Labor of Love

-from Andrew Peterson's Behold the Lamb of God

It was not a silent night
There was blood on the ground
You could hear a woman cry
In the alleyways that night
On the streets of David’s town

And the stable was not clean
And the cobblestones were cold
And little Mary full of grace
With the tears upon her face
Had no mother’s hand to hold

It was a labor of pain
It was a cold sky above
But for the girl on the ground in the dark
With every beat of her beautiful heart
It was a labor of love

Noble Joseph at her side
Callused hands and weary eyes
There were no midwives to be found
In the streets of David’s town
In the middle of the night

So he held her and he prayed
Shafts of moonlight on his face
But the baby in her womb
He was the maker of the moon
He was the Author of the faith
That could make the mountains move

It was a labor of pain
It was a cold sky above
But for the girl on the ground in the dark
With every beat of her beautiful heart
It was a labor of love
For little Mary full of grace
With the tears upon her face
It was a labor of love

Merry Christmas everyone!

Dairy Diary

Monday: We find out baby girl has a milk protein allergy. Two options - formula, or Mommy goes dairy-free. I opt for the latter, but don't have lunch til 3:30 since I have no idea what to eat. Phone call to nutritionist reveals Little Miss needs to be a patient for them to talk to us. Appointment made for Wednesday.

Tuesday: Peanut butter and jelly for lunch, pasta for dinner. Mommy's 6-week postpartum visit became a 12-week postpartum visit. Midwife wishes us the best of luck with going dairy-free.

Wednesday: 8:20 appointment at the Children's Hospital. We don't leave until 1:30. Peanut butter and jelly for lunch. Pasta for dinner. Nutritionist calls to say she'll email us the milk-free/soy-free information. Turns out no soy either. Unfortunately, she can't find it and will have to fax it tomorrow.

Thursday: Appointment with breastfeeding-specialist-who-used-to-be-a-pediatrician goes very well. She gives us lots of tips and ideas, but doesn't want to be "another cook in the kitchen" on the matter of dairy-free living. We'll wait to talk to the nutritionist. Daddy realizes he's left the fax at work, so heads back for a 10pm visit to the office, followed by a run to the grocery store for lots of fruits and veggies. Bagel for breakfast. Peanut butter and jelly for lunch. Too upset to eat dinner.

Friday: Snowstorm means the nutritionists left early. Daddy's sent home early from work. Salad for lunch. Pasta (with meat!) for dinner. Upset stomach through the night...detoxing??

Have You Ever...

...seen four different doctors in four days?

...called food companies to check on their ingredients?

...held a screaming baby while they took a vial of her blood?

...waited 3 1/2 hours for a little one to have a bowel movement, just so they could tell you that the first test was right?

...had a pap smear while holding a screaming baby on your chest?

Welcome to My World....

Feeding My Baby Razorblades

For three months I have struggled to feed her. For three months I have agonized over every feeding. Three months I've cried. Three months she's screamed.

And now we know why. I've been feeding her razorblades.

At least, that's what it feels like inside her tiny little belly.

Turns out baby has a milk protein allergy. And all that nursing, and all those tears. Well, now we have answers.

The long and short of it is that I either need to stop eating all dairy, or we put her on formula and hope she grows out of it. I've decided to continue breastfeeding. For better, or for worse. And I'm really hoping there is no 'worse.'

The irony in all this - and there's plenty! - is that I had just said the following words aloud: "You know, she really seems to be nursing so much better!"

Shows what I know.

What You WANT to Hear

Yes, it's so great to have two kids! A boy and a girl - just what we always wanted!

Oh no - we're getting plenty of sleep!

She only wakes once in the night!

And her brother doesn't wake up at all anymore!

She's nursing like a champ!

I am so glad we did all we had to do to get everything fixed!

Oh, we're doing so well now!

Yes, I try to get us out of the house everyday!

Sometimes we even play in the yard!

It's so much easier than I thought it would be!

I can't believe all the help and support we've been given!

I'd highly recommend this to anyone who was considering it!

Really, I did all that worrying for nothing!

And how are YOU these days?

It's Christmas!

Jesus was once a teeny-tiny baby who had to learn to laugh.

He was swaddled in a "receiving blanket" so he wouldn't startle himself with his flailing arms and legs.

Mary probably tucked a curl of his hair behind his ear and pondered the shape of his earlobe.

The King of Glory cried in a wet diaper because his parents were too busy to notice he had soiled himself.

Before his parents were ready, he announced to them, "I can do it myself!"

It's astounding to me to look at my sweet little girl and think that my God was that little once. That his mom may have checked to make sure he was still breathing. That his dad would have held him close and let him fall asleep on his chest. That he gave up all Heaven holds to come down and suffer the indignity of gas pains. Of learning to walk. Of sneezing.

My little boy thinks hard to come up with words to tell us what's on his mind. Jesus knew Wonders Mysterious, yet might have asked "Who this made?" Did he call his mom "sweetheart'?

Christmas is such a magical time of year. And yet there's no magic involved. A tiny baby was born. His mom cried to see how beautiful he was. And because she was glad she wasn't pregnant anymore. Everything was so normal. But he'd grow to change what the word 'normal' meant.

First Date

11 years ago this coming February, we had our first date. We took the subway to Harvard (or, Hah-vid, as I was once in the habit of saying) for a concert. Caedmon's Call was performing and they had two singers open for them: Andrew Peterson and Bebo Norman. It was their first time performing together.

Fast-forward 11 years. In October we celebrated our 6th anniversary. I hunted around for a gift and came across a concert: "Behold the Lamb of God." It's our favorite Christmas album (you can listen to this one year-round!) and I knew he'd love it. Performers included Andrew Peterson and Bebo Norman, among others. I bought the tickets, thinking "baby will be two months old then, things will be fine."

Hubby had a surprise for me on our anniversary. He had designed two "tickets" to the show - and wanted to know if we could go. I whipped out the tickets I had already purchased. It would be a date.

And so tonight we left baby #2 for the first time. She had never successfully taken a bottle. I was on the verge of tears. But we survived. And Mommy and Daddy had a chance to be Husband and Wife for the first time in a long time. A new kind of "first date." And I only thought about the baby a little. Well, a little for me.

Why God, Why?

Could someone please tell me WHY the doctor's waiting room is chock-full of people when your little one is screaming like you're killing her, but totally EMPTY! when you leave with your sweet little sleeping bundle???

Just Give Me the Epidural! (vol. 1)

Our Bradley Method instructor once told us that the reason she chose natural childbirth was because "there are no epidurals for life." I've decided I want to change that here and now. There are so many things in life that call for one! Here's just the beginning:

1. I want an epidural for breastfeeding. Ouch!


2. I want an epidural for interactions with my mother-in-law. [I'm so going to be in trouble for writing this.]


3. I want an epidural for our sad little car. Honestly, we don't even try to put it in reverse anymore!


4. I want an epidural for our housing situation. [I really, really, really want to stop having a landlord who is also my mother-in-law. Oh, and see #2. I'm really in trouble now!]


5. I want an epidural for losing the baby weight. And I mean baby #1 weight.


The anesthesiologist will be tired of me before my requests are over....

Bio-What?

A year ago I was a skeptic. Now I'm a true believer.

A friend of mine recommended we check out probiotics for our colicky baby. My husband thought they were some form of biological robotics. Yeah. They're not. The best "in-English-please" description I can give is that they're the good bacteria in our system. We have good stuff & bad stuff in our bodies and they're mostly in balance. When they're not and the bad guys are winning, we get sick. In a little one whose system is not mature, there's not a lot of the good stuff. So the idea behind giving probiotics is that you're adding more of the good guys to fight off the bad guys. [You've obviously come to the wrong place if you're looking for the scientific explanation!]

After doing a little research, I decided it was worth a shot. It's not medication, there are no adverse effects, and our pediatrician gave us the green light. So I put in an order for BioGaia infant drops and they arrived in 3 days. The packaging was amazing. It was like a gag gift - you keep opening and opening until you get to a tiny bottle smaller than your pinky. Then five drops a day (more difficult for a nursing babe) and see what happens.

I don't know what happens for other families, but what happened for us was incredible. Our Little Miss was crying 5 or 6 nights out of 7 for somewhere around 3 hours at a time. We'd run the bathtub, carry her around, bounce her, rock her - the whole bit. Then we tried the probiotics. And in that first week, she had a total of ZERO nights like that. It was amazing. She'd still get fussy, but not to the point of total hysteria. She was easy to calm down and relatively relaxed. I was shocked and hesitatingly hopeful. Daddy is always a skeptic - but I couldn't see how we could attribute it to anything else!

It's helped with my sanity and I offer this as hope for anyone else with the same issues!

Finally! Something we may have gotten right!

Why Do I Bother?

I do it because my husband has been eating Spaghettio's for lunch. It's not because I'm a glutton for punishment.

I do it because my Little Man only wants to eat Cheerios for breakfast. It's not because I enjoy carrying a screaming toddler through the grocery store while his baby sister wails.

I do it because getting out of the house once every few days keeps me sane. It's not because I want to see how many little old ladies will offer to help me this time.

I did it because the lactation consultant said I should try sage tea. It's not because I mean to torture my children. I didn't see the gate I slammed the carriage into. And I didn't mean to walk so fast that my munchkin tripped and fell. And how could I know that the baby would scream the whole way home while we crawled behind some old guy who thought that 20 was the new 35[mph]??

I do it because eventually, I hope, it will all seem normal. And normal sounds glorious these days.

When it Rains...

I know I've mentioned this before, but honestly, why does it all have to happen at the same time?? Fights with the landlord, broken dryer, and a car that screams for mercy when you put it into reverse. Someday, someday, life won't feel like such a roller coaster. For now, my eyes are closed and I'm screaming at every twist and turn.

Mission: Impossible?

Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to go food shopping with your infant and toddler in tow.

Just getting out of the house seems to take a miracle these days. With our Little Miss Muffet screaming with gas pain, and our Little Boy Blue taking off his coat and shoes, it took us a good hour just to get out the door.

But then the grocery store didn't have the great cart with the car in the front - so Little Boy Blue was very blue. We tried an alternative - one where he could sit up high and face forward - but to no avail. We emptied our produce into a regular cart and resumed shopping. With LBB alternatively pushing the cart and grabbing things off shelves, I just sighed and thanked God that the Little Miss was still asleep.

And then, just like that, she wasn't.

We went into hyper-drive and threw all sorts of random things in the cart, all the while chanting "please be okay, please be okay." And for awhile she was.

And then, just like that, she wasn't.

She began crying like there was a knife in her side (I promise, there wasn't). At which point LBB decided he'd throw himself onto the floor and start crying "Mommy hold you!" Lovely. I scooped him up and dashed over to the check-out lines. Thankfully we found a short one. And ignoring my two screaming kids, I began throwing things onto the conveyor belt. Done!

I grabbed LMM out of her car seat and managed to calm her down. Only to notice of course, that LBB had decided to pull each and every toothbrush off the rack nearby. And there were quite a few. Back went LMM, dash went Mommy, "WAH!" went LBB.

I paid ($149?!? What did I toss in there?!?) and made a beeline for the door. Now I know why friends with two kids wait til Daddy's home to attempt to buy food.

Mission: accomplished. I think.

What a Lovely Shade of Gray!

I awoke this morning to find my 5th gray hair. It wasn't there last night. Which means only one thing - either a.) it grew overnight or b.) one of my seemingly-healthy brown hairs decided to change color. Whatever the truth of the matter may be, I am not excited.

Genetics

Everyone asks us who our new little one looks like. We search her tiny features to find what's recognizable as Mommy's or Daddy's. So far she has Daddy's eyes and Mommy's mouth.

Our little man has Mommy's eyes and Daddy's sense of humor.

He also wound up with two inexplicable habits from Mom and Dad. When he wants to be picked up he'll say "Mommy hold you!" just like I used to say. And when he settles down to sleep, he folds his knees up under him and sticks his little bottom in the air. Just like Daddy---used to do! Now obviously, these things weren't taught. They just sort of wound up in his genes. How does that even happen? Did Daddy's great-great-grandfather sleep the same way?

Makes me wonder what other bizarre behavior he'll display one day. I'll have no one else to blame...except Daddy of course.

I Have a Dream...of Dreaming

My biggest wish right now is to sleep between the hours of 5 and 7am. That's all. I will put aside my hopes for a better computer, my dream of getting a newer car, and even my earnest desire to move to a new house. All I really want ... is to sleep. Really.

Exercises in Futility

Since my recent promotion in Motherhood, I've come to realize that there are a number of things that I should not even attempt until such a time as either 1.) my children are fully able to walk, talk, and eat on their own, or 2.) I stop caring that no one likes to hear a screaming baby. Either way, it'll be awhile.

Here are some examples of exercises in futility these days.

1. Playing with my toddler: With our little one needing so much time and attention these days, it's hard to carve out special time for baby #1.

2. Cleaning the house: Yesterday I told my little guy that I couldn't play with him (see above) because I needed to do some cleaning. He pitched a fit that lasted for a good two hours.

3. Voting: I decided on Tuesday that voting would be a great way for the three of us to get out of the house. With much wrestling, we were able to make it out the door; however, when we arrived, my little man decided he didn't want to stand in line. Instead he wanted me to hold him. So there I was, with toddler in one arm, car seat in the other, diaper bag hoisted over my shoulder, in line behind the one and only smoker. When I finally shuffled my way up to registration, some nice little old lady offered to hold onto the car seat for me. Needless to say, my voting was done with no extra time to think.

4. Buying groceries: Since we were out anyway and had managed to survive voting, I decided to head to the grocery store. With Munchkin A in the part of one of those carts with a car on the front, and Munchkin B in her car seat in the cart-part, there was no room for food!

5. Going to the mall: My first outing with our new addition was to one store in the mall. This resulted in me breaking down in tears upon arriving home. The saleslady had so many issues ringing up my purchases that she wound up on the phone with managers of two other stores, and I wound up waiting for her for 45 minutes - with 9 day-old crying baby in my arms for the last 10 minutes of the nightmare. Now that I want to get us all out of the house, the mall seems like the best option. Except of course that I have no idea to get around with the two of them in tow.

6. Going to Target: Our first trip to Target was to get diapers and wipes. That's it. So when baby woke up and broke down when we reached the aisle with them, I knew it wasn't a big deal. We were all of 4 minutes from home. One thing I didn't account for - the woman in line in front of me paying with rolls of coins. Baby screamed while this saleslady opened each roll and counted all the change.

7. Traveling: We visited family last weekend and got all of...wait...oh yeah - no sleep. Little miss also decided to cry for a good 2 hours (or more, I don't really remember) before drifting off. She was the only one. That was the beginning of our little man's 4 day fever.

8. Sleeping more than 4 hours at a stretch: And really, 4 hours is pushing it. But with the little one needing to nurse and the older one cutting molars - well, let's just say that hubby and I should learn not to talk to each other in the middle of the night!

9. Eating: Truth be told, I do get to eat. Just not well. And it's often cold. But thankfully hubby has been cooking for us.

10. Blogging: Seems like a blatant lie, I know. But just imagine when I began making this list!

6 Years...And Counting

Our story is like no other...and every other. We met in college - dated for a little while, then decided to "just be friends." I thought it would go the way most other "friendships" go - slowly fading away into oblivion. But he wouldn't have it. He actually wanted to be friends! I thought it was strange - and it was definitely difficult - but through those college years, that's what we did. Okay, granted, there were a few kisses here and there, but come on!

We talked about getting married in 2000 - how it got to that point, I'm not really sure. Something about this guy who was always there - always a friend, no matter what. But our lives were headed in different directions. Literally. He went to the West Coast, I went to Europe. And it was in those different places that we realized we couldn't live without each other.

We were engaged in Prague and celebrated in Vienna - and I actually know other couples who have cool stories like that! Wedding planning took place across thousands of miles. And with virtually no money to our names. Thank God for loving parents!

Our 2002 wedding was beautiful - at least, that's what everyone told us at the time. We recently watched our video with our Little Man so he'd have an idea of what to do as a Ring Bearer - and I couldn't believe how young we were! Young and unabashedly in love.

We set up house in the biggest apartment our friends had ever seen. With low rent to boot! Then came unpacking and filling the empty rooms. So began the journey of turning two lives into one.

We found jobs and lots of friends. We got two cats when the apartment became home to a family of mice. At church we taught Sunday School and ran a Youth Group. Everything seemed stable and happy and going the way we'd planned.

Then we decided we wanted to live radically. We actually said those words out loud. So of course, they were meant to be challenged. Friends moved away. We took in a teenage foster daughter. We got pregnant. Our landlord decided to sell our house.

So away we went. Leaving family, friends, jobs, support. Baby was 4 months old. I had never seen the house we moved into. But we clung to each other and figured it would all work out.

Two years later, we have baby #2 and a whole new life. I can't believe we're here. But hubby asked the other day "Why does it matter where we are? I just want to be with you." Yeah. He actually said those words. Wicked cheesy. And totally sweet.

See, because no matter what else happens - another move, new job, baby #3 (dear God, no!) - I know that I will have the most amazing man by my side.

So here's to you, my love. Happy Anniversary #6. And even though statistically, American marriages last 7 years - I know this is far from our last happy year together. Because you wouldn't let it happen any other way.

Updates on our Little Man

Updates on our Little Miss

Thoughts from the Dark Side

There are things you're not supposed to share...things you're not supposed to think. But no good confession comes without pain and regret.

I didn't want to be pregnant. I didn't want another baby - not right away. I thought it would be okay if something happened to "it" during those early weeks. Later, I honestly wondered if we should just give her up for adoption.

I felt totally out-of-control. I couldn't fathom how it would all work out. I think I had post-partum depression pre-partum. It was awful.

I would tell these things to my husband and cry, knowing how horrible it sounded. No good mom is supposed to think things like that.

3+ weeks in, I can't imagine giving her away. The thought of it brings tears to my eyes. And it's been hard. I still wonder how I'm going to do it. The balancing act of having two little ones boggles my mind. And some people have more!! The funny thing is, I know that someday, I will look back at pictures from this time and wish I could have some of these moments back.

So, "bless me Father, for I have sinned...". I didn't want my little girl. But now I'm so glad she's mine.

How Hard Could It Be?

Our little one has been having a difficult time with nursing. And of course, I'm feeling like a failure all over again. My little guy didn't quite figure out how to latch on until he was almost a week old. This sweet thing latched on right after birth and did wonderfully...in the hospital. Once we got home, she slowed way down, her weight plateaued, and she seemed to have trouble with her latch. I was devastated. After all, this is baby #2 - I should know a few things this time around!

Yesterday we went to a lactation consultant. I left feeling terribly overwhelmed. Loaded with information about food sensitivities, a therapy I couldn't pronounce, and dietary changes, I drove home wondering if I could truly give up dairy. The best part of the visit was learning that our little girl was tongue-tied. Easily-remedied, I was assured.

Today we went to the pediatrician. I left feeling sick to my stomach and wondering if I had just doomed my little girl to a life of speech issues or dental concerns. I was the one holding her tiny head while the doctor snipped the tongue-tie. I almost passed out. Blood I can handle. My not-quite-3-week-old screaming bloody murder, I could not.

So now I'm just shaky. In the long run, I think we made the right choice - but I hate having to be the one to make the choice.

While the poor thing slept, I got Big Brother ready for his nap. As I changed his diaper I realized that it has been a very long time since I worried about every meal he ate (or didn't), every one of his diaper's contents, every funny sound and strange reaction he made. I guess somehow, we all make it through. Moms and kids alike. I guess I just figured it would be easier the second time around. Silly me.

I'm in Love...with a Little Pink Bundle

She'll be two weeks old tomorrow and life around here has definitely changed pace. It's amazing how quickly such a tiny person can settle themselves into your heart and totally change your life. I didn't want to be pregnant - I didn't want a girl. But now she's here and we're absolutely in love.

Unfortunately, there are times when I feel that it's a distracted love. With two little ones underfoot (or, in arms), I'm already feeling spread thin. And Daddy hasn't even gone back to work yet! I miss Munchkin A and wonder if I'll ever be a good Mommy to him again. Munchkin B has us worried about thrush and reflux and sleeping too much (be careful what you wish for!). These early days are long and tiring, and I know it'll get easier with time...but it's hard not to miss what once was. The days I could plan to a T what was going to happen and where we'd go. The days I could put on a shirt and know it would stay relatively clean til I took it off at night. The days I could wear a normal bra! Sometimes life with baby feels like we're living with a ticking time bomb. A cute time bomb, but a bomb nonetheless.

And I'm amazed at how often my pronouns are wrong. I know she's a girl - but in my thoughts, it's he and his and him. Very strange. Classic example - Mommy: Are you okay little one? Sleepy Daddy: Yeah. Mommy: Not you - him!

We obviously have some adjustments to make.

And then there's the cruelest trick of nature. [Be forewarned conservative readers - brazen comments to follow!] I now have, if not my husband's fantasy breasts, at least mine! The ones I could only dream about when I was 13. Heck - when I was 25! And yet - here's the thing, they hurt! Full and sore and cracked (that's the thrush) - I can walk around shirtless, but my poor husband is powerless to react. Not to worry - nursing only lasts a year!

[Back to our regularly scheduled broadcast] So our lives have changed forever, and most of the time, we're extremely thankful. Exhausted, but thankful. She's here, she's healthy, and she's asleep. What more could we ask for?

Anyday Now...?

Well, we're at 40 and 2 - and still waiting.

In an effort to keep this blog alive and well, I'd like to invite you to share your own confessions. Something weighing on your mind? Stresses? A random thought to share? Feel free to do so while Mommy and baby rest and recouperate! And please note, you do not have to be a mom to have a random confession!

We'll keep you posted!

But It's 1:30 in the Morning!

I don't remember if I worried all the time before I became a mom. But once that little one made his presence known, I started worrying like it could somehow make a difference. I hear horrific stories about accidents happening to kids and then it's all I think about for days. I seriously can get myself all choked up just thinking about some crazy situation where we lose him. It's awful. And of course, the worst stories are about when the mom is right there but can't do anything to help or stop it from occurring. How terrible.

For example, with "baby sister" on the way anyday now (please God!), we've put in our second car seat. Big brother got shifted from the middle to the window, and I realized that he could probably open the door by himself with a little bit of effort. So I switched on the child lock in his door so one can only open it from the outside. Not 10 minutes later I'm driving along, realizing - wait! What if we careen off the edge of a cliff into water below and I climb into the back and get him unbuckled but can't open the door from the inside??? How terrible would I feel then?!?!

I know there are no cliffs beside water anywhere near us. It doesn't matter.

True story: last Friday was the rehearsal and rehearsal dinner for my brother's wedding. After a long, traffic-filled drive (with baby not napping), we arrive at the church late, hormonal, and exhausted. The rehearsal goes off without a hitch and we go to the restaurant for dinner and a few sappy moments. Finally, it's time to head to the hotel and bed. After awhile of settling in and getting acclimated, it's off to bed for Mommy and baby. Time check: 12:30. Daddy heads downstairs to hang out with not-so-pregnant relatives and promises he'll be back soon.

Next thing I know, I'm hearing something like an alarm clock. Is it in our room? Did the last guests foolishly leave it turned on? Wait - but it sounds like it's coming from the bathroom! Weird. Oh - maybe it's just from another room. But why do they need an alarm set for 1:30 in the morning?? Then I hear the voice. A recording. Something about this being an alarm (no kidding) and waiting for further instructions. Oh - and evacuating the building. Hmm. A joke, I'm sure. Then, it's quiet. Thank God. Oh wait - crap! A new alarm. Telling us to evacuate. And footsteps and slamming doors all up and down the hallway. Now I pause.

Remember back in grade school when they had fire drills? Remember how cool it was to leave the classroom and have a break where you got to go outside and slyly whisper to your friends? Remember how awesome you thought it would be if your school burned down? Even though you knew it would never happen? Fast-forward a few years.

I realize I'm on the 7th floor of a building that could potentially be on fire. I just want to ignore it all and go back to sleep! But here I am, a zillion months pregnant and alone with my toddler. I'm SURE it's nothing. But what if it's not? What if this is the time when it's real and the fire makes its way to my door and then I'm stuck and can't get out and I have to jump out the window with my 2-year-old??? Not okay.

So I throw on some clothes, scoop up my sleeping toddler, and stumble out into the hall. Lights flashing, alarm wailing, down the hallway we go. Halfway down I come to a police officer who's telling us that "it's okay." I don't know what that means, but I turn back towards my room. Here comes my knight in shining armor. He'd basically threatened the security guard in the lobby and bolted past him to get to us (my hero!). Grabbing our little guy, he leads me down 7 flights of stairs and out into the night. People are milling about and we realize it's okay to wait in the lobby. In we go - I'm dangerously close to tears. A few minutes later they announce it's okay to go back up. Someone had been smoking on our non-smoking floor. If I ever meet that moron....

Needless to say, it took us awhile to get settled back in for the night. And I felt stupid. Of course it was nothing! I should've just stayed in bed! But...[sigh]...I'm a mom. And moms don't often get that option.

To Guy & Briana - Congratulations

Marriage. It's so much more than "for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health...". Marriage is for fatter and thinner, for at peace and at war. When his family frustrates you, when her family aggravates you. Dirty laundry, dirty dishes, dirty shower. When he yells. When she cries. Laughing and playing. Crying and grieving. When he forgets to brush his teeth - when she refuses to clean her hair out of the drain. When the sex is great - when it sucks - when you've forgotten to have sex in awhile. When the money's pouring in...and when it's rolling out.

The marriage commitment stands whether he calls an ex-girlfriend or she flirts with a stranger. Whether babies come too soon, too late, or don't come at all. When you marry, you do it for life - even when it feels more like a life sentence. There's bound to be rain - but also plenty of sun.

You're in it when bodies change and sag and droop. When the hearing goes - and also the hair. The commitment is for when the oven, microwave, refrigerator, washing machine, or car engine needs to be fixed. And it's for when they all happen at the same time. Don't forget morning breath, farting, burping, and childbirth. It's a good thing you've become one!

Marriage is waking up at 3am in bed alone - and getting up to drag your spouse off the couch. It's telling secrets, but keeping them too. And knowing there are lines you never cross.

When the baby screams from one to four and the dog keeps scratching to go out - you'll know it's all real. Because marriage is worth it. And often you'll have to fight for it. Even when you've eaten pasta two weeks in a row! Love is for now...and always.

It's for shouting - in joy and anger. It's for different taste in movies and music. And furniture. It's for giving and receiving and every kiss at the end of the day. It's agreeing with your spouse in front of others to present a unified front. Even when you're sure they're wrong. It's for hospital visits and family vacations. Chocolate chip cookies or spam. When she can't sing and he can't dance. It's holes in your socks and in your alibi. You'll realize you're in it for love and trust and faith. There's security, peace, and gentleness.

But none of that means they won't someday break your heart. Was it hormones or a bad day at work? He said. She said. Sometimes you let them win so there's peace. You apologize when you really don't want to. And then you work on meaning it.

Marriage signifies two lives becoming one. With all their histories and baggage. Stories and wounds. "For richer, for poorer." Every day and every night. Which is great because you know you mean it. Right? You want there to be challenges. Adversity. Pain. Because it'll remind you it's real. And when it's real and someone pinches you - it hurts!

Marriage is often about dishes and laundry. Who's supposed to do them? 'Cuz you're sure it isn't you. And no matter how often you do them - you always have to do them over again. Someone should've recommended registering for a lifetime supply of paper plates and plastic forks!

Marriage will kick your butt. There's so much work involved - and not just housework ('though there's plenty of that). You work at loving the other in the ways they need to be loved. You work at effective communication and how NOT to fight. You work at keeping that romantic feeling alive and at having great patience with this, your best friend. You work at Christmas cards and thank-you cards and you might even wonder why. But your work will be rewarding. The love you see in her eyes, feel in his arms. It's all so worth it.

Life Changes

I remember the day he was born like it was yesterday. They had cleaned him up and handed him to me as this little package of fuzz and scrunched-up face. In our family video, I'm holding him with my sisters flanking me on either side. Ready to protect him from anything that might come our way. I couldn't believe it - my very own baby to hold and love and play with and mother. I would be the best big sister ever.

And now my baby brother is getting married! It's a very strange thing. The other night as we got our little one all bundled up out of the bath and into his jammies, I thought "I remember this." I used to do the exact same thing for my brother. At seven I was convinced he was mine. I would carry him to our room and get him in his warm, feety pajamas. I'd read him stories and sing him songs until he fell asleep. I rocked him in the rocking chair and calmed him down whenever I could. My practice-run, if you will.

We both got older and he didn't appreciate my mothering nearly as much. It was intrusive and he certainly didn't need another mommy telling him what to do. I suspect my own little guy will have plenty of moments like that when he's a teen. "Thanks Mom" dripping with sarcasm. Meaning "back off, will ya?!"

As adults we've hit upon a kind of truce. I try (really hard) not to play the mom role, and he seems to accept the big sister thing as somewhat of a necessary evil. We're learning to be friends.

And now he has another woman in his life - someone who will care for him when he's sick, encourage him when he's down, and tell him mythical stories about a key hidden in a cabinet that only he can get for the family. Well, okay - not that last part. That role I got to play. And I'm pretty sure no one will ever take that place.

Baby's Coming...Soon

One of the most common things I hear these days (besides, "Wow! You look ready to pop!"), is "What do you still need for the baby?". In case you too were wondering, here's my list:

1. We could really use a college fund. Anyone got an extra to share?

2. A personal chef would do wonders. My poor toddler must get so bored with peanut butter & jelly! And I'd like a nice steak now and then.

3. A housekeeper. Someone who would smile while scrubbing the bathroom floor sounds like a dream, doesn't it?

4. More closet space. When they built our house, two closets seemed like a fine idea. Guess what? They were crazy.

5. While we're at it, a new house. We seem to have filled this one to the brim. Maybe we should get a new one so we can quickly fill that one as well.

6. A new car. See minivan post for more information.

7. A night nurse. This of course, is for our little man. He's decided being awake from 3-5am is a perfectly good idea.

8. A nice, easy delivery. I don't think explanation is needed here.

9. Diapers. Do you have any idea how many diapers I've changed in my lifetime???

10. A germ-free, violence-free, accident & disease-free world. Or maybe just bubble wrap.

If anyone can help us out with any of the above-mentioned items, we'd greatly appreciate it. All-in-all, we're feeling ready for our Little Miss to arrive. We're just not necessarily looking forward to the arrival part.

Caedmon's Call - "Sacred"

this house is a good mess
it's the proof of life
no way would I trade jobs
but it don't pay overtime

I'll get to the laundry
I don't know when
I'm saying a prayer tonight
cause tomorrow it starts again

could it be that everything is sacred?
and all this time
everything I've dreamed of
has been right before my eyes

the children are sleeping
but they're running through my mind
the sun makes them happy
and the music makes them unwind

my cup runneth over
and I worry about the stain
teach me to run to You
like they run to me for every little thing

when I forget to drink from you
I can feel the banks harden
Lord, make me like a stream
to feed the garden

wake up, little sleeper
the Lord, God Almighty
made your Mama keeper
so rise and shine
rise and shine cause

everything is sacred
and all this time
everything I've dreamed of
has been right before my eyes

Words and Music by Randall Goodgame and Andrew Osenga(c) 2007 House of Mirrors Music (ASCAP) admin. by Simpleville Music, Inc. / 2007 Mighty Molecule Music. (ASCAP) admin by Music Services

Mommy Brain

I could picture right where I left it. Fat lot of good that did me. I needed the credit card so they could credit my account when I made the return. But it was at home. By the computer. Where I left it yesterday and saw it this morning!

One more thing to add to my list of "Reasons to be jealous of friends without kids."

Mommy brain is this ridiculous phenomenon where the female brain ever-so-slowly shuts down. It begins in pregnancy and continues on, well past the times when you make goofy remarks your grandkids giggle over. At least, I think that's why my grandmother sounds goofy.

You forget things. You act without thinking. You can't comprehend adult conversations.

So there I was in Wal*Mart begging the lady to give me any option other than a $90 store credit. To no avail. So I did what any other pregnancy-hormone-laden mom would do. I spent the $90 on more Wal*Mart junk.

I tell my husband all the time, "I know I used to be smarter than this!" But maybe not. I really can't remember anymore.

Babymoon

It's the latest craze. Couples running off for one more adventure before baby comes along. I figured I needed one too. Get away for the weekend with no little one around? Sounds great!

I found the perfect opportunity last weekend. With my brother getting married (which just seems impossible because I'm pretty sure he's still five), our family was helping to plan the bridal shower. So away I went to visit with the family and prepare for the big event. Leaving baby #1 behind. For the first time.

The ride up was strange. No kids' music blaring. No stops for diaper changes. I kept looking in the mirror and seeing the empty carseat. Weird. But then I arrived and things got busy. We helped decorate the hall and ran to Target for a few last-minute items. Noting the time, I decided to call home and say good-night to the little guy. See how he was faring without me.

Bad move. Baby is screaming in the background when Daddy answered the phone, "Mommy hold you! Mommy hold you!" Immediately I choked up. In Target. With a cart full of shower doo-dads and people milling about. "It's okay baby, it's okay! I'll see you tomorrow!" I'm basically begging him to be all right. But there's no convincing him. I can't stand it. I start pacing and seriously consider driving home right then. I beg Daddy to go in to him - hold him - rock him - WHATEVER IT TAKES! But Daddy is calm and I need to get off the phone before I lose it. Just then a little girl walked past, wailing. I want to scoop her up and tell her it will be okay - Mommy loves you! But I don't think her parents would have appreciated it.

So I choked back the tears and made it through my first night away from my son in over two years. He ran into my arms, begging me to read a story when I arrived home the next day. [Sigh] We had made it. And unlike me, he's probably not scarred from the experience. Just one more milestone in this epic journey called motherhood.

To Sleep, Perchance...

My son has never been a good sleeper. When he was six weeks old, I wrote in my journal that he'd napped for 2 hours and I was ecstatic! At six weeks old! How sad. By six months, he was down to one nap a day. And he screamed in the car - he didn't sleep like everyone swears their kid did. Now fast-forward two years and you'll find us with quite a few of the same issues. Baby doesn't want to sleep.

We've read all the books, heard all the advice. "You should do this - don't do that. It's because you did this - and didn't do that." We've talked to the pediatrician and emailed specialists. And yet, at five o'clock this morning, our little guy was screaming in his crib and I found myself hitting the wall. Not literally. Literally I screamed his name and my husband went running so that I could sob uncontrollably for the next 45 minutes.

We used to ask things like "Do you think he's gassy?" "Maybe he's cutting teeth?", and more recently "Could it be that he's anticipating the transition with baby #2 coming?". They're all fair guesses. But that's all they are. And the thing that drives me craziest is that all those sleep books start out by telling you how important sleep is and all the problems people can have later in life if they don't have good sleep patterns at a young age. Yeah, thanks. Why do you think I'm reading this book?? JUST TELL ME WHAT TO DO!

I know we can't special-order our kids. But I'm really hoping for a sleeper the second time around.

Junior High, Revisited

We used to live in a city. Everyone around us worked full days for not enough money and rented apartments. We fit right in. Then we moved to a new state and found that our home-owning neighbors seemed to work fewer hours and have more money for, well, everything. After almost two years here, I still feel like an outsider. The worst is probably the mall. Which mall you go to is actually a matter of importance here. And of course, what you wear to the mall. Never in my life have I dressed up to go to the mall. Now I at least think about it.

I realized fairly early on that I wasn't dressing my son right. He'd look all cute in his Carter's or Circo outfit, but we'd walk through the mall with barely a glance. Then one day I walked with a friend who had her little one in Lilly Pulitzer. The women in one store practically fell over themselves, exclaiming "Look how cute she is in her Lilly's!" I took matters into my own hands. One day we walked through the mall with our heads held high. My little guy had on a beautiful coat from Baby Gap and a pair of new Merrells on his feet. Underneath was a sweet Gymboree outfit. The comments were glorious!

But then I realized how junior high this all is. Do I really want my son to grow up feeling that he doesn't measure up if he's not in the latest and greatest? Not really. But I too have found myself lured into this trap. I was the kid who didn't wear jeans until 6th grade. I just didn't care. I also never asked Mom & Dad for a brand-name just-about-anything. So why do I find myself getting all caught up in wanting to fit in?

My parents did their best to help me fight all of that by sending me to a Catholic school where I had to wear a uniform. But don't worry. Private school kids have their own ways of torturing each other.

Mommy Wants a Minivan

Neither my husband nor I have ever bought a car. Between us we've had five cars in the years we've been driving - and they were all given to us. This of course means that we've never had a NEW car - hence five cars in the years we've been driving. On the other hand, they've been a total blessing to us and have helped us out tremendously. We will forever be grateful to our family and friends who gave to us so generously.

Yesterday I was watching a talk show. Baby was asleep, I was tired. Can you hear me trying to justify this? Anyway, they gave a brand-new car away to someone who lost her home in Hurricane Katrina. Very nice gesture - very happy lady. But it made me want to deserve a brand-new car too!

I watch shows like Extreme Makeover: Home Edition and wish they'd knock down my house. But then of course I realize I don't have a kid suffering from some terrible disease (thank God!) and I don't really do anything amazing enough to be recognized! So why would they ever pick me? I'm pretty sure they don't choose people who are young, healthy, and reasonably well-adjusted.

You know, your mom and dad tell you you're special - but obviously, you shouldn't really believe them. Well, not unless you're the one getting the new car. Just be sure to pass your old one to me. I'm pretty sure I deserve at least that.

To My Little Man: An Apology

Dear Baby #1,

When I found out I was pregnant with you, I cried. I was so happy I started journaling right away. I read updates on your development every week and was fascinated by the whole experience. Daddy took a little longer to warm up to the whole idea, but that's his story to tell. When you first started moving, I was thrilled. When I could finally wear maternity clothes, I was on cloud nine. Then we had our ultrasound. I just knew you were a girl! I'd dress you up all cutesy and do your hair, you'd tell me everything and would be a friend when you were grown. It was going to be wonderful.

I was in complete shock when they told us you were a boy. All I could think was "He. Him. His. His toys. His clothes. His friends. What do you do with a 12-year-old boy? They're ALL weird!" As soon as we were done, I made Daddy take me to Babies-R-Us so I could make sure they actually sold cute boy clothes.

Now that you're here, we think you're amazing. Which is why I need to apologize. All these wonderful days of cuddling and snuggling, of Mommy's undivided attention - they're about to come to an abrupt end. You know about your little sister and you're very sweet about kissing my belly and trying to give it a bottle. But Little Man, this baby will be here to stay.

All that great one-on-one time we have will be reduced greatly. You'll be relegated to the big brother role with lots of "share!", "you need to help your sister", and "the oldest sets the example." That was always my favorite. You'll be our guinea pig and we'll make sure we don't repeat our mistakes with your sister. You'll go to bed earlier, have to come home sooner, and be restricted in more ways that you can count. All because someone else came along.

I know how being the firstborn will shape you, will anger and frustrate you. I know having a little sister around who wants all your toys (and time too) will make you scream. I think it's because we're all supposed to learn that we're not the center of the universe. But it still makes me sad for you.

I hope you don't feel forgotten or left out. I hope you will always know how special and adored you are. I hope you never question Mommy's feelings for you. Because no matter what, I love you. You made me a Mom. And for that, I am thankful.

To Baby #2: A Confession

Dear Baby #2,

In the beginning, I was in total denial. "I've been pregnant before! I don't have any of the symptoms!" But then, "Oh no, I have all the symptoms!" Your poor Daddy learned about you in the car when I picked him up from work. But at least this time he didn't ask if we purchased a 'magic box' of pregnancy tests.

I desperately wanted you to be a boy. Two little brothers would be so cute! But when they did the ultrasound and couldn't figure things out for sure, I knew you were a girl (and that you'd be breech, and I'd have to have a c-section, and that you'd hate me when you turned 13...). I sobbed uncontrollably - but only because they couldn't tell me for sure, not because I knew you were a girl. I promise.

You're going to be here in just a few short weeks. You'll have hand-me-downs from your brother and have to sleep in his pack-and-play for awhile. Your baby book will probably never have the same amount of detail that his has. We'll hold you and cuddle you, but know enough to put you down when you sleep. Your every gurgle and coo will be precious, but probably often missed due to peanut butter and jelly sandwich-making. You'll most likely be covered in the kind of dust bunnies and fuzz that were banished from our house when your big brother was born. I can't even imagine what you'll find to put in your mouth. You may grow up wondering if we think you are as smart, funny, athletic, or cute as your big brother is. You'll ask where all the photos of you are. But honestly, I know we'll ask ourselves what we ever did before you came along.

You'll be Daddy's princess, but struggle with Mommy. I'll be the one you yell "no" at, and "you ruined my life!" to, before stomping away and slamming your bedroom door. You'll cringe when people say you look like me or talk like me, and you'll tell them they just haven't met your Dad yet.

But deep down, I'm hoping that you'll talk to me at other times too. When your best friend finds a new friend, or your boyfriend breaks your heart. When you think you're ready to wear a training bra or shave your legs. And then, years (and years!) down the road, when you have a daughter of your own, I hope I'll be the one you come to and say "Now I know why you wanted another boy."

Whose Body Is This, Anyway?

A friend once told me about how her best friend had dropped a ton of weight. She kept doing double-takes at the mirror because she couldn't believe how thin she had become. That's me too. Only in reverse. I'm that thin girl inside a big body who just can't come to grips with reality.

I still seem to think I have my pre-baby size, but the mirror won't let me to live a lie. Case in point: the other day I was at a book store with a friend and our little ones. There were these great Adirondack chairs in the kids' section and I thought they'd be perfect for a rest. Except I wasn't going to fit in one by a long shot. Too bad I didn't realize that before I tried to sit down.

It probably has something to do with that ice cream confession....

I recently turned and smashed into the grocery cart handle - with my pregnant belly! I seriously thought I was going to bruise. Or at least do some serious damage to my unborn child.

Oh, and then there was the time hubby tried to squeeze past me, but ended up bumping my bump. When I complained, he replied, "It was sticking out!" Yeah. No kidding.

**Only 51 days to go!**

Just So You Know...

If you think you'll eat less ice cream by grabbing the carton and using a baby spoon, you're wrong.

What this does mean of course, is that the dishes desperately need to be done.

Who Writes this Stuff, Anyway?

When I first found out I was pregnant, I ran to the library and took out a stack of books on pregnancy, labor, and delivery. I tore through all of them...and wanted to cry! What had I gotten myself into??? Everyone knows about stretchmarks, but how about these other weird pregnancy-related issues with unpronounceable names! I was a mess. I swore I'd never touch What to Expect When You're Expecting ever again!

So, the other day I was reading What to Expect the Toddler Years and came across the lovely tidbit that the reason my sweet 2 year old can say the alphabet and count to 20 is simply because he watches too much TV. Excuse me?!? Okay, like I don't feel bad enough about the days when I struggled with morning sickness and guiltily popped in a Baby Einstein video for my little guy to watch. I promise - I'm not THAT mom! And anyway, who can blame us every once and awhile?

Then I read a book about getting your newborn into a schedule so they'll eat and sleep well, and allow the rest of the family to do the same. It went on to outline, in great detail, every mistake I had made with my son and let me know, with no sympathy mind you, that I had basically ruined him for life. He won't make friends easily, he won't retain information, he'll struggle with eating disorders, and he'll probably want to sleep in my bed until he's a teenager. And that was best-case scenario.

Can I tell you something? I KNOW I've made mistakes. I know I could have done things better. I know that someday one of my kids will tell me I've ruined their life. But please - let them tell me. Because at least then I can reply: I only messed you up because I love you.

Kill the Bugs...not the Baby!

I once spent the summer in Calcutta. I saw rats the size of cats and cockroaches like you wouldn't believe. In fact, not only did I trip over one on the sidewalk, but I once let out a primal scream as I stomped my flipflop-clad foot down on top of one. And after all that, I still hate the teeny bugs we have here.

The other day I found an army of ants infiltrating our kitchen by way of our back door. I immediately went ballistic. I ran for the insecticide spray and crazily sprayed the door (inside and out), doorknob, wall, floorboards, and everywhere else the ants might possibly think to go.

Of course, the ants may have been thinking, but I clearly was not. Soon I started coughing and gagging and my nostrils felt fuzzy. Thankfully my little guy was in the other room, but I'm pretty sure I may have done serious damage to my unborn child just by inhaling that poison!

Unfortunately, this was not the first time I almost killed my kid while trying to kill a bug. When my son was just an infant, I found a wasp in our kitchen. Again without thinking, I grabbed the closest thing I could find - bathroom deodorizer this time - and sprayed half the can on that stupid bug.

Somehow we all survived. Well, not the bugs. But I hate them anyway.

Joining the Mommy Club

In college, I became a Resident Advisor after seeing the terrible job my own RA did. I just knew I could do better. Thankfully, that's not why I became a mom. My own mother did a great job and I have so much more respect for her now than I ever did growing up. I think the one thing she probably didn't teach me enough about though, was how to handle motherhood.

I didn't know how stupid I'd feel - all the time - during those early months. And I had been a nanny AND a school teacher! But nevertheless, I felt way in over my head. Fast forward two years and I can readily admit motherhood is seldom black and white. I never knew I could worry so much about someone so little. And in the end, what I largely feel, is guilt.

I didn't teach him to go to sleep on his own early enough. I nursed too long (or maybe not long enough?). All those cute baby clothes were the wrong brand for our new town. He isn't involved in enough activities. No, I don't think he's going to go to preschool.

And now baby #2 is on the way and I hate taking prenatal vitamins. The pregnancy journal I've started for her is sorely lacking compared to the first. She still doesn't have a name. And no, we won't tell you what it is when we pick one.

I'd be remiss not to ask the forgiveness of all those mothers out there I judged before I became one. At times you'd seem cold and callous, or overly-protective and strict. Your kids had too many toys, too many clothes, ate crap all the time, were overweight, underweight, mouthy, or undisciplined. You hovered (helicopter mom!) or weren't involved enough, you spoiled them rotten, or let the grandparents do it for you. You only wanted to talk about your kids and never seemed to have anything interesting to say.

So I apologize. Because now I know what it's like. I joined the "mommy club" and realized it can be frustrating, lonely, tiring, and boring. You probably lacked sleep and good food, your house was a mess and you couldn't keep on top of it. You desperately wanted adult conversation but forgot what it was all about.

I know all that now. I'm a mom too. And this is my first confession.