With less than two weeks until "go" time, my mind is utterly consumed with all things baby and baby prep, as you can imagine. I've had basically zero interest in doing the typical Weekly Update, so instead you get a streams-of-consciousness for your reading pleasure. You're welcome.
Or. I'm sorry.
My heart and mind have gone almost instantly from, "Not ready, not ready, not ready!" to "Let's do this thing!" in a matter of days. My body has long since been at "done and done" status for quite sometime now, what with all the heat and heaviness. But I think it's safe to say, I've officially arrived to "ready"...heart, soul and mind.
*People ask seemingly all the time if her room is ready. And to that I say, "HA! Hahahahaha! Ha." Not even close. It's much better than it was according to this post and I've at least gotten her clothes washed and folded and put neatly away. Most of her "stuff" (babies have so.much.stuff for being so tiny) has been organized and kinda-sorta put away. But her actual room is still a disaster. And you know what? That's absolutely okay. There is very little need in me to have the nursery all set up and picture-perfect right now. Definitely not a priority. I mean, she'll be bunking with us for the foreseeable future anyway and that space is mostly ready to host a newborn.So, the fact that the crib is still in the box and there's a couch covered with junk in the middle of the room honestly doesn't really bother me one bit.
*After staring at it for the majority of this pregnancy, I finally got my trusty old breastpump down from the top of our bedroom closet this morning. It's been three years since I've used that thing...or even opened the bag and looked inside. As I opened the bag up, it dawned on me why I've been avoiding it all this time. Because as I was sifting through the parts, making sure I still had everything, a flood of memories came rushing in. And let me just say...not a single one is a fond memory. Although I can't say how grateful and appreciative I am for that thing, (it *helped* me sustain life for my child three years ago and allowed me to feel like I was a good mom...because apparently, "only breastmilk is good for baby." Oh, how thankful I am that I've grown up since then and can see how incredibly wrong and misled and pressure-filled that statement is!) I absolutely hated that thing. Loathed it. I caught myself cringing and groaning as I tried to remember how to put it together. I felt as if I were experiencing a level of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.
And then I texted Matt a picture of it and mentioned how not ready I am for all that again. And then I sat down and laughed at my new-mom self from three years ago. And then I prayed and asked the Lord to bring peace to my heart about everything involved in breastfeeding. And I asked for favor for things to work out better this time and I thanked Him for a fresh perspective this time around, knowing that everything really will be okay, formula does not kill a newborn and my children will be insanely loved and taken care of regardless of how they're fed. It's all about that hindsight, y'all.
*This little girl has shifted in such a way that I now see the weirdest, most unidentifiable body part sticking out near my belly button ever-so-often. She's doing it right now. I mean, maybe it's a foot??? I don't know. And I probably never will know. But she has begun the decent into over-staying her welcome. Not because it's been too long of a stay, (although it kinda has) but because I feel as if she's taking advantage of me and my patience. Y'all, she's feisty and fierce and very sudden with her big, strong movements. I feel like she's been observing her future life with her wild, energetic brother from the inside and is doing all she can to prove that she can keep up. And I'm okay with that...except that she's abusing my insides in the process.
*Josiah is getting more and more excited, asking just about every day when she's coming. Poor kid just has very little concept of time so I've tried to show him on the calendar what day today, then I point out the day she's coming (explanation below) and we count how many days in between. He kinda gets it...but not really. And he's just so anxious to get to "help" her play with her toys. He talks about the activity mat every.single.day and even requested to see pictures of himself playing on his activity mat. It was fun going through some of his baby pictures with him. I'm hoping it gives him an idea or two of how little Lydia will be.
Also, just a little funny I want to remember: I didn't think about putting the breastpump away before I left to pick him up from school and it was still sitting out on the coffee table when we returned home. Of course, he immediately saw it and was fascinated by it. I mean...it has buttons and stuff! He wanted to play with it and I tried to explain that it was not a toy and that it was very expensive. He wanted a demonstration of how it worked. Hmmmm. So, still clothed, I tried to explain to him how it worked. He especially loved the sound it makes. Which also caused more nervous flashbacks for me. Amazing how a simple sound can do that. So, he's been asking about it all evening. Which leads me to a question I'd like to pose to some of you moms...especially moms of older brothers...
How did you explain breastfeeding to your child(ren) when you had another? We don't really talk about boobies so much around this house (still more focused on the male parts) and he never really sees me totally exposed. I'm sure it'll all be fine and no big deal. Just wondering how to best make that adjustment.
*So, here's the Reader's Digest version. The unabridged will be a separate post of it's own someday. I started this pregnancy (actually long before I got pregnant) knowing that I wanted to try for a VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarean). I wrote a little bit about that here. But as time went on and it became apparent that it would be highly unlikely, my heart shifted and I chose to schedule a csection. So, yes. I got to pick her birthday. Controversial topic, apparently, but I did. And we've chosen to keep the date mostly a secret. Of course, we told family because they're family and we love them and because we needed to make sure we had someone lined up to watch Josiah. We told our UHXA staff because we are in the middle of Welcome Week (that actually lasts far longer than just one week) and it totally affects them. And I've been honest with a few people who have outright asked me that date because I have a hard time bold-faced lying and because it sounds so arrogant to say we're not telling.
So there ya have it. We'll for sure be having a baby in less than 2 weeks. There have even been a few times when I've been somewhat convinced that we won't actually make it to the date scheduled because...you know...that's how babies are. They come when they want. And it's almost never convenient. Just about every night I tell Matt that I'm trying to keep her in there, but I think he's still nervous that she'll come before the week is out. I, for one, would be totally okay with it. But it would put him under tons of stress. All in all, the Lord knows.
It's crazy to think she'll be here soon. I can't wait!
Wednesday, August 27, 2014
Monday, August 18, 2014
A Few Monday Things
Be prepared for the outpouring of several unrelated (or so I thought) and irrelevant thoughts from my brain.
I'm sensing a theme brewing.
Scary, huh? The first two pictures are my living room right now. And only a portion. We are swimming in little girl clothes and baby stuff and unnecessary furniture (anybody wanna buy some couches or an antique dining room table???). It's so wonderful a problem to have, really. We just don't have anywhere else to put it all right now. The last picture is the "nursery" that Matt is working so hard to get painted and cleaned out, but keeps getting interrupted. I did not send her a picture of the dining room or my son's room or the garage or the kitchen. For the first time in all of married life together, our bedroom is probably the cleanest room of the house.
I try to not get too stressed out when I look at all that and think of how we have less than 20 days to go and back to school madness is beginning in less than 2 days. At least we have the bare minimum needed to bring home a baby. We have a bassinet set up in our room and we have diapers and wipes. Probably should get that car seat installed and some of her clothes washed. Eh. It'll get done at some point.
Oh, the joys of doing this the second time around. So much less pressure to have every little thing in order.
- Today is Monday. It seems as if Mondays are just tough all across the board, no matter what your industry is. Not sure what it is about Monday. Can't trust that day. (Name that tune...shouldn't be too hard.)
- I'm 37 weeks pregnant today. That used to be considered full-term, but the same authorities who say pregnant women can't eat anything but spinach leaves and organic apples have also decided full-term is now 39 weeks. Whatever. I'm claiming full-term today. AND...I'm celebrating this phenomenal accomplishment with an extra cup of coffee, some sushi and a ride on a roller coaster. (Just kidding...but not about the extra cup of coffee. It is Monday after all...we've been through this already.) But seriously. How in the world am I already this pregnant? How has that much time already passed and how is it that I could pretty much give birth any day now? It's a weird mixture of me feeling that much more exhausted at the thought (a total mind-game) and feeling overwhelmingly grateful and relieved. I could have this kid today and she would most likely be totally fine and healthy. Such a big deal and I just don't want to take it for granted. Thank you, Jesus. And also...please, Jesus, don't let her come today. It's Monday. Every other day of the week is fiiiiiiiiiiine. Yeah.
I'm sensing a theme brewing.
- Why, you ask, am I so reluctant to having a baby today? Well...because my house. If you could only see it. I was having a conversation with my sister in law earlier today where she told me she doubted that my house was really in a state of chaos. I sent her these pictures.
I try to not get too stressed out when I look at all that and think of how we have less than 20 days to go and back to school madness is beginning in less than 2 days. At least we have the bare minimum needed to bring home a baby. We have a bassinet set up in our room and we have diapers and wipes. Probably should get that car seat installed and some of her clothes washed. Eh. It'll get done at some point.
Oh, the joys of doing this the second time around. So much less pressure to have every little thing in order.
- I'm happy to announce that the next bag I have to pack (for myself) is my hospital bag. We've gone somewhere or have been out of town for something or have spent the night in so many different places this whole summer and it's been...fun-ish. Well, it was for a time and to a certain extent. I'm just so exhausted of living out of a suitcase. But the time has come to finally settle down...for a couple weeks. Which is actually a good chunk of time compared to the rest of the summer.
Wednesday, August 13, 2014
Trauma in the Night
There are several things about living in Houston your whole life that one should be used to by the age of 30(ish). One is the heat. Not just a little extra warmth from the sun. We're talking about sticky, suffocating heat. The kind that hits you like a ton of bricks when all you've done is crack the front door open. The kind that makes you wanna repent and get right with Jesus cuz if hell is anything like this...or worse (which, it is)...then my pet sin is just not worth an eternity of this madness. In Houston, we experience at least half the year of this and I should be used to it by now. But...nope. Not used to it. And probably never will be.
Another thing I've never, and will never, get used to is giant, mammoth, roaches. Not those puny, little roaches that are a result of not cleaning your kitchen. Sure, those suckers are totally disturbing. But that's not what I'm talking about. No, I mean the kind that come in from outside...and are ENORMOUS...and fly. Cannot, will not ever be used to those. I hate them. HATE. hatehatehate. They make me angry and sick to my stomach and make me freeze up in terror. Nothing else in the world makes me wanna cuss (just keeping with my policy of being honest) and nothing can paralyze me so bad.
I can think back to a handful of experiences that really defined this phobia in my formative years. The memories are so insanely vivid, I can recount details of those times better than I can remember birthdays and Christmases growing up.
I even have a whole theory about how they must have been recruited by Lucifer when he fell. But it's really just me trying to still be okay with God being their creator and being a good God. It may sound stupid, but I feel like I can trust Him more if I can assume they just made a choice to join the dark side.
But I digress.
Well, not really. Because all this explanation lends to set up why I may have to go to therapy in the near future. (Kind of not joking).
Last night, around 2:30am, I woke up from a dead sleep because I thought I felt something on me. It's hard to judge because I've been sleeping with several fans blowing on me and usually it's just the air blowing on my skin. I swatted and felt around. I felt nothing. I grabbed my phone to use the screen as a light. I looked everywhere, checking in the sheets and all over the bed. I saw nothing. Must've been the fans.
I realized I needed to pee like an 8.5 month pregnant woman usually does at 2:30am, so I got up. I went pee. (Matt was still up reading or watching something in the living room...as is his night owl custom). I walked back to the bedroom and did another "thorough" check of the bed and it's surrounding area. I made a choice to not be paranoid and worked for a few minutes to get myself comfortable.
As I was finally drifting off to sleep again, I felt something on my inner thigh...inside my shorts. Get that? Inside my shorts. Again, I swatted and this time, I felt something that doesn't belong there. I yelled and swatted some more and grabbed my phone again. I looked in the spot where I felt the thing and didn't see anything. I must've swatted it successfully away. But I still needed to find it or I wouldn't be able to go back to sleep. I looked around and eventually found it on the back of my calf. Sure enough. It was one of those monsters (nicest word I can say). FREAK OUT. I slapped it off of me and went running for the door to call for Matt who came in with a shoe. Luckily, I hadn't swatted it too far away because we were able to find it and he killed it and he's my hero.
The roach was dead. But the damage was done. I couldn't calm down. I was sweating buckets and my heart was racing. I went into the typical crazy tailspin of, "Where did it come from? How long was it there? Was it what I felt the first time? Then where did it go? Why did it choose me? Where are the others? Where did it come from???" My poor husband. He just stood there and offered his usual, "I don't know."
There was no way I was staying in that bed or that room so I grabbed my pillow and went and sat on the couch to cool off a bit and calm down. I eventually ended up in bed with Josiah, but totally didn't really sleep at all. Not only is his bed one of the single worst beds I have ever slept on (poor kid), but I kept feeling things crawling all over me. Every 10 seconds. And when I would finally drift off to sleep, I would have some of the worst nightmares...not even related to creepy-crawlies. Just scary junk.
I'd like to say that this was the first time this has happened. But it actually happened a couple weeks ago. In bed alone and I feel something on my leg (same leg). I chalk it up to the fans blowing through my leg hair (cut me slack...shaving is hard these days), only to find out it's a freaking giant roach that's been getting his late night giggles from walking around on me for who knows how long. That time, Matt came right in with a shoe (I still think it's funny that he recognizes the type of terror in my tone and doesn't even consider that it's a different kind of intruder) and ended up staying in bed with me, watching over me while I fitfully tried to fall back to sleep.
Why do I tell this story? For several reasons.
1. I find it a bit therapeutic to write it out and come to grips with my experiences, as disturbing as they may be.
2. I just need some good, old-fashioned sympathy. I am a middle-child, after all.
3. I'd like to use this as a thorough explanation as to why I will be taking donations to build a solid brick wall fence around our house. Or, at the very least, to hire a professional exterminator. My sweet, hard-working, thrifty husband has tried with his store-bought bug spray, but as you can so plainly see, it just ain't cuttin' it. Momma needs the real poison.
Another thing I've never, and will never, get used to is giant, mammoth, roaches. Not those puny, little roaches that are a result of not cleaning your kitchen. Sure, those suckers are totally disturbing. But that's not what I'm talking about. No, I mean the kind that come in from outside...and are ENORMOUS...and fly. Cannot, will not ever be used to those. I hate them. HATE. hatehatehate. They make me angry and sick to my stomach and make me freeze up in terror. Nothing else in the world makes me wanna cuss (just keeping with my policy of being honest) and nothing can paralyze me so bad.
I can think back to a handful of experiences that really defined this phobia in my formative years. The memories are so insanely vivid, I can recount details of those times better than I can remember birthdays and Christmases growing up.
I even have a whole theory about how they must have been recruited by Lucifer when he fell. But it's really just me trying to still be okay with God being their creator and being a good God. It may sound stupid, but I feel like I can trust Him more if I can assume they just made a choice to join the dark side.
But I digress.
Well, not really. Because all this explanation lends to set up why I may have to go to therapy in the near future. (Kind of not joking).
Last night, around 2:30am, I woke up from a dead sleep because I thought I felt something on me. It's hard to judge because I've been sleeping with several fans blowing on me and usually it's just the air blowing on my skin. I swatted and felt around. I felt nothing. I grabbed my phone to use the screen as a light. I looked everywhere, checking in the sheets and all over the bed. I saw nothing. Must've been the fans.
I realized I needed to pee like an 8.5 month pregnant woman usually does at 2:30am, so I got up. I went pee. (Matt was still up reading or watching something in the living room...as is his night owl custom). I walked back to the bedroom and did another "thorough" check of the bed and it's surrounding area. I made a choice to not be paranoid and worked for a few minutes to get myself comfortable.
As I was finally drifting off to sleep again, I felt something on my inner thigh...inside my shorts. Get that? Inside my shorts. Again, I swatted and this time, I felt something that doesn't belong there. I yelled and swatted some more and grabbed my phone again. I looked in the spot where I felt the thing and didn't see anything. I must've swatted it successfully away. But I still needed to find it or I wouldn't be able to go back to sleep. I looked around and eventually found it on the back of my calf. Sure enough. It was one of those monsters (nicest word I can say). FREAK OUT. I slapped it off of me and went running for the door to call for Matt who came in with a shoe. Luckily, I hadn't swatted it too far away because we were able to find it and he killed it and he's my hero.
The roach was dead. But the damage was done. I couldn't calm down. I was sweating buckets and my heart was racing. I went into the typical crazy tailspin of, "Where did it come from? How long was it there? Was it what I felt the first time? Then where did it go? Why did it choose me? Where are the others? Where did it come from???" My poor husband. He just stood there and offered his usual, "I don't know."
There was no way I was staying in that bed or that room so I grabbed my pillow and went and sat on the couch to cool off a bit and calm down. I eventually ended up in bed with Josiah, but totally didn't really sleep at all. Not only is his bed one of the single worst beds I have ever slept on (poor kid), but I kept feeling things crawling all over me. Every 10 seconds. And when I would finally drift off to sleep, I would have some of the worst nightmares...not even related to creepy-crawlies. Just scary junk.
I'd like to say that this was the first time this has happened. But it actually happened a couple weeks ago. In bed alone and I feel something on my leg (same leg). I chalk it up to the fans blowing through my leg hair (cut me slack...shaving is hard these days), only to find out it's a freaking giant roach that's been getting his late night giggles from walking around on me for who knows how long. That time, Matt came right in with a shoe (I still think it's funny that he recognizes the type of terror in my tone and doesn't even consider that it's a different kind of intruder) and ended up staying in bed with me, watching over me while I fitfully tried to fall back to sleep.
Why do I tell this story? For several reasons.
1. I find it a bit therapeutic to write it out and come to grips with my experiences, as disturbing as they may be.
2. I just need some good, old-fashioned sympathy. I am a middle-child, after all.
3. I'd like to use this as a thorough explanation as to why I will be taking donations to build a solid brick wall fence around our house. Or, at the very least, to hire a professional exterminator. My sweet, hard-working, thrifty husband has tried with his store-bought bug spray, but as you can so plainly see, it just ain't cuttin' it. Momma needs the real poison.
Monday, August 11, 2014
36 Weeks: Less Than a Month!
So, it's been about a month since I've typed one of these things up. And I only have about a month left to go, so I figure I should document some things.
How Far Along: 36 weeks. That's less than a month. Commence the freakout of, "when did this happen? and "how are we already here?" and "wasn't I just peeing on a stick???"And then I think about how insanely long this summer has been already and it makes a lot more sense to me.
Size of Baby: Large. I'm sure I could look at my cute, little Baby Center app that tells the weight or length and compares it to a food item. OR...I could simply take notice of the giant boulder between me and the keyboard upon which I type that is actually making it rather difficult to type effectively. She's big. Or I'm big. We're both pretty big.
Gender: My sweet, sweet girl. I cannot wait to see her.
Movement: She just doesn't stop. Remember that one time when I was all "I love all the movement and I'll never get tired of it and I could never complain about it?" Yeah...welp. I lied. She hurts me. And she wears me out. And I do absolutely cherish it...I do. But gosh. I'm ready for her to wiggle in my arms and not on my organs.
Maternity Clothes: Oh! How I wish it were publicly appropriate to wear stained tank tops that are too short to cover the boulder, with my bra straps sticking out and my old faithful Reebok running shorts that are clocking some serious overtime and deserve a lifetime achievement award! But alas...it is not. No matter what the other folks in Walmart think/say/do. It is not appropriate. And because of this...I long for fall and all it's extraordinary layers more than I ever have before in my entire life. Sweaters! Jeans! Boots!
Glory.
Sleep: Just something else to whine and complain about? Hmmm... Let me just say it for you...because I know how much people like to remind giant pregnant women of their eminent future..."The lack of sleep you're getting now is only preparing you for all those sleepless nights of being up with a newborn." Roger that.
Cravings: That crazy need for daily ice cream is still topping the charts. It's gonna be a hard habit to break. Probably gonna have to go cold turkey.
What I'm Missing: Very many things.
Symptoms: Very many things.
Best Moment ThisWeek Month: Here's some sunshine and daisies amongst the wah-wah-wah of the third trimester. Last month was packed full of fun, family and travels. In short, and because they all truly deserve posts of their own:
I got to hang with my besties in Austin.
I was given yet another wonderful, super fun baby shower with the ladies of Chi Alpha.
We got to beach it up with the Hoogendoorns in Galveston.
We stayed for a few extra days on the island for a mini-vacation with my little family.
In addition to all that, we had Staff Week which ended in a retreat of sorts on the lake and got to visit several wonderful churches who support us mixed in all that. Whew! That was a lot! Isn't summer grand?
Looking Forward To: Calming the heck down. But alas...we're really just getting started. With the start of school just a couple weeks away, we've already hit the ground running with plans for Welcome Week and all that that entails. We're also trying to get this house in a position to host another human being. It's amazing how much such a tiny creature needs in order to survive.
So...life isn't really gonna calm down anytime soon, so what I'm really looking forward to most is this girl's birthday.
Daddy's Involvement: Does he ever stop? No, I tell you. He does not. If he's not chasing our Wild One around to give me some rest, he's fixing one of the cars (they kindly alternate their break-downs...sorta), or calling insurance companies and hospital financial departments, or making a special trip to buy me some ice (and usually some ice cream too), or cooking dinner (or picking it up from somewhere), or treating me to a massage. This week he's hauling furniture and rearranging our home and painting the "nursery" to get ready for this babe...all while feeling on the sickly side. If I thought it wouldn't stress him out more, I'd secretly spend extra money to treat him to a massage. (Maybe I'll do it anyway. Just don't tell him.) Oh hey, Matt! Hey. You're awesome. ;)
Big Brother's Involvement: I think he's ready. Maybe more ready than we are. He's constantly begging to put her crib together or open one of the many boxes of gadgets or toys that I've received at showers. He'll randomly mention her name and ask how much longer until she's here. He asks questions all the time about her. The other day, we were walking around Walmart and he saw a big ol' poster in the baby section with a picture of a baby. He asked me if that was Lydia and it spawned a conversation about what we thought she'd look like. And to top it off...PBS Kids announced that our beloved Daniel Tiger (a cartoon spin-off of Mister Rogers' Neighborhood) is going to be a big brother! Oh man! Could not have timed that any better. The episode hasn't aired yet, but they constantly have commercials and ads for it. Josiah's already memorized the catchy tune about the baby joining the family. I'd bet money that baby ends up being a sister...and how perfect! It's all just too exciting!
How Far Along: 36 weeks. That's less than a month. Commence the freakout of, "when did this happen? and "how are we already here?" and "wasn't I just peeing on a stick???"And then I think about how insanely long this summer has been already and it makes a lot more sense to me.
Size of Baby: Large. I'm sure I could look at my cute, little Baby Center app that tells the weight or length and compares it to a food item. OR...I could simply take notice of the giant boulder between me and the keyboard upon which I type that is actually making it rather difficult to type effectively. She's big. Or I'm big. We're both pretty big.
Gender: My sweet, sweet girl. I cannot wait to see her.
Movement: She just doesn't stop. Remember that one time when I was all "I love all the movement and I'll never get tired of it and I could never complain about it?" Yeah...welp. I lied. She hurts me. And she wears me out. And I do absolutely cherish it...I do. But gosh. I'm ready for her to wiggle in my arms and not on my organs.
Maternity Clothes: Oh! How I wish it were publicly appropriate to wear stained tank tops that are too short to cover the boulder, with my bra straps sticking out and my old faithful Reebok running shorts that are clocking some serious overtime and deserve a lifetime achievement award! But alas...it is not. No matter what the other folks in Walmart think/say/do. It is not appropriate. And because of this...I long for fall and all it's extraordinary layers more than I ever have before in my entire life. Sweaters! Jeans! Boots!
Glory.
Sleep: Just something else to whine and complain about? Hmmm... Let me just say it for you...because I know how much people like to remind giant pregnant women of their eminent future..."The lack of sleep you're getting now is only preparing you for all those sleepless nights of being up with a newborn." Roger that.
Cravings: That crazy need for daily ice cream is still topping the charts. It's gonna be a hard habit to break. Probably gonna have to go cold turkey.
What I'm Missing: Very many things.
Symptoms: Very many things.
Best Moment This
I got to hang with my besties in Austin.
I was given yet another wonderful, super fun baby shower with the ladies of Chi Alpha.
 |
| The fabulous hostesses who put SO MUCH thought into every single detail. Love them dearly! |
We got to beach it up with the Hoogendoorns in Galveston.
 |
| Photo Cred: Paige Johnson (she's awesome!) |
We stayed for a few extra days on the island for a mini-vacation with my little family.
In addition to all that, we had Staff Week which ended in a retreat of sorts on the lake and got to visit several wonderful churches who support us mixed in all that. Whew! That was a lot! Isn't summer grand?
Looking Forward To: Calming the heck down. But alas...we're really just getting started. With the start of school just a couple weeks away, we've already hit the ground running with plans for Welcome Week and all that that entails. We're also trying to get this house in a position to host another human being. It's amazing how much such a tiny creature needs in order to survive.
So...life isn't really gonna calm down anytime soon, so what I'm really looking forward to most is this girl's birthday.
Daddy's Involvement: Does he ever stop? No, I tell you. He does not. If he's not chasing our Wild One around to give me some rest, he's fixing one of the cars (they kindly alternate their break-downs...sorta), or calling insurance companies and hospital financial departments, or making a special trip to buy me some ice (and usually some ice cream too), or cooking dinner (or picking it up from somewhere), or treating me to a massage. This week he's hauling furniture and rearranging our home and painting the "nursery" to get ready for this babe...all while feeling on the sickly side. If I thought it wouldn't stress him out more, I'd secretly spend extra money to treat him to a massage. (Maybe I'll do it anyway. Just don't tell him.) Oh hey, Matt! Hey. You're awesome. ;)
Big Brother's Involvement: I think he's ready. Maybe more ready than we are. He's constantly begging to put her crib together or open one of the many boxes of gadgets or toys that I've received at showers. He'll randomly mention her name and ask how much longer until she's here. He asks questions all the time about her. The other day, we were walking around Walmart and he saw a big ol' poster in the baby section with a picture of a baby. He asked me if that was Lydia and it spawned a conversation about what we thought she'd look like. And to top it off...PBS Kids announced that our beloved Daniel Tiger (a cartoon spin-off of Mister Rogers' Neighborhood) is going to be a big brother! Oh man! Could not have timed that any better. The episode hasn't aired yet, but they constantly have commercials and ads for it. Josiah's already memorized the catchy tune about the baby joining the family. I'd bet money that baby ends up being a sister...and how perfect! It's all just too exciting!
 |
| Doesn't he just look like a big brother here? |
Monday, August 4, 2014
Stay Here
Dear Josiah,
My heart is so full of a thousand different emotions right now concerning you. We've had a long, hard summer, haven't we? We've been very much together just about every single day for the last couple months and it's honestly just been so tough. Not only am I big and pregnant and wildly hot and super uncomfortable, but I've also been running dangerously low on patience. I snap and yell and just plain lose it so much faster than normal. I've rolled my eyes and said your name in an angry tone far more times than I care to admit.
And you've been...well...three.
So independent. And boundary- annihilating pushing. And inquisitive. And sassy. And adult conversation-halting. You've developed quite the case of selective hearing and you so much more prefer to just do your own thing instead of choosing to be obedient. You've had bounds and bounds of energy and have really become quite creative. Of course, Mommy hasn't had the energy to keep up with you or the mental capacity to give you constructive outlets for all your wild creativity.
You ask about half a million questions a day. And most times, they don't even make sense. And other times, I have no idea how to explain the answer to you. Your little brain is growing so fast that you want to know so much more than you even have the developmental capacity to understand just yet.
And Buddy? That's just so exhausting for Mommy (and for Daddy too.) And it can be so frustrating for all three of us to feel limited in our abilities to communicate and understand each other.
And you know what else is frustrating? To not be able to play with you like you want and like I want. I wish I could take you outside and play with you, but it's just too hot right now and it makes Mommy sick to be outside for too long. The doctor has told me not to. I wish I could have tickle-fights with you and let you jump on me and rough-house together, but I just can't right now. And someday you'll understand it's because of your growing sister, but I won't tell you that right now. No need to start a resentment so soon. For now, you can just know that it's because you're getting so big.
This afternoon, when you were watching shows on my phone and I was trying to take care of a bunch of different household chores (laundry, cooking dinner, dishes) I walked up behind you and gave you a hug. I was on my way to get the laundry basket so I could get clothes out of the dryer and keep things going so we'd have clean clothes. I had no intention of sitting with you, but you said, "Stay here."
So I sat down and you cuddled up to me. (You much prefer my lap, but it's basically non-existent at this point.) I put my arm around you and you rested your head on my chest. You didn't take your eyes off the shows, but we sat like that for a minute. Then, I realized I had started boiling water and probably needed to check on it and get dinner going and the dryer had already buzzed and the clothes were getting wrinkly...again. So I started to get up and you whispered, "Stay."
So I relaxed again and you nestled even deeper into me. And I just sat and stroked your hair and held your hand and when you switched your position, I just studied your face. Your six little, barely visible freckles on your right cheek. And your adorable overbite. And the hairs on your neck that probably need to be trimmed...again.
And I forgot about the laundry and dinner and the dishes.
Because, for a moment...we got along. I wasn't ordering you around and yelling at you for doing something you weren't supposed to be doing. And you weren't making a mess or try to hurt me or being annoying. You were just being my boy. My Best Buddy. The baby that grew up too fast.
For a moment, I wasn't struggling with the overwhelming feelings of being an unfair mommy with expectations that are way too high.
For a moment, you were telling me, the best way you know how right now, that you love me. And I didn't even realize how deeply I needed to hear you say it. But when you said, "Stay here," you spoke so much more than that.
Josiah, I love you. I love you so, so much. And it's been a hard couple of months, but I know it'll get better. And we'll keep learning each other. And God will continue to give me the grace to parent your unique, little personality the way you need me to. And He'll continue to strip me of my selfishness. And we'll probably butt heads again (I mean, it only took about 2 minutes after that precious moment for me to have to tell you to do something 7 times), but I can promise that I love even more each day that I get the privilege to know you.
You're such a big deal to me, Buddy. And as long as you'll let me, I'll stay right next to you.
Love,
Mommy
My heart is so full of a thousand different emotions right now concerning you. We've had a long, hard summer, haven't we? We've been very much together just about every single day for the last couple months and it's honestly just been so tough. Not only am I big and pregnant and wildly hot and super uncomfortable, but I've also been running dangerously low on patience. I snap and yell and just plain lose it so much faster than normal. I've rolled my eyes and said your name in an angry tone far more times than I care to admit.
And you've been...well...three.
So independent. And boundary-
You ask about half a million questions a day. And most times, they don't even make sense. And other times, I have no idea how to explain the answer to you. Your little brain is growing so fast that you want to know so much more than you even have the developmental capacity to understand just yet.
And Buddy? That's just so exhausting for Mommy (and for Daddy too.) And it can be so frustrating for all three of us to feel limited in our abilities to communicate and understand each other.
And you know what else is frustrating? To not be able to play with you like you want and like I want. I wish I could take you outside and play with you, but it's just too hot right now and it makes Mommy sick to be outside for too long. The doctor has told me not to. I wish I could have tickle-fights with you and let you jump on me and rough-house together, but I just can't right now. And someday you'll understand it's because of your growing sister, but I won't tell you that right now. No need to start a resentment so soon. For now, you can just know that it's because you're getting so big.
This afternoon, when you were watching shows on my phone and I was trying to take care of a bunch of different household chores (laundry, cooking dinner, dishes) I walked up behind you and gave you a hug. I was on my way to get the laundry basket so I could get clothes out of the dryer and keep things going so we'd have clean clothes. I had no intention of sitting with you, but you said, "Stay here."
So I sat down and you cuddled up to me. (You much prefer my lap, but it's basically non-existent at this point.) I put my arm around you and you rested your head on my chest. You didn't take your eyes off the shows, but we sat like that for a minute. Then, I realized I had started boiling water and probably needed to check on it and get dinner going and the dryer had already buzzed and the clothes were getting wrinkly...again. So I started to get up and you whispered, "Stay."
So I relaxed again and you nestled even deeper into me. And I just sat and stroked your hair and held your hand and when you switched your position, I just studied your face. Your six little, barely visible freckles on your right cheek. And your adorable overbite. And the hairs on your neck that probably need to be trimmed...again.
And I forgot about the laundry and dinner and the dishes.
Because, for a moment...we got along. I wasn't ordering you around and yelling at you for doing something you weren't supposed to be doing. And you weren't making a mess or try to hurt me or being annoying. You were just being my boy. My Best Buddy. The baby that grew up too fast.
For a moment, I wasn't struggling with the overwhelming feelings of being an unfair mommy with expectations that are way too high.
For a moment, you were telling me, the best way you know how right now, that you love me. And I didn't even realize how deeply I needed to hear you say it. But when you said, "Stay here," you spoke so much more than that.
Josiah, I love you. I love you so, so much. And it's been a hard couple of months, but I know it'll get better. And we'll keep learning each other. And God will continue to give me the grace to parent your unique, little personality the way you need me to. And He'll continue to strip me of my selfishness. And we'll probably butt heads again (I mean, it only took about 2 minutes after that precious moment for me to have to tell you to do something 7 times), but I can promise that I love even more each day that I get the privilege to know you.
You're such a big deal to me, Buddy. And as long as you'll let me, I'll stay right next to you.
Love,
Mommy
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