24 June 2010

Rewind: Peach Picking

I found these photos from last season. My baby was so young!

Does this car seem out of place to anyone else?

Jonas' first ice-cream

The harvest

21 June 2010

Day 4

We've decided to refrain from publishing the little one's name on the blog so if you're dying to know Mimi's legal moniker, send me an email and I'd be happy to oblige.

We are too busy loving on this little bundle, but for the sake of far-away family's sanity, here are a couple photos to satiate your thirst for all things Mimi.

After 14 years of buying trucks and blue clothes, we are so thrilled to finally throw a little pink into the mix. I guess 10 is the lucky number.

Now into Day 4, Jonas still loves Mimi. He gives her kisses, hugs, pats her head, asks to hold her, and searches for her when they are in separate rooms.

Popeye is the new black.

17 June 2010

It's Official.

We have two kids.

Name: TBD
Birthday: June 17, 2010
Time: 2:01 pm
Weight: 7 lbs 12 oz
Length: 20.5 inches
Head: 13 inches
Gender: Female

More photos to follow in the days to come.

I'm a Screamer

I was a thrower in high school--shotput and disc. Coach Panik was often frustrated with my lack of oomph, so I spent a full 2-hour practice only working on form and grunting. And shouting, yelling, whatever. As long as it was loud. It was completely unnatural for me, but he sensed some inner fierceness that I was unwilling to showcase. After one full practice, I could grunt mildly.

The next day at practice, I was ready to throw again. Nope. Just form and grunting again. Bah. How boring and useless. It doesn't give me any extra power or advantage.

Today I gave birth to a 7 pound 12 ounce baby. Without an epidural or medication of any kind. Let's just say Coach Panik would be proud. I found my inner fierceness today.

16 June 2010


I am 41 weeks and 3 days pregnant. Everywhere I go, people say, "I bet you're ready to have this baby" or "Not here yet?! You must be dying!"

You know what? I'm not.

I am thrilled to start this new part of our life, but certainly not overly-anxious. When the baby arrives, I will be ready. But not a day sooner.

I have struggled to put into words the keen loss I feel with the new addition to our family. It has nothing to do with regret or sorrow; it's a loss I've never felt before.

You see, for the past two years, my life has revolved around Jonas. His life revolves around me. He gets the very best of me (and sometimes the worst) and he gets all of me. Countless mothers have told me they treat their last child differently, cherishing moments they know will never be a part of their lives again and that disappear far too quickly. I always assumed Jonas was our last child, so that's how I've consciously conducted our time together. I drop everything for him, try to laugh when he makes me want to cry, and it works for us. We have a life that fits us perfectly.

Any day now, that perfect life will change. He will wake up one morning and find a baby. Or rather, he will wake up one morning and find that I'm not there to retrieve him from his crib and won't be for the next 2 days. Nor will I be there to put him to bed.

When I come home from the hospital, I will bring a baby with me who needs my constant attention. The constant attention I give him right now.

I don't want to break his little heart or cause him the inevitable pain and confusion that accompanies a new sibling.

"But it's the best thing that will ever happen to him."
"Children go through this every day."
"He will adore his new brother or sister."
"Kids are resilient--he'll get over it."

Sure, sure, I know all this, but I still wish I could shield him from the anxiety and sense of loss he will feel in the beginning.

Right now, it's just him and me. Today we went swimming and baked cookies, but each day has hundreds of special somethings that we do together. We eat breakfast, exercise, do crafts and other sensory projects; go to the library or grocery shopping or on our weekly dates. We dance in the car, quack to Elmo's Ducks, read books, sing songs, and play a daily game of "catch the naked baby" when I'm trying to dress him for the day. He helps me cook dinner, load the dishwasher, and tease the grandma sleeping on the couch. We are mutually cranky in the afternoon, so we go to the park and search for birds and dogs.

And it's always the two of us.

This season of life is coming to an end and we will be propelled into a world of split attention. It's exciting in so many ways, but I'm still in no rush to usher it in. It will come when it comes. The days of just Jonas and I are numbered and each night as I put him down for bed, I squeeze him, wondering if this is the last night we will have as just the two of us.

I cherish each moment I have with my boy. I will cherish my new child as well and that season will arrive soon enough. But for now, I'm focusing on what I already have--not on what I will have in the future.

So if you offer me castor oil or red raspberry tea, forgive me, but I will politely decline.

07 June 2010

No babies here

I was 100% positive I would have a baby in May.

Seven days into June and on the first day of my official 11-day due date, there is not a single baby in the house.

Even my little Jonas, who has always been so reliable as my baby, is no longer a baby. He turned 2 on Wednesday and is officially a kid.

That means I measure him in years, not months.

I take him to well-child checkups; not well-baby. And only once a year.

His clothes (theoretically) have a T behind the number instead of months.

He is officially heavy enough to be out of his infant carrier (23 lbs and approaching the growth curve).

And as far as the Terrible Twos? I don't believe in them. Jonas is easier now than ever. The terrible twos are a breeze compared to the first 19 months of life. Of course, he's only been two for a few days, but I'm confident things will only get better.

Happy Birthday to my Big Boy. I thank God every day that you made me a mother.