One Week Ago

Mark made his dramatic entry into the world one week ago today.

And what a day it was!

Over the next few days, I'll be piecing together Mark's birth story.  In the mean time, I'll tell you about the here and now.

We are:

Tired.  *shocker* Mark is doing well eating every 1-3 hours during the day and 3-4 hours at night.  Scott has been taking the first portion of the night shift.  After we get the older two in bed between 7-730pm, I feed Mark and then head to bed myself.  I cat nap until the next feeding time.  Scott stays up with him and keeps him happy until it's time to wake me up around 11pm or 12am (depending on what time Mark ate last).  Then Scott goes to bed and I take over.  Thankfully, James and Reese are sleeping decently these days and not requiring anything in the overnight hours.

Grateful:  There's not a lot of glamour involved at this stage of the game.  My body feels like it's been through the ringer for sure.  HOWEVER, I have a thousand things for which to be grateful.  I didn't have to have a c-section.  Breastfeeding is going okay.  (doing a combo of breast and bottle currently) My milk supply is...ABUNDANT.  Mark seems to be pretty laid back most of the time.  James and Reese LOVE him.  Scott is off work right now and so incredibly helpful.  Our church family is feeding us regularly.  Those are just a few things, but there are many more.

Adjusting:  As anyone might have guessed, I think this transition has been hardest on Reese.  She love love loves Mark, but is easily frustrated by how little she can do with and for him.  She wants to touch him all the time, hug him, kiss him, etc.  And I want her to leave the sleeping baby ALONE.  I know she's missing my involvement in her day, too.  Scott has been handling more of her day to day needs than I have.  She prefers me.  (James prefers Scott, so it's all fair...)  Overall I think she's doing well, but when her frustration level is on the rise, her behavior can send Scott and I over the edge pretty quick-like.  Pray for patience...for all of us. James doesn't seem to bothered by the whole situation.  He checks on the baby frequently, but doesn't share Reese's exasperation about how much he sleeps or how frequently he eats.

What's different this time:  When James was born, the first week was a complete and total BLUR.  I don't think I slept much at all.  I felt overwhelmed.  When Reese was born, I was a little more prepared for how it would be, but it was still overwhelming.  This go-round I would say the first week has been about as good as it could possibly be.  My recovery is going decently.  Mark seems to be doing pretty well.  My expectations have been pretty spot on with our reality.  I reserve the right to change my mind about this in another week or two when Scott is back at work and the kids are back in school, but so far the transition to "party of five" has gone well.

• a related post from 3 weeks after James was born
• another one from after Reese was born

How has your own childhood changed the way you raise your own kids?

There are probably a million ways this question could be answered, but I'll focus on three.

1)  As a kid, I remember two people influencing heavily my perception of motherhood:  my mom and my Aunt Rhonda.  They really listened to me and made me feel important, even as a kid.  Both of these women were frequently patient with me when I was misbehaving.  Every once in  a while I remember each of them losing their temper, but that was the exception, not the rule.  I want to be like them with my own kids.  And yet, I'm sitting down to type this up after just putting my kids to bed and being supremely frustrated with James and Reese.  I let my frustration be known to them in no uncertain terms.  <sigh>  I have much to learn...

Me and my Ma
Photo credit: Diane Lewis

Uncle Phil and Aunt Rhonda, Photo by Diane Lewis

2)  I remember feeling stressed about finances as a kid.  We were a family of six living on my dad's Air Force income.  We didn't lack for anything important, but I do remember observing the financial strain on my mom and dad.  This memory etched into my brain influences how I want things to be with my own kids.

3)  Our family's faith was a crucial part of my upbringing.  I want to duplicate that for my kids.  I want them to be grounded in their beliefs.  I want them to see Scott and I living and walking out our faith, not just telling them about it.

I would really, really love to hear some other thoughts on this topic.  How would you answer this question?

God Made Dirt and Dirt Don't Hurt

I better believe that saying...at least after yesterday...

James, Reese, and I were moseying around the backyard yesterday seeing what there was to be seen.  As we strolled around the trees, we noticed a plethora of these creepy creatures:

from http://www.flightsofwhimsy-ece.com/2012/12/summer-and-cicadas/

There were at least five of these empty shells on each tree trunk.  We walked around each tree and brushed them onto the ground.  If I had to name that game, I'd call it "flick it" or something, because that's what we did.  Keep in mind, I never touched one of these suckers.  Not once.  James was carrying a toy with him.  He used said toy to flick the cicada shells to the ground.  So James never touched one either.  Reese, however, is a different story.  She boldly grabbed them with her bare hands.  Ew ew ew.  If we were keeping score in our game of Flick It, she would've definitely won for the most cicadas flicked.

She is woman hear her ROAR. This picture isn't from yesterday, but it shows her personality well...

After that game ended and all the trees were ridded of their ghostly  freeloaders, we moved on to attempting to weed one of our flower beds.  I put on gloves.  James put on gloves, but didn't touch the dirt.  He just wandered around the yard marveling at his gloved hands.  Reese opted out of gloves and dove hands first into the dirt.  Raise your hand if you're surprised.

I made a little bit of progress.  Not a lot, but a little...

See how there is WAY MORE grass/weeds/green stuff on the left, inside the "flower bed" than there is on the "grass" side, on the right??  It's shameful, really.  What can I say...I'm not a yard work person.  As if I need to tell you that after sharing that photo...

I would've made more progress (possibly) except for how helpful Reese was.  As I was bent over pulling weeds, she managed to get a handful of dirt projectiled through the air in the exact right fashion that a whole lot of it ended up in my below-the-belt undergarments.  NOT COOL Reese, NOT COOL.  I reprimanded her for throwing dirt and continued on my quest.  I figured I could handle a little dirt in some awkward places.  That's what showers are for.

A few moments later, having not heeded my stern instruction, Reese launched another fistful of dirt at me, this time it hit my head and upper body, a fair amount miraculously ending up in my above-the-belt undergarments.  This was the last straw for me.  Apparently having dirt in my underwear was okay, but DIRT IN MY BRA and in my hair was just too much.  I fussed at her again and dragged all of us inside for baths/showers.  James looked confused, appropriately so, since he was the only clean one of us at that point.  

I share this story so that years from now, when Reese wants my help raising a mess-loving daughter of her own, I can point her back to her own childhood and snicker, just like my mom is doing now...

Just Another Day

As I sit here typing, my skirt is half damp, half dry.  My kids are talking to themselves in their beds, hopefully heading to sleep soon.  And I'm trying to remember to laugh at myself (and my life).

Let's back up...

Sometime in May, I think it was, I received a work email stating the need for me to make an appointment with Employee Health to have blood work drawn by August 28th.  Maybe your work health insurance is similar?  If you jump through some extra hoops, you get a major discount on your insurance.  For me that discount is $30/pay period, or $780/year.  I can think of a lot of things I'd rather do with that money than give it to my health insurance company.  Keep that figure in mind...$780.  One of the hoops is having blood work done through Employee Health.  In May I thought "Oooooh I have plenty of time to get that appointment done before August 28th!"

You can guess where this is going.

August comes and I haven't made that appointment yet.  Last Friday (August15th), I got another work email stating that day was the last day to make these type appointments for blood work at Employee Health.  I immediately called them.  It was 5:02 pm.  The vmail message I reached said they closed at 5:00 pm.

Dangitall.

I left a message anyway.  Over the weekend, I emailed a lady in Employee Health as well, hoping for the best.  (skipping a few parts of the story here for brevity's sake)  Appointment lady emails me back and says be there at 9:30 am on 8/20.  They will try to work me in around other peoples' appointments.  (translation: be prepared to wait)  But hey, woohoo!  I have an appointment!  $780 Here I come!

I decided to take my kids with me.  Not because I love sitting in waiting rooms with a 3 year old and a 1 year old, but because my parents have already done a LOT of babysitting this week and I thought they could use a break.

Also of note, I have to fast for this appointment.  No breffiss for me.  Bummer.

This morning (appointment day!) I got up, dressed and got the kids up and dressed and fed.  I packed a to-do bag with some toys, my ipad, a couple of diapers, and an almost empty container of wipes. I don't know for sure if they were done eating or not when I plucked them from their chairs and tossed them into their car seats.  Off to the appointment we go!

9:19 am we pull into the parking garage.  9:20 am, while making our way to a parking spot on the 3rd floor, I hear Reese throw up.

WOMP WOMP WAAAAAAHHHHHMP.

"Mess! Mess!" Reese squeals. "Where's Reesey's bucket?  Where's Reesey's bucket?" James exclaims.  (I give him a bucket to throw up in when he gets sick.)  Since Reese is rear-facing still, I can't see the mess, but I can imagine I'm about to have SO.MUCH.FUN. when we pull in to park.

I wanted to just turn around and go home.  Forget the appointment.  Forget the 10 people I'd bothered (part of the story I skipped) to make this appointment happen today.  Forget the $780.

But I couldn't.

I was determined to make it.  I'M GOING TO GET MY BLOOD DRAWN TODAY DANG IT.  (perhaps I was hangry?!)

After parking, I grabbed my meager stash of wipes and head to Reese's side of the car to assess the damage.  She holds her hands up "Mess."  I said "Yep, you're a mess.  We'll fix it."  To keep you from throwing up as well, let's just say the volume of material on her wasn't so terrible.  Her shirt was soaked, but the entire car seat wasn't, thankfully.  The content of the material?  Bacon.  So much bacon.  I wiped up what I could, using up all my wipes.  I prayed nobody would poop during the next little while.  I put Reese in a stroller, hoping to minimize her interaction with anyone else and contain her messy self.

About that time, a coworker (#1) walks by and says hello.  I immediately told her Reese threw up so she could keep her distance.  She told me Employee Health was a zoo right now, so best of luck to me.  Oh yay.  Fun fun times.

With my sights set on $780, I walked towards the building, one hand holding James' hand, the other trying to drive the stroller while holding a wadded up pile of bacon vomit wipes, eyes peeled for a garbage can.

Found a garbage can, and proceeded on to Employee Health.  I don't even know what time it was at that point.  To be sure it was after 9:30...

Trying to open the door to Employee Health was challenging because of a) the stroller I was pushing and b) the crowd of people inside the waiting area.  Holy Moly.  Here comes me, my faintly-bacon-smelling stroller child, James and I...hoping to find a spot in the waiting room.  At this point I was reeeally hoping a lot of things:

1) Reese doesn't throw up again.

2) Reese isn't really sick, but maybe just car sick, so I'm not exposing everyone to some vomit bug, because $780 or not, that's just RUDE to everyone around me.

3) That we aren't in this place for hours and hours waiting.

4)  That nobody notices the bacon smell.

In the first 20 minutes, Reese has asked to get down 50 times and I've gone through all the toys I brought in our bag.  I busted out the ipad for them to watch a show.  Two seconds after their show started, they call my name as well as three other names.  They took us down the hall to another waiting area.  At least there were less people in the next room.  We waited maybe 15 more minutes before they called my name.  The appointment lasted 10 minutes or so.  I got weighed (yay!  who doesn't love getting weighed!), blood pressure taken (114/64...hypertensive for me...I blame my stressful morning), and blood drawn, all with Reese and James watching attentively.  I think James (and his constant motion) made the lab tech nervous.  She got him a chair to sit in, probably hoping that would keep him somewhat contained.  I agreed with whatever she wanted to do.  The last thing you want is a nervous lab tech right before they stick a needle in your arm...

On our way out of the waiting room, we bumped into coworker #2.  She was super sweet to my kids.  I didn't want to announce to her (and the rest of the room) that Reese had thrown up and probably she didn't want to touch her.  Thankfully she just patted her head.  That was probably safe.

We scurried back to the car to make our way back home where there's a bathtub and cleaning supplies and clean clothes for Reese.

At home, I fed them a quick snack and put them in the tub.  They proceeded to have an absolute blast splashing each other.  They made the biggest bath-mess I've ever witnessed in their short lives.  The kinda mess where there seems to be as much water IN the bath as out of it and the tile bathroom floor is down right treacherous to walk on.  This is where my drenched skirt came from.  It was collateral damage.

Now they are in their beds...hopefully asleep by now...  I've disassembled Reese's car seat to wash the cover.  Hoping there's no more vomitousness in my immediate future...

After all this, I better have met the criteria for the $780!!

Columbia Life: A Day at the Park

And by "day" at the park, I mean "hour", just to be clear.

We headed downtown to check out Finlay Park here in Columbia, SC.  It was chilly out (40's--that's chilly to us, balmy to some of you), but definitely tolerable.

Reese is still working on the whole walking-thing.  She requires, shall we say, "assistive devices."  During our time there, she walked at least a half of a mile.  She's napping now.  She may sleep until tomorrow morning after all that exercise.

Wow that's a lotta purple she's wearing.  Who dressed that child?? (cough cough me)

Memaw and Pawpaw appear to be Reese's security detail here.  The Colonel is ever vigilant.  Thankfully the Colonel is not too proud to push a stroller with a hot pink blanket in it.

James enjoyed three different sized slides.  A small, medium and large one.  He would go down one, stand up and say "Again?!"

There were some shady, shady characters (pictured above) at the park.  Thus the need for the security detail.

Do you ever feel like you're just watching life pass you by?  Reese does.

When you find yourself in that situation, be sure and invite others to join you as you watch life pass by...

Come on down for a visit!  We'll take you to some of our new favorite places!

Adoption: How Do I Answer The Question About How Many Kids I Have?

I'm in a new job which means getting to know new people.  Very common questions I ask and get asked:

"Do you have any kids?"

"How many?"

"How old are they?"

Maybe this is a ridiculously easy question for you to answer.  Maybe it isn't.  Maybe you had a miscarriage and you don't know how to answer.  For me, this question isn't particularly hard to respond to, it just usually involves me giving the asker more information than they thought they would get.

Whenever someone asks me how many children I have, I answer this way, usually all in one breath so there is no room for questions until I'm done:

"I have three kids.  My first child I placed for adoption when she was born, so I'm not raising her.  She is 9.5.  Then I have a 2.5 year old son and a 1 year old daughter."

People respond in all kinds of ways to that information.  I give a lot of grace here because I know they were not necessarily prepared to hear what I just told them.  I don't know how other birthmothers respond to this inquiry.  I just know for me, in my circumstances and how I feel about it, it feels wrong not to acknowledge Chloe in my "kid count".  To me, it feels like a way to honor her.  If I only said I have two kids, that would be dishonoring her.

My first day in the NICU, my preceptor (Courtney) and I had this very conversation.  She asked me how many kids I have.  I answered how I usually do.  I had my hands in a baby's isolette (incubator) at the time.  As I answered, though, tears started welling up in my eyes.  I was mid-sentence about how since I moved here, this is the first time in her life that we haven't been in the same city (generally speaking) as each other.

Side note:  since I'm a verbal processor type person, a lot of times I don't know how I'm feeling about something until I start talking about it.  The words come out of my mouth and it is only after the fact that I have a new revelation about the inner workings of my heart.

This was one of those times.  I didn't realize it was weighing on my heart until I said it out loud and had TEARS in my eyes.  I talk about adoption, Chloe, the whole scenario, all the time without crying my way through it.  And then in this instance, out of the blue, TEARS.  I blame unpredictable momma hormones.  I apologized profusely to Courtney.  Bless her heart.  She's going to be afraid to ever bring up the subject of children again!

I think part of what upset me was that I miss Chloe.  Although we didn't see each other frequently, we both knew we were there, available.  Also, it breaks my heart for her to think that I left her.  Does she feel this way??  Aw geez.  More tears.  I hope and pray she doesn't.

Her parents are so awesome.  I'm grateful every day for them.  I know they will help Chloe through this transition, as they have helped her through every phase of her 9.5 years thus far.  I pray that God would grant us all wisdom and discernment about how to care for one another during this stage.

I will continue to let inquiring minds know that I have three precious children.

Well, until I have four! No, I'm not pregnant.  Just sayin...

Two Kids

Do you have more than one kiddo?  How did that transition go for you?  How far apart were they?  How did you think it would go compared to how it really did go?

I'd like to tell you that this picture below is how it goes all of the time...  So sweet...together...

But the reality is something more like this...

Photobomb!  

James was 17 months old when Reese was born.  That was super fun.  He was pretty non-verbal at the time, unable to communicate much other than his displeasure about the new lack of space on my lap due  to the frequently-nursing Reese.  His tantrums and whining seemed worse to me after she arrived.  Hard to say if that was because of Reese's arrival, or just because he was 17 months old.  Or did it only  seem worse, but in reality had not changed much?  (Because I rarely slept more than 1-2 hours at a time and so my tolerance for such nonsense reduced dramatically.)  We'll never really know the true cause, folks.

Having a 17 month old and a newborn was fairly ugly.  I expected it to be ugly.  It was indeed as I expected it to be.  I was told that I would expect so much more out of James since he was the "older" child now.  That compared to Reese, he should know better about a variety of things (feeding abilities, behavior, life in general).  Since I was warned about inadvertently raising my expectations of him, I made a conscious effort to not expect him to suddenly act older than he was.  I did, however, expect him to continue to act how he used to act (reasonable with occasional flip-out sessions).  What actually happened was that he went backwards a little bit.  Flip-outs became more regular, reasonable behavior became a little less regular.  No shocker there.  His world was rocked.  He had to express it somehow.  If I had to go back and tell myself some advice, I would tell me to lower my expectations of James.  Allow him some space to regress a little and have less patience, problem solving skills and comprehension than he demonstrated pre-baby sister.

Three months into the gig, however, life was much more glorious.  Having a 20 month old and a 3 month old was tolerable.  Reese wasn't sleeping through the night yet, but she slept more than she used to.  James had adjusted a little and seemed less bothered by her in his behavior.  I could finally hold his hand while he went up stairs and have Reese in my arms.  I didn't have to carry them both upstairs.

Side note about his behavior:  James didn't really act out TOWARDS Reese, for which I was really grateful.  He was overall disinterested in her.  He didn't try to hit her with things or drive over her with his ridey toys.  He mostly ignored her.  I realized later what a blessing in disguise that was.  Other moms told me thrilling stories of their young toddlers feeding their newborns choking-hazard foods/toys or smothering them with "love" and kisses and hugs and slobber (read: cooties).  I was then grateful that he pretty much left her alone.  His "bad" behavior involved flopping around on the floor wailing, harming only himself (and maybe my ears).

It has only gotten better as each of the munchkins have gotten older.  I keep both of them locked safely secured in their high chairs during meal times.  This keeps them a) away from each other and b) out of my way while I cook.  James loves to share food with Reese.  Particularly stuff he's not interested in eating.  If she is close enough to reach his tray, she helps herself to his food, of which he is not a fan.  Girl loves to eat.

Running errands is doable, but not my favorite thing.  I'd rather wait until Scott gets home to go the grocery store with the rest of the city after work than lug two kids into the store mid-day.  Places like the post office, no drive through and no carts to put kids? Those places just.don't.happen.  Or at least not often.  Keep in mind, I have a husband that works normal, regular hours.  Arranging errands for a time when he can be with the kids, or having him run the errands in conjunction with his commute is very doable.  I know not all moms have that option.  To you, I am so very sorry.

Bedtime is something Scott and I usually tackle together.  One of us picks a kid to diaper/pajama-up for the evening.  The other parent gets the kiddo leftover.  We take turns getting to pick the kid.  Factors in the kid-choosing include:  dressing Reese is like changing an octopus.  Sweating may happen on her part and/or the parent's part.  James sometimes takes convincing to allow the changing to occur.  The parent must decide which is stronger this evening: my verbal reasoning skills? Pick James.  Or my physical wrestling skills?  Pick Reese.  No skills this evening??  Beg the other parent to show mercy and give a pass on the evening routine.  (rare)

So how did it go for you?  What about from two kids to three kids? (or more)

List Maker, List Maker, Make me a List...

Are you a list maker?

I am.

My mother is a list maker.

My dad's mother is a list maker.

I come by it all kinds of naturally.

I like making lists.  I LOVE scratching things off lists.  What if I do something that isn't on my beloved list?  I add it to the list just so I can scratch it off.  Yep.  I'm THAT kind of person.

Here is my list for all things related to moving:

The point is not for you to read every line item(sorry it's a crappy picture quality).  The point is for you to see the number of things on the list.  There are several (understatement).  And I know there are several more (another understatement) things that need to be added to the monster "To Do" list prior to us moving.

For some reason, when I start to get overwhelmed about an upcoming thing, I revert back to paper.  There are millions of apps that would probably work well at managing my lists.  I can't use them.  I have to physically scratch something off with an actual real-life pen to make it feel official.  Pencils are also inadequate in my list-world, in case you were wondering.

The other day, thanks to a gracious friend watching my kids for a couple of hours, I managed to accomplish ONE item on my list:  obtaining birth certificates for my kids.  James is 2.  Reese is about to be 1.  No, I had not found it necessary to go get those precious documents yet.  They live in my house.  That was enough proof for me that they were borned.  Getting birth certificates really shouldn't have been a big deal, but for some reason I was absolutely dreading this task.  Driving downtown, finding a place to park, finding the right government building, finding the right office inside the building, filling out the right forms, having the right form of payment with me, yada yada yada.  I just plain didn't wanna do it.  Which is why I've put it off for so long.  Yes, you can request these documents through the mail or online, but the price goes from $10/copy to $30+/copy for those other methods.  The spirit of Dave Ramsey in me wouldn't let me pay ridiculous amounts more just because I was being a wuss about navigating in downtown Raleigh.  I lived in Seoul, Korea, for goodness sakes.  My parents let me and two other 13 year old girls gallivant to and from an indoor amusement park using the subway system there with no adult supervision.  If I handled that as a 13 year old, to be sure I can handle downtown RALEIGH as a 35 year old, right?!

Anyway...back to birth certificate procurement.  After leaving my friend's house and realizing I forgot my wallet and driving back home to get it and then going to the bank to get cash to pay for the oh-so-important documents and finding a place to park and getting to be "wand-ed" by the xray security guy because I had on a belt and Danskos which apparently always set off the xray machine and finally making it to the right person to fill out the paperwork...  I was with the birth-certificate-lady for about 10 minutes.  That's it.  The person beside me trying to get her 3 week old baby's birth certificate was having a time of it because his name was apparently spelled wrong on it.  The kind government worker was gently explaining how the mom needed to follow this simple 352 step process involving approximately 895 peoples' signatures to get his name corrected.  I was quite grateful my process only took 10 minutes.  After driving not-so-directly out of the downtown area back to my friend's house, I couldn't wait to scratch off "birth certificates" off of my list.  Only, after I did, I felt like just scratching the one thing off wasn't enough.  It seemed like such a complex task, I almost wrote all the steps down just so I could scratch them off.  It would've looked something like this:

At least THAT list would make me feel more accomplished!

Are you a list maker?

Birthmother Connection

This week I was fortunate to have an opportunity to meet another birthmother.  We met up at a coffee shop and chatted for a bit.

Have you ever walked away from meeting someone new feeling just plain excited that you got to meet them?  That's how it was in this situation.  She's fresher into the birthmom journey than I am.  Even still, it was so absolutely awesome to hear someone talk about their journey and just GET where they are coming from.

Adoption journeys, from all sides of the triad (adoptive parents, birth parents and adoptees), are so wildly different.  I enjoyed hearing her story and telling mine.  I hope we can meet up again and continue our birthmother journey together, connected.

Feeling Special

Last Sunday, Jame and I went to church together.  Yes, Jame.  This is how he refers to himself.  When he sees himself in the mirror he says excitedly, "JAME!"  No 's'.  I love it.  It's an improvement from the "Beans" or "Baynes" he used to call himself.  Not sure why he's dropped the 's' at the end, but whatever.  Toddlerspeak is hilarious, so I say carry on Jame.

We haven't been to church in a whiiiiiile.  The whole family wasn't coordinated enough to go together, so Reese and Scott stayed home.  We were slightly early (1-2 minutes, that's crazy early for me), so we parked in the satellite parking lot and road the shuttle bus over.  You would have thought that riding the bus was the sole reason we were there that day.  Jame absolutely LOVED.IT.  He kept saying BUS! BUS! BUS!  I should have just let him ride the shuttle by himself continuously while I was at church...

When we got into the building and headed toward his classroom, he started clinging a little more tightly to my arm.  As we stood in line to drop him off, his bottom lip started to protrude markedly.  When I placed him on the floor on the classroom-side of the gate (yes, 2 year old classrooms require gates), the tears and wailing began.  I left really, really quickly, so as not to draw out the painful process for him.

Off to church I went by myself.  I don't know if you consider going to church by yourself an outing, but it totally is.  I certainly would have preferred Scott and Reese to be there as well, (Reese in her own classroom), but that wasn't possible that morning.  So I had my own fun little by-myself-surrounded-by-a-whooooole-lotta-people outing.

If you've ever taken a kid to church and dropped them off, you've probably received some sort of claim ticket for them.  Because, apparently, they want you and only you to pick them up after the service.  Weird.  Can't I come back in a few days??  This particular morning I looked down at my sticker which says "Betty Davidson" (don't even get me started about people calling me "Betty") and my kid's number/letter combo: ZB4.  My cousin Jon wrote about this tagging of children at church idea.  He calls it playing "bad kid lottery" as you go through church hoping your kid's number doesn't appear on the screen.

I felt pretty confident Jame would do well in his class that morning.  I felt so confident I sat in the smackdabmiddle of a row. Two-thirds of the way through the service, the bad kid lottery screen lights up.  Imagine a scrolling, red, marquee kind of sign.  That's what it looks like.  First up, some early elementary school kid's number.  *Phew*  The next classroom name to scroll across says "2 yr olds"...................ZB4.

Aw dang.

I just won the bad kid lottery.  I quickly got up, and started making my way out of the row.  The people were kind and understanding as I tried not to step on their toes.  Off to the 2 year old classroom I went.

I can hear him before I get to the door of the classroom.  He is beside himself with grief over being left in that den of wolves to be eaten by those other 2 year olds.  Even holding his beloved giraffe "bankit" isn't helping calm him.  The sweet teacher passes him to me over the gate and encourages me to bring him again.  What a kind lady.  In her shoes, I would have said "We don't take criers."

The MOMENT he is in my arms, he stops crying and smiles.  I hugged him tightly and told him he was going to make it.  I promised.  Together we headed upstairs to the "Family Chapel" (where you can take kids of any age and they can be loud if they want to) for the remainder of the service.  He sat pretty happily on my lap for the last 15-20 minutes.  I just sat there squeezing on him and lovin' on him.

Although I would have preferred he make it the whole service in his class so I could have an uninterrupted church experience, I was grateful for this sweet time with him.  He's not a cuddly kinda guy.  He doesn't spend much time just hanging out in my lap.  From what everyone tells me, I'm going to blink my eyes and he'll be 30, so I better enjoy these rare moments.

I know parenthood can teach a person all kinds of things about how God loves us unconditionally.  I felt like this experience was one of those learning moments for me.  I saw a glimpse of how much God must love me as my Heavenly Father.  When I am beside myself with grief over something that probably shouldn't cause me as much grief as it is causing, all God has to do is just show up, arms open wide.  Suddenly, instantly, my fears are eased, the tears stop.  I feel loved, cared for, assured.

A Case of the Mondays

Warning:  MAJOR OVERSHARING IS ABOUT TO OCCUR.

Before I forget the details of this story, I want to write it all down.  This kind of thing doesn't usually happen to me.  It sounds more like a story Beth Anne would tell...

My Monday began about 1:10 am.  The all-too-familiar burning/urgency feeling awoke me from my sleep, giving me my first indication that I probably had a UTI.  I spent the next two hours in and out of the bathroom, trying to alleviate the burning/urgency/frequency symptoms.  If you've ever had a UTI, you KNOW what I'm talking about.  Miserable symptoms.  Sometime after 3:30 am, I was able to fall asleep.  When I woke up again, I noticed it was daylight outside and that (oddly) Scott was still in the bed.  On work days he is ALWAYS up pre-dawn.  I tapped him and said "What time is it?"  He groggily said "6:30....OH CRAP..." and bolted out of the bed.  He was on his way to work less than 10 minutes later.  Most impressive.

Within 30 minutes both kiddos were awake and chatting in their cribs.  I peeled myself out of my bed and began the morning routine of diaper changes, bottle and breakfast making, and interweb surfing.  As soon as my doctor's office opened, I was on the phone with them to see if they would call me in a prescription for antibiotics.  Sadly, they didn't want to call in a script for me.  They wanted to see me in the office.  Fun.  The first available appointment was at 1:30 pm.  I agreed to take that time slot knowing full well that is smack dab in the middle of both kids afternoon naps.  *Once again I refer you to the burning/frequency/urgency symptoms.  Feeling that way will make even the most schedule-nazi-mom wake up her sleeping kids to go to the doctor.*

We spent the morning at my friend Amy's house playing and hanging out.  As soon as we got home from there, I put James down for a much-abbreviated nap.  I fed Reese and put her back in her car seat, since we needed to leave very soon.  I grabbed a quick shower and packed us all back up to head out the door.  James was barefoot, sleepy eyed, confused, but thankfully pleasant as I plucked him from his crib and carried him to the car.  Off to the doctor we went.

Upon arrival to the doctor's office, there were no parking spaces right next to the building.  I had to park just a little jaunt away.  No big deal except that it was raining and I was wrangling two kids.  And I felt like I had to pee.  All the time.  I decided to forego the double stroller, which would have been easier for me not to have to carry a kid, but I didn't think it would FIT in the elevator or the exam room or really anywhere in the office.  I opted to put Reese in her car seat stroller frame stroller (still getting good use out of that Brandi!) and carry James on my hip.  Brilliant plan.  Off we went, through the rain, into the office.

I knew they were going to want me to pee in a cup as soon as I got there.  I also knew that would be an adventure in and of itself with James and Reese in tow.  Before I could even head towards the bathroom, I needed to put some socks and shoes on James.  Yes, I was that mom that had a barefoot old-enough-to-walk-toddler in public.  I sat down in the waiting room, dug his socks and shoes out of the diaper bag, and put them on him.  He was still groggy and didn't put up much of a fight.  Off to the bathroom we went.  The stroller, the toddler, and the momma all fit in the bathroom with some room to spare.  If you are supermom enough to provide a "clean catch" sample while holding your toddler, you are more supermom than I am.  I put James down to accomplish this task.  Mid-way through the "procedure", I look up to see him trying the door handle.  It's one of those lever-type door handles, not a door knob type.  Lever-types are easier for toddlers to open, in case you were wondering.  I tried not to scream "JAMES DON'T OPEN THAT DOOR!" while also trying not to make a huge mess with what I was doing.  James took his hand off of the door handle.

Phew.

After some hand-washing, the entourage and I left the bathroom and headed back to the waiting room.  My name was called rather quickly by the nurse.  She took me to the blood pressure/weight room.  There wasn't enough room for the whole entourage in that room, so Reese hung out in the hall.  She didn't seem to mind.  James was very concerned at this point that this appointment might, in fact, be about HIM.  I had to put him down again so I could be weighed.  He hit the ground running, beating feet straight out of that room and saying "CAR CAR CAR" as he went.  It was clear he wanted to leave.  I grabbed him by the arm and asked him to hold onto the stroller while I got weighed (that takes TWO SECONDS, you know), which he did.  He sat in my lap while I got my blood pressure taken and the nurse asked me questions about my symptoms and such.  As an indication of how distracted I was, I do not know what my weight or blood pressure were.  What woman doesn't pay attention to the scale when she's being weighed??  A woman who is trying to keep her toddler from running wild down the hall of the doctor's office, that's who.

Soon enough, we were ushered into the exam room to await the nurse practitioner.  Instead of sitting on the exam table, I sat down in the "guest" chair with James in my lap.  A couple of minutes after being put into the room, the nurse poked her head in the door to let me know I needed to strip from the waist down (my phrasing, not hers).  I said "Seriously??"

<sigh>

I did what she asked, situated myself on the exam table with the modesty sheet precariously draped around me and James in my lap.  Except he didn't WANT the sheet over him and kept pushing it aside.  I just sighed and left the sheet alone.  "Down! Down! Down!" he kept saying.  He didn't want to hang out with me anymore.  Fine.  I let him down from the table and hoped he wouldn't touch anything too icky in the exam room.  That wasn't going to be a problem, though, as I quickly learned.  Within the next minute or two, the toddler child POOPED.  

<sigh>

Of COURSE he's going to take this opportunity to poop and stink up the whole room when I'm half naked and any moment a nurse practitioner is going to walk through the door.  I grabbed the modesty sheet and finagled it into a wrap-skirt tucked in around my waist.  I procured my diaper changing items from the diaper bag and placed the stinky toddler on the exam table.  Right about the time I had his legs up by his ears, cleaning him up, the NP walks in.  I blurted out "Well I'm having just about the best day of my life, come on in!"  She laughed, no doubt to keep from crying from the smell stinging her eyes.  She kindly said, "Did he choose this moment?"  I said, "He sure enough did.  I'm so sorry for the smell!"  I told her I totally understood if she needed to go see another patient and come back to me.  She declined my offer to get away from the stench and instead asked me about why I was there in the first place.  I answered her questions while getting James situated.  No mention was made of my cute sheet-skirt.  She graciously forewent the invasive physical exam and said she would be back with a prescription for me.  I got re-dressed, she handed me my prescription, I wrapped the offensive diaper inside of four exam gloves and put it in my diaper bag, and off we went.

Wow.  What an adventure.  I tell you what, some of these things that I couldn't possibly have ever imagined before having kids, it's for the best.  I might have been too scared to do it had I known...

As a marvelous ending to this story, I'm just now realizing as I type this that there is a 90% chance that nasty-wrapped-in-four-gloves-diaper is STILL in the back of my car in the diaper bag.

<sigh>

This Moment...

A)  Right this moment, there are two sleeping children in my house.  There are also two sleeping cats, but that's not nearly as noteworthy.

B)  For the second night in a row, I've had the immense pleasure of sleeping through the night.  A gift I believe to be straight from heaven above, delivered to me through baby Reese.

Because of (B), I am able to take this moment to write during (A).  Usually, my two kids don't sleep at the same time.  If they do, I'm so tired, I try to sleep briefly while they do.  So today I'm feeling particularly grateful for James and Reese napping at the same time and that I feel somewhat alert and awake.

I have so many things on my mind that I want to write about!

The transition from 1 kid to 2 kids.
Life with a newborn.
Life with a toddler.
My working life since I've returned from maternity leave.
Marriage in it's 4th year.
Apartment living with a family.
A million things related to adoption.

There are lots more thoughts that I just can pin down right now.

Maybe I'll make this a blurb-blog-post!  Just write a blurb about each topic!  Today I'll be a blurbologist.

1 kid --> 2 kids

I anticipated that doubling the number of children in our home would be challenging.  I didn't have (many) disillusions about that.  I figured that it would be hard no matter how old the first child is.  That being how I thought, we didn't wait long at all between kids.  James was 8 months old when I got pregnant with Reese.  He was exactly 17 months old when she was born.  Hindsight being what it is and all...now that Reese is here, I'm realizing that it may, in fact, have been a little bit helpful if James was older.  Who knew.  He is getting so much more independent now.  He's communicating a little better, asking for things, telling you what he wants/needs in a slightly more understandable fashion.  This is INCREDIBLY helpful!  We are well on our way to only having to fake-it-til-we-make-it-guess-what-the-child-needs with one kiddo instead of two.  So there ya have it.  Live and learn. :)

Newborns

I have really been able to enjoy Reese as a newborn.  Not that I didn't enjoy James as an itty bitty baby, but I've enjoyed her MORE.  It's all about perspective.  When James was born, I thought newborns were hard!  But thanks to James, I've learned that newborns are actually quite simple.  Labor intensive, but simple.  TODDLERS are the challenging ones!  I know all of you with teenagers are saying "Just you wait..."  Since I'm not to the teenager point yet, I don't have that perspective.  All I know is that my toddler is more challenging day to day than my newborn is.  I have appreciated my time with Reese since I know a little bit better now how truly quickly this phase goes by.

Toddlers

James is 20 months old now.  He is hilarious, busy, climb-y, attentive to details, curious, playful, smile-y, impatient, chatty but frequently not understandable, and will occasionally drive one to want to drink. I'm starting to see now what people may love about this stage.  The curiosity he shows about anything and everything and how quickly he learns things is amazing.  I love watching his little brain work out a problem.  In part because of how his cheeks practically rest on his chest when he's sitting down, looking down, working on something.  He has also gotten a little more cuddly than he used to be.  He will sit in my lap and let me read to him.  When he gets really tired, he definitely is more amenable cuddling, especially if he can hold on to one of his lovey blankets and suck his thumb.  I still don't love the throw down, thrash about tantrums that seem to accompany toddlerhood, but who does.  At least there are some redeeming moments in between to keep me from wanting to lock him in his room and throw away the key.

Work

I returned to work on January 27th.  I was out on maternity leave for 12 weeks plus a couple of days.  I was ready to go back!  I was looking forward to adult conversation, earning some money, and using a different part of my brain as a nurse than I do at home.  I reduced my hours at work to part time.  For those not involved in the hospital nurse world, full time work is usually three 12 hour shifts per week.  Therefore, in two weeks, I was working 6 days.  Now in a two week time frame, I work 3 days.  This is very manageable.  I still get a TON of time with my kiddos.  I don't have to stress about pumping at work as much as I did last time.  I do have to pump at work.  I couldn't make it 13+ hours without pumping.  However, even if I don't pump the same number of times that Reese eats and my supply starts to go down after one day at work, she can nurse it back up the next day.  My parents keep my kids when I work during the week.  Scott keeps them on weekends.  I'm super comfortable with both arrangements, so neither one causes me stress while I'm at work.  All in all, so far so good regarding being a working mom of two.

Marriage

Oh Scott.  We had no idea 4.5 years ago that our lives would be like this now.  "This" can be many things:  awesome, horrible, and everything in between.  When Reese and James are having bad days and Scott and I are exhausted, we tend to think "What the heck have we done?!"  But on the good days, when we're enjoying our family-ness, contentment abounds.  We do have to laugh when we think about what it was like when we dated and were soooo in love and all that mushy stuff.  We're still very much in love, but it sure looks more practical and less mushy now.  He appreciates it when I cook dinner.  I appreciate it when he runs errands and takes James with him.  It's just different than it used to be... :)

Apartment Life

We would love to be in a house and not an apartment.  Dave Ramsey recommends saving 20% for a down payment and getting a 15 year fixed mortgage.  This is what we plan to do, it just takes time.  In the mean time, we're living in an apartment.  I curse our upstairs neighbors when they are clomping around (in lead shoes, I'm sure) and wake up one of my kids.  I cringe and wait for a knock on the door from our downstairs neighbors when James is running around like a mad man squealing at the top of his lungs.  C'est la vie in an apartment.  Fortunately, we moved into a 2nd floor apartment (down from the 3rd floor!) in December that has an attached garage.  That is amazingly helpful when transporting car seat age children.  I can get one kid squared away in the car and come back upstairs to retrieve the other kid.  Before, when we were on the 3rd floor without a garage, I just wasn't comfortable leaving one kid in the car in the parking lot while I traipsed back upstairs to get the other kid.

Adoption

Adoption consumes a fair portion of my thought life.  I think about Chloe all the time and what I hope our relationship can be like.  I think about Scott and I adopting in the future and what that may be like.  Sticking with the blurb-ness of this post, I'll keep this short.  Several weeks ago, Melissa asked if we could set up a time for Chloe to call me.  Melissa said Chloe had been talking about me a lot recently.  She (Melissa) felt like she (Chloe) needed to talk to me.  I thought it was a great idea.  She (Chloe) called me at the agreed upon time.  We talked for 20 minutes or so.  At first it was a little awkward and slow going.  Have you ever talked to an 8 year old on the phone?  You have to ask a LOT of questions to get them to talk!  Then it was less awkward and conversation flowed more readily.  When we hung up, I thought, "And so it begins..."  A new phase of our relationship.  Up until now, I've primarily cultivated a relationship with Melissa, because I felt that was the best thing to do.  But now, it seems we're transitioning to a time where Chloe and I will start to define our relationship.  It's exciting and scary all at the same time.  I wonder if Chloe thinks the same thing I do:  "I hope she likes me!!"

As far as Scott and I adopting, we haven't even begun to begin the process, if that makes any sense.  I think saving for a house is a prerequisite for us pursuing adoption.  We want to be in a home before we bring another child into our family.  We shall see...

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Wow....I typed this whole post and both kids are still sleeping.  UH-MAZING.

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Thanks for joining me here and sharing in my world.  Please feel free to leave a comment and include your blog address, if you have one.  I love blog reading!!

Let's Be Honest

As the last part of my getting-ready-for-bed-ritual, I always peek in on James in his crib.  I'm guessing this is a fairly normal routine for moms.  I'm just not sure that the reason I do it is the same reason as other moms.

1)  I just want to see that he's really asleep.

Fairly normal.

2)  I love this little guy more than words can describe.  Seeing him one more time before I go to sleep is simply a way to end my night on a great note.

Fairly normal.

3)  To make sure he's breathing.

Fairly normal.

4)  In the horrid event that in the morning he WASN'T breathing, or was STOLEN, I would want to be able to tell the police/medics/ambulancy-people what time I last saw him.  

Not so normal.

I don't know if other people think about this.  I've read way to many news stories about abducted kids.  In the article somewhere it always says the parents last saw the child at 8pm, or something like that, when the child went to bed.  In this situation, time is of the essence.  The smaller the window of time, the better.  This translates to me that I need to see him at the last possible moment (before I go to bed) and check on him again first thing in the morning when I wake up.  If I happen to make a night-time potty sleep break, I'll check on him then, too.  

Am I crazy?  

Stuck

On work days I'm gone for 13+ hours.

On non-work days, I breathe a huge sigh of relief that I'm off.  I waste half of my time off in recovery from the work days.

I feel like I'm half-@$$ing every area of my life.  Motherhood, wife-hood, work-hood.

I am not the first working mother.  This has been done by bazillions of women before me.  Why do I feel this way about it?

STUCK.

Life as a Military Kid

My dad was in the Air Force.  We moved a lot.  Until college, I had never lived in one city for four consecutive years.  People asked me as a kid if I liked moving around a lot.  That's like asking me if I liked being a girl.  I didn't know any different.  I liked it because it was all I knew.

I realize, in looking back, that I developed some coping mechanisms to handle all the moving.  Some healthy, some not so much.  Pretending to be aloof, nonchalant, acting like I didn't care about anything...this was one of my strategies.

I spent my 9th grade year of high school in Illinois.  I spent 10th-12th grade in Maryland.  That's not a big deal.  Two high schools.  My brother went to four.  I consider myself lucky.  The first day at my new high school in Maryland, I had my defenses up.  I went in ready to blend in and not stick out.  This was particularly challenging because I was in the minority in my school.

In one particular class, the guy next to me struck up a conversation with me.

Attempting-to-be-nice-guy:  "You're new here, aren't you?"

Aloof-me: "Yeah."

ATBNG: "Did you just move to the area?"

AM: "Yeah. My dad is in the Air Force." <looking disinterested>

ATBNG: "Oh really, my uncle is in the...."

<me interrupting> "I didn't ask."

As you can imagine, the conversation pretty much ended there.  Wow.  Nicely done me.  Way to stay disconnected, disengaged, DISTANT.  So distant I didn't even care if I was down right rude.

What a strategy.  I've spent a lot of time trying to undo my self-taught "disengage" coping mechanism.  I don't have it all figured out.  How to be present, engaged, emotionally available.  But I've come a long way since that chilly conversation in high school.

Now I have roots in a city I've lived in for more than 7 years.  I have long-term friendships that have weathered me moving away for a few years and then moving back.  I have an elderly cat that has been mine since he was a kitten.  (You don't understand...we never had old pets.  We didn't really move with our pets.  We would find them new homes or take them to my grandparents farm.)  And I have a new kind of relationship in my life that is unlike any I've experienced before.  Being a mom to baby James.  Lucky for him he doesn't have climb over my heart-walls like almost everybody else has had to do.

He was born an insider.

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I'm linking up with Heather of The Extraordinary Ordinary for #justwrite.

Baby Gear Must-Haves

New moms:  As you've probably already discovered, the more moms you ask about baby stuff you absolutely must have, the more recommendations you'll get.  Well, here's my two cents on the matter.

Bare essentials list, in random order, followed by pictures of what I chose:  

1) Place to sleep. Could be a bassinet.  Could be a crib.  At times you'll want that sleeping containment area as close to you as possible.  At other times you'll want to move it to another country.

*baby not included

2) Diapers.  Cloth, not cloth.  Whatever suits your fancy.  Take the advice of those that have gone before you, you're going to want to cover up that cute little butt.

3) Food.  Formula, breast feeding, again, whatever suits your fancy.  Kid's gotta eat.

my freezer stash

Although I chose breastfeeding, I felt a picture of my boobs would be inappropriate.  Not ready to head in that direction with this blog...

4) Car seat.  Lots and lots of choices here.  Ask your friends what they like/dislike about the car seat they chose.  The hospital staff won't let you go home from the hospital with your new little babe without this key item.

5) Clothes.  Options are endless here.  I'd recommend CUTE.

The non-bare essentials list:

A)  Some sort of baby bathtub, so as not to drown the child while trying to get them clean.

B)  Swaddle blankets.  I highly recommend swaddling your kiddo to keep them happier.  These light weight blankets (Aden & Anais) were awesome:

C)  Regardless of your feeding choice, you will need bottles at some point.  Lots of them.  If you are breast feeding and pumping, extra pump parts would be helpful, too.

D)  Pacifiers.  Wow.  These absolutely improved our quality of life for the first several weeks.

E)  Comfortable chair.  I've spent a LOT of time in this chair and in the recliner in the living room.  You need a comfortable spot to set up "shop" for all the millions of hours spent feeding your baby.

F)  Bumbo.  I haven't really gotten a ton of use out of this yet.  But some moms swear by them.

*duck not included

G)  Bouncy seat or swing.  Could NOT have survived our first few weeks without our bouncy seat.  James was a huge fan of sleeping in it.  And we were huge fans of James sleeping.  Sooo....   We didn't use our swing much at all, but some babies love the swing.

H)  Play mat.  Our kid loves his.  

I)  Boppy.  I've found this very, very helpful with breastfeeding.  

J)  Not at all helpful:  a sunbathing cat.  As I was walking around the apartment photographing all the various baby gear items, I saw this on the back porch.  Not only is Nestle NOT helpful with the baby, she actually helps create more mess for me to clean up.  If you don't have pets already, now is not the time to get one. :)

K)  Last but definitely not least, the most helpful thing to have when you have a new baby:  A PARTNER. 

Even if said partner despises having his picture taken and posted on the interwebs.

The Here and Now

I sit here, my butt glued to this recliner.  The baby is in his nearby room talking up a storm in his crib.  He loves to try out all his sounds.  Over and over.  There's the Darth Vader breathing sound.  And the pterodactyl sound.  And the squeal-laugh-giggle sound.  And a slew of others.  So. dang. cute.  Not taking a nap, like he should be, but that's okay.  He's having a grand time talking to himself, so I'm not worried about him missing a nap.  

Me?  I'm tired.  Just plain tired.  Still struggling to find a balance between work life and home life.  I'm not doing either one particularly well at the moment.  My tiredness leads to grumpiness.  My grumpiness leads to a lack of patience, with everyone, about everything.  I don't like this "me".  I like easy-going, glass-half-full me.  Instead I'm uptight-glass-is-half-empty-and-probably-dirty-and-sitting-by-the-sink-with-all-the-other-dirty-dishes me.

The laundry is piled in the hallway.  Pretty soon those piles will finish creeping down the hallway and will reach the front door.  Nice.

I can't quite "win" in the kitchen, either.  The dirty dishes are....many.  The countertops (if you can even see them) are covered in bits and pieces of various meals from the past few weeks day.

Some sister-time today really helped.  It usually does. :)  Sisters are pretty important.  Well, maybe that's not an accurate blanket statement.  MY sister is pretty important.  She listens.  She hears what I'm really saying.  She helps ME hear what I'm really saying.  She's good people.  I'm grateful.  Our age difference kept us from being close when we were little.  She was into boys and I still thought they had cooties.  I was all care bears and rainbow bright and she was all fashion and make up and hanging out with friends.

But now, the age difference has all but disappeared.  We can talk and "get" each other better than most.  I like that.  That makes the here and now a little more manageable.

Alas, the happy baby in a crib sounds have turned a lot less happy.  I'm off to check on him.  He who makes the here and now a little more tolerable...

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Today I'm linking up with Heather of The Extraordinary Ordinary's Just Write.  Check it out!