31 August 2010
Room for Baby
Over the weekend we test drove my Explorer completely reconfigured to accommodate No. 3. Buby and Bleu loved it. Big fat check off our list.
30 August 2010
Oh Yes... He Did
Here's the rundown.
Around 11:30 I put Buby in the shower, took him out. I put Bleu in the shower, took her out. I helped them suit up, brush their teeth and get downstairs. I said, "Be back in two minutes. You guys play here. Nicely. I'll rinse off and we'll leave for your swim test."
Note: Before registering them for swim classes they had to test into the appropriate level. We had an appointment and were running slightly behind schedule, but I really needed a shower. Buby said, "Why do we have to stay in the playroom?" {They usually have the run of the place, and I just stay close.} I replied, "So I can shower and not worry about your sister on the stairs." I shut the playroom gate and raced up.
Note: Before registering them for swim classes they had to test into the appropriate level. We had an appointment and were running slightly behind schedule, but I really needed a shower. Buby said, "Why do we have to stay in the playroom?" {They usually have the run of the place, and I just stay close.} I replied, "So I can shower and not worry about your sister on the stairs." I shut the playroom gate and raced up.
During the shower I remember thinking to myself, "Wow, they are old enough now that I can take a shower. By myself. Without Nola." Of course the bathroom door was open, the playroom door was open, and there was a baby monitor on somewhere. Buby and Bleu don't play quietly. They play loud and happy and in great detail. I felt confident.
All was QUIET while I dressed. I looked at my watch {12:08 p.m.} and yelled down, "Okay guys, we're ready! Come and put your shoesies on." Buby darted out of the playroom thrilled as can be. He met me in the hall exclaiming, "Look at me, Mama. I did my own hair!" Big beautiful smile on his face.
The next 60 seconds went in slow-mo. I stared at Buby's naked forehead and it hit me. The whole front of his hair was gone. His signature all-one-length locks were cut right up to the scalp. I screeched, "OhmyGodohmyGodohmyGod... What did you doooo?!?" I ran to Buby. My jaw dropped. Silently. I ran to Bleu. She looked untouched. I ran to where I keep my scissors way up high on my desk hutch. Still there. I think I shouted across the room, "WHERE is your hair?" He innocently offered, "In the garbage, Mommy. It was in my face. So I cut it. What's wrong?"
Obviously he didn't think I would mind. After all, to him it was just the front he cut. And to his credit he cleaned up the hair and put back the scissors. I lifted his locks out of the trash bin and started weeping. That's right. I'm 9 months pregnant and I wept. If I could take back my UNcool reaction I would. I'd say something sweeter and more supportive and maybe offer up a big squeezey hug before reminding my almost five year old NEVER to use scissors on himself again. But I was in shock and so the best I could do was "OhmyGodohmyGodohmyGod." I thought I was in labor.
I wasn't mad at Buby--not even a little--but I was sad. Heartbroken even. And before you scold me, dear friends, I know that it's just hair. I KNOW. But in that moment I wondered so many things. Did he not like his hair all this time? We were just at a salon two days earlier getting the back trimmed up for school. Was he afraid to say he wanted it shorter? Did I forget to ask what he wanted? Or for Buby was it as simple as problem/solution? The wet, uncombed hair was in his face so he took care of it?
From Bleu I might have expected this. She is a natural tester, curious beyond her years, defiant, loves a challenge. But Buby we refer to as "Safety Patrol" on the playground. He is perceptive and receptive, cautious and eager to please. He talks to us about everything and asks permission to do anything. He lectures other tykes on the dangers of junk food and running with pencils. He's the boy who has never left the top off a marker in his life, colored on a table or glued something he shouldn't. Buby amazes me daily but rarely ever shocks. Whatever his reason or level of premeditation on Friday, he was as surprised by my REaction as I was by his action.
As soon as he realized I was crying he hurried over to me and said, "I'm sorry. Don't cry, Mommy. I'm sorry." I saw his chin quivering and felt awful. AWFUL for making this about me. But his hair was soooo him, and I needed another minute to say goodbye to it. I realized the time, pulled it together, put on the kids' shoes and walked them out to the car. Crazy jagged hair and all. We had somewhere to be.
On the way to the sports complex I asked Buby how many cuts he made. He said four. I asked him where he got the scissors. He told me he could clearly see his kid scissors in the craft bin on the top shelf of the playroom closet. He used a step stool and a Tinkertoy to propel them down. Resourceful. {And ironic considering the one area of improvement on his Fall report card was manipulation of scissors. Teacher said he needed his own pair and more practice at home}.
We were very late, but we got through our swim test in one piece. Then I called My Sweets at work. I sent him a photo, and he was speechless. Said he didn't even recognize our boy. I asked him what I should do. He said, "Call Danielle!" Then I cried again. I texted back, "I will never shower again." My Sweets responded, "How 'bout we just move the scissors?" Note: Danielle is our hair girl. She cuts our whole family. We don't do bangs or buzz cuts here, and she gets that. We love her, and that's why we never trim hair at home.
Except...
And then it hit me. Two days earlier {meaning Wednesday night} after Buby's shower I noticed Danielle had left an uneven chunk in the back. So unlike her. I took out my grownup scissors and for the first time ever trimmed Buby's hair in our upstairs bathroom. Just to even it out. He thought it was so cool, and I was ridiculously proud of myself for doing it. Like I said, we don't cut hair here. Ever.
I think I totally inspired this incident.
A half hour later I was done lecturing about scissor safety FOREVER, and we were back in Danielle's chair. Everyone at the salon awaited our arrival. Danielle took one look and said there wasn't anything she could do to salvage. We had to go short. I told her, "Anything but a buzz. Tom's orders."
She fixed him up good. We went home, made dinner and then met My Sweets at a country fair around 7:15 p.m. By the way Buby LOVES his new style. He said it feels amazing and couldn't stop checking himself out in the mirror. Grinning ear to ear. Even while talking to my mom on the phone. It verged on obnoxious.
The kids rode the carnival rides until their legs collapsed beneath them. I told Buby how handsome he is and promised not to cry at all tomorrow. We both laughed. He added, "It's okay, Mommy. It's okay. I love you." Then, alas, that squeezey hug.
All was QUIET while I dressed. I looked at my watch {12:08 p.m.} and yelled down, "Okay guys, we're ready! Come and put your shoesies on." Buby darted out of the playroom thrilled as can be. He met me in the hall exclaiming, "Look at me, Mama. I did my own hair!" Big beautiful smile on his face.
The next 60 seconds went in slow-mo. I stared at Buby's naked forehead and it hit me. The whole front of his hair was gone. His signature all-one-length locks were cut right up to the scalp. I screeched, "OhmyGodohmyGodohmyGod... What did you doooo?!?" I ran to Buby. My jaw dropped. Silently. I ran to Bleu. She looked untouched. I ran to where I keep my scissors way up high on my desk hutch. Still there. I think I shouted across the room, "WHERE is your hair?" He innocently offered, "In the garbage, Mommy. It was in my face. So I cut it. What's wrong?"
Obviously he didn't think I would mind. After all, to him it was just the front he cut. And to his credit he cleaned up the hair and put back the scissors. I lifted his locks out of the trash bin and started weeping. That's right. I'm 9 months pregnant and I wept. If I could take back my UNcool reaction I would. I'd say something sweeter and more supportive and maybe offer up a big squeezey hug before reminding my almost five year old NEVER to use scissors on himself again. But I was in shock and so the best I could do was "OhmyGodohmyGodohmyGod." I thought I was in labor.
I wasn't mad at Buby--not even a little--but I was sad. Heartbroken even. And before you scold me, dear friends, I know that it's just hair. I KNOW. But in that moment I wondered so many things. Did he not like his hair all this time? We were just at a salon two days earlier getting the back trimmed up for school. Was he afraid to say he wanted it shorter? Did I forget to ask what he wanted? Or for Buby was it as simple as problem/solution? The wet, uncombed hair was in his face so he took care of it?
From Bleu I might have expected this. She is a natural tester, curious beyond her years, defiant, loves a challenge. But Buby we refer to as "Safety Patrol" on the playground. He is perceptive and receptive, cautious and eager to please. He talks to us about everything and asks permission to do anything. He lectures other tykes on the dangers of junk food and running with pencils. He's the boy who has never left the top off a marker in his life, colored on a table or glued something he shouldn't. Buby amazes me daily but rarely ever shocks. Whatever his reason or level of premeditation on Friday, he was as surprised by my REaction as I was by his action.
As soon as he realized I was crying he hurried over to me and said, "I'm sorry. Don't cry, Mommy. I'm sorry." I saw his chin quivering and felt awful. AWFUL for making this about me. But his hair was soooo him, and I needed another minute to say goodbye to it. I realized the time, pulled it together, put on the kids' shoes and walked them out to the car. Crazy jagged hair and all. We had somewhere to be.
On the way to the sports complex I asked Buby how many cuts he made. He said four. I asked him where he got the scissors. He told me he could clearly see his kid scissors in the craft bin on the top shelf of the playroom closet. He used a step stool and a Tinkertoy to propel them down. Resourceful. {And ironic considering the one area of improvement on his Fall report card was manipulation of scissors. Teacher said he needed his own pair and more practice at home}.
We were very late, but we got through our swim test in one piece. Then I called My Sweets at work. I sent him a photo, and he was speechless. Said he didn't even recognize our boy. I asked him what I should do. He said, "Call Danielle!" Then I cried again. I texted back, "I will never shower again." My Sweets responded, "How 'bout we just move the scissors?" Note: Danielle is our hair girl. She cuts our whole family. We don't do bangs or buzz cuts here, and she gets that. We love her, and that's why we never trim hair at home.
Except...
And then it hit me. Two days earlier {meaning Wednesday night} after Buby's shower I noticed Danielle had left an uneven chunk in the back. So unlike her. I took out my grownup scissors and for the first time ever trimmed Buby's hair in our upstairs bathroom. Just to even it out. He thought it was so cool, and I was ridiculously proud of myself for doing it. Like I said, we don't cut hair here. Ever.
I think I totally inspired this incident.
A half hour later I was done lecturing about scissor safety FOREVER, and we were back in Danielle's chair. Everyone at the salon awaited our arrival. Danielle took one look and said there wasn't anything she could do to salvage. We had to go short. I told her, "Anything but a buzz. Tom's orders."
She fixed him up good. We went home, made dinner and then met My Sweets at a country fair around 7:15 p.m. By the way Buby LOVES his new style. He said it feels amazing and couldn't stop checking himself out in the mirror. Grinning ear to ear. Even while talking to my mom on the phone. It verged on obnoxious.
The kids rode the carnival rides until their legs collapsed beneath them. I told Buby how handsome he is and promised not to cry at all tomorrow. We both laughed. He added, "It's okay, Mommy. It's okay. I love you." Then, alas, that squeezey hug.
27 August 2010
26 August 2010
Looking Back: Growing a Family
Lately I've been thinking about labor and delivery. A lot. Tom and I have seen several friends bring home new babies this year. Beautiful additions to their families. We have had three seasons ourselves to get used to the idea of a newbie in the house. Yet still, the reality of birthing another 8 pounder... it blows my mind.
In the weeks leading up to "D Day" I usually get busy, restless, nostalgic. Naturally. My nesting instincts go into overdrive, and I worry that we/the children/our home will never be truly ready. This time--not knowing the baby's sex in advance--it's all just amplified.
Our first two pregnancies were planned to the day. We had impeccable timing, and I LOVED that. Tom and I were married 4 1/2 years {together for 8} when it first occurred to us that we were "ready" for baby. The thought occurred almost simultaneously, which is awesome. But for us a baby meant big change: Moving out of the city, buying a house, slowing down. I was in my late 20s, career obsessed, in love with My Sweets and living it up. But suddenly I was noticing babies everywhere. They were cuter than I remembered. My clock was ticking. Baby was a must-have on the agenda. We kept this realization to ourselves, tightly under wraps, not knowing how long it would take.
I liked the idea of a September birth, so the goal was to ditch the pill {which I was so good at taking} in September '04 and get pregnant in mid December. It was very by the book of us to start prenatals and wait three months before officially trying. I circled the third week of December in our calendars as "baby week" and by Christmas we were knocked up. Hurray! I was with the man of my dreams doing what I loved in a city where I always wanted to be. Life couldn't get any sweeter.
During the first two trimesters I secretly hoped I was carrying a boy. It didn't matter, of course, but if we were only going to have one child, I kind of really wanted a son. And on September 13, 2005, he arrived. Healthy. Beautiful. It just was too easy.
Fast forward: We have a home in a lovely village in the country. My Sweets is commuting. I'm going back and forth between freelance and full time. On most days I'm pulling off my own version of Wonder Mom. Play dates, music classes, swimming, art projects, wilderness adventures. Buby and I were still spending most of our time together, and I was keeping my editing career afloat from home. I was exhausted but loving every single part of our day. I never compromised on what mattered to Tom and I.
In June 2007, three months before Buby's second birthday, we talked about getting pregnant again. I was about to resign from my Managing Editor post at an international design magazine and wanted to focus on growing our family. We liked the idea of shooting for an April baby. Springtime rocks! My Sweets was on board. I went off the pill, and we circled a week in July. We ended up getting pregnant on August 3rd, giving us an April 25th due date. Hurray again! And on April 27, 2008, she arrived. Life was goooood.
This time around there was no plan. No pill to go off. No calendars. No month to shoot for. Just a big old-fashioned surprise. Though it seemed we were constantly talking about babes in one form or another last winter {should we?/shouldn't we?}, three sounded like A LOT. After all, I was still trying to wean Bleu from her nursing obsession and figure out how to put myself to bed before midnight. Our family may not have been finished growing, but it felt full to the brim.
And then one Wednesday in March we found out there was already a third in the mix... 7 weeks along. I'll admit I cried at first. Not because I wasn't ecstatic, but because I was in shock. 7 weeks is a long time to be pregnant and not know it. I knew on like day 4 with the others. This time I took prescriptions for my back, drank champagne on a few occasions, and had a series of lower abdominal x-rays. No idea I was with child. But eventually we heard the heart beating and saw the wee one kicking, and I let go of some of that guilt.
And here we are. 31 weeks in. I feel nothing like the Wonder Mom I did three years ago, but I do feel like we are already a family of 5. We aren't complete without this new baby to love. And I can't help but wonder how it'll all go down. I'm a mixed bag of scared out of my mind and can't wait to meet 'em and hold 'em in arms.
My labors + deliveries with Buby and Bleu were so different, except that both times I dropped and dilated very early and delivered past my due date. Buby's first-contraction-to-last-push was precisely 13 hours, and there was an epidural in the final act. My Sweets was an amazing coach, and I loved giving birth. Buby was a Tuesday night baby. The recovery was long. Some would say I am still recovering... but with a handsome little man cub to show for it.
Bleu's start-to-finish was less 2 hours, and there was no relief in any form. We were in the hospital less than 40 minutes when she pushed herself into the world. {Not surprising at all now that we know her.} I really thought I would die in that labor room, but I didn't. Bleu was a Sunday morning baby. The recovery was short.
With each arrival my heart swelled instantaneously. My love grew to the moon. With each one I felt blessed beyond measure. For my baby boy. For my baby girl. For my lover and best friend. For my health and my good fortune.
I'm nervous this one will appear early and without much notice... as that seems to be his/her pattern. My favorite OB offered to induce after 37 weeks so as to eliminate the likelihood that I will deliver in the driver's seat... on route to Buby's school 40 minutes away or the hospital 50 minutes in the other direction. My Sweets is 2 hours away M-F and our closest family member is 5. The good dr. said, "Remind me that I promised you that."
Oh. I will. If there is one teeny part of this arrival I can plan, count me in.
I liked the idea of a September birth, so the goal was to ditch the pill {which I was so good at taking} in September '04 and get pregnant in mid December. It was very by the book of us to start prenatals and wait three months before officially trying. I circled the third week of December in our calendars as "baby week" and by Christmas we were knocked up. Hurray! I was with the man of my dreams doing what I loved in a city where I always wanted to be. Life couldn't get any sweeter.
During the first two trimesters I secretly hoped I was carrying a boy. It didn't matter, of course, but if we were only going to have one child, I kind of really wanted a son. And on September 13, 2005, he arrived. Healthy. Beautiful. It just was too easy.
Fast forward: We have a home in a lovely village in the country. My Sweets is commuting. I'm going back and forth between freelance and full time. On most days I'm pulling off my own version of Wonder Mom. Play dates, music classes, swimming, art projects, wilderness adventures. Buby and I were still spending most of our time together, and I was keeping my editing career afloat from home. I was exhausted but loving every single part of our day. I never compromised on what mattered to Tom and I.
In June 2007, three months before Buby's second birthday, we talked about getting pregnant again. I was about to resign from my Managing Editor post at an international design magazine and wanted to focus on growing our family. We liked the idea of shooting for an April baby. Springtime rocks! My Sweets was on board. I went off the pill, and we circled a week in July. We ended up getting pregnant on August 3rd, giving us an April 25th due date. Hurray again! And on April 27, 2008, she arrived. Life was goooood.
This time around there was no plan. No pill to go off. No calendars. No month to shoot for. Just a big old-fashioned surprise. Though it seemed we were constantly talking about babes in one form or another last winter {should we?/shouldn't we?}, three sounded like A LOT. After all, I was still trying to wean Bleu from her nursing obsession and figure out how to put myself to bed before midnight. Our family may not have been finished growing, but it felt full to the brim.
And then one Wednesday in March we found out there was already a third in the mix... 7 weeks along. I'll admit I cried at first. Not because I wasn't ecstatic, but because I was in shock. 7 weeks is a long time to be pregnant and not know it. I knew on like day 4 with the others. This time I took prescriptions for my back, drank champagne on a few occasions, and had a series of lower abdominal x-rays. No idea I was with child. But eventually we heard the heart beating and saw the wee one kicking, and I let go of some of that guilt.
And here we are. 31 weeks in. I feel nothing like the Wonder Mom I did three years ago, but I do feel like we are already a family of 5. We aren't complete without this new baby to love. And I can't help but wonder how it'll all go down. I'm a mixed bag of scared out of my mind and can't wait to meet 'em and hold 'em in arms.
My labors + deliveries with Buby and Bleu were so different, except that both times I dropped and dilated very early and delivered past my due date. Buby's first-contraction-to-last-push was precisely 13 hours, and there was an epidural in the final act. My Sweets was an amazing coach, and I loved giving birth. Buby was a Tuesday night baby. The recovery was long. Some would say I am still recovering... but with a handsome little man cub to show for it.
Bleu's start-to-finish was less 2 hours, and there was no relief in any form. We were in the hospital less than 40 minutes when she pushed herself into the world. {Not surprising at all now that we know her.} I really thought I would die in that labor room, but I didn't. Bleu was a Sunday morning baby. The recovery was short.
With each arrival my heart swelled instantaneously. My love grew to the moon. With each one I felt blessed beyond measure. For my baby boy. For my baby girl. For my lover and best friend. For my health and my good fortune.
I'm nervous this one will appear early and without much notice... as that seems to be his/her pattern. My favorite OB offered to induce after 37 weeks so as to eliminate the likelihood that I will deliver in the driver's seat... on route to Buby's school 40 minutes away or the hospital 50 minutes in the other direction. My Sweets is 2 hours away M-F and our closest family member is 5. The good dr. said, "Remind me that I promised you that."
Oh. I will. If there is one teeny part of this arrival I can plan, count me in.
25 August 2010
A Good Morning
My dear friend Alana had us over yesterday morning, and it was exactly what we needed. A relaxing drive with coffee in hand, fresh mountain air, a walk through a horse barn, conversations with bunnies, Superman cartwheels off a rock, cherry tomatoes, homemade pizza muffins, barefoot Claire, and lots of doll drama.
In fact, the three older chicks {Gilly, Nat and Bleu} spent most of the afternoon in negotiations over dolls. They all wanted who they wanted {to dress, swaddle, feed, cuddle}. It was good to see them work it out as friends--with a few mini meltdowns thrown in for good measure. One per girl.
Buby pretty much stayed out of it. Alana and I figured it was for lack of interest... being a boy and all. But at bedtime Buby says to me, "Mama... I wanted to play babies, too, but there wasn't enough babies for me to have one." He never even asked.
That's so Buby.
That's so Buby.
8.24.10
P.S. Thank you Alana and Buby for the flowers. They are beautiful!!
24 August 2010
Early Birthday
Buby was psyched to see Aunt Mel appear with this incredible tennis ball cake that she made from scratch and transported for 5 hours to our house.
Our boy made a wish, blew out five candles and devoured every chocolaty crumb on his plate. We all did. Yum.
Our boy made a wish, blew out five candles and devoured every chocolaty crumb on his plate. We all did. Yum.
23 August 2010
Saturday Snaps
We were a party of 9 this weekend. Mike + Melissa came to town with their brood, and there just happened to be an old-fashioned tractor parade, pony rides and plenty of cow petting right down the block. Very cool for the little ones.
Cousins Buby, Lily, Bleu, Sid and Mason. Five under five. Next summer we'll be six under six.
Buby on Cricket. We've never passed up a pony ride. Ever.
Bleu on Jasper {with some girls from the horse farm}.
8.21.10
20 August 2010
Old Photo Friday
In honor of cousins...
My father-in-law circa 1940s sandwiched between Do {Doreen} and Lou {Marie Louise}. Aunt Mary recently gifted him a stack of oldies but goodies. Oh how I love old photos. Luckily, he allowed me to borrow a few of my faves to scan/print/frame for the children.
19 August 2010
Loving: Farmer's Markets
Here's a huge one we visited with my mom recently. She kept warning me we'd be there all day. I said, "Nope. We're good for one hour. You'll see." And I was right. The kids were ripe before I could even sample the cinnamon-coated almonds.
It was humid and over crowded, but totally amazing. If I lived there I'd find an hour twice a week to stock up on everything local.
18 August 2010
I Didn't Feel Well This Morning
So I took my sweet time cleaning up breakfast dishes. It was too quiet. I walked up to the playroom and found my babies like this. My heart skipped a beat.
Buby Takes Manhattan
My mini trip into Manhattan with Buby was everything I could have imagined, minus the Thai. He was such a stellar date. Of course. He gets that from his daddy.
The almost five year old has an impeccable memory and is starting to get the lay of the land. Which is amazing, except now he knows where to go for his pizza with black olives and green peppers.
P.S. I ate lunch in Midtown every day for seven years, so for me to simply pass by all of my former haunts... without even a nibble... in my state... I think before this baby comes I need to spend a whole day stuffing myself in the city. If it takes me a dozen stops, so be it. I want iced coffee from Thalia. I want pad ki mao from Pongsri. I want soup dumplings from Joe's. I want bruschetta and spaghetti bolognese from Mimi's. I want steak on bistecca from Sosa Borella. I want hand-cut fries from Pigalle. Etc.
Back to Saturday. We kept the afternoon simple yet still squeezed in quite a bit. First up: lunch and fruit. Second: The Lion King on Broadway. I knew we had good seats but had no idea HOW good. Front row! I cried during the opening number, just like I did when I saw it with My Sweets all those moons ago. It was dramatic and loud and in our faces I.N.C.R.E.D.I.B.L.E.
If you haven't seen the show I fully recommend. But if you're shy about losing it in front of a bunch of strangers, don't show up with the most kid-orable kindergartner in the whole wide world on your arm. He sat there at attention for nearly 3 hours. We held hands; he crawled onto my lap twice. But mostly Buby watched in awe of the costumes, makeup, set design, lighting, orchestra, drums, and artistry. He had read the books, but now he was getting unbelievable detail. Musicals are so him.
And as you know, so are stuffed animals. When we arrived Buby pointed to a kiosk in the lobby selling small beany-like characters for $20. He asked if we could go look. I suggested we wait until intermission so he knew who he liked the most. We waited, and at the break he said definitely Za-Zu. He and that back-talking bird have been inseparable ever since.
Immediately after the show we hit Toys 'R Us in Times Square for tickets to the Ferris wheel. Then Cold Stone Creamery. I stood with him at the base of Paramount Plaza {the last place I worked in-house, full-time} and looked straight up. We walked by his dad's office, too, and he took a moment to admire the architecture and history of the area. It was a good day. On the train ride home we whipped out Buby's lil' notepad and wrote a thank you card to My Sweets for the whole shebang. What a treat.
8.14.10
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