I called Scott (who now has both vehicles) and he was halfway to get Caleb, so I had to wait at the hospital for another hour. When he finally got me, we picked up his car at the warehouse, I drove Caleb home and he followed.

We had a nutritious dinner of chicken fingers and potato wedges followed by popsicles. (And yes, I know I'm a stress eater) It was an early night for all of us.

Needless to say, I am back to being put on the monitor once a week and I now have weekly OB visits instead of weekly ultrasound visits. I am still on modified bedrest and I have been told to "Listen to my body". Apparently I need to get my internal hearing checked for picking up contractions....

Happy Easter!! (Belatedly)

We were really fortunate that our friends Jen and Jeff decided to spend Easter with us all the way from Ottawa! They had a bit of an adventure getting to our house (called an 11 hour drive) but it was so much fun to have them there!

I was my usual uncharming, left-sidelying-on-the-couch self while Scott, Jen and Jeff entertained Caleb, entertained me and made WAAAAYYY too much food to eat.

Here are a few highlights of the trip:

1. Jen took me to Target and pushed me around in a wheelchair, all while maintaining her grip on her Starbucks. It was shocking how people cleared the aisle for me...
   
2. Scott and Jeff went golfing and enjoyed the beautiful weather


3. Scott and Jeff also went grocery shopping with Caleb together and got a few "looks" from the people at Karns. To quote Scott "It's a good thing that at least we both have red hair so we could have said we were brothers!"


4. Playing Cranium on Saturday night and trying to guess "ghost town" -- we kept thinking it was Pacman....


5. Jen and I gave ourselves pedis and I discovered that I need a long handled brush and a magnifying glass in order to paint my toes!
   

And some pics of Caleb hanging out with his new friends....

Caleb and Jen

Eggs!

Caleb and Jeff

On a side note, since I have been taking Caleb to daycare everyday, he wakes up every morning and asks for people in this order:

1. Daddy


2. Gunka (my dad)


3. Gramma (Scott's mom)


4. Joon (Jen and Jeff)
   

Just wanted to let you know that you were missed!

Long Lost Blog

We've had an interesting week since my last post; let me start on Tuesday.

Tuesday morning I woke up feeling anxious - not with trepidation, but with excitement: If my ultrasound looked good today I would be able to go back to work part-time. Scott and I went to the office together and waited for over half an hour to be called back. The ultrasound tech did my measurements they were not good. They were so poor in fact, that when the doctor came in he told me that I was no longer on Modified Bedrest, but Strict Bedrest. He told me to make a follow-up appointment in two days, and if my measurements had not improved that I would be admitted to the hospital.

I was shocked. I honestly thought that I was going back to work.

Scott and I drove back to work and home in separate vehicles. I had to call my boss and tell him that I definitely was not returning to work for the duration of my pregnancy and that he should look for someone for the next 10 weeks. I went home and laid on the couch and tried not to cry. How could this be happening? Hospitalized? What was going to happen to Caleb? How would Scott manage all of this? By the time Scott got home I had managed to calm myself down enough to put on a brave face. We ate dinner, put Caleb to bed, and both went to bed early, tired from stress.

Wednesday was interesting: Scott had to take over my duties of taking Caleb to and from daycare and I had to spend most of the day in left side lying. For those of you that have not experienced total bedrest the idea of lying in bed and reading may sound really appealing, but believe me, it gets really old, really quick.

Thursday morning I had my follow-up appointment at 9AM. Scott and I took Caleb to daycare and I waited in the car while Scott brought him to his classroom. It was so hard for me to watch the two of them walking in (I have tears in my eyes thinking about it right now) knowing that it may be the last time I dropped Caleb off until after the baby was born. I sat in the car waving to him and blowing kisses while I was fighting back tears. Poor Caleb started to cry as soon as they entered the daycare and continued to cry for his mommy while Scott was walking out of the classroom.

I think we spent most of the 30 minute drive to the doctor's office in silence. I had packed a bag the previous night in case I was admitted. The only things I could think to say to Scott were "I might have forgotten my toothbrush." "I definitely forgot my razor."

I was called back quickly for my appointment, and the measurements were great! I know that this should have been some kind of relief to me, but all I could think about was that I was going to have to keep coming back and riding this emotional roller coaster for another week. Scott was on cloud nine - grinning ear to ear ("I knew everything would be okay.") and I don't know if I was in more shock that it was better or that we would have to continue with the visits. The doctor suggested that I be put on the contraction monitor to rule out any new activity, but if that was okay, that he would see me in a week. The monitor showed some Braxton hicks, and we were sent on our merry way.

So now it is almost a week later and I have to go back tomorrow for another appointment. I am not anxious this time, just frustrated. Hopefully tomorrow will be my last ultrasound and I can continue with normal OB/GYN appointments after this.

Mayhem and Foolishness

"Who wants a clean house?!"

I seriously love the show Clean House, only because it makes me feel better about my own disaster of a living space. While you might have to clear a place to sit, you can walk around without tripping on piles of clothing, toys, or paperwork... most of the time. ;)

I do not consider myself a neat freak by ANY stretch of the imagination. I was raised in a house where on Saturday morning you cleaned the bathrooms, vacuumed the house and did the laundry. Every night, my somewhat OCD father, would clean up the kitchen. (Side note: while my dad would clean up the kitchen every night, you could NEVER see the surface of his desk in our office... EVER).

Scott and I butt heads every so often about cleaning the house. I am of the mind that the bathrooms should be done every week, cat litter should be emptied every few days, and when the dog hair gets thick enough on the hardwood floor that it looks like we have carpeting, that it is time to vacuum/steam mop them. Most of the time, Scott could care less. If we are having company, he turns into the cleaning tornado. The man becomes Merry Maids at hyperspeed.
But back to the point of this post.

Four weeks ago, I was placed on "Modified Bedrest". My instructions from my doctor were "No cleaning, no lifting, no laundry. Just sit around the house and be lazy." Scott has been superman: taking care of Caleb, doing all the spring yard work, and making dinner almost every night. I know how much he loves me by how much he has been doing for me. The second week of bedrest, my dad was here and able to utilize his OCD tendencies to clean the house for us and to paint the nursery.

Both my in-laws and dad have felt kind of helpless during this stressful time, and both have offered to pay for someone to come and clean the house. We finally gave in, but it was after a lot of discussion on our part about what we needed time for as a family and maintaining a sanity level.

I had a recommendation of a cleaning person to call from a former patient. The first visit did nothing to set mind my at ease about my cleaning ability. She ran her finger along the top of door jams, base boards, window blinds and tub surrounds, all the while making "mmmhmmmm" noises to herself and the occasional "Don't mind me honey!" directed at me. When she finished her inspection, she let me know what her prices were (very reasonable) and that she would purchase the cleaning supplies she liked to use, with the understanding that we would re-imburse her. Fair enough!

Today is my first day with my cleaning lady. While I have sat here blogging, she has spend one and a half hours cleaning our two bathrooms. I hear grunts and sighs, and while I feel a little guilty, I love the idea that tonight when I go to bed, my house will be clean and my family will be together.

Doctors Galore

Caleb turned two on March 1st, which was a Sunday. On the 3rd, I dutifully brought my child to the pediatrician for his well child check up. "He looks great! His weight and height are just where they need to be. He is walking and speaking well. Is he in daycare? (I nodded) Well, it is just remarkable at how healthy he has stayed." I walked out of the office very self-congratulatory. Look at me! I'm raising a healthy, developmentally on track child! If I could drink, I'd have beer to celebrate!!

There should have been warning bells, but instead, I continued to pat myself on the back.

Two weeks ago on Tuesday, I went to pick Caleb up from daycare and I walked in to find him crying and his mouth covered in blood. His teacher said "We were just about to call you!" Oh great. Nothing good comes from a call from daycare. I rushed over to him - well rushed as much as my seven month pregnant body allows me to rush, and saw that he had put his tooth through his lip.

I have had LOTS of first aid, lifeguard and wound care training, so the blood and clean up part didn't bother me, but the helpless look in his eyes, as in "Mommy, why aren't you making this pain go away?", was almost more than I could bear. After prompting from me, they found some ice for his lip and we headed home.

My dad was upstairs painting the nursery, and I called out to him multiple times because I wanted a second opinion on whether or not I should take him to the doctor. My dad will claim up and down that he is not losing his hearing, it is just that I mumble. I don't think shouting "Dad!!" up the stairs counts as mumbling, but somehow he still managed not to hear me. (Important note: I am limited on how many times a day I can go up and down the stairs, and I am definitely not supposed to carry a crying two year old up the stairs.) I finally called Scott, and we decided to call the pediatrician, who arranged for an appointment in 45 minutes. FINALLY, my dad heard me, I told him where were going and that I would call with the results.

The pediatrician was great. She said with where the injury was she wouldn't try to stitch it, or put skin glue on it, and just to let it heal. She sent us home with a tube of antibiotic cream and told us to call if we had any problems.

That Sunday, Caleb took an unusually long nap - almost four hours. When he woke up, he had a large mass behind his ear on the side that he had split his lip open. When I would try to touch it he would say "NO, broken." We called the pediatrician again, and she said to take him to the ER.

So, off we went to the ER. We waited for about an hour and a half (which wasn't bad for a Sunday evening). Caleb was NOT impressed with the hospital gown that he had to put on, but he did like washing his hands over and over again. The funniest part of the wait was trying to keep him quiet. Scott told him "Shhh. We have to be very quiet. We're hunting for rabbits!" Caleb then proceeded to tell everyone "Shhhh. Wabbits!"

The ER doc came in, looked at his neck, checked his ears, nose and throat and determined that the swollen lymph node (i.e. the mass) was a result of the healing process of his lip and the ear infection that he had developed on that side. She gave us some antibiotics and told us to follow up with our pediatrician if everything hadn't subsided in a week. Great. We went home, did what any good parent would do, and let him have ice cream for dinner.

One week later, I notice that Caleb still has some swelling on his neck, and where the mass had been soft before, it was now firm and nodular. Off we go to the pediatrician... again. "No, Mrs. Aikenhead, the ear infection has not cleared up, and now he has a sinus infection... I think. I am going to need to check his nose for foreign objects." (Note to other parents: If your child's nose is only draining on one side, this could indicate that they have a foreign body in there. Aren't you glad I learned that for you!??) Thankfully, no foreign objects, but now we are on a stronger antibiotic which can cause the runs. Good thing my boy loves his yogurt!

We have a follow up visit in two weeks, which blows my mind that in 6 weeks, we will have been to the doctor FIVE times. This really is a record for us.