Don't let me forget

That this is the weekend Leo learned to crawl. Oh, and that his first word is "mama" and he says it most enthusiastically when he's chomping on vegetables.



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Mommy, I all done crying now.

Says my big girl at the end of a rough tantrum staged during the drive home from work/daycare. Followed by a sniff and calm observation that her "bace" (face) was wet. What a girl.



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Gummy Bear

Each of our babies has a distinctive personality--a light in their eyes that tells a little bit about who they are and what kind of trouble they'll be getting into in the future.

Emma was our little imp.




See the way she looks like she just might spring off my lap and go hide a pot of gold?

And Leo is nothing if not our sweet Gummy Bear (same jammies):



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A sad, sad story

I rarely discuss politics with friends and family. My leftist ways are certain to rub someone the wrong way, and I'm not typically confrontational enough to want to argue our differences. But the way things are going back in my not-really-hometown of Colorado Springs is just wrong, and I don't care who hears me say it. Since my move to Ohio, I've had a hard time explaining "where I come from" to people in the context of my local government work. When I describe the way the City of Colorado Springs is self-destructing due to its funding woes, I think people tend to think I'm misoverestimating. This article landed on my desk today in the most recent issue of Governing magazine (Don't you go thinking I don't read interesting stuff!!). It describes the situation there nearly perfectly, and I hope that it does so in a way that won't incite partisan tomfoolery--and instead might lead to some meaningful and productive dialogue.

Here's hoping.

Colorado Springs' Do-It-Yourself Government

Denial

I refuse to accept that this pain in my ribcage is a flare up of the old costchondritis. Refuse. I must have gotten punched in a barfight when I wasn't paying attention.

Yes, that must be it.


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Cup-tastrophe!

Sometimes when you have two kids under two, and two parents who work full-time outside the home, this happens.

The funny bit is—the sink was completely empty, polished and disinfected Wednesday afternoon. This photo was taken Friday morning before 8.

Apparently we have thirsty kids.

Brown Eyed Girl

For the past 22 months, Emma's true eyecolor has been a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma.  She was born with grey-ish, blue-ish eyes, and over time that color morphed into something a little more golden and greeny, but still difficult to define.  Very recently, they are taking on a true brown hue.  I'm so pleased, as JMT's eyes are the color of dark chocolate, and I always hoped our kids would share that trait with him.

Leo's eyes are changing much faster, and look like they will be brown as well.  Unfortunately, there isn't a catchy song title to go with that.

These are some photos from our recent trip to Colorado.  The whole botched family portrait attempt can be viewed here.

How Mama got her groove back

The past few weeks have been trying for JMT and I. He has been involved in a very time consuming and frustrating project at work, and I seem to be spending more nights in work-related meetings than before. The juggling act that this has forced us into has been a hard one to master. Thankfully, being close to our parents has meant that we can enlist their help fairly often. We’ve worked out a routine on the night’s that JMT is on his own, in which one or the other grandma comes over before we arrive home and gets dinner started, and then helps him get the kids fed, bathed and to bed. He still hasn’t had a full night on his own with both kids—something he is very thankful and appreciative about.


While I’ve used my mom’s help on a number of occasions, I’ve been finding an odd sense of satisfaction running the night-time routine on my own on the nights that JMT works late. I’m not as conflicted this time around about striking the balance between working and staying home with the kids—I’ve made peace with being a working mom. But sometimes I miss doing “mom things” like making the family dinner and finger-painting with Emma before bath-time. Owning the nighttime routine from start to finish is like making up for those lost moments. And after those first few weeks of being a mom of two, when I couldn’t fathom juggling two at once with no help, I’ve begun to develop a rhythm.

Here’s how the night goes: Off work between 5 an 5:30. Kids picked up from daycare by 6. Pick up takeout (from a place with a drivethru) on the way home or make a simple dinner (like scrambled eggs and applesauce or pasta with meatsauce). Feed the dogs and let them romp in the yard for a while. Nurse Leo while Emma eats and then scarf down some dinner of my own. Lay Leo down in his crib to be entertained by the musical aquarium while I give Emma a bath. Rock Emma and give her a last cup of milk while we sing our nightly prayers. Then take Leo downstairs for one last round of snacks while I read or watch a little TV. Put Leo down to bed, wash dishes and make the bottles for tomorrow. Then go to bed. Somehow I’m able to do all that and be in bed by 9:30 myself. Strangely, that whole routine takes less time when I’m alone than when JMT is home—I guess because I’m not taking any time for adult conversation or watching our shows.

As much as I miss having him around—and I DO miss having him around!—it’s been nice to find out that I can take care of my family on my own. So much of being a parent is managing and positively channeling anxiety. To not be anxious about whether or not I can manage my family’s nighttime routine is a huge gain in that regard. Not that I’m not plenty anxious about other stuff… like out cross-country plane trip with two kiddos tomorrow… but that’s another story entirely…

In other news, Leo has joined the ranks of the mobile. He can roll from front to back and back to front now, and he can rotate around on the floor a full 360 degrees. Being able to motor around a little bit has made him an even happier baby, and it is a joy to watch him explore his toys with the joy that only a new baby can show.

Shiny Happy People

Yes, Leo, I understand that you’re going to have a complex. Mama doesn’t write about you nearly as much as she did about Emma. But do you know why that is, future jealous son of mine? It’s because you’re such an easy baby! And because my time is stretched so thin that I don’t want to waste minutes that could be spent cuddling you on something so inane as writing about cuddling you.


That’s why I’m writing this while I’m at work.

Leo is 3 months old this week, and at 3 months, he is big, healthy, happy and sweet. He greets me with sunny smiles and coos whenever I lean in for a kiss. That is, when he’s not sleeping. Which he does like a champ (fingers crossed that mentioning this doesn’t jinx us). He regularly sleeps for at least a 6 hour stretch in the night and goes down to sleep remarkably peacefully.

I am not lying about how sweet and wonderful he is when we’re together. But the people at daycare probably think I am—because apparently he’s a different animal there. I’ve already had one parent-teacher conference about his bad attitude. The problem is he’s a mama’s boy. And used to spending time cuddling and cooing with adoring parents and grandparents. At daycare they need him to be more self-sufficient because they have a room full of mama’s boys and girls. I would love for him to be in a home daycare environment where he has more one-on-one time with the caregiver like Emma had at that age, but we just can’t find anything comparable to that here. Until then, we’re working on getting him to enjoy time in the bouncy seat or activity mat without yelling about how much he misses me. I have to say though… of all the problems he could have, I think that being a little too attached to his mama is one that I’m not going to fret about.

Mothering two hasn’t been as hard as I had thought it would be. There’s a lot more takeout at dinnertime, and sometimes the laundry goes from basket to basket without ever having been hung or folded between washings, but the kids are doing great. The greatest challenge to date has been taking both kids to the grocery store. I could fill the screen five times over with the tales of woe and lessons learned from that trip out. But all in all, I’m a happy mother of two happy babies, and I love every minute of it.

One more photo before I go to bed

Emma, at the zoo on my birthday.  Just seconds after this, the goat she was talking to reached forward and kissed her on the lips.  To which she wagged a finger violently and replied, "No, no, no!"

Standard Operating Procedure

After Emma was born, I wrote a lengthy account of her birth--both for my personal diary keeping purposes, and to help me work through the mixed emotions I was having about things not going according to plan.

To be fair, I feel like I should account for Leo's birth as well.  I'd hate for 12 year old Emma to lord over 11 year old Leo that mama loves her more and she knows it's true because mama wrote an essay about how she was born, and didn't write one about him.  I know that's ridiculous, but I've played the scene in my mind a dozen times already.  They'll fight about enough without my adding literary imbalances to the mix.

So where did Leo come from...  The story is actually a little interesting, in that I had some last minute issues with my blood pressure that could have potentially become dangerous for one or both of us.  Throughout my entire pregnancy with Emma (and my normal, non-pregnant life), my blood pressure was nice and low.  In the 90 over 65-ish range.  Always has been.  Then on the day of my scheduled induction with Emma, it had jumped up to "high".  Can't remember the exact reading, but I recall my OB indicating that if I hadn't already been scheduled to induce, my BP was high enough that she would have recommended it.

I never thought much about that blip in my blood pressure trend during my pregnancy with Leo, until I went in to see my Ohio OB at about my 36 week appointment.  After almost an entire pregnancy with low blood pressure, mine was starting to rise.  At 36 weeks, it was still within the high end of the 'normal' range, but at 37 weeks, it was high enough for the doc to tell me to stop working and order some blood tests.  I ended up having two rounds of bloodwork that showed that my liver enzymes were elevated and my platelet count had dropped by more than half.  Being a good reader of the pregnancy blogs, I was educated about pre-eclampsia and HELLP, and was worried that Leo might not be okay.  After the second round of bloodwork, my OB pushed up the date for my scheduled C-section so that he could get Leo out before things got any worse.  According to the doc, I was still okay (although I did see stars every time I moved my head and I was swollen to the point of craziness), but my condition could go from okay to dangerous in no time at all and there was no need to wait to see if that would happen.

So, on March 24, nine days before his scheduled due date, Leo was born.  A scheduled C-section is SO much less dramatic than an emergency C, and my recovery was a lot easier too--since I didn't have labor to recover from as well.  I arrived at Grant hospital an hour before my scheduled surgery, and due to an overflow situation, got sent to a relatively posh labor and delivery suite for my pre-op activities, instead of one of the tiny triage rooms.  We hung out there for about an hour and a half while I changed into a gown and got prepped for surgery.

After answering a lot of questions, getting an IV, and having visits from my OB and anesthesiologist, I was walked down to the operating room (not wheeled!) and got the the spinal block.  The anesthesiologist added a longer-lasting pain med as well called duramorph (sp?) which lasted for about 24 hours and eliminated the need for IV pain relief after the surgery.  From the time I walked into the OR until I had Leo in my arms was less than 20 minutes.

As comfortable as I felt with the idea of the C, and as excited as I was for Leo to arrive, I had about a dozen episodes of anxiety through all this that felt like I huge pressure and tightening of my chest.  I talked to the docs about it, and since they were constantly measuring my vitals, they knew that it wasn't actually physiological.  The episodes were scary to me, and I worried that they were an indicator of panic attacks to come, but I had the last of them during the surgery and have been fine since.

The best part about my experience this time around compared to last time, was that I was able to hold Leo right away.  As soon as he was cleaned up, I got to hold him skin-to-skin.  Before they even weighed him!  We left the OR with him on my chest and I was able to cuddle with him and nurse him right away.  I kept him with me for over an hour before JMT went with him to the nursery for a bath and to get checked out.  What a treat compared to the isolation I felt when Emma was born and I was relegated to a solitary recovery room with a bored nurse and no one else.

The next best part about this experience was having our families around.  JMT's folks were there for moral support before and after the surgery.  It was a huge relief to JMT, I think, to know there was someone there for him in case something went wrong.  It was great to have his folks hang out with me in recovery while he and Leo were in the nursery.  And it was wonderful to have both sets of our parents around to visit with us, bring food to the hospital, and shuttle Emma around.

My recovery this time around was better too.  I was up and walking around sooner, and braver about what I could and could not do sooner than last time.  It was a little rough at the 24 hour mark when the duramorph ran out, but once I got on a good schedule with my pain meds, I did fine while I was at the hospital.  And with only a few exceptions, I was fairly independent and mobile once I got home as well.

This maternity leave has been so different than my time at home with Emma.  For one, I'm more confident and settled in my routines and approaches to a variety of baby issues.  And also, I'm so much more busy!  Even though Emma spends her weekdays at daycare, it is still a lot of work managing the lives of two kids under 18 months old!  I've spent many hours nursing Leo and thinking about what I should write about this experience, but then I never get a chance to because who has time to write when you have two crazy babies?

Here He Is...

Leo Benjamin... born 3/24, 7 pounds, 8.8 oz., 20 inches long.

Happy, healthy and perfect.

The last night

Tonight is the last night of being a mother of one baby.  One beautiful, sweet, darling baby (who loves the cream filling from the donuts at DK Diner).  I've been excited for #2's arrival since we learned he'd be joining us.  But the sadness of saying goodbye to my singleton relationship with Emma has been growing steadily until now it overwhelms almost everything else.

I think that the main factor is that 16 months is a great age for a baby!  Emma is so fun to be with.  She is absorbing new ideas, synthesizing information at a speed I can hardly keep up with, and learning to make us laugh with her adorable sense of humor.  She has just begun to consistently call me mama (a word preceded by many... most notably "shoes").  She endears herself to me by calling out for me when she needs something.  While she lights up for daddy's dramatic arrival every evening, I'm the one she reaches for when something hurts or doesn't feel quite right.  It's as if finally my love for her is no longer unrequited.

So the steady uptick of pregnancy excitement has been paired with this sadness.  I know that I won't love my girl any less.  But I do know that there will be less of me available to her, at a time when she's just begun to articulate how much of me she wants in her life.  It makes me sad to know she will never remember these days where she was my one and only.  She will always know life as part of a pack, and will never remember when mommy's attentions were focused solely on her.  I know it's better that way... but it is sad to me.

***

So yeah, it's the last night.  We're having a scheduled C-section tomorrow.  When I found out I was pregnant with #2, I never really considered a VBAC.  Which is funny considering what a process it was to get over having a C with Emma.  As it turns out, like last time, this decision wouldn't have been mine to make in the end anyways.  As the weeks have progressed, my blood pressure's been a risin'.  To the point now that it's starting to effect other systems in my body.  The main concern at this point is my platelet count, which has been dropping over the past few weeks.  The doc moved up my C date after my last round of labs, so tomorrow is the day whether we like it or not!  March 24 will make a good birthday--easy to remember and fun to celebrate as it is the day after JMT's mom's birthday.

A thoughtful entry about thoughts I'm thinking

For weeks now I’ve been trying to organize how I’m feeling about so many things—new job, new town, new baby… not to mention the holidays, my no-longer-new baby who is now more of a toddler with jet-packs, and everything else going on in our lives these days. Maybe one of these days I’ll get stranded alone with my laptop and have the opportunity to get it all down in one place. In the meantime, I’ll try to focus my attention on one area—the forthcoming baby.

Here’s a summary of what I’ve been thinking in regards to New Baby: HOLY CRAP, I’M HAVING ANOTHER BABY SOON!!!

It’s funny how this pregnancy is different for me. First and foremost, I’m healthy. No nasty costochondritis to deal with (so far… knock on wood). No pre-term labor scares (again, with the wood and the knocking). The worst of my ailments at this point (28.5 weeks along) is the persistent heartburn. But I can handle that. I did have a run-in with one of my morning sickness meds early on that was pretty scary (tardive dyskinesia from the reglan.) I’m feeling big and cumbersome and easily fatigued—but overall pretty okay. The major difference this time around is my mental state. I am calm! I am not afraid that something catastrophic is going to happen every time I cough or hiccup or feel a funny little twinge about the midsection. It’s great! My main worry about the pregnancy these days is that I’m not worried enough.

The pregnancy is one thing. Actually having a second baby is entirely different altogether. I’ve got plenty of worry about that! Up until about Christmas, the pregnancy and new baby were more of an abstract idea—something to talk about, mull over, and plan for… but not really “real”. The hecticness of the holidays and the constant “Next year at this time I’ll be doing this with 2” thoughts took their toll. In less than 3 months, we’re going to have an even more active, more mobile, more expressive toddler with jet-packs AND we’re going to have a tiny, tiny baby who has needs and funny schedules and itty-bitty clothes to wash.

For example, the reality of what my post-maternity leave after-work routine will be is harrowing. Right now, I get off work between 5 and 5:40, rush to daycare to pick up Emma and drive for 25 minutes back to the house. She usually screams 75% of the way home. I get home, corral her in the living room and take the dogs out before I start making dinner for the two of us. I try to have dinner on the table by 6:30—7:00 at the latest. Hurry through dinner and hopefully JMT comes home before we head her up to bath time and bed. I try to have her to bed by 7:30—8:00 at the latest. This rush gives me no time for any superfluous tasks. The time after 8, when I’m exhausted from a day that started at 5:30 am, is when dishes, laundry, showers and hair drying get done. Not to mention trying to have adult conversation with JMT. Where is a baby going to fit in there? Where does the nursing and the changing and the rocking go? I won’t go into the morning routine, but it’s basically this one in reverse starting well before the sun rises and culminating with me being at my desk at 8 am. There’s no room in the morning for me to have a second cup of coffee. How am I going to fit in this baby? Obviously the division of labor in the house is going to have to change. I think I’m going to appoint Rance in charge of laundry and floor mopping.

So those are the kinds of thoughts I’ve been thinking these days. A savvy commenter would note that the solution would be for me not to work, or to work less. I was lucky in Colorado to be able to work ¾ time, and I bet that a set-up like that would help a lot. Unfortunately, since we still own our Colorado house (and receive much less in rent for it than what we pay on the mortgage each month), the finances dictate that I work full-time. And it’s not that I’m looking for answers right now. I just thought I’d share what’s swirling around in my head right now.

But lest I make everything out to be negative and unpleasant, here’s an example of a ray of sunshine that keeps my life bright: