It's a. . .

very healthy, but very modest child.

The ultrasound tech spent ages trying to determine gender, but Baby was determined to avoid it.

After almost 45 minutes, we got a clear enough shot, that we're about 85% sure.

It's a girl. :)

Can't wait to meet you, Samantha Paige.

Sigh.

So, I had scheduled posts for each day while we were out of town.

Apparently, they didn't work.

I have failed at writing a post every day for a month.

Oh, well.

I will start posting the back-posts tomorrow.  Happy Holidays, everyone!

Santa

Tuesday night, we took Miles to meet Santa.

We took him to Bass Pro Shops, because it was free.  I figured there would be a catch, and I was ready for it.  As we walked in, I saw the Santa's village with tons of activities.  Aha, I thought.  There's the catch.  It probably costs an arm and a leg for the activities..

Wrong again.  All of the activities are free.  Including crafts, coloring, an indoor snowball fight with stuffed 'snow' balls, and a carousel.

And the picture was free.

They did have photo packages you could buy, but they were mentioned in passing, as we were leaving, with our absolutely free and clear photo of Miles with an awesome Santa.

All in all, it was a great experience. :)

Inspiration

It's funny how inspiration can strike in the strangest of places.

I've been feeling kinda blah the past few days.  Something about a sick kiddo, and a busy weekend, and not getting enough sunlight, I guess.  Still functional, just not . . . excited about life.  It's no secret that I struggle with motivation all the time, but these past few days have been even worse.

Then, I read this article.  I processed it.  Took it to heart.

And got up and started working on things.

The thing that struck a chord with me was the idea that what you are means nothing, unless you can create something that shows it.  You are a thoughtful and kind person?  Show it.  Call someone, just to see how they are doing.  Buy a latte for the guy behind you at the coffee shop.  Do something.  Anything.  But prove what you are by what you do.

Disagree?  Think about your five favorite people in the world.  What makes them so special?  Dollars to donuts, they do something for you.  Even if it's just reaching out to you when you need it.

Want to be happy?  Want people to like you?  Do something.  Want to like yourself?  Do something.

It's so simple, when you think about it.

Boo.

It's 8 days until Christmas.

My kid spent most of the weekend puking.

My house is a disaster.

I haven't finished my Christmas shopping.

None of the presents I have are wrapped.

For these reasons, and so many more, this is the post you get today.  Hope your day is going better than mine. Sigh.

Miles 3-year-old Pictures

Back in October, we had professional pictures done of Miles, in honor of his 3rd birthday.  It was my first time working with a photographer, and honestly, I only went with her because she was a friend who was trying to build her portfolio.  I figured that I had nothing to lose.

Oh, my.  I cannot even begin to tell you how amazing the experience was.

Miles can be a little. . . difficult, sometimes.  Especially when you point a camera at him.  When we take him to a studio, he runs around, hides behind the drop, and falls over every single time the lights flash.  It's a tad stressful, to say the least.

Part of the reason I had Juliann do the pictures was that I wanted pictures of Miles at the Festival site, where he had spent so much of his life.  Juliann met us there, and then spent two full hours just following Miles around the site, snapping shot after amazing shot.  She climbed a pirate ship, hid behind walls, laid on the ground, and chased Miles around, just to get photos of my kid.  For the first time ever, Miles and I left a photo session with smiles on our faces.  I honestly cannot wait to repeat the experience.  It was that amazing.  So amazing, in fact, that I have already booked her to take newborn shots, once this new munchkin arrives.

Anyhow, I could go on and on about how amazing she is, but really, I think the photos speak for themselves:

If you live in the Topeka, Kansas City, or Lawrence area, I promise you won't be disappointed by Juliann Courtney Photography.  :)

Pregnancy Update

As I look over the posts of the past few months, I realize how seldom I write about my pregnancy.  There are two main reasons for this: 1) Miles is super interesting right now and easy to write about, and 2) There's nothing really to report.  This pregnancy has been so easy, so far.  Some comparisons to my first pregnancy:

• First pregnancy: Morning sickness that lasted throughout first trimester, and into the second.  Yuck.
• This pregnancy: A bit of nausea for about a month, and then it was over.  Overall, not terrible.

• First pregnancy: SUPER active baby, who literally never stopped moving.  Part of the reason I walked so much is because it made the kicks less painful.
• This pregnancy: Very chill baby, who has two active times of day - right after lunch, and right before bed.  The rest of the time, I may feel a kick or two from time to time, but not constantly.

• First pregnancy: Incredibly busy and stressful 2nd and 3rd trimester.  Assistant directed 'Footloose' and the Renaissance Festival.  Barely had time to sit.
• This pregnancy: Relatively chill.  Worked Renaissance Festival for most of 1st trimester.  Holidays fall during 2nd trimester, but even those are pretty low-key.  Nothing major planned for 3rd trimester.

• First pregnancy: First of my local friends to be pregnant, and didn't know many other moms to ask for support and advice.
• This pregnancy: Fantastic support system filled with other moms, both local and online.  

• First pregnancy: Anxiety-ridden, and didn't really know why.
• This pregnancy: Got back on my meds when the panic attacks returned.  Result: Happy, chill Mommy.

All of the appointments have been uneventful.  The tests come back normal for everything.  The worst part is heartburn, and general aches and pains, but even those aren't all that bad.  

So, yeah, when it comes to this pregnancy, just assume that no news is good news. :)

Haircut

Miles got his haircut on Tuesday.  By a professional.  For the first time.

I've always cut his hair, but it just gets harder and harder as he becomes less and less patient with Mommy.  Which results in uneven cuts, and stray chunks of hair that I find over a week later that are longer than everything else.  It was time.

I was nervous about taking him in.  He doesn't sit still well.  And someone else with scissors near my baby's head?  Hold me.

I worried over nothing.

He sat, chill as can be, and watched Dora on the little TV, while the hairdresser lady went on and on about how well-behaved he was. 

Gah!  He looks so big here!  

 By five minutes in, I was laughing hysterically, because Little Dude made this face almost the entire time:

"What the heck are you doing?"

But in the end, I was full of sighs of wistfulness.  Because he looks like a Big Kid, now.

Oh, my, Kiddo.  You are growing up right before my eyes. Sigh.

Confession

I don't watch the news.

I don't mean just tv news, though I honestly never watch that.  I mean that I don't really pay a lot of attention to the news at all.  I will read headlines in the morning, but I rarely follow up and read the articles.

Do I feel uninformed?  A little.  But here's the truth: the news, as it is presented in this country, only serves to fuel my anxiety.  Example: North Korea is launching rockets.  That's something to panic over, until you realize that there's really nothing we can do about it as individuals.  That we've done what we can by electing officials to panic over these things.  Spending time worrying over whether or not this spells disaster fixes nothing, and only serves to drive me away from my family, as I sit in a corner, in a fit of anxiety, trying to calm myself.  So, I read the headlines, pray for our leaders to make good decisions, and try to put it out of my mind.

In the end, I'd rather ignore the world and focus on keeping those around me happy and healthy.  And I truly believe that if we each did a little of that, the headlines may not be so panic-inducing.

What the picture doesn't show

As I prepare for this new baby, I am reminded of my first one, three years ago.  My Miles.

Looking at this photo, you'd think I was like any new mom, just enjoying her brand new baby.

This picture doesn't tell the whole story though.  That 'brand new baby' is two hours old, and that is the first time I got to hold him.  The time between his birth and this picture was filled with anxiety and exhaustion, the depth of which I didn't even begin to comprehend at the time.

Let's back up to the weekend before he was born.

I was at Festival, walking around, when the contractions began.  They continued throughout the weekend, but were far enough apart, and weak enough, that I didn't worry too much about them.  I rested when I felt tired, but spent much of the weekend walking.

The contractions continued through Monday, and by Monday evening, they were strong enough, and close enough together that it was time to head to the hospital.  Or so we thought.  They monitored the contractions all night, but they never got any closer together.  By morning, the doctor had decided that I still had plenty of time, and sent me home to rest and eat.

By Tuesday night, however, I knew it was time.  We went back to the hospital, and they immediately prepped me for an epidural.  We called back all of the family that had recently returned home, and told them that this was really it.  At 11:30ish, the nurses broke my water, so they could put a monitor on the baby's head, since they were having a hard time finding his heartbeat consistently.  I'll never forget when the nurse said, "Um. . . that's not a head. . . That's a butt. . ."

Things moved quickly from there.  Miles was born via unscheduled c-section at 1:34 am.  They brought him to me, and he burped in my face.  Then, they whisked him away.  Patrick followed.  I remained behind, paralyzed by the epidural, while they finished up.  I was wheeled into a recovery room, covered in a warm blanket, and ignored for the next two hours.

For the first time in nine months, I was totally alone.  And mostly paralyzed.  As the drugs began to wear off, I began to shake uncontrollably.  I still didn't have enough muscle control to find and press the nurse call button, and there was no one in sight.  I laid there, terrified and alone, and exhausted.  At some point, I apparently regained enough muscle control to call my mom and tell her that Miles was here.  I have zero memory of that phone call.  My only memory of that time was the shaking, and the fear, and the utter isolation.  Time passed, and still no word on where my husband and son were.

Two hours later, they returned, and I was finally able to hold my new son.  I was informed that he had been to the NICU, and that no one had bothered to inform me.  Based on his heal prick, they thought something was wrong, but none of the medical professionals there thought to inform his mother.  Or even check on her. They simply left me alone to wonder.

Given that experience, and the months of crying that followed, it's no surprise to me now that I developed PPD/PPA.  At the time, though, I was so happy to finally see my son that everything else melted away.  I never fully processed through those frightening moments for months afterward.

You may see that photo above and think of the perfect moment when mother and baby meet.  I think of the relief of finally ending my two hours of isolation and fear, and finally knowing that my baby was okay.

Super Heroes

They've invaded my house.

See, Netflix has this:

And this:

And of course, a couple of these:

Consequently, Miles is a tad obsessed.  But only a tad.  Because he's my child, and is still more obsessed with Jousting and trains.  But, it is nice to know that someday, he might want to watch this with me:

OPKs

Other People's Kids.

Let me start by stating that this only goes for strangers' kids.  Not for the kids of friends and family.  I like those kids. :)

I've always been fond of children.  One of my earliest memories is of seeing a small toddler, and thinking, "Aww.  I love kids." And then realizing that was an incredibly odd thought for a five-year-old.  By the end of Kindergarten, I knew I wanted to teach, and by the time I was 12, I was telling my grandmother that I wanted to be a "professional mommy".*  Later, I got my degree in education, and worked my way through school at daycares, schools, and as a nanny.  And I loved those kids.  Every one of them.

And then I had my own kid.  And he is awesome.

Suddenly, other people's kids lost their luster.

I found myself becoming annoyed with children for the first time ever.  That kid being a little jerk in the store?  Suddenly, I was just glad he wasn't mine (at least, not this time).  That cute newborn at a restaurant?  For the first time, I had zero desire to coo over it.  The adorable little girl dancing at Faire?  Cute.  Meh.

It's not that I hate OPKs, or even really dislike them.  I'm just not interested in them.  Not in the least.

I have my own, now.  And he's plenty interesting and cute all on his own.  :)

*How prophetic of 12-year-old me. . .

Battles & Blessings

I miss doing these, and this is the perfect time of year for a reminder of just how blessed I really am.  And also to vent about the battles in my world. :)

Battles:

• Miles has been in a mood this week.  One second, incredibly clingy, the next throwing a tantrum, and the next playing quietly by himself and telling me to "go away, please."  It's exhausting trying to stay ahead of him.
• Miles also hasn't been sleeping well, which probably has something to do with the moodiness.  Either they share a common cause, or one is causing the other.  Who knows.
• I've been exhausted.  I learned that it is now impossible for me to stay up late and still function normally the next day.  Oh, college me, how ashamed you would be. 
• I also haven't been sleeping well.  It's already getting difficult to get comfortable.  And I barely have a belly, yet.  Grrr.

Blessings:

• Miles is healthy and happy, and I am getting a ton of cuddles this week.
• I managed to get a nap on Thursday, and Patrick let me sleep in this morning.  Yay!
• My wonderful husband took me to see Les Miserables live on Tuesday. :)
• I managed to get most of my Christmas shopping done on Monday!
• I got to see all of my Faire family on Wednesday. 
• I spent last evening at a Christmas event with Miles and Patrick.  It was lovely.  Miles got to see four different trains go by, we saw fireworks, we launched a paper lantern, and we ate dinner in an old train car.  Miles was so excited. :)
• Baby is healthy, and far calmer than Miles was at this stage. 

Life is good. :)

Friday Photos!

Building towers.

Showing off his truck.

Classy hat and a teddy bear. :)

Art time!

Sir Miles

Okay, so this happened back in October, but I totally forgot to write about it until I came across these pictures.

While visiting Faire one day, Miles got to be knighted by the King.  My normally wild, rambunctious boy became very serious and focused when it was his turn.

 
He knelt on the pillow, his face suddenly solemn.

The king touched the sword to his left shoulder, saying, "In the name of St. Christopher,"

The right shoulder, "and St. Andrew,"

On the head, "and St. John,"

"I dub thee, Sir Miles!"

"Huzzah!"

He was so proud of himself, insisted on being called "Sir Miles" the rest of the day, and told everyone, "I a knight!"

Little Voice

I want to record everything Miles says, because the way he pronounces things is fantastic and beautiful. I never want to forget it.

Like the way he asks for "choc-wat".

Or how he insists on referring to my Nook as "dinosaurs", because the first book he had on there was about a dinosaur.

Or how he asks to watch "you-too", instead of YouTube, making it sound like he wants to watch an 80's band.

Or how he wakes up every morning and points at the Christmas tree and says, "It's Christmas!"

If only I could bottle these moments and phrases, to pull out in my old age and listen to again.  

Growing Up

Sometime over the course of the weekend, Patrick and I looked at each other and said, "Um.  Miles is getting big.  When did that happen?"

He can ride a carousel by himself.

He sits and tells you what he's thinking and feeling.

He carries his own backpack and lunch bag on school days.

He's tall enough now to help push the cart at the grocery store, or ride on the back of it.

He can ask specifically for things he wants and needs.

He talks on the phone, and is fairly coherent.

He can paint, and color, and draw.

He can answer questions with thoughtful, insightful ideas.

He sings songs, and even gets most of the words right.

He can make toast, and waffles, and peanut butter sandwiches, and basic salsa, with only the smallest amount of help.

He repeats everything he hears, and seems to understand a great deal of it.

He has an imaginary friend.

My baby is definitely no longer a baby.

Figaro

Meet Figaro, the newest addition to our household.

No, not Miles.  The invisible elephant standing next to him, holding a sword.

Figaro first made his existence known to us grown-ups on Friday.  We were killing time at the bookstore, and Miles found a coffee table book filled with pictures of elephants.  He opened it up, pointed to one, and said, "Is Figaro!"  He then went page by page, telling us the story of Figaro chasing giraffes, splashing in the water, and walking in the dark.

Figaro has hardly left his side since.

Saturday morning, Figaro asked to borrow Daddy's big sword.  Mommy had already told Miles no, but Figaro had to ask, too.  Apparently, Figaro wanted to joust.  I told Figaro that we don't joust in the house, and we don't play with Daddy's toys unless Daddy says it's okay.  Miles told me then that, "Figaro sad.  Figaro needs play Daddy's sword."  So, the invisible elephant seems somewhat sensitive.

Saturday afternoon, as we were getting in the car, Miles started to get upset.  When I asked him what was wrong, he said, "Figaro come, too!"  I had to open the car door and let Figaro in.  Then, upon further insistence from my son, I also buckled him in.  It obviously didn't work well, though, because when we stopped to pick up a prescription, Figaro jumped out the window and ran beside us the rest of the way to Wal-Mart.

Figaro helped us pick out a Christmas tree, and kept Miles entertained as we waited to check out.  Miles had to show off the finished decorations to Figaro.  And when Miles was done helping with the decorating, he said, "Come on, Figaro. Let's play trains!"  And the two of them happily ran up the stairs.

I'm just glad Figaro doesn't take up as much room as most elephants. :)

London

One of the items on my bucket list is to live outside of London for at least a year, sometime in my life.

I have longed to visit England for ages.  To be wrapped in its old world charm and adorable accents and breathtaking history.  Sometime in high school, I began listing all of the things I wanted to see and do in England.  Topping that list was this:

The Globe Theater.  Built in 1997, it is a replica of the very theater that Shakespeare himself performed in.  The original was built for his company, and was used primarily by them until one of the first major pyrotechnic mishaps in theater.  A canon was mis-shot during a performance and caught the thatch in the roof on fire.  There was no fire department to put it out, and the bucket brigades were just not fast enough or efficient enough for such a task.  Before long, the Globe had burned to the ground.

The New Globe is based on drawings of the original, and houses a museum of Shakespearean artifacts in the lower level.  On the main level, however, it is still a theater.  From the time I first read about it, I have wanted to attend a performance there.  In fact, I'd love to have season tickets and attend several performances.  The connection to a past I have studied so long would be thrilling, to say the least.

In fact, that connection to the past is what draws me to London, and to all of England, so strongly.  I want to see Big Ben in person.  I want to wander the narrow pathways of Baker Street, to see where Sherlock Holmes would have lived.  I want to touch the Tower of London, where so many queens and nobles were once imprisoned, often for the capital offense of disagreeing with the king.

I want to take short jaunts around England, visiting Stratford-Upon-Avon, where Shakespeare was born.  I want to stand near Stonehenge as the sun sets. I want to visit castles, and manor homes that once belonged to the most important and influential people in history.  I want to visit Canterbury, and see for myself the town that we portray at our renaissance festival.  I want to attend the Scarborough Faire.

With all of that on my agenda, a week would simply not be enough time.  Neither would a month suffice.  I need at least a year to soak it all in, preferably while living in some quaint little rented cottage outside of London.

Outside of London, because this is what the city looks like:

For all of its history and charm, it is still a major metropolitan area.  I want somewhere quiet.  A bit secluded, maybe.  Like something out of a storybook.

A place where I can write about everything I've seen, and organize my pictures, and breathe in the reality of being in a place I've only dreamed of.  Someday, little cottage, I will be there.

For now, I will but dream. . .

An Experiment

During the month of November, a ton of bloggers got involved in NaBloPoMo - National Blog Post Month. It's an offshoot of the National Novel Writer's Month, which is also in November.  The difference is that for the former, you just try to write one blog post every day for a month.

November was a tad busy, so that wasn't about to happen.

December is looking a little better, and I'm up for a challenge, so I'm going to try it, a month late.

That's right, everyday, for the month of December, I'm going to try to post something here.  It probably won't always be about Miles.  Or parenting.  Or even anything remotely interesting. But I will post everyday. Or I'll get halfway through and give up.  We'll see. :)

So, here goes!  Happy December!

Thankful

I am thankful for:

• My amazing husband.  He is my rock, my anchor, and my soft place to land.  He supports me in everything, and loves me completely.  For that alone, I am blessed.
• My beautiful son.  He impresses me daily with his intelligence, good spirits, and wit.  He is absolutely the best of Patrick and I combined.
• My littlest babe, growing so quickly.  I cannot wait to meet you, Baby!
• My comfortable home.  It may not be our forever home, but it is beautiful, well-furnished, and just the right size for us.  
• The food and spices we are able to afford.  I enjoy cooking for my family, and I love that we have a well-stocked spice rack that I can experiment with.  It is wonderful to know that I can make dinners that my family gobbles down, and asks for seconds of.
• My blood-family.  No matter what happens, I know that my mom, dad, and little sister will always love me (as I will them) - even when we disagree.  On everything. :)
• My in-laws.  I definitely won the in-law lottery when I married Patrick.  These people love me as much as my blood-family, and always provide refuge from the chaos of our world.
• My chosen family.  I cannot even begin to express my love for these people.  I am truly blessed by them.  And from this huge group, I have to say a special thank you for my she'endre - my sisters by choice.  You know who you are.
• Modern medicine that will help rid me of the panic attacks that make me so miserable.  Already, the edge of anxiety that had taken residence in my chest has mostly faded.  I truly believe God works miracles through science, sometimes.
• My health, my family's health, and our fantastic health insurance.  I am so blessed to live in a place where I rarely have to worry about illnesses, and to be able to afford the medications that help me live my life on my terms.
• My chair.  It is old, and frankly kinda ugly, but it is comforting in all the best ways.  Especially when Miles shares it with me.
• My internet friends.  Without them, I would have a much harder time with this whole parenting gig.
• Warm drinks on cool evenings.
• Good books and the time to enjoy them.
• Pumpkin-scented soap.
• Miles' train table.  It has provided so many hours of entertainment for him.

Things No One Tells You About Parenthood

I know several people who are about to become first time parents, so here is a list for all of them.  You're welcome. ;)

• The newborn stage: you either love it or you hate it.  I hated it.  I thought I was supposed to be all rainbows and sunshine about it, but my kid screamed 20 hours a day, and I couldn't get more than 20 minutes of sleep at a time. 
• Oh, and those early weeks?  No sleep.  Endless diaper changes.  Spit-up.  Figuring out a schedule.  Getting to know a new person.  Trying to constantly meet the needs of that tiny, helpless person.  Who cannot give you any feedback, except by crying.  Seriously.  Nothing.  Lower your expectations for awhile.
• Things you will need:
• White noise machine.  Seriously.  Best.thing.ever.
• Twice as many bottles as you think you need.
• Sleep sacks
• Diapers
• GOOD wipes that pop up easily.  We like the Huggies ones.
• 4-5 onesies per day (especially if you have a constant spitter, like I did)
• Bibs.
• A comfortable chair.  Preferably one that rocks.
• Plenty of television shows.  For those times when baby is only happy if you're holding him/her.  (Also, this will be the last time for awhile that you get to choose what you want to watch without worrying if someone is going to repeat it.  Enjoy it while it lasts.)
• Someone else to clean your house.
• Things you probably will not need:
• Bottle warmers.  We had three.  We never used any of them.  Ever.
• Wipes warmer.  Seriously, if they're cold, just hold them in your hand for a few seconds.  However, we learned the hard way not to leave wipes in the car for too long when it's below freezing.
• Cutesy clothing.  Onesies and sleepers are FAR easier to deal with.
• A plethora of hats.  Find one or two you really like, but honestly?  They probably won't wear them once their hands can find their heads.
• Ditto socks.  Unless it's winter, and you're outside, they really aren't worth the trouble at first.
• At the store, Rock Star parking goes from "Closest the door" to "Right next to the cart return".  I'm not joking.  Try returning a cart across the parking lot with a screaming infant.  This was honestly the.BEST advice I ever got pre-baby.
• Your car, which was once HUGE, will no longer be big enough for everything the baby needs.  Even if you only have one kid.  And if you have to travel, you might as well rent a bus.
• You will feel like completely overwhelmed by this child for quite awhile.  Actual time varies for each person, but trust me, you WILL feel it.
• You need at least two diaper bags - one massive one with lots of pockets to keep every little thing you could possibly need.  Leave that one in the car.  The second should be purse-sized and hold a couple of diapers, some wipes, a change of clothes, and a bottle.  That's it.  That's the one you take into the store with you.
• Even if you're breastfeeding, consider giving the kid bottles from time to time - even if it's pumped breastmilk.  It's a great way to allow Dad to help with a midnight feeding so you can get some sleep.  Also?  Way easier to hold a bottle with one hand and fold laundry with the other than it is to try to nurse and fold laundry.
• Those little baskets for the dishwasher?  Invest in one.  They save SO much time on cleaning and sanitizing EVERYTHING your precious baby is going to put in their mouth.
• Buy a hat for yourself and learn to wear it.  That way, no one can tell when you haven't been able to shower before making the store run.
• Once baby is big enough to grab at things (which is as early as 6 weeks old), stop wearing jewelry for awhile.  Unless you like being strangled with your own necklace. :)

I have a ton more and may write another of these someday (because they're fun).  The biggest thing to remember, though, is that when it comes to advice (even this advice), listen to it all, then choose what works for you.  Ignore the rest.  Your child and your experience is unique.  No one else has to walk this road.  Just you.  So, make your choices and stand by them.  For all the crazy, awful, sleeplessness and horror, parenthood is worth it.  Promise.

Quiet

It is Thursday, a day Miles goes to 'school', and I can relax and get things done in the silence.

I never realize how noisy my life is until times like this.  There is no sound of Patrick, puttering around in the basement.  Miles is not here to make his incessant train noises.  Even the cat is napping, giving me respite from her sometimes-constant mews of conversation.  The TV is off.  There is no music playing.  There is only the hum of the refrigerator and the tapping of the keyboard.

These moments give me time to think, time to reflect.  Time to write, since that is my best outlet for reflection.  I look back at my last post, and remember the sheer panic that consumed me as I wrote it.  I remember it, but I do not feel it.  Not today.  The medicine - even at its super-low-dose - is working.  I still have bad days, and I know my temper is short sometimes, but overall, I am coping - something I couldn't do a week ago.  I still have days that leave me exhausted from the effort of putting one foot in front of the other, but I am managing, now.  In that respect, life is good.

My thoughts drift to other things.  The baby kicks, and I smile.  This child, so quiet, so different from Miles already.  I am terrified by the thought of balancing the needs of two children, especially if they are so utterly different as it seems they may be.  I don't say this lightly.  It is truly frightening, in many ways.  That doesn't mean I regret anything, or that I'm any less excited to meet this child.  But, I'd be lying if I didn't admit to the fear that comes with the unknown.  Especially when people are so quick to tell me how difficult the transition will be.  As if they delight in scaring pregnant women.  The same people who said, "Just you wait," when I was pregnant the first time, trying to terrify me, even then.  But Miles is truly a joy - an exhausting joy, but a joy, nonetheless.  I am sure this child will be, as well.

I look around, and realize all that I need to accomplish today.  This quiet reflection is nice, and even necessary, but now is the time for action.  As I begin my tasks, I leave you with this thought: Find quiet in your day - even if for just a few moments.  You will be surprised how refreshing it can be.

I can feel it. . .

The anxiety, creeping in.

I lie in bed, perfectly safe, and the walls close in.  I can't breathe right.  My thoughts are racing, yet it is nothing coherent.  Mental noise, nothing more, but it makes my heart beat faster.

I swallow, trying to catch my breath, and reach for my talisman.  My tree of life necklace that provides such comfort, even though it is a cheap piece of junk from Wal-Mart.  It doesn't matter, at this moment.  I need that necklace.  I grope for it, unable to find it.  Panic sets in.  My mind focuses down, only able to think, Where is it?  I need that necklace.  It's irrational, and some small piece of my brain is trying to tell me that, but the panic is so great that rational thought is drowned out.  I keep grasping, finally entwining my fingers in the chain.

I breathe a sigh of relief, and clutch the circle of metal to my chest.  Now, it will all be okay.  I have my tree. This world is bigger than just me.  I have strong roots in the ground, and my head brushes the clouds.  I am safe.  I am solid.  I am the tree, swaying in the storm, but refusing to break.  My breathing slows.  My pulse begins to even out.  Eventually, after what seems like hours, the panic fades to a memory, and I am exhausted from the effort.  I slip into a deep, dreamless sleep, the talisman still clutched tightly in my hand.  I am still holding it when I awake, hours later.

This has been my world for the past week.  Panic attacks, one after another, for days on end, until I am rendered nearly catatonic from the effort of breathing.  I take a deep breath, and sigh, and call the doctor.

Today, I begin the medication again.  Soon, these feelings will fade again, and I will be able to once again focus on all that is good in my life.  My amazing husband.  My perfectly wonderful son.  Family and friends who help me up every time I fall.  I have a warm home, a safe vehicle, and a bit of spending money to spoil my son.  I am blessed in every way, and in a few weeks, that will become clear again.

For now, I take that little blue pill and wait.

Birthday Questionnaire - Age 3

I found this idea somewhere, and loved it.  We did this pretty close to his birthday, over the course of several days (because he doesn't have near the attention span necessary for this).  And yes, I realize he's been three for over a month, now, but it's been a busy month. Anyhow, most of his answers were pretty predictable.  I love how when he didn't like the question, he just refused to answer it. :)

Enjoy!

Halloween

We had a good one.  Hope you did, too! :)

Sir Miles, ready for trick-or-treating.

Done with house #1, looking for house #2.

Had to get his cute little cape.

Daddy & Miles.

Knock-knock. "Trick or treat!"

Nomming on candy and watching tv.

Definitely a success. :)

Pumpkin Patch

Yesterday morning, Patrick took the day off of work and the three of us headed to the Children's Farm for their Pumpkin Patch.  Our trip began with a hay ride, and included a giant slide, stacks of hay to climb, dried corn to play in, a maze (which Miles LOVED), and a zillion other things.  Not to mention, of course, the pumpkins.

For some reason, the blog decided to upload the pictures in reverse order, so I guess if you want a true accounting of the order of our trip, you could start from the bottom and work your way up. :)

In any case, it was an incredibly fun time, and well worth the time and money.  We will most likely go back again next year.

Waiting for the hay ride with his new pumpkin.

Watching the golf balls go down the ramps.

Daddy had to help him reach the top of the ramps.

Running out of the tunnel.

Climbing stacks of hay with Daddy.

"Ta-da!  I tall!"

Magnetic fishing with Daddy.

Taking a train ride.

One last time on the big slide.

Litany of Cuteness

Because I have a lot of cute things to tell you about, and no time for separate posts. :)

• At lunch on Sunday, Patrick was telling Miles to blow on his chicken fingers to cool them.  Being Patrick, he started explaining that blowing on your food works because of something called forced convection, a physics concept.  Last night at dinner, Miles was blowing on his food.  Patrick said, "That's called forced convection."  Matter-of-factly, Miles said, "I know.  I use physics."
• Every morning for weeks, Miles has woken up and asked for a popsicle for breakfast.  When I tell him no popsicles for breakfast, he sighs deeply and says, "Fine.  Chocolate cereal?" 
• Miles adores giving kisses, but recently, instead of puckering, he makes a fish face and says, "Mmmmmmmm" (until he gets to you) "Waa!"
• Last night at bedtime, I asked Miles if he wanted a baby brother or a baby sister - a girl baby or a boy baby.  He replied, "A girl baby brother that can stop a train."  Um, right. . .
• Miles considers all juice to be "apple juice" and will ask for it as such.  Except this morning when it was actually regular apple juice.  Then, he asked specifically for "fruit juice."
• His favorite new game is to sneak up behind the cat, then jump, throw his arms up and yell, "KITTY!" at the top of his voice.  Then, he giggles and says, "I scare kitty!"  For her part, Nikko is being really good and not clawing him to pieces.
• Speaking of the cat, yesterday, she was sitting on the back of the couch and saw an inviting pile of blankets and pillows.  Being a cat, she oozed down, trying to land in the softness.  Instead, gravity took over and she fell face first into the pillow, scaring herself, then quickly learned that claws do little good in reverse, as she tried to move back up.  Of course, she looked highly offended when we laughed.

Baby

First off, I promise I will post ultrasound pictures at some point.  I'm just lazy and haven't scanned them in, yet.  I promise, though, it looks like a shadowy, more-or-less baby-shaped entity.  :)

Anyhow, we've shown Miles the pictures, and he now understands that it's a picture of a baby.  The first time I showed it to him, I said, "What's that?" and he said, ". . .Whas dat?"  Once I pointed out the nose, belly, and hand, he kinda got it.  Now, when I show him the picture, he says, "Baby!"

Once that was established, I told him, "That's the baby in Mommy's belly!"  To which he responded, "No. Silly!" And giggled.  Because the idea of a baby in Mommy's belly was ridiculous.  We repeated that particular conversation for over a week.

Yesterday, he finally accepted that the baby was in Mommy's belly, so I moved on to the next topic.  "You're going to be a big brother!"  "Big Brother?!?" he said, proudly, sitting up straight and tall.  "Yes!" I said, excited, "You'll be a big brother and help me with the baby.  You'll help me get bottles, and throw away diapers, and get the pacifier.  You'll be a great big brother!"  He looked at me skeptically, then grinned and said, disbelieving, "Noooo."

Later, I asked him if he wanted a baby brother or a baby sister.  He thought for a minute, considering the options, then replied, "A baby."  I tried rephrasing the question, asking if he wanted a girl baby or a boy baby.  He again replied, "A baby."  :)

Even later, we were reading a book, and he was being silly.  He put the book on his head and said, "Is on my head!"  Then, repeated the game with, "Is on my eyes!  Is on my nose!  Is on my tummy!  Is on my baby!"  I laughed and explained that only Mommy had a baby in her belly.  He raised an eyebrow, Spock-like, and said, "Nooo."

In the end, I'm not sure if he really gets it at all, but it certainly is making for some cute conversations. :)

Today, I am the Mom I want to be

Lately, I have had quite a few days where I just don't feel like I'm succeeding.  I am not the mom I want to be. Fun activities are far too easy to put aside for another tv show. We don't bake.  Science experiments get planned, then forgotten.  Learning games often stress me out until I give up, certain that I will make him hate learning (and me) if I continue.  Anxiety makes everything overwhelming.  And the first trimester of pregnancy means that if I'm not panicked, I'm exhausted.  For almost three months, now, I have had more bad days than good.

Today is a good day.

This morning, I woke after a good night's sleep, to a calm, happy child and a clean house (thank God for Stacey, who cleaned it last night).  I made my to-do list, careful to keep it short.  Three things. That was manageable. Laundry, Grocery Shopping, and Getting ready for tonight's performance.  Goals within the realm of possibility.

I sipped my coffee and made a shopping list. I threw in a load of laundry, while Miles played trains in the next room, and folded the clothes I had left sitting in the dryer.  Within minutes, Miles and I moved upstairs to put the clothes away, and I was struck with the urge to clean my dresser to make room for my maternity pants, and my winter clothes.  Miles was still happily playing quietly, so I took the opportunity to tidy up my bedroom a bit, finding homes for things that (I hate to admit) had been on the floor for weeks.  The tidying done, I got dressed, and got Miles ready for the day.  I switched over the laundry and threw in another load, then bundled Miles into the car to go grocery shopping.  It was 10:30, and I'd already done more than I accomplish in a full day, usually.

Our car rides tend to be quiet affairs - Miles loves to stare out the window, and I am generally happy to just listen to music and drive.  Today, however, I left the radio off, and we chatted the whole way, mostly about nonsense.  Miles asked for a story, and I began The Bremen Town Musicians.  It was one of my favorite stories as a kid, but as I began to tell it, I realized I remembered the beginning and the end, but none of the middle.  So, I made it up as I went, and was surprised to find that Miles loved it.  We made animal noises at the top of our voices, and giggled.

At the store, Miles helped by jealously guarding the list, and occasionally allowing me a peek at it.  We talked about every item we picked up, and he insisted on putting everything in the cart.  I realized how rare it is for us to just chat in the grocery store.  I'm usually so anxious that he's going to have a meltdown that I inevitably cause one.  Today, we were relaxed, and the time flew - even the long wait at the checkout went quickly.

As we loaded the car with our things, Miles very clearly asked, "Mommy, eat at Donald's?"  Given the morning we'd had so far, I was in no mood to deny him anything.  I wasn't ready for the fun to end.

We sat in a booth and giggled over his Scooby Doo bucket.  We prayed over our food, and teased each other, pretending to steal french fries and chicken nuggets from one another.  At one point, he leaned over and whispered, "Psst.  Mommy.  Guess what?"  "What?" I asked.  "Love ooo!" he whispered, and gave me a kiss.  And my heart promptly melted into my shoes.

We chatted the whole way home, and he helped me carry in the groceries, before rubbing his eyes and asking for "Nap."  I tucked him in, kissed his cheek, and sang to him, watching his eyes grow heavy.  Holding my hand, he whispered, "Love ooo, Mommy," and drifted off.

And in that moment, I knew that today, above all days, I am the Mommy he deserves.

Ultrasound

Friday, I had my 12-week ultrasound (though, really? I'm 13 weeks pregnant already).  It went beautifully.  The doctor and his assistant-lady were super sweet and kind.  See, this ultrasound is technically a screening for trisomy 13, 18, and 21 (21 being Down's Syndrome).  We won't mind if the baby has Down's, but it will change the way we plan for it, and that's why chose to do the testing.  At least, that's the logical, medical reason.

Honestly?  A big part of me just wanted to see the baby again. :)

Anyhow, preparing for the appointment, I thought back to my 12-week ultrasound with Miles.  And I laughed.  Because that was our first clue at the child he would become, and we were so completely clueless. We thought it was cute and funny how he bounced around so much that they couldn't get the measurements they needed for a full 45 minutes.  In fact, we loved it because it meant we got to watch our baby a little longer.  We had no idea that the frenetic energy he displayed that day would be so indicative of his personality - always on the go, never stopping, never even slowing down.

This ultrasound could not have been more different.

Right away, we saw Baby, relaxing, stretched out, almost lounging.  As the doctor began to get the measurements he needed, I watched and waited for Baby to start bouncing, or responding.  At one point, Baby began to roll a bit to one side, and I thought, "Here it comes!"  But, no.  It was just a stretch, and Baby quickly returned to it's lounging position.  A few minutes in, Baby's foot kicked four or five times, lazily, and once, toward the end, Baby's hand raised and waved, as if to say, "Hi, Mom and Dad.  It's cool in here.  Peace."  Other than that, Baby just laid there, quiet and chill.  And within ten minutes, it was all over, having gone as smoothly as possible.

Patrick and I talked on the way home, wondering if this, too, may be indicative of Baby's personality.  If so, the laid-back calm will be a welcome balance to Miles and his wild tornado-like qualities.  Also?  It means that once again, everything will be new.  And that alone makes it exciting.

Oh, and we found out that we have a really low chance of having a child with Down's.  So, yay for that, too!

Silence

It's no secret that the last couple of months have been a little hectic.  Rehearsals twice a week, Festival on the weekends, and trying not to stay in bed all day from pregnancy exhaustion.  Lots of good things have come from it, and I don't regret the decisions I made in any way.  But I am tired, weary from the pace, and ready for a break.

Last night, we opened our Halloween show, and it went beautifully.  We were lucky to perform for a very enthusiastic and friendly audience, who really wanted to support us in every way.  It was filled with family and friends who have become family, all smiling, laughing, and generally having a good time.

Since Patrick and I are both in the show, Miles stayed with Aunt Ninell last night, and because she is a saint beyond measure, she offered to keep him overnight.  Patrick had already taken today off to deal with the show and his sister's wedding, which is tomorrow.  So, of course, we slept in, and relished the extra hours of rest.

Now, we sit here, in warm, comfortable silence.  The clicking of my keyboard is the only sound.  Neither of us has given up on the pajamas quite yet, and for all the world, this feels like the early days of our marriage.  Quiet.  Peaceful.  Low-key.

Except now, there is a small part in each of us that aches for our little boy to be here, too.  We have really spent so little time together as a family lately that these few precious hours are bittersweet.  It is lovely to be well-rested, and as parents, the silence is always welcome.  But there is also a twinge of sadness in the peace.  And it is in this moment that we realize how ready we really are for this show to be over.  To settle into the steady routine of winter.  It is time, for us at least, to welcome our boring little life back.

And so, we count down the days until November.

Light at the end of the Tunnel

Sunday is the last day of Festival.

Two weeks from Sunday, the Halloween show will close.

Next week is officially the end of my first trimester, and I will be having an ultrasound that Friday.

In other words, if I can survive the next two weeks, life should get a lot quieter, and a fair margin easier.

November, I am so ready to see you.

A Day in the Life of Us. . .

The television is on right now.  Again.  Still.  In fact, the television is on way more than I'd like to admit lately.  I am tired - beyond tired.  I am exhausted, mentally, physically, emotionally.  If I can manage to drag my butt out of bed in the morning, I call it a success.  If I can manage to get the kid breakfast and juice, woo-hoo!  And if I can manage to choke down some cereal to prevent the Return of the Nausea, it's time to party.  And by party, I mean sleep.  But, since I have a three-year-old tornado-boy, I can't sleep.  So, I turn on the television and vegetate in the chair, trying to figure out things like "Is Sir Toppam Hat's first name Toppam?  If so, why does one of the characters call him Bertram from time to time?  And either way, who the hell named their kid Toppam?  Or Bertram?  And why doesn't Lady Hat have a first name?  The dude gets two first names, but his wife doesn't even warrant one?"  And so on.  Because I have seen entirely too much Thomas the Tank Engine recently.

At some point, I have to pause in my pondering of children's tv shows because Miles craps his pants, and I have to clean him up, and clean out his underwear, and reassure him that I don't hate him.  The kid has this complex that if I tell him 'poop goes in the toilet', he hears, "You pooped your pants, so I will never love you again."  So, I gag as I clean up poop, and then I cuddle a sobbing toddler for half an hour until he figures out we're okay.

Eventually, he decides he's bored of sad, and pushes himself out of my lap - using every elbow, knee, and other pointy bit he has.  As a side note?  This kid seems to have twice as many angles as other kids.  And they always end up in my gut.  Repeatedly.  Sigh.

Lunchtime always comes, somehow, and I fight the battle of "What will you eat today?"  The conversation goes something like this:

Me: Do you want soup?
Miles: No.  No soup.
Me: Rice?
Miles: No rice.
Me: Chicken nuggets?
Miles: No chicken chunks. [He insists on calling them chicken chunks, which makes me think of puke, every time.  Gross.]
Me: Pancakes?
Miles: No.
[Repeat, ad nauseum]
Me: What do you want to eat?
Miles: Ummmm. . .  SOUP!

So, I make him soup, and he eats two bites and declares it 'Yucky' and decides he wants fruit snacks for lunch.  Cue tantrums, as I try to convince him to eat the soup first.  Repeat.  Meanwhile, I'm looking for toothpicks to prop my eyes open. . .

Then, comes my favorite time of day: Naptime.  Through LOOOOOOONG months of arguing, fussing, yelling, sobbing, fighting, screaming, and general horribleness, Miles now lays down quietly, asks for a song (or more often "No sing, Mommy.  No sing."), and I tuck him in and go to bed myself.  The only complaint I have is that naptime is never long enough.  As soon as I shut my eyes, Miles is bouncing on the bed, full of energy to start again.

I drag myself out of bed again, and we go straight to the television again, so I can continue pondering the intricacies of the Island of Sodor, and try to wake my brain enough to function.

All I can say is: Thank God for Netflix.  Sigh.

Dear Miles,

Today, you officially turned three years old.  You haven't been my baby for awhile yet, but now, even toddlerhood is becoming a memory.  Today, you officially enter the 'preschooler' age range.  As of today, I can no longer deny that you are growing up far more quickly than I ever could have imagined.  You are a full-fledged kid, where once you were a cuddly, squishy baby.

You have come so far already, and I am proud of what you are becoming.  You are fascinated by your world, and especially the letters, numbers, words, and stories that make it up.  You have known your letters for ages, but now, you know their signs, their sounds, and you are beginning to understand that letters become words.  You randomly spout things like, "S-T-O-P, Stop!" and "T-O-Y, Toy!"  You count to ten constantly, but you can count as high as fifteen without help, and easily to thirty with a minimal amount of prompting.  You count down from ten to one, before your rocket ships "Blast off!"  You're trying to figure out writing, but it eludes you, as it takes a patience and quiet that you have not yet learned.  I try to encourage you in all of this, all while thinking, Please, my baby, don't grow up too fast.

Life with you is like running a marathon - there are days that I can hardly keep up, and I'm fighting just to keep going, but when the day is done, I'm proud of how far we've come together.  You are so active, so physical in every way, and this poor non-athletic, nerdy mama of yours just doesn't know how to challenge you.  You run faster than most kids twice your age.  You can throw and catch a tennis ball without much effort.  You climb everything (but then, you've been doing that for ages).  You jump.  You roll.  You taught yourself to somersault.  You wrestle with your stuffed toys, and with your daddy, and you don't understand why mommy can't wrestle, too.

Someday, you will understand that I have to protect your little brother or sister, but for now, you are blissfully unaware of how much your life is about to change.  All you know is that Mommy is so tired, and kinda grumpy.  Being the sensitive child you are, you understand, in your way, and ask for cuddles and books and quiet things on my worst days.  And in this, I have found a side of you I never knew.  I never knew you could be the nurturer that you are.  When you ask, "Mommy, you okay?" or cuddle in just to say, "I love you," my heart swells to bursting with the pride and love for all that you are.

You, my child, are a walking (running) contradiction, at times.  Wild, yet gentle.  Demanding, yet generous.  My tornado, and my still water.  You are, in no uncertain terms, independent, yet you adore the company and interaction of others.  You are never timid, rarely reserved, and yet, you speak so little, except to us lucky few.

Part of that, however, is your speech, which has worried us a bit for a couple of months.  We worked on making you 'use your words' and slow down, thinking perhaps, that was all you needed.  As your third birthday approached, however, it became increasingly clear that you needed more than that.  Soon, now, you will have a speech screening and begin speech therapy classes.  We hope that, given a little help, you will be the chatterbox we can see you want to be.

My dear, loving, rambunctious boy, I love you with all of my heart.  I look forward to all of our adventures to come, and I am so thankful for each adventure we've faced so far.  You are a shining light to all who know you, and I am lucky and blessed to call you mine, at least for a little while longer.

Ever your champion, and your biggest fan,
Mommy

I'm Alive

ish.

Baby is fine.  Miles is. . .Miles, with all that implies.  Patrick is good, and possibly a saint for everything he does so I can be a laze-about groaning about my tummy.  The cat is highly amusing, in that she simultaneously adores Miles and is terrified by him.  Stacey is, I think, doing well.  I see her on occasion, so I'm sure she's at least still alive. Faire is exhausting.  Frankenstein (the Halloween show I agreed to assistant direct before I knew about this whole pregnancy thing) is exhausting.  Miles is exhausting.  Typing is exhausting.  I completely lost it and cried to Maestro yesterday about how exhausted I am (not really his fault, poor guy).  I'm that sort of exhausted where no amount of sleep helps.  It's just never enough.

And this week, I'm dealing with the emotional roller-coaster of realizing that my son, my wonderful, amazing baby boy, is no longer a baby.  Hell, he's not even a toddler anymore.  He is officially in the 'preschooler' age range, which we all know is a hop, skip, and a jump from graduating high school and moving out and getting married.  And pregnancy hormones mean I'm vacillating between sobbing madly at the thought that he's all grown up already, and sobbing, wondering when will he stop crapping his pants?!?  In any case, there's a lot of sobbing.

As if that weren't enough, an ultrasound last week made this pregnancy seem really real for the first time.  I'm going to be holding a little bundle of blankets and cuteness in a few months, which makes me all moony and wistful and excited.  And then it hits me that the bundle will also contain poop, and spit-up, and screaming sleeplessness, and I want to go hide in a corner and sob some more.

Pregnancy really does kinda suck.

Festival

It has started, and so, my 'social life' and 'free time' have all but evaporated.  I thought when we put Miles in school two days a week that it would help me get stuff done - like blogging on occasion, or I don't know, cleaning my house or something.

Um, not so much.

Because about the time Festival started, First Trimester also hit, in all of it's nauseous, exhaustion-inducing glory.  I nap.  And eat toast and other bland things.  And try not feel like I'm dying.

So if I don't post often - or at all - for the next few weeks, just know that I'm probably snoring instead. :)

The Trap of Mother's Day Out

Miles attends a Mother's Day Out program two days a week.  In theory, this gives me time to do all of the things that are difficult to do with a rowdy toddler in tow.  Usually, my to-do list looks something like this:

• Pick up a couple of items from the store
• Stop at the post office
• Make sweet tea, lemonade, etc for the week
• Bake cookies or other yummies
• Finish a dozen or so craft projects
• Clean the kitchen
• Vacuum the whole house
• Clean out Miles' room, and thin out his toy hoard
• Clean out the garage/basement
• Drop off items to be donated at Goodwill
• Do all of the laundry in the whole house
• Write blog posts
• Shower in peace
• Brush the cat
• Do some gardening
• Take a nice, long nap

Etc, etc, etc.  Often, my list goes on for pages beyond anything I could conceivably accomplish in a mere five hours.  And, in looking at the daunting to-dos, I get overwhelmed and my brain fries, and I lose all sense of what to do first.  So, instead, my 'Things Accomplished' list looks more like this:

• Go to store, pick up a dozen things we don't need and forget the one thing we do
• Drive past the post office with the intention to stop in later
• Make myself a quick lunch
• Sit in front of the television while I eat, and then get stuck there for the rest of the day.
• Try to do a load of laundry, a load of dishes, and vacuum the living room in the last half hour before I have to pick up Miles.

Sigh.  Apparently, I cannot be trusted to accomplish anything when left to my own devices. . . 

I'm just going to leave this here. . .

Friday Photos!

First Day of School - Wednesday

"I aim to misbehave" (ala Firefly)

Sir Miles Toppam Hat and Bear

Could he get any cuter? Oh, my.

Snuggles with Grandpa Troy

Chillin' with Great Grandpa