Birthday Blast

34.5 weeks and 34 years of age and 17 inches of snow.

In my 34 years, I've never had a blizzard on my birthday (that I can recall). All plans on Saturday were cancelled due to the biggest storm in 20 years. I was pretty sad about it, as I was looking forward to family time during the day and a date night with my hubs. But it ended up being a fun day of making Christmas cookies and having our snowed-in neighbors over for cookies and drinks.

All that said, I am ready to not be trapped inside by the frigid weather and snow-filled streets. In the last 3 days, I have only ventured out a couple of blocks. I am about to go stir-crazy and I am pretty sure that Laila could use a change of scenery. Poor kid. Probably sick of her toys and parents by now.

Watching Daddy use the snowblower out back.

Clarify

I am looking back at my previous post at a later, calmer, saner time of day and think I should expound a bit. I think so much of my frustration with parenting is feeling that everything is my fault, for better or for worse. If she does something well, then we must have done a good job. If she is behind on her motor skills or has bad behavior or is a picky eater, then we (well, mostly ME!) must have done something horribly wrong. It all feeds into my insecurities that I am going to screw up my child, that she'll end up in therapy talking about all of the ways that I caused her to be a mess, and that I am just not cut out for this parenting thing. I end up second guessing decisions or looking back to wonder if we introduced foods at all the wrong time, in all of the wrong order, if we pushed them too much or not enough, and on and on. Wondering if her cautiousness and reluctance to walk independently is because she feels insecure because of something we did or something we forgot to do for her. It's enough to make a person crazy. To make a person feel inadequate. Hence, the "crazy lady" talk in the previous post.

And I have to wonder if this is just a modern day issue. I have a hard time imagining my grandmother, the farmer's wife, worrying like this. Instead, I'm sure she just did the best she could and assumed that her kids would learn to do all things in good time. But we are surrounded by books and blogs and talk shows and therapists and facebook status updates, all there to inform us of the things that others' kids are doing and a glaring reminder to me of the ways in which my child is different. And yet, there are times when I come across an article or talk to another mom who can completely normalize the situation for me, because their child did the exact same thing as mine is doing.

I know that these posts must make it sound like I don't enjoy my child or that parenting makes me cry 24/7, but it's more so in the quiet moments when she's napping that I can let it all soak in and the reality of my struggles tend to come out then. And I quickly need to vent it to my mom or sisters or blog about it, so that by the time Laila is awake again, I can put this stuff aside and be there for her.

Truly, we have so much fun with her and marvel at the things she has learned to do.

• Her list of words include Hi, Hot, High-Chair, Ham (sort of), Daddy (sometimes), and Yuck. Apparently H words are popular with her.
• She is obsessed with pushing her giraffe riding toy around (she hates to ride it, but loves to push it by the handles and cruises all over the house, practically running with the thing). Tonight she lifted it up completely by the handles and just stood there, holding it up. Apparently she has more balance than she realizes.
• She loves to dance and is surprisingly tuned in to whenever music is on. It can be pretty faint and she'll still pick up on it and do a little shake to the tune.

Note her beloved giraffe in the background. :)

Pity Party

I just need 5 minutes to have a giant pity party for myself and then, get back to doing life. I want someone to whine with me, to feel sorry for me, to be as weepy as I am about parenting and my child not being what I thought they were going to be. Honestly, I feel like I'm banging my head against a wall most of the time. I truly don't know what to do with a kid who refuses to walk, is a picky eater, who screams when we take her to Babes at church, who hangs onto my leg constantly when I'm in the kitchen. I just have moments in which I want to ask her (and have her reply!), "What kid doesn't like Cheerios or any other kind of breakfast food, for that matter?!??!?!" "What kid doesn't want the independence of walking around and exploring all on their own?" "What is wrong with the foods that I make for you!??!?!"

Of course, I can't say this to her, as I don't want to shame her for being the way that she is and I am trying SO hard to just be understanding of the phases that she's in and who she is as a 16 month old. I am trying to just love her as she is and encourage her and accept her. But DANG, this is hard, day in and day out.

OK, I'm done. I said what I need to.

Carnivore

The other night, Charlie said that if we asked a Magic 8 Ball what the chances are of Laila being a vegetarian, the answer would be "Not Likely".

How true it is.

The child LOVES meat in almost all forms that we've offered to her (heck, she even ate some venison sausage the other night), but veggies are (and always have been) another story. Steamed, raw, mashed, pureed, etc, it doesn't matter. It's a big fat "No" from her, which saddens me, as Charlie and I are not picky eaters and we always thought we'd have kids who ate everything just because we offered a variety of items from a young age on. Ha! However, I have found one glorious way of getting veggies into her...soup. She will shovel in any vegetable that is in soup. Is it because they're really soft and mild flavored after sitting in broth all day? Is it because they have spices and broth on them? I have no idea, but peas, green beans, legumes, carrots, celery, potatoes, tomatoes, etc all go right on down. My guess is that we'll be eating a lot of soup this winter. Not that I mind...

Trying to Simmer Down

My 13 month old doesn't walk, talk or want to give up her bottle. These three things give me nightmares of a kindergardener who crawls into class, babbling nonsense and dragging her bottle by the nipple alongside of her. I realize I am a bit dramatic about this, but I do have moments where my simple mom-brain goes this direction. Thankfully, Peanut's doctors are not concerned. They just tell me nonchalantly that the normal age for walking is 9-16 months, that she'll talk when she's ready and it's good that she does do some sounding of consonants in her babbling. The pediatrician just said to get rid of the bottle by the time she's 2. Sigh. I want someone else to freak out with me, but I don't think that's going to happen at this point.

My grand plan was to toss the bottle the day after she turned 1. Obviously, that didn't happen. She'll drink from a sippy just fine, but not if there's milk in there. She'll take one sip, glare at the cup, toss it aside and carry on until I put the milk in a bottle. I, apparently, have no spine for going cold-turkey anymore (unlike when we did the bedtime pacifier removal at 3 months of age and took it away until she was old enough to learn how to put it in by herself).

In this day and age of so much info on the internet and everyone comparing stories of what their child does and how early they are on their development, it's hard not to feel like a failure of a parent when your child does things outside of the schedule that you have mentally made for them. Truly, they have their own schedule for when they're going to do these things. I can't make her walk any sooner. I had her in PT for crawling and learning to stand, as she was really behind on those skills and she has muscle weakness/joint laxity. I don't feel ready to start that for walking yet. We work on walking together and I talk to her all of the time, not in baby talk. She understands huge amounts of what I am saying (sometimes it's scary what she understands!!) and I know that one day she'll open up her mouth and repeat back to me all of the things I've been saying to her since she was born. In the meantime, though, it's hard not to wonder if she'll ever get it. And of course, I am hoping she'll master walking and get rid of the bottle by the time #2 comes along, as I will have very little time and energy to put into PT sessions and fights over the bottle vs no bottle at that point. Perhaps the idea of 2 under 2 has only added to my frenzied thoughts about how she's not meeting the goals I had expected. I need to simmer down, though. My goal for #2 is to be more relaxed, to just go with the flow, and not have so many ideas of how it should be. Such a grand goal.

Summer's End

It's Aug 31. Where did the summer go? I know that we all ask that question every single summer, but this year has been especially odd. June was a slow, excruciating month of nausea and exhaustion and therefore, I remember very little of it. July was more of the same, though with birthdays and lots of busy-ness thrown in. August was a blur, with friends staying with us for 5 days (2 extra adults and 2 extra kids in our house=controlled chaos), followed quickly by preparation to go to the cabin for 9 days. After the cabin, it was quick returns to work and trying to settle back into normal life. And there it was. The summer.

While most of me doesn't comprehend that summer is over, there is the sure sign in me that summer is almost over: I have started to despise the gardens. It's something that happens every August, whether my gardens look great or utterly neglected. The sad part is, my few veggie plants usually don't produce until August and by then, I am so sick of tending to them that I can barely muster excitement to care for the ripening peppers or fend off the damn squirrels from my tomatoes that have started to turn red. I will say, though, that picking a Brandywine tomato and eating it for dinner right away or grabbing herbs for cooking just by stepping outside my door is pretty great and renews my enjoyment of gardening.

Last Moments

It's the last few hours of my baby's baby-hood. I had no idea I'd be so emotional about it. Went in to peek at her before I went to bed (my nightly ritual). I am always amazed at the positions I find her in...to me they are contortionist moves, to her they must be comfortable, as she is snoozing away. Tonight I found her basically where I left her, on her tummy, blanket still on. I put her to bed with her little stuffed puppy for the first time and when I peeked at her, 3.5 hours after I put her down, one arm was wrapped firmly around Puppy, her head resting on the stuffed one. I felt super-glued to the side of the crib, unable to stop staring at her. So sweet, that image of baby and little girl wrapped up in one. I honestly hope that this is the image that sticks in my head 17 or 30 years from now, when I look at her as an adult and reminisce about the days of babyhood.

Tomorrow, it's one year. 365 days of her and us.

Bun #2

Well, I figured since a friend commented on my last post that I'd be getting baby fever again that perhaps I should finally just put it out there. A little unexpected for us, but we are excited nonetheless!! Given how long it took for Peanut to come along, we weren't thinking #2 was anywhere close. My friend Megs calls it "the little ovary that could", given that only one side works!!

Oh, and the date was only a guesstimate on our part, as I wasn't paying attention to cycles. So we had an ultrasound and based on the size of the babe at that time, it's Jan 24. It was a relief to see that it was only one babe in there and that the heart was beating. It really only looked like a head and a torso, but we could see little arm and leg buds wiggling around, but they're so short and stubby that it made me giggle. It's amazing that a little person who is only 1.3 inches long and weighs less than an ounce could move that much, turn over, have a heartbeat, and wave its limbs at us. Human development, esp. fetal development, is FASCINATING.

Rounding up on a Year

I realized today that we are 2.5 weeks away from having a one year old and I found myself verklempt at the idea that she is no longer my baby. The last few weeks have been pivotal in her development and it's made me realize that she is quickly moving into toddler-hood and independence. Her baby toys have been cast aside for toys that stack, sort, open and close, make music, or that she can stand next to. As of this week, she is crawling everywhere (versus army crawling), she pulls herself up to standing, if I ask her to get books so that I can read to her, she'll go pick some out and bring them to me. It's so fun to watch, but it hit me this morning that we are so far beyond the point of complete dependence on me. In one year, she moved from being a tiny little person who could only eat, sleep, and poop and needed help for anything and everything she did and now into a person who plays by herself, feeds herself, knows how to use a sippy cup, moves around independently, can recognize sounds, people, etc. (Heck, that's a lot to learn in a year. When was the last time I learned that much in one year? Nursing school?) I got all weepy realizing that she is never going to be that tiny little baby again. Ah. Motherly hormones.

On a Night Like Tonight

Sitting outside on a sultry summery evening, listening to the birds, swaying in the canvas swing that hangs from our giant maple tree as I type this, taking in the smells and sights of our little piece of urban yard, and all I can think is "All is well on a night like this." There's something about this weather and evening-time that makes me forget the bills, the bits of food that are stuck to the dining room floor (why don't we have a dog??), even the projects that I forever list out in my head when I look around the yard. I get nostalgic in weather like this: for the times of running around with my sisters catching fireflies in jars, for the evenings on my grandparents' farm when we'd all hang out on the porch and look over the wheat fields and pastures that surrounded their white house, for the walks with my husband around the neighborhood at dusk, for the evenings of sitting on the back steps of the Xerxes house with Em and sipping a Blue Moon, for the glory days just out of college when my girlies and I had our first apartments in the city and we'd sit out on our amazing balcony and talk about the things we were going to do with our lives (interspersed with a lot of boy talk).

Sigh.

For me, there is really nothing so sweet as an evening, a great sunset, warm weather, and guilt-free wiling away the time.

Resolve

We are in St Louis for a long weekend to visit some of Snugs' old college and post-college friends. We flew with Peanut for the first time and she did so well. Pretty sure that she was just excited to have our undivided attention for the 1.5 hrs of the flight.
Having a kid with us on a "vacation" changes everything! Normally we'd be out non-stop, packing our days full of time with friends and checking out fun things in the city. Now our day consists of quickly seeing people between naps and then back home for the evening by 7:30 or 8 for bedtime. We've learned with our little kiddo that keeping her naps and bed somewhat on schedule is necessary, otherwise she turns into a whining, wailing mess. Prior to having kids, I was determined that my child would conform their schedule to mine and that we could maintain our busy social life even with a little one in tow. HA!! I can say with much humility that I was wrong!
We're fortunate enough to stay with some friends down here, thus making our trip that much more cost-friendly. These are friends from Snugs' old church down here and wonderful, hospitable people. They have a 6 year old girl, whose favorite past-times this weekend have been talking Snugs' ear off and chasing Peanut around with toys, and a 2 year old boy, who is a holy terror, to put it nicely. Part of the problem is that he's a very energetic kid and the other part is that I have yet to see a single bit of discipline instituted by the parents. I mean, we are talking throwing giant basketballs around the living room, running up and smacking his sister fully in the chest with hardly a blink of the eye by the parents, full-out screaming bloody murder at bedtime, and getting up and running around the restaurant at dinner. It gives me a knot in my stomach to watch it all. I know it's not my battle to fight and I have no business saying anything about it, so I'll say my piece here. I know that I was raised in a fairly strict home and not everyone else was, but it's amazing that parents lack the ability to look at their kids' behavior and wonder if maybe their child rules the roost instead of the parents. Is it a result of kids being in day care full time and therefore the parents don't have the time or energy at the end of the day to discipline? Is it just parenting style that the adults have decided on? Is it because parents are too absorbed in the computer/iPhone/TV in front of them to pay attention to their child's behavior? (Note: as I am typing this, the 2 year old is running circles around the kitchen at 9:30 pm, playing with toys, instead of being in bed, because he threw a GIANT blood-curdling screaming fit and his mom just let him not go to bed yet. Yeah, because he just re-learned the fact that if he throws a tantrum, then mom gives in. And while he's creating chaos in the kitchen, mom is checking her email and saying "Honey, do you really need to do that?")
All of this just hardens my resolves (is that the right terminology?) to be a parent who creates boundaries and adheres to them. While I know that my little Peanut is a very well-behaved and mild-mannered baby, she will hit the terrible twos at some point and will test the boundaries that we will have hopefully carefully and mindfully created to help her understand authority and that some behaviors just are not ok.
I know I shouldn't be hard on the people who have graciously opened their home to us, but I need to get this out!! I am appalled. The other thing that has me cringing during this stint is the CONSTANT use of the TV. We watch very little TV at home, we don't have cable/satellite/DVR, and we are extremely content with this plan. Here, it is on at ALL times. There hasn't been a single moment when it's been off, except when they are gone. The TV is on the instant they are home and the kitchen/dining/living rooms are all centered around the giant screen. Kids eat in front of it, dad watched TV while playing on the computer while the kids are running around whacking each other, and it's a constant source of noise. I think we saw at least 6 hours of Nickelodeon/Disney/PBS channels this morning.
Again, this just hardens my resolve... to have kids who know the joys of playing outside, having space to run around and use their imaginations, to learn about nature, to love reading, to be at the zoo or museums or parks, and to understand that TV and movies are exceptions to their daily routine and not the norm. I grew up liking the cartoons and shows of my day, so don't think I grew up without a TV, but it was a small part of my day and all of the things I want my kids to know about are the things that filled my days. I know that Snugs had a similar experience growing up and I am SO very thankful for a man who doesn't veg in front of the TV the second he gets home and then watch ESPN all day Saturday. We always joke about how that would have been a deal-breaker for me and there's no way we'd be together if he was like that.
OK, I have said my piece. It's off to bed in the room we're sharing with Laila and I know she'll be awake at 6 or so, making funny little happy sounds when she realizes that her fingernails make scratching sounds on the side of the pack 'n' play. So cute!

Forward...

I normally am not a huge fan of sappy email forwards. But this one struck me as more profound than most. I feel as if I am cheating by just cutting and pasting someone else's words for a blog entry, but someone else managed to say it better than I can.

Invisible Mother... It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I'm thinking, 'Can't you see I'm on the phone?' Obviously not; no one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all. I'm invisible.. The invisible Mom. Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more! Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this?? Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being. I'm a clock to ask, 'What time is it?' I'm a satellite guide to answer, 'What number is the Disney Channel?' I'm a car to order, 'Right around 5:30, please.' Some days I'm a crystal ball; 'Where's my other sock?, Where's my phone?, What's for dinner?' I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history, music and literature -but now, they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again. She's going, she's going, she's gone!? One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England . She had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when she turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, 'I brought you this.' It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe . I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her inscription: 'With admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees.' In the days ahead I would read - no, devoured - the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work: 1) No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record of their names. 2) These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished. 3) They made great sacrifices and expected no credit. 4) The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything. A story of legend in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, 'Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof, No one will ever see it And the workman replied, 'Because God sees.' I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, 'I see you. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked, no Cub Scout meeting, no last minute errand is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become. I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on. The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree. When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friend he's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, 'My Mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for 3 hours and presses all the linens for the table.' That would mean I'd built a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, he'd say, 'You're gonna love it there...' As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible mothers.

Funny, Sad, True

This post was on a friend's Facebook update. It made me snicker. It's also way too true about the nature of our modern worship in churches. I'm not saying that people who write them aren't genuine, but it does make you wonder about the depth of our spirituality.

http://www.theblazingcenter.com/2010/05/how-to-write-an-awful-worship-song.html?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed:%20TheBlazingCenter%20(The%20Blazing%20Center)&utm_content=Google%20Reader

Four

Four years of matrimony! Four years ago, I woke up to a rainy, cold day, hoping that all was going to be well. I went to bed the night before a little worried, as my soon-to-be-hubby had been throwing up all day and I had convinced myself that it was because he was getting cold feet. I was less than thrilled with him at the rehearsal dinner, I was a nervous wreck and cranky all day while setting things up, and basically, I didn't enjoy the day before the wedding. However, the day of the wedding, albeit disgusting weather, was wonderful and perfect and the start of four fantastic years together.

Today we are heading for a 2 day getaway at Cove Point Lodge, this fantastic Scandinavian place in Beaver Bay, right on Lake Superior. Think log beds, windows that look out over the lake, 4 state parks within a few miles, fireplace in our room, great food at this place. And while I love my daughter dearly, I am excited to sleep in for 2 days while she happily plays with her doting grandparents.

This morning has been one of the more chaotic anniversaries, not only because of packing, but Peanut threw up again last evening, so I am on pins and needles hoping that she doesn't do a repeat this morning, she fell off a chair after breakfast and hit her head and scratched her face, and I have a plugged milk duct for what feels like the millionth time. (Of note, I am SO over this pumping thing!) I need a vacation. 2 more hours and we're on our way!

Take That!

We continue in our war with the turd of a dog next door. How I hate that thing! Don't get me wrong. I like dogs, in general. In fact, we'd like to get one. But I can't stand the idiot of a dog next door who barks at nothing while he sits on the stoop that is 5 feet from our house- and of course, it's on the north side of our house and every bedroom in our house has a north facing window. Oh, the things I have dreamed of doing to that dog! The worst, though, is when the owners leave and he sits up next to the open living room windows and barks until they get home. We are talking about incessant high-pitched barking that can be heard blocks away (I know this for a fact, as I have been out walking or running and heard him 2 blocks away). I can hear it through my closed windows, even if the a/c is running. I can't stand it! We've tried talking to the owners about it, but they are just slow enough to not care. So, in a passive-aggressive move, we found this device that emits a high-pitched frequency (that only the dog can hear) when he barks. We put it in a window that faces the stoop where he sits and I hope it blasts him with enough sound to make his ears bleed and make him whimper in pain. Well, maybe not so extreme as that, but at least make him hear enough high-pitched-ness to make him stop! Here's to hoping that it helps!! If not, there's a 30 day money-back guarantee.

http://www.ultimatebarkcontrol.com/

Reform, please.

OK, this is not to spark a political debate. This is simply a musing from someone using the health care system.
Got a bill from taking Peanut to see an Orthopedic Surgeon at Gillette as a follow-up at 6 months for her hip dysplasia. $299 for x-rays. $395 for the clinic visit. $140 to see the doctor. Some other amount to have a radiologist read the x-rays. I understand that this doctor is fantastic. I'll pay him the $140. But when I called about the $395, I was told that was the amount just for visiting the clinic. $395 just to walk in the door of the clinic and be weighed, sit on the table, have a health history taken by the nurses. UNBELIEVABLE!!! The lady on the phone told me that because it's registered as a hospital, they can charge hospital rates to come in the door of the clinic. HOW IS THAT RIGHT????????????? Where is the regulation on that???? What a waste of my hard earned money and a waste of health care dollars. This is where I'd like to see reform. It makes me want to scream out of sheer frustration- people say they don't want the feds controlling our healthcare, but really, do we just let stuff like this go on unregulated???
Ok, I'm done. Got it out of my system. May need to call the Senator, as I am that annoyed.

Purple People-Eater

In the midst of my spring cleaning, I cleaned out the freezer. I found a ziplock of ham in there from Dec '06. Embarrassing. But I also came across some treasures from last summer- blueberries that my mom stuck in the freezer after the babe was born, as I had no time for baking them into anything. So I decided to thaw them out yesterday, in hopes of baking. Well, they still aren't made into anything, but I did try giving some to Peanut. She was shoveling them in faster than I could cut them in half. I wasn't even sure she'd like them, given the leathery skins that they get when thawed. But you'd think I had given her candy, the way she kept eating and eating and eating. By the time she was done, I had to take photos, as she was covered in purpley-blue. The phrase that kept coming to mind was "Violet, you're turing violet, Violet!" Thank-you, Willy Wonka.

Like Clockwork

7:20 am, like clockwork, I wake up to the sounds of "ya-ya-ya-ya-ya" over the baby monitor. It makes me laugh every morning and I continue to be amazed that it's at the same time day after day.

And yes, I know, I missed two days of posting. Busy weekend. That's all I'm saying.

Day 1

Ok, so I should be cleaning, but instead of the "should" that I live my life by these days (as noted by my hubby), I am going with what I "want" to be doing.

Last night at work, I took care of a baby who isn't going to live. Coming onto a shift and getting hit with this news right away is a rough way to start off an introduction to a family I have never met before. The thoughts that kept crossing my mind were whether or not I could handle being in their position. Now that I have a child, I can't imagine having to make end of life decisions regarding her care. Wretchedly awful. I could barely keep the tears back as I worked with this over-wrought family. At one point, he was having one of his near-death spells, turning nearly black from holding his breath (a color that no parent should ever have to see in their baby's face), the family is crying, I'm trying not to freak out about whether I was going to call a "code blue" on him (no DNR in place yet), and I realized how good I can be at stuffing the emotions of my job and putting on the clinical task-driven face. I think that I have seen too many things on my job that would cause me to be angry, heart-broken, sad, or a questioner of how God allows things to happen in a certain way and therefore, it's easy to just add this to the tally of sad cases. I'm pretty sure I'm becoming somewhat cynical or just too scientific about this line of work and that I need to be ok with the pain of it and allow that to come out in a healthier way. I mean, even the doctor, who was writing the DNR order and discussing each of the options of what they were or weren't going to do to prolong his life, was weeping along with the mom. That was amazing to see, as physicians are usually so professional and not emotional about their jobs.

Anyway, none of this makes much sense as a paragraph, but I just needed to get some of this stuff out. Blech. And as for the baby- I hope he went home with his family today with Palliative Care. I gotta say, for a baby with Trisomy 13, he looked perfect (they usually don't). And I would say he out-performed most kids who have that diagnosis and he's lived longer, too (3 weeks). Amazing and yet so crappy all at the same time.

Give it a try...

I don't know about others who do blogs, but I have great intentions at least 15 times a day of posting. And it rarely happens. As I go about the (often) menial tasks of the day, I think of things to blog about: motherhood, stages of the babe, life, spirituality, cooking (well, mostly my love/hate relationship with it!), what we eat, the fun things that we do as a family, etc. But getting it from my head onto the screen is where the roadblock enters. For example, just getting this paragraph onto the screen has taken 10 minutes. Ten minutes of the babe falling over and getting stuck between the chair and table (to which I couldn't stop laughing), the oven timer going off, getting the next round of cookies in the oven, giving the remainder of the bottle to the babe, and then offering up multiple things from the table to keep her distracted whilst I type (at the moment, she's eating a wallet). And thus is my problem. I may have the thoughts to put on here, but by the time I get to sit down and type them out in peace, I can no longer remember having a brilliant thought in my day. (Side note: people weren't kidding when they talked about "mom brain". I have never felt so stupid in all of my life as I have in the last 9 months. I really and truly believe that when I pushed out a babe and then lost countless hours of sleep, I also pushed out and lost a chunk of my brain. It's unbelievable!).

So, all of this to say, I am going to make a pact with myself to blog each day for the next month. Even if it's one sentence at 11:59 pm, I want to say that I did it.

A great idea at first...

So my grand plan for the month of March was to do some serious spring cleaning. Ambitious for anyone with a baby, I'll admit, but cabin fever set it hard at the end of February and I needed a plan to make the (usually snowy) month of March pass quickly. Cleaning parts of the house that never see the likes of soap and water sounded like a great way to pass cold, snowy days. I made up a giant list of all of the things that I'd love to get cleaned. I started off strong and then something surprising happened. Spring came early. Not just a little bit of melting or sunny days in the 30s. We're talking full-on 50s and 60s, sunshine, snow melting in front of your eyes, robins appearing, birds merrily chirping early in the mornings SPRING. With this kind of glorious weather bidding me to be outside, my cleaning plans have been tossed aside like a prom dress. I've tried to stick with the cleaning, but honestly, as soon as I step outside, I just can't hack the indoors any longer. So, the 3 of us have been living it up out of doors as much as we can.

I will admit, I thought that I could ignore the gardens for awhile longer, reminding myself that it's only March and that there's plenty of time left to clear them from their wintry mess. But every time I stepped out the side door, I was greeted by the gardens and their blanket of mulch, all screaming at me to get outside and do something about it. So after I plunked Peanut down on a blanket where she was perfectly content to play with her toys, I dove into the gardens, discovering little spring treasures under the leaves. Hooray! I didn't finish all of it today, but I will admit, I was proud of myself for putting aside the list that feels like a weight around my neck, for seizing the moments of beautiful nature, and for putting down the rake after awhile in order to have some snuggle time in the canvas swing with Peanut.

And now that it's midnight, I figure it's time to crash. The list can wait yet another day. What's one more day for the fridge/freezer that haven't been defrosted or cleaned in 4 years?

Wintery Fun

Trying to enjoy the snow, now that it's warm enough to be outside with the babe.

We went to the cabin last weekend with my parents, my sister and BIL and new nephew, and good friend, Lyndi. It was a fantastic weekend of snow-shoeing, time spent in front of the roaring fire, and watching the skiers in the Birkebeiner ski race. Peanut got to go snow-shoeing with us in the backpack (thank you, Once Upon a Child, for the great pack that was so cheap!) and she seemed to love it. I felt so alive again, finally getting some fresh air and exercise. This is the part of winter that I love...warm enough to be outside and knowing that it's almost over!!

Can you tell she's a daddy's girl??

Hanging with cousin Theo- they spent a lot of time smiling at each other...and then she tries to hit him out of excitement.

The girlies at the Birkie. Main Street is packed with thousands of spectators, all ringing cowbells. It's the closest I'll probably ever get to the Olympics.

Bad Combo

Today: head cold coming on, cramps, and blocked milk ducts. I don't know what feels the worst: my sinuses, uterus or boob. Yeee-ouch from the head on down.