Hopefully by now, all of our friends and family (at least those who read this blog) have received our 2012 Christmas card. If not, well...spoiler alert!
May the rest of your 2012, and all of your 2013 be Merry and Bright!
Sunday, December 23, 2012
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
my holiday spirit
I have been having a hard time getting into the holiday spirit. I put on a good front, and pretend like I am all kinds of excited, but truth be told, it's been a long December (cue Counting Crows) and excitedly anticipating Christmas has been on my back burner.
With the combination of the loss of a dear friends mother - who was a dear friend to us and "Grandma Mary" to Nick; the horrible colds and allergies Nick has been fighting including a 911 call and ambulance trip -- all of which, in turn, have caused almost a full month of sleeplessness for the whole K household; getting my period again this month when we so desperately want to have another baby; and then the horrible tragedy that occurred in Newtown, CT, my heart has been heavy and hurting. Combined with a lack of sleep, I have been grumpy and downright sad.
Sometimes it's tough to feel like you have to be strong for everyone around you. It's tough to feel as though you can't truly let out your emotions, because "hey, you're the mom - you've gotta get it together!" Then you find yourself sitting at the computer on a Monday morning, googling "Childhood apraxia of speech", crying into your coffee because you feel so helpless.
And then you remember those families who's loved ones were yanked out of their loving arms just days before what is supposed to be the happiest day of the year, and suddenly your tears turn into heavy sobs - your feelings of helplessness turn into a pit in your stomach and all you want to do is vomit, curl up in the fetal position, and sleep off this horrible nightmare. You feel guilty for having your own feelings of sadness, when your sadness is mere ounces compared to the tons of heavy hearts breaking up North. The hearts breaking across the country.
After two weeks of Nick not sleeping - crying every time we put him down in his crib, us rushing in every few minutes to try and soothe him back to sleep, him standing up and screaming every couple of hours through the night, and ultimately all three of us (four including whinnie) waking up in the master bedroom at 4am in a huge, sweaty, uncomfortable pile of people - Nicks foot in my face, his head resting on top of Todd's - we decided he was getting pretty damn smart for an almost two year old, and this had to stop. We had to resort back to the worst parental punishment of all. Crying it out.
Two nights of crying it out, and we've had two nights of restful sleep. All of us in our own beds. Nobody sweating from the abundance of flannel footie pj's and body heat crammed onto a queen size mattress. Night number one, Nick cried on and off - never more than a loud whine - for 50 minutes. After that, he realized it was a losing battle, laid down, and never made a peep the rest of the night. Last night, Nick pulled the same loud whining routine for a mere 30 minutes. He did wake up twice in the night, but both times were also loud whines, not lasting more than 5-10 minutes each.
Two nights of sleep for all of us, and I feel like a new person. Nick is acting like a new toddler. My hopelessness is being replaced with hopefulness.
While we still grieve for our dear Mary, and especially her family, I'm beginning to realize that she is no longer hurting. She no longer has to battle the terrible cancer that consumed her body. And we all have a beautiful angel watching over us. I know she will take particularly good care of Nick - oh how she loved our boy - and that brings me so much peace.
We made an appointment at the allergist for Nick, for this Friday. I'm hopeful he will be able to give us some insight on what kind of foods might be irritating Nick, without our knowledge. And I'm relieved that after three "nope - not an ear infection - he just has a cold" pediatrician appointments, it's ok for us to let Nick cry it out at night...because he's not sick...he's just smart (I cry, mom and dad rush in!).
And I've realized that God's timing is perfect timing. With Nick's sleepless December, God knew I wouldn't be able to handle first trimester sickness and midnight potty breaks with a screaming toddler across the hall. He knew we needed a little more time. So with His grace and guidance, we will keep trying. And eventually we will succeed. (Plus we've got Mary on our side...and if I know Mary, I know she'll be sending us a little extra good baby "juju". ;))
We took Nick to see Santa last night. Seeing his face light up as Santa walked in - jingle bells ringing, lights twinkling, and so much magic in the room - my holiday spirit welled up inside to a point it hasn't reached all month. Santa read his poem "Send Your Babies to Bed With a Kiss" to the mommies & daddies in the room, reminding us that while these times are tough and not always fun, all too soon our children will be grown, and we won't be able to kiss them goodnight every night -- and we will truly miss these days. My heart was so full, being able to kiss my sweet boy and push the hair back from his forehead...yet it was so heavy and hurting for the parents in CT that can no longer do such things with their little ones.
So I am consciously stopping myself from dwelling on my own sadness. I'm realizing that most of the worries that I currently carry on my shoulders are minimal and will quickly dissipate...that there is always hope and beauty in every situation. And I am turning my holiday spirit around. I am soaking in the joy in every little moment, and ignoring the "what ifs" that linger. Today and every day, I will soak in the little moments. I will embrace the tantrums, and smile as I get vomited on. I'll laugh as I accidentally stick my hand in a poopy diaper, and I'll most definitely hug and kiss my baby like it's going out of style. I'll encourage his vocabulary and cheer as he says a new word - even if it's not quite enunciated. I will excitedly anticipate the look on Nick's face as he opens Christmas present after Christmas present. And while I may be cranky at the lack of sleep, I will giggle at Nick's requests to eat cheese puffs for breakfast - and I may just let him on occasion - because tomorrow is not promised, but the memories we make today, are.
With the combination of the loss of a dear friends mother - who was a dear friend to us and "Grandma Mary" to Nick; the horrible colds and allergies Nick has been fighting including a 911 call and ambulance trip -- all of which, in turn, have caused almost a full month of sleeplessness for the whole K household; getting my period again this month when we so desperately want to have another baby; and then the horrible tragedy that occurred in Newtown, CT, my heart has been heavy and hurting. Combined with a lack of sleep, I have been grumpy and downright sad.
Sometimes it's tough to feel like you have to be strong for everyone around you. It's tough to feel as though you can't truly let out your emotions, because "hey, you're the mom - you've gotta get it together!" Then you find yourself sitting at the computer on a Monday morning, googling "Childhood apraxia of speech", crying into your coffee because you feel so helpless.
And then you remember those families who's loved ones were yanked out of their loving arms just days before what is supposed to be the happiest day of the year, and suddenly your tears turn into heavy sobs - your feelings of helplessness turn into a pit in your stomach and all you want to do is vomit, curl up in the fetal position, and sleep off this horrible nightmare. You feel guilty for having your own feelings of sadness, when your sadness is mere ounces compared to the tons of heavy hearts breaking up North. The hearts breaking across the country.
After two weeks of Nick not sleeping - crying every time we put him down in his crib, us rushing in every few minutes to try and soothe him back to sleep, him standing up and screaming every couple of hours through the night, and ultimately all three of us (four including whinnie) waking up in the master bedroom at 4am in a huge, sweaty, uncomfortable pile of people - Nicks foot in my face, his head resting on top of Todd's - we decided he was getting pretty damn smart for an almost two year old, and this had to stop. We had to resort back to the worst parental punishment of all. Crying it out.
Two nights of crying it out, and we've had two nights of restful sleep. All of us in our own beds. Nobody sweating from the abundance of flannel footie pj's and body heat crammed onto a queen size mattress. Night number one, Nick cried on and off - never more than a loud whine - for 50 minutes. After that, he realized it was a losing battle, laid down, and never made a peep the rest of the night. Last night, Nick pulled the same loud whining routine for a mere 30 minutes. He did wake up twice in the night, but both times were also loud whines, not lasting more than 5-10 minutes each.
Two nights of sleep for all of us, and I feel like a new person. Nick is acting like a new toddler. My hopelessness is being replaced with hopefulness.
While we still grieve for our dear Mary, and especially her family, I'm beginning to realize that she is no longer hurting. She no longer has to battle the terrible cancer that consumed her body. And we all have a beautiful angel watching over us. I know she will take particularly good care of Nick - oh how she loved our boy - and that brings me so much peace.
We made an appointment at the allergist for Nick, for this Friday. I'm hopeful he will be able to give us some insight on what kind of foods might be irritating Nick, without our knowledge. And I'm relieved that after three "nope - not an ear infection - he just has a cold" pediatrician appointments, it's ok for us to let Nick cry it out at night...because he's not sick...he's just smart (I cry, mom and dad rush in!).
And I've realized that God's timing is perfect timing. With Nick's sleepless December, God knew I wouldn't be able to handle first trimester sickness and midnight potty breaks with a screaming toddler across the hall. He knew we needed a little more time. So with His grace and guidance, we will keep trying. And eventually we will succeed. (Plus we've got Mary on our side...and if I know Mary, I know she'll be sending us a little extra good baby "juju". ;))
We took Nick to see Santa last night. Seeing his face light up as Santa walked in - jingle bells ringing, lights twinkling, and so much magic in the room - my holiday spirit welled up inside to a point it hasn't reached all month. Santa read his poem "Send Your Babies to Bed With a Kiss" to the mommies & daddies in the room, reminding us that while these times are tough and not always fun, all too soon our children will be grown, and we won't be able to kiss them goodnight every night -- and we will truly miss these days. My heart was so full, being able to kiss my sweet boy and push the hair back from his forehead...yet it was so heavy and hurting for the parents in CT that can no longer do such things with their little ones.
So I am consciously stopping myself from dwelling on my own sadness. I'm realizing that most of the worries that I currently carry on my shoulders are minimal and will quickly dissipate...that there is always hope and beauty in every situation. And I am turning my holiday spirit around. I am soaking in the joy in every little moment, and ignoring the "what ifs" that linger. Today and every day, I will soak in the little moments. I will embrace the tantrums, and smile as I get vomited on. I'll laugh as I accidentally stick my hand in a poopy diaper, and I'll most definitely hug and kiss my baby like it's going out of style. I'll encourage his vocabulary and cheer as he says a new word - even if it's not quite enunciated. I will excitedly anticipate the look on Nick's face as he opens Christmas present after Christmas present. And while I may be cranky at the lack of sleep, I will giggle at Nick's requests to eat cheese puffs for breakfast - and I may just let him on occasion - because tomorrow is not promised, but the memories we make today, are.
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
Current state of the Toddler
Nick turned 22 months at the beginning of December. And now it's practically mid-December and I realized it's been quite some time since I did any sort of update on my almost-two-year-old.Let me just start by saying thank you to the big man upstairs for finally pulling Nick out of that nearly 3 week funk he was in. We were certain he'd hit the terrible two's a few months early, on account of every.freaking.day was a struggle, another temper tantrum, another sleepless night, another meltdown due to the smallest, stupidest things.
Turns out it was most likely the remnants of those damn eye-teeth cutting through (suckers were 10x worse than the 1 year molars if ya can believe that), combined with a massive growth spurt (which I touched on in a past post). And of course, no sooner had the eye-teeth popped in, and the growth spurt evened out, than Nick acquired another horrific cold...one that he's still trying to shake by way of coughing like a 68 year old Marlboro-red smokin' old lady (phlegm and all!). It's one of those kinds of coughs that when you're out in public and all of a sudden your kid starts coughing so hard he sounds like he's going to retch all over the grocery store floor, you turn deep red, bury his entire face inside your jacket (praying he doesn't suffocate in there) and whip your head back and forth (a la willow smith) to make sure no bystanders are judging your method of parenting. Seriously, though - can somebody make a cough and cold medicine for toddlers that is actually effective AND safe?? You'll dominate the market while simultaneously making a LOT of very tired mommies very happy. Swears.
Moving on...now that we're over/at the tail end of all of that general icky-ness, things are just plain old stinkin' fun in the K household. Having a two year old is awesome. SO flipping awesome. Especially when he sleeps through the night, but I digress...
Nick is still not talking much, but has acquired a few new intelligible words including "Go" "Doggie" (thanks to my brother's new puppy, which seemed to cause Nick to own that word like he'd been saying it his whole life!) "Hot" (ok, he already had this one) "Vacuum" (which sounds more like 'vaaababa!' but is way close by Nick standards and we totally know what he means every time he says it) "Hi" "Gramma" (which sounds like Gaagaa, but melts her heart regardless. He also calls my dad this same word even though we are still referring to my dad as "Boss"...guess a kid knows a grandparent when they see one) "No" "Yeh" (for yes) "DaDa!" "Maaaamamamama" (only when he's upset or angry, ha!) and the ever popular "Dora" (which sounds like Doooorahhh - and yes, he says this one all.the.time.)
Aside from his lack of verbal communication - which we are still working on every other week with our fabulous speech therapist Ms. Kerry, who Nick took to like she was offering up free ice cream or something (for real though, she has some awesome toys) - Nick is growing and learning with leaps and bounds. He knows every letter of the alphabet, and not just in alphabetical order. He knows almost all his shapes, all of his numbers 1-10, most animals, a few colors (this one has been the toughest to work on) and damn near every other single thing we say. Most recently he has learned all the hand motions to "itsy bitsy spider" and "I'm a little teapot", which is seriously the cutest thing in the world.
He gives the best hugs ever, and greets whoever picks him up from daycare in the afternoon by running at you full speed, squealing with delight, and practically jumping in your arms to bury his little face in yours - arms around your neck - squeezing like he hasn't seen you in weeks. Best part of my day.
His play time has evolved immensely and he's using his imagination so much more every day - pushing cars around the room, making sure each of his trucks has a driver in the driver seat (whichever little character he can find), pretending to stir and "cook" with toy spoons and dishes - and then "taking a bite" of whatever he "made" and saying "mmmm!" 
He concentrates on puzzles, knows how to wind up his tiny wind-up toys, and hugs and kisses all of his stuffed animals. He loves playing with play-do, reading books, and pushing his trains around the floor. And if it's something he can climb on? You better believe he'll be standing on top of it, seconds from falling off, clapping and laughing at the panic washing over my face as I dive to catch him before he breaks a bone. yikes.
As far as current eating habits go, eating has never been a huge deal to Nick. He eats when he's hungry, but he's never been thoroughly interested in food - unless it's snack food related. He could live off of goldfish, cheerios, pretzels, yogurt melts, and any kind of chip out there -- particularly tortilla, if he had to choose. He prefers veggies over anything else on his plate, but don't dare give him processed foods or he throws a fit. Those Gerber toddler meals? He down right refuses to eat them. The squeezy pouches are a different story though - he sucks those down like water. And we're guaranteed to get a good meal in him if we eat at Chipotle. Homeboy can chow down on some black beans, cilantro rice, and corn salsa. We've introduced him to various types of juice, which he'll drink (specifically if it's out of a juice box...he loves those) but he still prefers water or milk over anything else. So much so, that last weekend when we were at Costco and had forgotten to get him milk with his lunch, he ran over to the milk case, pointing at all the milk jugs and signing "milk". We had to make a stop at 7-11 after that just to grab him some milk. He was very grateful.
With Nick's recent growth spurt comes the need to sort through his clothes, again. I had just bought him a bunch of 18-24 clothes at the beginning of the season, because he was still fitting so perfectly into 18 month and swimming in 24 month clothes, that I was certain the 18-24 month stuff would get him through the winter. Silly mommy. When he shot up two inches practically over night, all of his 18 month pants became high waters, and his 18 month footie pj's? Forget it. We've had to purchase all new 24 month and 2T jammies so he has something to wear at night. Fortunately we had quite a few pairs of 24 month pants and enough shirts, but at the rate he's growing, he'll be well into 3T by spring. Of course he didn't put on any weight as he shot up, so he's still skinny and 24 month pants are super loose around his waist. Seems like outfitting a growing toddler is a consistently losing battle. Let's not even talk about shoes, shall we? Nick is in a size 6 shoe already, and rapidly outgrowing it. Apparently we'll be buying new shoes every 4-5 months for the next 15 years, as well. Todd can't believe that a pair of Nick's tennis shoes cost damn near the same as his own.
He's funny, kind, sweet, innocent, ornery, occasionally impatient, a tad stubborn, and ridiculously adorable. His smile goes from ear-to-ear, and he's rarely unhappy. His daddy and I are his best friends, and while I know it's naive of me to think, I hope it always stays that way. The past 22 months have been the most challenging and simultaneously most rewarding months of our lives. I can barely remember life before Nick, but what I can remember is that there was a piece of me that was never fully whole. These past 22 months have been so fulfilling. Sleeplessness, and all. Because of Nick, I am whole.
Like I said, having an almost-two-year-old is awesome. Completely awesome.
Thursday, December 6, 2012
More scenes from Marriage
Scene: Eating the homemade chicken noodle soup I made yesterday in the crock pot, with a side of sliced, buttered bread (just like we both apparently ate as kids).
Me: "Man, this chicken noodle soup was good, huh? Better than I thought it would be!"
Todd: "Agreed. Although it could have been the butter sandwich we just ate..."
hmm. point taken.
Me: "Man, this chicken noodle soup was good, huh? Better than I thought it would be!"
Todd: "Agreed. Although it could have been the butter sandwich we just ate..."
hmm. point taken.
Monday, December 3, 2012
Aw, nuts.
Saturday night was quite possibly the scariest night of my life.
Around 4:30pm, Nick, Todd and I were hanging around the coffee table, playing with some of Nick's toys and munching on a little chex mix, when Nick pointed to the bowl of peanut m&m's on the end table and made the sign for "please". So we thought "eh, sure, why not" and gave him one yellow peanut m&m.
As soon as he ate it, I said to Todd "yikes...we probably shouldn't have let him have that - I hope he doesn't have a reaction".
5 minutes later, Nick was scratching and grabbing at his neck and throat. I tried to just assume it was coincidence and maybe the zipper on his hoodie was bothering his neck. But he just kept itching and grabbing his throat.
About 5 more minutes passed and Nick got very fussy and irritable. He kept demanding "Dora!" so Todd hoisted him up on the couch onto his lap, and was about to turn on Dora when Nick got a funny look on his face and proceeded to vomit ALL over Todd. Everything he had eaten all day went spewing out onto Todd. Panicked that it might get on my parents couch (I know...can't believe this was my first thought), I dove in and caught as much as I could with my bare hands. Dad came running in with a bowl.
After Nick finished vomiting, we all decided that explained why he was so fussy -- he didn't feel well.
So we scooped him up and ran him up to the bathtub to get cleaned up. But no sooner had I plopped him in the tub, than I noticed the entire right side of Nick's face - from forehead to neck, cheek, even his eye - started to swell up and turn red and blotchy. His left ear started to puff up as well. And his neck, and belly were covered in hives.
Panic ensued. On my part, that is. Everyone else remained pretty calm - including Nick, who wanted nothing more than to play with the bath toys, even as his face continued to swell and turn redder and redder.
At this point, I was so panicked that my dad decided to call one of their new neighbors who happened to be working on his medical residency (keep in mind, we were at my parents Lake House, so we knew little to nothing about the area - particularly the medical facilities in the area). The neighbor said "don't even mess around with urgent care - call 911 right now". So Dad hung up, called 911, and within 5 minutes, an ambulance and fire & rescue squad were on the front porch.
By this point, the swelling on Nick's face had started to go down a bit, but the paramedics didn't want to take any chances, and decided that he needed to be transported to the hospital immediately.
So Nick and I hopped in the ambulance - a first for BOTH of us - and headed off to Martha Jefferson Hospital in Charlottesville. Todd, Mom and Dad followed close behind.
Naturally, after vomiting and having so much excitement take place, Nick couldn't stay awake any longer and fell asleep in the ambulance.
By the time we got to the hospital, Nick looked almost 100% better, and slept through the initial exam.
And about 30 minutes after arriving, Nick woke up and was back to his normal, giggly, rambunctious self.
The doctor at the hospital said it was most likely a peanut allergy. I also got a nice little scolding (in the nicest of ways) on how a not-quite-two year old shouldn't be eating small, hard objects like peanut m&m's anyway due to choking hazard. Man, I felt awful.
Talk about terrifying.
Fortunately, Nick is fine now. My first priority this week is to call the pediatrician's office and set up a blood test with an allergist. I want to know all the facts and find out if there are any other things that Nick might be allergic to, so that we don't have another incident like Saturday night.
I literally felt my world crashing down, worrying about my baby as everything unfolded. Even just re-thinking about the whole event as I type it here makes my stomach and heart ache.
I know there will be many, many moments of mommy mistakes over the coming years...things I won't have any control over, and things that I'll think back on and wonder "why did I let that even happen?" Right now, this tops the list.
My poor, sweet, innocent baby was subjected to that horrible reaction because of my poor judgment. I can't beat myself up over it, because I'm sure eventually we would have found out one way or another. I just feel so incredibly fortunate that Nick is OK.
God was certainly watching out for my baby on Saturday night. Talk about blessed.
Around 4:30pm, Nick, Todd and I were hanging around the coffee table, playing with some of Nick's toys and munching on a little chex mix, when Nick pointed to the bowl of peanut m&m's on the end table and made the sign for "please". So we thought "eh, sure, why not" and gave him one yellow peanut m&m.
As soon as he ate it, I said to Todd "yikes...we probably shouldn't have let him have that - I hope he doesn't have a reaction".
5 minutes later, Nick was scratching and grabbing at his neck and throat. I tried to just assume it was coincidence and maybe the zipper on his hoodie was bothering his neck. But he just kept itching and grabbing his throat.
About 5 more minutes passed and Nick got very fussy and irritable. He kept demanding "Dora!" so Todd hoisted him up on the couch onto his lap, and was about to turn on Dora when Nick got a funny look on his face and proceeded to vomit ALL over Todd. Everything he had eaten all day went spewing out onto Todd. Panicked that it might get on my parents couch (I know...can't believe this was my first thought), I dove in and caught as much as I could with my bare hands. Dad came running in with a bowl.
After Nick finished vomiting, we all decided that explained why he was so fussy -- he didn't feel well.
So we scooped him up and ran him up to the bathtub to get cleaned up. But no sooner had I plopped him in the tub, than I noticed the entire right side of Nick's face - from forehead to neck, cheek, even his eye - started to swell up and turn red and blotchy. His left ear started to puff up as well. And his neck, and belly were covered in hives.
Panic ensued. On my part, that is. Everyone else remained pretty calm - including Nick, who wanted nothing more than to play with the bath toys, even as his face continued to swell and turn redder and redder.
At this point, I was so panicked that my dad decided to call one of their new neighbors who happened to be working on his medical residency (keep in mind, we were at my parents Lake House, so we knew little to nothing about the area - particularly the medical facilities in the area). The neighbor said "don't even mess around with urgent care - call 911 right now". So Dad hung up, called 911, and within 5 minutes, an ambulance and fire & rescue squad were on the front porch.
By this point, the swelling on Nick's face had started to go down a bit, but the paramedics didn't want to take any chances, and decided that he needed to be transported to the hospital immediately.
So Nick and I hopped in the ambulance - a first for BOTH of us - and headed off to Martha Jefferson Hospital in Charlottesville. Todd, Mom and Dad followed close behind.
Naturally, after vomiting and having so much excitement take place, Nick couldn't stay awake any longer and fell asleep in the ambulance.
By the time we got to the hospital, Nick looked almost 100% better, and slept through the initial exam.
And about 30 minutes after arriving, Nick woke up and was back to his normal, giggly, rambunctious self.
The doctor at the hospital said it was most likely a peanut allergy. I also got a nice little scolding (in the nicest of ways) on how a not-quite-two year old shouldn't be eating small, hard objects like peanut m&m's anyway due to choking hazard. Man, I felt awful.
Talk about terrifying.
Fortunately, Nick is fine now. My first priority this week is to call the pediatrician's office and set up a blood test with an allergist. I want to know all the facts and find out if there are any other things that Nick might be allergic to, so that we don't have another incident like Saturday night.
I literally felt my world crashing down, worrying about my baby as everything unfolded. Even just re-thinking about the whole event as I type it here makes my stomach and heart ache.
I know there will be many, many moments of mommy mistakes over the coming years...things I won't have any control over, and things that I'll think back on and wonder "why did I let that even happen?" Right now, this tops the list.
My poor, sweet, innocent baby was subjected to that horrible reaction because of my poor judgment. I can't beat myself up over it, because I'm sure eventually we would have found out one way or another. I just feel so incredibly fortunate that Nick is OK.
God was certainly watching out for my baby on Saturday night. Talk about blessed.
Friday, November 30, 2012
Uh, guess again?
I'm pretty sure I lied in my last post.
I thought Nick had been waking up screaming because of growing pains, so after giving him some tylenol (and then motrin 4.5 hours later when I went to bed) two nights ago, he slept all night.
Apparently he was just drugged. Because last night? He protested bedtime like a Union worker.
I thought I was the sucker for toddler crying and screaming...but I proved more able to drown it out than Todd.
Nick finally ended up crying himself to sleep...but only because Daddy came to the rescue and rubbed his back until he passed out.
Thank God for Daddies. Hats off to all the single mama's out there - I have NO clue how you do it.
I thought Nick had been waking up screaming because of growing pains, so after giving him some tylenol (and then motrin 4.5 hours later when I went to bed) two nights ago, he slept all night.
Apparently he was just drugged. Because last night? He protested bedtime like a Union worker.
I thought I was the sucker for toddler crying and screaming...but I proved more able to drown it out than Todd.
Nick finally ended up crying himself to sleep...but only because Daddy came to the rescue and rubbed his back until he passed out.
Thank God for Daddies. Hats off to all the single mama's out there - I have NO clue how you do it.
Thursday, November 29, 2012
Growing pains...quite literally!
After several consecutive nights of Nick waking in the middle of the night screaming and crying, and me having a mild anxiety attack over said screaming and crying...and Todd not knowing what the hell to do with a wife AND child that were up all night screaming and crying, I finally figured there had to be something going on with Nick.
He has proven to us time and again that he can be a fantastic sleeper. We went through several months straight, after he finally turned a year old, of easy going 7:00pm bedtimes, that resulted in a full 12+ hours sleep, with a happy baby waking up in the morning. But every so often we had set backs that resulted in a few nights here and there of not so great sleep...cutting his 1 year molars; a cold; cutting his eye teeth; another cold; going on vacation or spending a few nights away from home...all contributed to disruptive sleep, but nothing that we couldn't get him back on track with quickly.
But for some reason, when he woke up the other night at 12:30am and proceeded to cry and scream like he was being tortured for over TWO HOURS, I knew something wasn't right.
Enter mom panic.
Naturally I started googling every reason possible for an almost two year old toddler to be waking in the night screaming. And most signs pointed to teething, night terrors, or ear infections. Seeing as he had just come off of the worst cold he's ever had (in his short little life), I was positive he had an ear infection. Thank God for the pediatrician advice nurses and nurse practitioners. Seriously, let's steal a little of Lindsay Lohan's regained fame & fortune back (because lord knows she does NOT deserve it), and give it to some real heroes -- nurses!
I digress.
The advice nurse was super sweet and helpful on the phone and made us an appointment to come in, because I was oh so certain that Nick had an ear infection and that's why he was screaming his head off all night.
The nurse practitioner did a quick look-over of my happy, cheerful, bouncing off the walls toddler who gagged, turned red, held his breath, and then gleefully clapped in approval when the exam was over, and said "he's fine". And "ears look great!" And without even thinking about it, I let out a breathy "damn." And quickly followed it by "I don't mean that I want him to be sick...I'm glad he doesn't have an ear infection...it's just..." and before I could finish, Frank (the nurse practitioner) interjected "you just want answers. I get it...I have two toddlers at home. The not sleeping, sucks."
No truer words have ever been spoken to me by any other professional in my 30 years of life.
The not sleeping TOTALLY sucks.
So why wasn't he sleeping?
Well, Frank then suggested night terrors. Which Nick has definitely experienced his fair share of. And it's frightening every time, except for the fact that with night terrors, he ends up calming himself back down because he never truly wakes up...just cries in his sleep.
This was not night terrors.
And I was still scratching my head (and yawning and rubbing my eyes profusely).
So last night...Todd and I were working on very limited sleep (he more so than me because he gets up for work 3.5 hours before I can even lift an eyelid), but we had to use a groupon that Todd had purchased to a little Hibachi joint in Fairfax. Hoping to have a romantic mid-week date night, we asked my parents to watch Nick. Of course they gleefully accepted (God love 'em...we could not survive without those two, I tell ya what), and said "go do whatever you want, just leave his jammies with us and we'll take care of dinner, bath, and get him all set for you to pick up when you're done."
In my haste of having not put away any of the laundry over the last 2.5 weeks (but who's counting), most of Nick's clean pj's were hanging out at the bottom of a laundry basket that I couldn't quite get to. So I grabbed a brand new pair of 24 month pj's out of his closet - so new they were unwashed even, that's how desperate I was - to have mom put on him, just figuring "they'll be a little big, but no big deal".
You see, up until last night, all of Nick's 18 month pj's were still fitting just fine. And any 24 month pj's I put on him sagged at the crotch and ankles because they were just way too big/long.
But when we arrived at my parents house to pick him up, Nick was wearing the 24 month pj's, and they fit him like a glove.
The middle of the night crying and screaming culprit? Oh, just my baby shooting up 2 inches, that's all.
Holy crap! Talk about a growth spurt!
So now I feel like a crappy mom for letting him cry and scream when he was quite literally having growing pains. Poor, poor baby.
If he keeps growing at this rate, he's gonna be taller than me before he goes to elementary school. Which his daddy will say is a good thing, since the ladies like tall guys. But I'm not sure our toddler clothing and shoe budget can fully support a new wardrobe every couple weeks.
Either way, I'm just glad we finally know what the problem was. And I'm happy to report that last night? He was back to his full-night-of-sleep self. And we're all feeling much more rested today. :)
He has proven to us time and again that he can be a fantastic sleeper. We went through several months straight, after he finally turned a year old, of easy going 7:00pm bedtimes, that resulted in a full 12+ hours sleep, with a happy baby waking up in the morning. But every so often we had set backs that resulted in a few nights here and there of not so great sleep...cutting his 1 year molars; a cold; cutting his eye teeth; another cold; going on vacation or spending a few nights away from home...all contributed to disruptive sleep, but nothing that we couldn't get him back on track with quickly.
But for some reason, when he woke up the other night at 12:30am and proceeded to cry and scream like he was being tortured for over TWO HOURS, I knew something wasn't right.
Enter mom panic.
Naturally I started googling every reason possible for an almost two year old toddler to be waking in the night screaming. And most signs pointed to teething, night terrors, or ear infections. Seeing as he had just come off of the worst cold he's ever had (in his short little life), I was positive he had an ear infection. Thank God for the pediatrician advice nurses and nurse practitioners. Seriously, let's steal a little of Lindsay Lohan's regained fame & fortune back (because lord knows she does NOT deserve it), and give it to some real heroes -- nurses!
I digress.
The advice nurse was super sweet and helpful on the phone and made us an appointment to come in, because I was oh so certain that Nick had an ear infection and that's why he was screaming his head off all night.
The nurse practitioner did a quick look-over of my happy, cheerful, bouncing off the walls toddler who gagged, turned red, held his breath, and then gleefully clapped in approval when the exam was over, and said "he's fine". And "ears look great!" And without even thinking about it, I let out a breathy "damn." And quickly followed it by "I don't mean that I want him to be sick...I'm glad he doesn't have an ear infection...it's just..." and before I could finish, Frank (the nurse practitioner) interjected "you just want answers. I get it...I have two toddlers at home. The not sleeping, sucks."
No truer words have ever been spoken to me by any other professional in my 30 years of life.
The not sleeping TOTALLY sucks.
So why wasn't he sleeping?
Well, Frank then suggested night terrors. Which Nick has definitely experienced his fair share of. And it's frightening every time, except for the fact that with night terrors, he ends up calming himself back down because he never truly wakes up...just cries in his sleep.
This was not night terrors.
And I was still scratching my head (and yawning and rubbing my eyes profusely).
So last night...Todd and I were working on very limited sleep (he more so than me because he gets up for work 3.5 hours before I can even lift an eyelid), but we had to use a groupon that Todd had purchased to a little Hibachi joint in Fairfax. Hoping to have a romantic mid-week date night, we asked my parents to watch Nick. Of course they gleefully accepted (God love 'em...we could not survive without those two, I tell ya what), and said "go do whatever you want, just leave his jammies with us and we'll take care of dinner, bath, and get him all set for you to pick up when you're done."
In my haste of having not put away any of the laundry over the last 2.5 weeks (but who's counting), most of Nick's clean pj's were hanging out at the bottom of a laundry basket that I couldn't quite get to. So I grabbed a brand new pair of 24 month pj's out of his closet - so new they were unwashed even, that's how desperate I was - to have mom put on him, just figuring "they'll be a little big, but no big deal".
You see, up until last night, all of Nick's 18 month pj's were still fitting just fine. And any 24 month pj's I put on him sagged at the crotch and ankles because they were just way too big/long.
But when we arrived at my parents house to pick him up, Nick was wearing the 24 month pj's, and they fit him like a glove.
The middle of the night crying and screaming culprit? Oh, just my baby shooting up 2 inches, that's all.
Holy crap! Talk about a growth spurt!
So now I feel like a crappy mom for letting him cry and scream when he was quite literally having growing pains. Poor, poor baby.
If he keeps growing at this rate, he's gonna be taller than me before he goes to elementary school. Which his daddy will say is a good thing, since the ladies like tall guys. But I'm not sure our toddler clothing and shoe budget can fully support a new wardrobe every couple weeks.
Either way, I'm just glad we finally know what the problem was. And I'm happy to report that last night? He was back to his full-night-of-sleep self. And we're all feeling much more rested today. :)
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
Tough
You know what's tough? Parenting an almost 2 year old. Some days I feel like I'm at the end of my rope, with the knot completely untied, hanging on to the last little bits of frayed ends, hoping that I can just keep holding on long enough to make it to bedtime. And then we make it to bedtime, and the rope just unravels further. And before I know it, it's almost midnight and I'm crawling into bed, holding my breath and saying silent prayers that Nick will sleep through the night, only to be awoken a mere two hours later to a hysterical toddler that can't be consoled because all he wants is to watch Dora in the middle of the night or play with the damn vacuum cleaner and the only way to calm him down is to let him sleep the remainder of the night right between us in our bed.
Ask me how the making of baby #2 is going? Obviously, it's not.
Most days Nick is the cutest, sweetest, kindest, most helpful little person ever created. But lately it's as if he has an invisible switch on his back that someone keeps flipping the minute I start to think about how wonderful it would be to have another baby so that I could officially be mommy to TWO of the cutest, sweetest, kindest, most helpful little people ever created.
For instance, last week, we were going about our morning routine as usual. I opened the pantry to get out some cheerios for Nick - the same cheerios he eats every.single.morning. like "omg these cheerios are my main squeeze, ma, I love you so much for buying me cardboard cereal with no taste!" - when he spotted the bag of baby goldfish. Unfortunately I had left them within his reach, so he pulled them off the shelf before I could deflect his little grabby hands. Holy shit, you'd think I had just ripped the head off his favorite teddy bear. Dude had a monster meltdown when I told him "oh, we'll have those later for a snack - let's have some cheerios and milk for breakfast instead!" (not to mention the cheerful demeanor and loving hug I gave him with my encouraging words). Seriously, his screams and sobs got so intense I thought he was going to pass out from the lack of air he was taking in. Todd came running down the stairs in a panic and said "geez, what happened?!" "Oh, nothing honey, I just thought I'd brand him with a hot poker real quick before breakfast...what the hell do you think happened?? He wanted freaking goldfish for breakfast and I said no!"
To make matters worse, Nick still isn't talking. He knows a lot more signs, which is super helpful. He can tell us when he wants "more" of something, signs "please" when he's begging for Dora (or goldfish), and signs "thank you" for just about everything - even when he does something that we should be saying thank you to him for. But the speech therapist has a tiny inkling that Nick might have Childhood Apraxia of Speech. I say tiny because she says he is still too young and does not have enough "data" (or words rather) to analyze if he truly is apraxic. Is it the end of the world? Not even close. Will he ever be able to speak properly? Absolutely. Does it suck? You have no idea.
It sucks because I see so many other toddlers happily singing the worlds to "Old MacDonald" and counting in their sweet little "one, two, free!" voices, and Nick can barely call me Mama. Little man is so smart it's ridiculous. He knows every letter of the alphabet and all of his numbers 1-10. At Thanksgiving dinner, we were asking him to run into the other room and bring us certain letters - not even in correct alphabetical order - and he got it right every time. But it sucks so bad that I can't help him to properly say what each letter is. I can't help him explain to me what it is that he wants in the middle of the night when he wakes up crying because the only word in his arsenal that we really understand is "Dora" and I don't want to plant any ideas in his head at 2am by saying "oh, you want to watch Dora right now? Is that why you're crying?"
I'm sure all of the above is directly related. I'm sure his frustration and temper tantrums stem from his inability to just tell us what's wrong, what he needs, or what he wants to do. And I understand that. But it doesn't make it any easier. As parents, all we want is to make our children happy. To make them feel loved. And I am doing my best. Todd and I both are. It's just a bit more exhausting than I could have ever prepared myself for.
I know I shouldn't be complaining. In the grand scheme of things 1) I have a beautiful, smart, loving, kind, generous, innocent child - something some people pray for and are never lucky enough to have, and 2) aside from not being able to get out the words he wants to say, he is perfectly healthy, growing like a weed, and learning so much every day. I love my son with every single fiber of my being and I wouldn't trade him for anyone or anything in this entire world. I would absolutely throw myself in front of a bus for him. I'm just over the terrible two phase. And he's not even two. Guess I better settle in for a long ride.
Whoever told me "God makes 'em cute for a reason: so you just can't stay mad at 'em" sure as hell wasn't lying. It's damn near impossible for me to stay mad at that face.
Ask me how the making of baby #2 is going? Obviously, it's not.
Most days Nick is the cutest, sweetest, kindest, most helpful little person ever created. But lately it's as if he has an invisible switch on his back that someone keeps flipping the minute I start to think about how wonderful it would be to have another baby so that I could officially be mommy to TWO of the cutest, sweetest, kindest, most helpful little people ever created.
For instance, last week, we were going about our morning routine as usual. I opened the pantry to get out some cheerios for Nick - the same cheerios he eats every.single.morning. like "omg these cheerios are my main squeeze, ma, I love you so much for buying me cardboard cereal with no taste!" - when he spotted the bag of baby goldfish. Unfortunately I had left them within his reach, so he pulled them off the shelf before I could deflect his little grabby hands. Holy shit, you'd think I had just ripped the head off his favorite teddy bear. Dude had a monster meltdown when I told him "oh, we'll have those later for a snack - let's have some cheerios and milk for breakfast instead!" (not to mention the cheerful demeanor and loving hug I gave him with my encouraging words). Seriously, his screams and sobs got so intense I thought he was going to pass out from the lack of air he was taking in. Todd came running down the stairs in a panic and said "geez, what happened?!" "Oh, nothing honey, I just thought I'd brand him with a hot poker real quick before breakfast...what the hell do you think happened?? He wanted freaking goldfish for breakfast and I said no!"
To make matters worse, Nick still isn't talking. He knows a lot more signs, which is super helpful. He can tell us when he wants "more" of something, signs "please" when he's begging for Dora (or goldfish), and signs "thank you" for just about everything - even when he does something that we should be saying thank you to him for. But the speech therapist has a tiny inkling that Nick might have Childhood Apraxia of Speech. I say tiny because she says he is still too young and does not have enough "data" (or words rather) to analyze if he truly is apraxic. Is it the end of the world? Not even close. Will he ever be able to speak properly? Absolutely. Does it suck? You have no idea.
It sucks because I see so many other toddlers happily singing the worlds to "Old MacDonald" and counting in their sweet little "one, two, free!" voices, and Nick can barely call me Mama. Little man is so smart it's ridiculous. He knows every letter of the alphabet and all of his numbers 1-10. At Thanksgiving dinner, we were asking him to run into the other room and bring us certain letters - not even in correct alphabetical order - and he got it right every time. But it sucks so bad that I can't help him to properly say what each letter is. I can't help him explain to me what it is that he wants in the middle of the night when he wakes up crying because the only word in his arsenal that we really understand is "Dora" and I don't want to plant any ideas in his head at 2am by saying "oh, you want to watch Dora right now? Is that why you're crying?"
I'm sure all of the above is directly related. I'm sure his frustration and temper tantrums stem from his inability to just tell us what's wrong, what he needs, or what he wants to do. And I understand that. But it doesn't make it any easier. As parents, all we want is to make our children happy. To make them feel loved. And I am doing my best. Todd and I both are. It's just a bit more exhausting than I could have ever prepared myself for.
I know I shouldn't be complaining. In the grand scheme of things 1) I have a beautiful, smart, loving, kind, generous, innocent child - something some people pray for and are never lucky enough to have, and 2) aside from not being able to get out the words he wants to say, he is perfectly healthy, growing like a weed, and learning so much every day. I love my son with every single fiber of my being and I wouldn't trade him for anyone or anything in this entire world. I would absolutely throw myself in front of a bus for him. I'm just over the terrible two phase. And he's not even two. Guess I better settle in for a long ride.
Monday, November 26, 2012
Thankful
This is the blessing...or more so, the toast, that I gave on Thursday before we sat down for our Thanksgiving meal. I'm not entirely sure that everyone at the table heard it as Nick chose that exact moment to be very vocal about NOT remaining seated in his high chair for the blessing and repeatedly shouted "nononononono and mamamamamama" as I read. But my dad was a bit teary eyed by the end, so I know he was at least listening. ;) Thanks, Dad!
_____________________
But it's pennies compared to the Thanksgiving's that some of you have had. Mom & Dad -- this is your 58th and 59th Thanksgiving respectively. Your 40th Thanksgiving celebrated together!
And Gramma & Grampa -- your 83rd and 86th. Your 61st Thanksgiving together!
Talk about a lot to be thankful for.
I, for one, could write a list a mile long of things I'm thankful for. At the very top of that list would obviously be my family. Every single person sitting at this table, and several others that aren't at this table today. We have been bound together through love and time. There are so many people in this world that are not so lucky as to be made with and born into so much love, as we are.
I am not only thankful for all of you today on Thanksgiving, but every day of the year. Every second of every minute of every hour of every day of every year.
But this Thanksgiving, I am the most thankful for one group of people in particular.
My grandparents.
Here we are, me 30 years old, Matt 32, and we are lucky enough to be sharing this Thanksgiving meal with our grandparents. How many other 30+ year olds can say that?
Just as they say "behind every great man, there is a greater woman", so can be said for our family. Behind our great family, is an even greater leadership. A backbone to our family. A family that would not exist, if it had not been for Gramma & Grampa, and Granny & PawPaw
For almost 50 years - 50 Thanksgiving's - over HALF her life - Gramma has battled cancer head on. And she has done so full of grace, full of life, FULL of Thanksgiving - for the blessing of just one more day...the blessings of her devoted family.
And for every single one of those Thanksgiving's, Grampa has fought along side of Gramma. And he has done so full of perseverance, full of admiration and support, and full of Thanksgiving for the blessing of his beautiful wife and the life they have created together. The life they have created for all of us.
So this Thanksgiving, while I am thankful for every single detail of my life - be it big or small - I am most thankful for the people that have brought us all together and given us the chance to be thankful for anything at all.
To my Grandparents. Happy Thanksgiving.
__________________________
I should note that this blessing, while only read to two of my four grandparents, did apply to all of them. As you all may know, my Granny in Arkansas has alzheimer's. But she faces it head on every day, accepting the love and care of a beyond generous man who has devoted his every day to making sure she is comfortable and knows that she is important and loved. These four people have shaped my parents lives, and in turn, my life. I am a very lucky, very blessed, granddaughter.
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
Jumping back in
Is it acceptable to make New Years resolutions before the New Year? Like even before Thanksgiving and Christmas? Hope so, because I need to make a resolution to get back to blogging more frequently. I love this little outlet for the main purpose of documenting our lives (more specifically Nick's life), but I also think it's useful in terms of sparing my FB friends a clogged news feeds with status update after status update of the little day-to-day happenings in the K household.
So what have we been up to since I last left off (almost a full month ago!)?
Well, in mid-October, Nick and I packed up as much of our clothes, toys, and general necessities that would fit in one suitcase (and, like, 12 other small bags as my Dad so kindly pointed out), threw it all in the back of my parent's Tahoe, and drove more-hours-than-I-can-count down south to Arkansas to visit my grandparents.
I had not seen my PawPaw since Todd and I got married three years ago, and hadn't seen my Granny (she was not able to make it to our wedding) for several years even prior to that. And neither of them had met Nick, so this trip was a huge treat for everyone. Even more so exciting was the fact that it was a complete surprise that Nick and I would be joining my parents.
There was a family reunion planned for the Sunday of our arrival at a local park outside of Little Rock. Dad drove into the parking lot and we could see all of the family gathered under the pavilion getting ready to eat. I threw a blanket over Nick (which clearly didn't work as he instantly ripped it off) and ducked down in the back seat (thank goodness for tinted windows) to hide from unsuspecting family members. Mom and Dad hopped out of the car and bee-lined for the picnic, while the plan was for Nick and I to wait a few minutes and then hop out and casually stroll up to the party.
Well, when Mom & Dad got out of the car, out of habit Dad locked the doors. So naturally when I tried to quietly open the door to get Nick and I out, the car alarm started blaring. Fortunately my Dad pretended as though he had hit the button, turned it off quickly, and rejoined the group.
So Nick and I slipped out of the Tahoe, and walked right up behind my PawPaw as he was just about to say a blessing. Poor guy - I think we just about gave him a heart attack. His eyes brimmed with tears and he hugged and kissed me and Nick like there was no tomorrow. It was by far, one of the absolute best moments of my life.
We then spent a wonderful week catching up with Henson family members and soaking up every second of time that we could with my sweet grandparents. It was relaxing, entertaining, fun, and incredibly emotional.
My absolute favorite memory from the week, aside from the big "hey, guess what, we're here!" surprise when we arrived, was the night that my PawPaw and I sat around the kitchen table, flipping through old photo albums -- photos dating all the way back to when he was a little boy -- and listening to him tell who each person was, and the background story that accompanied each photo.
It's a memory that will forever be etched into my heart. Seeing photos of my Granny and PawPaw as mere teenagers on a date at a local carnival...pictures of my Great GranGran as a beautiful young mother, carrying around her baby boy (my PawPaw)...and photos of my dad and aunt as toddlers that bore an uncanny resemblance to Nick and I (there's no mistaking the Henson in us). I can't remember the last time my attention was so fully immersed in something as it was at that exact moment.
We soaked up every bit of local Star City culture that we could and PawPaw even took me on a driving tour of the town. He drove me out to see Cane Creek, where he spent the majority of his days fishing after he retired and they moved back to Arkansas. As we drove through the park and past the lake, I asked my grandfather "PawPaw, when was the last time you went fishing". His reply left me thankful that I was wearing sunglasses, while silent tears streamed down my cheeks as he said "oh, honey, I haven't been fishin' in over two years now. And ya know, if I never fish another day in my life, I've done all the fishin' I need to do because there's much more important things to take care of now."
My Granny was sitting in the back seat as he said this. My Granny has Alzheimer's. My PawPaw, who's second greatest love after his wife and family - fishing - has given up the hobby he loves most and devoted his life to now taking care of my Granny, whether she is aware of it or not. The pure, unconditional, raw, emotional love that my PawPaw displays for my Granny is beyond compare. I am so blessed to have all four of my grandparents in my life still at 30 years old. And the devotion that my grandfathers display for their "girlfriends" of over 60 years is truly beautiful. (I could type pages upon pages on this, but that's all for another post.)
We spent the week eating, laughing, hugging, and yes, crying (mostly me). We had dinner at the local Mexican restaurant, which was delicious, and had a fantastic dinner at the local Steak house one night, but none of the meals compared to the night my PawPaw made his famous hamburgers. I'm not the least bit ashamed to say I ate two. As in, I finished my two before anyone else had even finished their one. Yes, they were that good. No - nobody else's hamburgers will ever compare.
I set my PawPaw's computer up for Skype (which we still have yet to have a Skype date, though I have tried twice!), we drove through the Cane Creek halloween lights display (which was awesome!), and we even got to show Nick the "zoo" across the street...which was not an actual zoo, but these people have a LOT of pets (a donkey, cows, pygmy goats, raccoons, guinea fowls, dogs, etc.) and Nick was enthralled. He desperately wanted to pet the donkey, but I was panicked it would freak out and bite off his hand, so I refused to let him get too close. We let my Aunt Sis pet it instead. And if you were curious, she couldn't wait to get back inside and wash her hands afterwards. ;)
All in all, it was an incredibly memorable trip and I am beyond grateful that I got the chance to tag along with my parents, see so much family, and most of all introduce Nick to my grandparents and aunt and uncle who had never met him. When it came time to leave at the end of the week, I could barely keep it together. I sobbed as I hugged my PawPaw goodbye, and as I kissed my Granny on the cheek - the sweet woman who gave no indication all week that she knew who I was, but was happy to spend time with me every day - looked me in the eyes, smiled and said "I'm proud of you and glad you are here".
In all honesty, at that moment, and for that whole week, I was the proud one. Proud of my beautiful and loving family. Proud of the people we have all become. And proud of the love we all share. It was one of the most blessed weeks of my life. And I can't wait until next year's trip, because you better believe that Nick and I are tagging along again!
**side note - we took a lot of pictures, but I only had a few on this computer to upload. I'm also working on scanning in the pictures my PawPaw gave me from the old photo albums. Priceless, treasured photos for sure!
So what have we been up to since I last left off (almost a full month ago!)?
Well, in mid-October, Nick and I packed up as much of our clothes, toys, and general necessities that would fit in one suitcase (and, like, 12 other small bags as my Dad so kindly pointed out), threw it all in the back of my parent's Tahoe, and drove more-hours-than-I-can-count down south to Arkansas to visit my grandparents.
I had not seen my PawPaw since Todd and I got married three years ago, and hadn't seen my Granny (she was not able to make it to our wedding) for several years even prior to that. And neither of them had met Nick, so this trip was a huge treat for everyone. Even more so exciting was the fact that it was a complete surprise that Nick and I would be joining my parents.
There was a family reunion planned for the Sunday of our arrival at a local park outside of Little Rock. Dad drove into the parking lot and we could see all of the family gathered under the pavilion getting ready to eat. I threw a blanket over Nick (which clearly didn't work as he instantly ripped it off) and ducked down in the back seat (thank goodness for tinted windows) to hide from unsuspecting family members. Mom and Dad hopped out of the car and bee-lined for the picnic, while the plan was for Nick and I to wait a few minutes and then hop out and casually stroll up to the party.
Well, when Mom & Dad got out of the car, out of habit Dad locked the doors. So naturally when I tried to quietly open the door to get Nick and I out, the car alarm started blaring. Fortunately my Dad pretended as though he had hit the button, turned it off quickly, and rejoined the group. So Nick and I slipped out of the Tahoe, and walked right up behind my PawPaw as he was just about to say a blessing. Poor guy - I think we just about gave him a heart attack. His eyes brimmed with tears and he hugged and kissed me and Nick like there was no tomorrow. It was by far, one of the absolute best moments of my life.
We then spent a wonderful week catching up with Henson family members and soaking up every second of time that we could with my sweet grandparents. It was relaxing, entertaining, fun, and incredibly emotional.
My absolute favorite memory from the week, aside from the big "hey, guess what, we're here!" surprise when we arrived, was the night that my PawPaw and I sat around the kitchen table, flipping through old photo albums -- photos dating all the way back to when he was a little boy -- and listening to him tell who each person was, and the background story that accompanied each photo. 
It's a memory that will forever be etched into my heart. Seeing photos of my Granny and PawPaw as mere teenagers on a date at a local carnival...pictures of my Great GranGran as a beautiful young mother, carrying around her baby boy (my PawPaw)...and photos of my dad and aunt as toddlers that bore an uncanny resemblance to Nick and I (there's no mistaking the Henson in us). I can't remember the last time my attention was so fully immersed in something as it was at that exact moment.
We soaked up every bit of local Star City culture that we could and PawPaw even took me on a driving tour of the town. He drove me out to see Cane Creek, where he spent the majority of his days fishing after he retired and they moved back to Arkansas. As we drove through the park and past the lake, I asked my grandfather "PawPaw, when was the last time you went fishing". His reply left me thankful that I was wearing sunglasses, while silent tears streamed down my cheeks as he said "oh, honey, I haven't been fishin' in over two years now. And ya know, if I never fish another day in my life, I've done all the fishin' I need to do because there's much more important things to take care of now."
My Granny was sitting in the back seat as he said this. My Granny has Alzheimer's. My PawPaw, who's second greatest love after his wife and family - fishing - has given up the hobby he loves most and devoted his life to now taking care of my Granny, whether she is aware of it or not. The pure, unconditional, raw, emotional love that my PawPaw displays for my Granny is beyond compare. I am so blessed to have all four of my grandparents in my life still at 30 years old. And the devotion that my grandfathers display for their "girlfriends" of over 60 years is truly beautiful. (I could type pages upon pages on this, but that's all for another post.)We spent the week eating, laughing, hugging, and yes, crying (mostly me). We had dinner at the local Mexican restaurant, which was delicious, and had a fantastic dinner at the local Steak house one night, but none of the meals compared to the night my PawPaw made his famous hamburgers. I'm not the least bit ashamed to say I ate two. As in, I finished my two before anyone else had even finished their one. Yes, they were that good. No - nobody else's hamburgers will ever compare.
I set my PawPaw's computer up for Skype (which we still have yet to have a Skype date, though I have tried twice!), we drove through the Cane Creek halloween lights display (which was awesome!), and we even got to show Nick the "zoo" across the street...which was not an actual zoo, but these people have a LOT of pets (a donkey, cows, pygmy goats, raccoons, guinea fowls, dogs, etc.) and Nick was enthralled. He desperately wanted to pet the donkey, but I was panicked it would freak out and bite off his hand, so I refused to let him get too close. We let my Aunt Sis pet it instead. And if you were curious, she couldn't wait to get back inside and wash her hands afterwards. ;)
All in all, it was an incredibly memorable trip and I am beyond grateful that I got the chance to tag along with my parents, see so much family, and most of all introduce Nick to my grandparents and aunt and uncle who had never met him. When it came time to leave at the end of the week, I could barely keep it together. I sobbed as I hugged my PawPaw goodbye, and as I kissed my Granny on the cheek - the sweet woman who gave no indication all week that she knew who I was, but was happy to spend time with me every day - looked me in the eyes, smiled and said "I'm proud of you and glad you are here".
In all honesty, at that moment, and for that whole week, I was the proud one. Proud of my beautiful and loving family. Proud of the people we have all become. And proud of the love we all share. It was one of the most blessed weeks of my life. And I can't wait until next year's trip, because you better believe that Nick and I are tagging along again!
Monday, October 22, 2012
Daddy problems
Scene: standing in the kitchen discussing the weeks events to come...
Me: "the girls want to do dinner at 6:00pm tomorrow"
T: "ok, that's fine"
Me: "that means you'll be alone for dinner, bath, and bedtime, you know..."
T: (without skipping a beat) "well he ain't gettin' lotioned!"
Me: "the girls want to do dinner at 6:00pm tomorrow"
T: "ok, that's fine"
Me: "that means you'll be alone for dinner, bath, and bedtime, you know..."
T: (without skipping a beat) "well he ain't gettin' lotioned!"
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
Because why would anyone talk about what their kid doesn't do?
It's all over Facebook.
Brag brag brag. My kid does this, my kid does that. My kid pooped on the potty today and he's only 11 months old. My kid has a vocabulary of 43 words and she's not even 18 months. My kid knows quantum physics at just 2 and 1/2.
I'm no different. I think my kid is the sweetest, smartest, most adorable creature on the planet. And I love talking about what new thing he's done/new discovery he's made/new quirk he's developed every day. Because what mom doesn't think their child is the best? As mom's we're SUPPOSED to think that. Hell, we're supposed to KNOW and believe it with all of our hearts. Because in each of our own personal mommy eyes, our kids are the very best, most amazing, completely perfect creations that we (huge pat on the back) created. And truth be told, every kid IS the best. Because kids are awesome. If they weren't, we wouldn't be a planet of over 7 billion inhabitants, and people would just stop procreating, because if you haven't figured it out by now...SEX LEADS TO BABIES.
But you know what I don't see on Facebook. Like, ever? "My kid doesn't ___________."
I'm not talking "my kid doesn't like green beans." Or "my kid doesn't know how to match their socks/shirt/shoes/pants/headband/tutu/etc." I'm talking about the huge milestones.
When was the last time you saw somebody post "my kid doesn't walk yet, and she's almost 18 months old". Or "my kid refuses to give up diapers and go on the potty and he's damn near 4 1/2"?
Nobody posts that kind of stuff. Nobody talks about delays or missed milestones, because as parents, we only want the rest of the world to see what we see in our kids...their complete and utter awesomeness.
But you know what? No matter what delay your kid might have? They're still pretty damn awesome.
Up until Nick truly started sleeping through the night consistently, I was a big time sleep-complainer on Facebook. If you were my Facebook friend, then you knew that my son sucked at sleeping. (Sorry bud, but it's the truth.) And I constantly received comments on my posts that said "oh my gosh, we're in the same boat!" or "my kid is a horrible sleeper, too - let's form a 2am chat group". I never got any "shut up and deal with it, he's a baby" comments because anyone that was going through the same thing we were, needed the same reassurance that I did.
So why weren't more people posting the seemingly negative? Was I just still reeling in the after effects of post-partum depression, and silently cursing my kid-less friends while hoping all of my new mom friends were suffering from lack of sleep as much as I was? Were my other parent friends just worried that their friends with babies that slept through the night since week 3 would judge them? Were we all worried that someone would think us bad parents for not being able to get our kids on a rigorous schedule? HAD WE NOT READ ENOUGH PARENTING BOOKS?!
Who knows?!
What I do know, is that nobody posts the "anti-brag".
But I'm going to.
My kid? He doesn't talk.
Believe me, he WANTS to talk. He babbles constantly. He holds things up all the time in anticipation of you naming the object/color/shape of whatever he is playing with. He loves when we sing, and he claps in approval for any and all animal noises. And he "repeats" anything you ask him to say, with his interpretation of the word. But it's rarely, if ever, the actual word.
At almost 20 months old, my son has a vocab of less than 10 words.
It's a punch to the gut whenever I see another video posted on Facebook of somebodies 15 month old rattling off all of the words to "Can you tell me how to get to Sesame Street". Because my kid rarely even says "Mama".
And it's frustrating as hell to finally tell someone "my kid is having a hard time learning to talk" and having them reply back "oh, don't worry about it, he'll be fine".
My mom gut says he'll be fine...but my mom intuition is also telling me he needs some help in learning. Some help that I can't seem to give him.
Do you know how awful that feels? To not be able to teach your kid a skill that is typically innately developed? To feel like you're failing at parenting? Awful.
Trust me - I know things could be a lot worse. And I'm not complaining by any means of the word. I love that he still uses baby babble...it let's me cling to that little bit of his baby-ness for that much longer. And he listens and understands SO well it's almost scary. Ask him to take something to the trash, and he runs across the house, to the kitchen, carefully depositing said item right in the trash-can. Tell him to bring you his shoes, and he comes running back with his preferred pair of the day. Hell, I asked him to point out the "ice cream cone" to me in one of his favorite books (which actually had nothing to do with ice cream, just happened to have a teensy-tiny picture of it), and even though he'd rarely had any interaction with the words "ice cream cone", he knew exactly where the tiny picture was and confidently pointed it out, smiling from ear-to-ear because he knew he was right.
I have every aspiration that one day Nick will be a rocket scientist or an engineer, what with his interest in detail, button pushing, and ability to follow specific directions. (That, and I'm his mom, so obviously I think he's a genius.)
And the fact that he doesn't talk yet is of minor concern and we're taking the next steps with a speech therapist to get him to the level of speaking that he should be at at this point in his life.
But up until now, it's been one of those milestones that he hasn't reached, and therefore I haven't wanted to share it with anybody that doesn't see Nick on a regular basis. Because who wants to comment on someone else's brag post of "my kid just learned to say boulevard, spaghetti, refrigerator, and RG3 in the same night!" with "my kid can't even say 'cat'!"? I sure as hell didn't.
But you know what? Whether he can talk or not, I know my kid is perfect.
Because he's perfect for me.
Even when he lights up, gives me a big hug, and says "Da-Da!"
Brag brag brag. My kid does this, my kid does that. My kid pooped on the potty today and he's only 11 months old. My kid has a vocabulary of 43 words and she's not even 18 months. My kid knows quantum physics at just 2 and 1/2.
But you know what I don't see on Facebook. Like, ever? "My kid doesn't ___________."
I'm not talking "my kid doesn't like green beans." Or "my kid doesn't know how to match their socks/shirt/shoes/pants/headband/tutu/etc." I'm talking about the huge milestones.
When was the last time you saw somebody post "my kid doesn't walk yet, and she's almost 18 months old". Or "my kid refuses to give up diapers and go on the potty and he's damn near 4 1/2"?
Nobody posts that kind of stuff. Nobody talks about delays or missed milestones, because as parents, we only want the rest of the world to see what we see in our kids...their complete and utter awesomeness.
But you know what? No matter what delay your kid might have? They're still pretty damn awesome.
Up until Nick truly started sleeping through the night consistently, I was a big time sleep-complainer on Facebook. If you were my Facebook friend, then you knew that my son sucked at sleeping. (Sorry bud, but it's the truth.) And I constantly received comments on my posts that said "oh my gosh, we're in the same boat!" or "my kid is a horrible sleeper, too - let's form a 2am chat group". I never got any "shut up and deal with it, he's a baby" comments because anyone that was going through the same thing we were, needed the same reassurance that I did.
So why weren't more people posting the seemingly negative? Was I just still reeling in the after effects of post-partum depression, and silently cursing my kid-less friends while hoping all of my new mom friends were suffering from lack of sleep as much as I was? Were my other parent friends just worried that their friends with babies that slept through the night since week 3 would judge them? Were we all worried that someone would think us bad parents for not being able to get our kids on a rigorous schedule? HAD WE NOT READ ENOUGH PARENTING BOOKS?!
Who knows?!
What I do know, is that nobody posts the "anti-brag".
But I'm going to.
My kid? He doesn't talk.
Believe me, he WANTS to talk. He babbles constantly. He holds things up all the time in anticipation of you naming the object/color/shape of whatever he is playing with. He loves when we sing, and he claps in approval for any and all animal noises. And he "repeats" anything you ask him to say, with his interpretation of the word. But it's rarely, if ever, the actual word.
At almost 20 months old, my son has a vocab of less than 10 words.
It's a punch to the gut whenever I see another video posted on Facebook of somebodies 15 month old rattling off all of the words to "Can you tell me how to get to Sesame Street". Because my kid rarely even says "Mama".
And it's frustrating as hell to finally tell someone "my kid is having a hard time learning to talk" and having them reply back "oh, don't worry about it, he'll be fine".
My mom gut says he'll be fine...but my mom intuition is also telling me he needs some help in learning. Some help that I can't seem to give him.
Do you know how awful that feels? To not be able to teach your kid a skill that is typically innately developed? To feel like you're failing at parenting? Awful.
Trust me - I know things could be a lot worse. And I'm not complaining by any means of the word. I love that he still uses baby babble...it let's me cling to that little bit of his baby-ness for that much longer. And he listens and understands SO well it's almost scary. Ask him to take something to the trash, and he runs across the house, to the kitchen, carefully depositing said item right in the trash-can. Tell him to bring you his shoes, and he comes running back with his preferred pair of the day. Hell, I asked him to point out the "ice cream cone" to me in one of his favorite books (which actually had nothing to do with ice cream, just happened to have a teensy-tiny picture of it), and even though he'd rarely had any interaction with the words "ice cream cone", he knew exactly where the tiny picture was and confidently pointed it out, smiling from ear-to-ear because he knew he was right.
I have every aspiration that one day Nick will be a rocket scientist or an engineer, what with his interest in detail, button pushing, and ability to follow specific directions. (That, and I'm his mom, so obviously I think he's a genius.)
And the fact that he doesn't talk yet is of minor concern and we're taking the next steps with a speech therapist to get him to the level of speaking that he should be at at this point in his life.
But up until now, it's been one of those milestones that he hasn't reached, and therefore I haven't wanted to share it with anybody that doesn't see Nick on a regular basis. Because who wants to comment on someone else's brag post of "my kid just learned to say boulevard, spaghetti, refrigerator, and RG3 in the same night!" with "my kid can't even say 'cat'!"? I sure as hell didn't.
But you know what? Whether he can talk or not, I know my kid is perfect.
Because he's perfect for me.
Even when he lights up, gives me a big hug, and says "Da-Da!"
Monday, October 1, 2012
4 years
Yesterday was the four year "anniversary" of my blog. I started writing this blog in September of 2008 -- about two months after Todd proposed -- as a way to document planning our wedding. I had no idea that four years later, I'd still be writing here.
It's amazing to think about all that has happened to us in four short years -- wedding planning, a wedding, a honeymoon, a pregnancy, a baby, hilarious moments of married bliss and parenthood, happy times with family, and, of course, lots of tears (both happy and sad!).
I'm so grateful for all that has happened in our lives in these past four years, and even more so, I'm glad that I took the time to write down so many of our little moments, stories, quips, and memories. I know I've forgotten to document plenty of things, but I know that one day we will be able to look back at my blog and read about Nick's first visit to the pumpkin patch, or crack up as we remember a conversation Todd and I had on a random Tuesday night.
Our life may not be perfect. There may be a lot of posts about Nick's sleeplessness, Whinnie's pooping, and my raging hormones. But the memories are abundant and documented and I can't wait for my grandchildren to read this one day and say "Gramma...I love reading about my Daddy as a baby".
As much as I don't want to think about time moving that quickly, that alone is motivation enough to keep on writing.
So thanks to all who have been reading, commenting, or providing me with material for this blog. I hope you'll continue to read along on our little journey because believe me, we're just getting started!
It's amazing to think about all that has happened to us in four short years -- wedding planning, a wedding, a honeymoon, a pregnancy, a baby, hilarious moments of married bliss and parenthood, happy times with family, and, of course, lots of tears (both happy and sad!).
I'm so grateful for all that has happened in our lives in these past four years, and even more so, I'm glad that I took the time to write down so many of our little moments, stories, quips, and memories. I know I've forgotten to document plenty of things, but I know that one day we will be able to look back at my blog and read about Nick's first visit to the pumpkin patch, or crack up as we remember a conversation Todd and I had on a random Tuesday night.
Our life may not be perfect. There may be a lot of posts about Nick's sleeplessness, Whinnie's pooping, and my raging hormones. But the memories are abundant and documented and I can't wait for my grandchildren to read this one day and say "Gramma...I love reading about my Daddy as a baby".
As much as I don't want to think about time moving that quickly, that alone is motivation enough to keep on writing.
So thanks to all who have been reading, commenting, or providing me with material for this blog. I hope you'll continue to read along on our little journey because believe me, we're just getting started!
Thursday, September 27, 2012
Tears
Growing up, I remember my mom crying a lot. Not necessarily bad or sad tears, just lots of crying.
Every time somebody got married on All My Children...she cried.
Every time a player was seriously injured during a Redskins game...she cried.
Every time she heard a sweet or sad song, every time she heard about a new baby being born, and every time someone passed away - even if she only knew them through a friend of a friend of a friend's cousin's brother...she cried.
And Lord help us every time my brother and I participated in a school play or chorus concert, or went to another high school dance, or drove a car for the first, second and fifteenth times, or participated in our respective sports...man, did she cry.
I honestly never really understood. I "got" that she was proud of us. I knew she loved us. And I understood that someone getting married/having a baby/breaking their arm (and subsequently having to sit out for the rest of the season) were all semi-emotional moments. But I just couldn't fully understand -- why did anything remotely emotional make her eyes swell up and cause her mascara to run? (FYI - she's since discovered waterproof mascara.)
I'll tell you why. Damn hormones.
For the love of all that is holy, hormones are ridiculous.
Perhaps I should preface this by telling you that I have never been much of a crier. Bang the crud out of my shin and pour blood? Ok, I'd cry. Have my heart shattered in a million pieces by a (less than desirable) boyfriend? Yeah, I'd cry. Somebody passed away that was close and dear to me? I'd definitely cry. But otherwise my family liked to refer to me as the "hard ass". I didn't really get emotional about things. Case in point: my parents bought me a BRAND NEW car when I was a sophomore in college. Did the whole surprise thing where they bought me a few silly gifts convincing me that was all I was getting, and then my mom told me she was dying to show me her rose bushes in the backyard and when I went outside, there it was -- a gorgeous, shiny new sports car with a gigantic ribbon on top. They were POSITIVE I would cry. Nope. Not this hard ass. I was thrilled and beyond excited. But no tears.
All this to say that I apparently was lacking in the hormone department up until about 2 years ago.
Then I got pregnant.
Pregnancy started out relatively relaxed. No truly absurd outbursts or crying sessions. But by about 20 weeks, I was crying and insecure about everything, stopping Todd dead in his tracks mid-dinner-making to console me. And for about 17 more weeks after that, if I had a hormone surge, no amount of consoling could fix my need for a "good cry". So I did a lot of random crying.
And then Nick was born. And the crying only got worse.
Why? I had not a clue other than I'd had a baby. In my defense, it turns out that those tears were in fact less of the "baby blues" and more of post-partum depression.
Eventually all of those hormones evened out, I calmed down, and I was able to wrap my head around this mothering thing.
But now? Now I can't help but think of my mom every single day. Because the tears? They still come...for reasons I would have NEVER shed a tear for before.
Sunday I cried watching football as they panned across Ravens player Torrey Smith's tear-stained face during the National Anthem (his brother passed away the night before, but up until Sunday I had no idea who Torrey Smith was).
Monday I cried listening to country star Lauren Alaina's new song 18 inches as she sang the words "7 pounds and 18 inches, the doctor lays that new baby's head right on her heart".
(I might've just cried typing out those lyrics.)
Tuesday I cried as I watched an old man carefully mount his bicycle in old town, shaky but confident, slowly riding it through town like I'm sure he's done a million times in the last 80+ years of his life.
And last night I cried as I recalled a conversation Todd and I recently had about bullying...knowing that all too soon Nick will be in school, and it is our job to protect him -- and it breaks my heart just thinking about anybody ever hurting him.
I cry any time I see a sorority sister announce her pregnancy or post pictures of her new baby on facebook.
I cry any time I know of a friend going through a difficult time and not being able to do anything to help console them.
I cry when I think about my grandparents and my parents getting older...knowing that I can't keep them all forever. Wishing I could.
And I cry and I cry and I cry. Sometimes happy tears, sometimes sad tears. But they come. And they come without warning. I just can't help it. It's these dang hormones.
So the next time you see me and think that I look like I've been crying...truth be told, I probably have. Because most likely? I was just watching the latest Subaru commercial. And I guarantee if you've seen it, you've cried too.
That is, if your hormones are out of whack like mine.
Every time somebody got married on All My Children...she cried.
Every time a player was seriously injured during a Redskins game...she cried.
Every time she heard a sweet or sad song, every time she heard about a new baby being born, and every time someone passed away - even if she only knew them through a friend of a friend of a friend's cousin's brother...she cried.
And Lord help us every time my brother and I participated in a school play or chorus concert, or went to another high school dance, or drove a car for the first, second and fifteenth times, or participated in our respective sports...man, did she cry.
I honestly never really understood. I "got" that she was proud of us. I knew she loved us. And I understood that someone getting married/having a baby/breaking their arm (and subsequently having to sit out for the rest of the season) were all semi-emotional moments. But I just couldn't fully understand -- why did anything remotely emotional make her eyes swell up and cause her mascara to run? (FYI - she's since discovered waterproof mascara.)
I'll tell you why. Damn hormones.
For the love of all that is holy, hormones are ridiculous.
Perhaps I should preface this by telling you that I have never been much of a crier. Bang the crud out of my shin and pour blood? Ok, I'd cry. Have my heart shattered in a million pieces by a (less than desirable) boyfriend? Yeah, I'd cry. Somebody passed away that was close and dear to me? I'd definitely cry. But otherwise my family liked to refer to me as the "hard ass". I didn't really get emotional about things. Case in point: my parents bought me a BRAND NEW car when I was a sophomore in college. Did the whole surprise thing where they bought me a few silly gifts convincing me that was all I was getting, and then my mom told me she was dying to show me her rose bushes in the backyard and when I went outside, there it was -- a gorgeous, shiny new sports car with a gigantic ribbon on top. They were POSITIVE I would cry. Nope. Not this hard ass. I was thrilled and beyond excited. But no tears.
All this to say that I apparently was lacking in the hormone department up until about 2 years ago.
Then I got pregnant.
Pregnancy started out relatively relaxed. No truly absurd outbursts or crying sessions. But by about 20 weeks, I was crying and insecure about everything, stopping Todd dead in his tracks mid-dinner-making to console me. And for about 17 more weeks after that, if I had a hormone surge, no amount of consoling could fix my need for a "good cry". So I did a lot of random crying.
And then Nick was born. And the crying only got worse.
Why? I had not a clue other than I'd had a baby. In my defense, it turns out that those tears were in fact less of the "baby blues" and more of post-partum depression.
Eventually all of those hormones evened out, I calmed down, and I was able to wrap my head around this mothering thing.
But now? Now I can't help but think of my mom every single day. Because the tears? They still come...for reasons I would have NEVER shed a tear for before.
Sunday I cried watching football as they panned across Ravens player Torrey Smith's tear-stained face during the National Anthem (his brother passed away the night before, but up until Sunday I had no idea who Torrey Smith was).
Monday I cried listening to country star Lauren Alaina's new song 18 inches as she sang the words "7 pounds and 18 inches, the doctor lays that new baby's head right on her heart".
(I might've just cried typing out those lyrics.)
Tuesday I cried as I watched an old man carefully mount his bicycle in old town, shaky but confident, slowly riding it through town like I'm sure he's done a million times in the last 80+ years of his life.
And last night I cried as I recalled a conversation Todd and I recently had about bullying...knowing that all too soon Nick will be in school, and it is our job to protect him -- and it breaks my heart just thinking about anybody ever hurting him.
I cry any time I see a sorority sister announce her pregnancy or post pictures of her new baby on facebook.
I cry any time I know of a friend going through a difficult time and not being able to do anything to help console them.
I cry when I think about my grandparents and my parents getting older...knowing that I can't keep them all forever. Wishing I could.
And I cry and I cry and I cry. Sometimes happy tears, sometimes sad tears. But they come. And they come without warning. I just can't help it. It's these dang hormones.
So the next time you see me and think that I look like I've been crying...truth be told, I probably have. Because most likely? I was just watching the latest Subaru commercial. And I guarantee if you've seen it, you've cried too.
That is, if your hormones are out of whack like mine.
Sunday, September 23, 2012
Dora saves the day...or night rather.
I'm blogging from my phone at 11pm on a Sunday night, because I don't want to forget this little moment. A moment not much different from any other night over the past 19.5 months. But a moment so sweet and pure that I just feel the need to write it down so that I don't forget.
Nick has always been a hit or miss sleeper. Fortunately, since he turned a year old, he's been more hit than miss and rarely wakes at night unless he's cold, teething, sick, or scared from a bad dream. And when that happens, it's usually well into the early hours of the morning, waking us all from deep sleep, jolting us upright in bed in panic.
But tonight, Nick awoke around 10:45pm...just as I was turning off the tv and putting down my phone for the evening. I checked the monitor to see him standing in his crib, crying out softly. I could tell it was either teething or a bad dream. So I went in to comfort him and give him some orajel to relieve some of the pain (he's currently cutting his eye teeth on top). The orajel didn't help and he continued to cry, while reaching up to put his little arms around my neck - begging to be picked up from the crib and pulled into our room and bed for the night. But being that it was so early in the night, I couldn't bear the thought of none of us getting any sleep all night, seeing as Nick is a terrible co-sleeper (tossing, turning, kicking, and generally laying awake talking to whinnie, me, daddy, the ceiling fan, etc. etc.). So I tried to hug him until he was content, but he refused to lay back down and continued to cry.
So I pulled out the secret weapon...Dora.
See, Nick is in a bit of a Dora phase. And by "bit" I mean completely and totally in love. And seeing as I'm a sucker for anything that makes my kid sublimely happy, I purchased him a stuffed Dora pillow a few weeks ago. But up until now, Dora has been an "awake" toy only.
So tonight, as he continued to cry, totally un-soothed by mommy hugs, I asked "do you want mommy to get Dora?". Instant silence. The tears ceased and he nodded a slight "yes". I sprinted downstairs, scooped Dora up, and ran back into Nick's room. As I handed her to him, I whispered "but you have to go ni-night with Dora". And he squeezed her with all his tiny 30+ pound might, laid down right on top of her, and went back to sleep. Just like that. Pure sweetness.
And now, here I am, blogging about how I got my kid to go back to bed, so that I too could get some sleep, and instead I'm staying awake to watch him snuggle with Dora, occasionally reaching out and rubbing a soft foot of his teddy bear across his face, as if to reassure his bear that he hasn't been completely replaced. Man, toddlers are the best. I love this little boy. And tonight, I love Dora, too.
Nick has always been a hit or miss sleeper. Fortunately, since he turned a year old, he's been more hit than miss and rarely wakes at night unless he's cold, teething, sick, or scared from a bad dream. And when that happens, it's usually well into the early hours of the morning, waking us all from deep sleep, jolting us upright in bed in panic.
But tonight, Nick awoke around 10:45pm...just as I was turning off the tv and putting down my phone for the evening. I checked the monitor to see him standing in his crib, crying out softly. I could tell it was either teething or a bad dream. So I went in to comfort him and give him some orajel to relieve some of the pain (he's currently cutting his eye teeth on top). The orajel didn't help and he continued to cry, while reaching up to put his little arms around my neck - begging to be picked up from the crib and pulled into our room and bed for the night. But being that it was so early in the night, I couldn't bear the thought of none of us getting any sleep all night, seeing as Nick is a terrible co-sleeper (tossing, turning, kicking, and generally laying awake talking to whinnie, me, daddy, the ceiling fan, etc. etc.). So I tried to hug him until he was content, but he refused to lay back down and continued to cry.
So I pulled out the secret weapon...Dora.
See, Nick is in a bit of a Dora phase. And by "bit" I mean completely and totally in love. And seeing as I'm a sucker for anything that makes my kid sublimely happy, I purchased him a stuffed Dora pillow a few weeks ago. But up until now, Dora has been an "awake" toy only.
So tonight, as he continued to cry, totally un-soothed by mommy hugs, I asked "do you want mommy to get Dora?". Instant silence. The tears ceased and he nodded a slight "yes". I sprinted downstairs, scooped Dora up, and ran back into Nick's room. As I handed her to him, I whispered "but you have to go ni-night with Dora". And he squeezed her with all his tiny 30+ pound might, laid down right on top of her, and went back to sleep. Just like that. Pure sweetness.
And now, here I am, blogging about how I got my kid to go back to bed, so that I too could get some sleep, and instead I'm staying awake to watch him snuggle with Dora, occasionally reaching out and rubbing a soft foot of his teddy bear across his face, as if to reassure his bear that he hasn't been completely replaced. Man, toddlers are the best. I love this little boy. And tonight, I love Dora, too.
Thursday, September 6, 2012
At 30...
I turn 30 on Saturday.
To me, 30 seems like much more of a milestone -- almost "epic" if you will -- than 18, 20, 21, or 25 ever did.
Maybe it's because I'm in that so called "prime" of my life.
Maybe it's because I'm more secure in my life - happier about my day-to-day - than I was at any of those previous age milestones.
Maybe it's because at 30, I finally feel like I know who I am.
At 30, I will have been employed by the same company for a solid 8 years. The better part of a decade. A company that has taught me growth, responsibility, and far more communications skills than I could have ever even imagined learning in my 4 years pursuing a BA in Communications.
At 30, I will have been married for 3 years. A solid 3 years. To a wonderful man. A man who restored my faith in the ability to have a solid, loving, successful relationship. A man who surprises me daily with his strength and commitment to our growing family. A man who loves me no matter my age, weight, or amount of days I have gone between hair-washes.
At 30, I will have been a mother for 19 months. To the most incredible, beautiful, intelligent child I have ever encountered. A toddler than tests my patience and my mothering skills by the hour, but softens my heart and brings me to my knees in prayer and gratitude with every kiss and every hand-hold from his tiny little fingers.
At 30, I will have been a daughter, sister, granddaughter, and niece for 30 years. As part of an amazing family - built on solidarity, loyalty, and above all unconditional love. A family that has always stood by me and supported my decisions. A family that would give their lives for each other. A family that I only wish I had appreciated my entire life, as much as I do now - at 30.
At 30, I will look towards the future with anticipation, excitement, and gratitude, for everything and everyone that has helped to shape my past 30 years, and everything and everyone who will be cheering me on through my next 30 years.
And at 30, I will spend more time being grateful, and less time being jealous. I will spend more time with my family and less time only wishing I had done so. I will be more patient, more respectful, more mindful, and more punctual. I will be more forgiving of myself if I stumble on any one of these. And I will finally love me for who I am -- and for who I will become.
30 already sounds awesome.
To me, 30 seems like much more of a milestone -- almost "epic" if you will -- than 18, 20, 21, or 25 ever did.
Maybe it's because I'm in that so called "prime" of my life.
Maybe it's because I'm more secure in my life - happier about my day-to-day - than I was at any of those previous age milestones.
Maybe it's because at 30, I finally feel like I know who I am.
At 30, I will have been employed by the same company for a solid 8 years. The better part of a decade. A company that has taught me growth, responsibility, and far more communications skills than I could have ever even imagined learning in my 4 years pursuing a BA in Communications.
At 30, I will have been married for 3 years. A solid 3 years. To a wonderful man. A man who restored my faith in the ability to have a solid, loving, successful relationship. A man who surprises me daily with his strength and commitment to our growing family. A man who loves me no matter my age, weight, or amount of days I have gone between hair-washes.
At 30, I will have been a mother for 19 months. To the most incredible, beautiful, intelligent child I have ever encountered. A toddler than tests my patience and my mothering skills by the hour, but softens my heart and brings me to my knees in prayer and gratitude with every kiss and every hand-hold from his tiny little fingers.
At 30, I will have been a daughter, sister, granddaughter, and niece for 30 years. As part of an amazing family - built on solidarity, loyalty, and above all unconditional love. A family that has always stood by me and supported my decisions. A family that would give their lives for each other. A family that I only wish I had appreciated my entire life, as much as I do now - at 30.
At 30, I will look towards the future with anticipation, excitement, and gratitude, for everything and everyone that has helped to shape my past 30 years, and everything and everyone who will be cheering me on through my next 30 years.
And at 30, I will spend more time being grateful, and less time being jealous. I will spend more time with my family and less time only wishing I had done so. I will be more patient, more respectful, more mindful, and more punctual. I will be more forgiving of myself if I stumble on any one of these. And I will finally love me for who I am -- and for who I will become.
30 already sounds awesome.
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Back on the wagon
The weather has finally cooled off in northern VA and Saturday afternoon was absolutely gorgeous. Seeing as the wagon has been parked in our dining room, loaded down with Nick's abundance of Pillow Pets (seriously, if you're thinking about buying Nick a present, please do NOT send a pillow pet...we have plenty), we decided it was about time we dusted it off, and took it for a spin.
Little man was so excited, he sat with his hands clasped and feet crossed the whole ride...
well, at least until he remembered he brought snacks along...
silly boy
I could just eat him up!
On Sunday, the weather was cruddy, rainy, and overcast most of the day, but fortunately still cool. After a nice long walk around Burke Lake that morning (which ended in us getting soaked RIGHT before getting in the car to go home), I figured we hadn't had quite enough of our fill of fresh air, and figured we'd take another wagon ride after dinner.
And of course, what wagon ride is complete without snacks?
Cookies and milk in the wagon...possibly the best day ever!
On Monday, Nick had his very first visit to the dentist, and then joined Gramma, Great-Gramma Ardie, Great-Grampa, and Great Aunt Lauri (GAL) for lunch and an afternoon of being plain old spoiled with love, attention, and hugs & kisses.
When he got home, it was so nice outside that I said "hey Nick, want to take a wagon ride up to the playground?" Homeboy was a little cranky from a serious lack (read: NONE) of napping all day, that he just wanted his pacifier. So I let him have his paci, plopped him in the wagon, and off we ventured towards the playground. Only, I decided to go the long way around -- which apparently was just too long for Nick. Little dude passed out.
Of course, I couldn't pass up a fantastic opportunity to catch it on video...
This wagon is proving to be our ultimate fall accessory. Thanks Gramma & Boss!
Friday, August 17, 2012
iPhone Photo dump
So, Nick turned 18 months old, and true to toddler form is into EVERYTHING. Keeping up with him is damn near impossible, as can be seen through the fact that the majority of my iPhone pics are blurry. As soon as he starts doing something cute/hilarious/memorable/obnoxious, by the time I grab my phone to document it, he's already running on to the next cute/hilarious/memorable/obnoxious activity. Case in point:
We took a weekend trip to visit Jay & Larissa. Nick LOVED scaling their steps up to the next floor.
While we were there, Nick displayed the true love he and Whinnie share. And by true love, I mean "incredible tolerance" on her part. Poor girl gets beat up by her "little brother", and she always comes back wagging her tail, hoping for more.
Jay also managed to snap this incredible picture of Nick while we were out to dinner in Scranton. If that doesn't scream "E-Trade baby", I don't know what does.
We had left Whinnie's crate out after the last visit from the housekeepers, and Nick thought it would be a great opportunity to see what it's like to be a dog. Not pictured: trying dog food and playing in her water bowl, which are also common occurrences in our house.
Sometimes he's super sweet and let's me grab him for a quick second to take a picture together. Sadly, the majority of pictures we have together are taken from this angle -- the reverse camera on the iPhone. Must remedy this soon.
Nick's current favorite toys are his little yellow school bus (insert short bus jokes here, if you must), and our kitchen cabinets. He could open and close the cabinets all day. Usually removing a dish, pot, pan, cooking utensil, kitchen towel, or [mom of the year right here] bottle of Windex. He's always (ok, usually) well supervised, but I have opened a cabinet here and there and found his sippy cup or snacks.
Point proven. Another self portrait via iPhone.
Last week we spent an afternoon at our neighborhood playground. It was SO hot, which Nick kept reminding me of every time he touched something (because "hot" is his favorite word), but he kept super busy and loved every single second of the "hot" slide.
This past weekend we went to my parents lake house for the "big reveal". We had already been there before, but since our initial visit, the whole house has been painted, cleaned up, and decorated to the nines (seriously, if you need someone to decorate your beach house, call my mom...amazing). Unfortunately I failed miserably when it came to taking pictures. Blame it on the relaxation, fun in the sun, corn-hole games, too much kettle corn, or abundance of bloody Mary's and Riesling. Regardless we had an awesome time, and Nick loved that he was able to enjoy some early morning Dora with his best buddy. :)
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