holyboogers

I braved Black Friday mayhem today to go shopping.  My husband woke at 4 am as I lay sleeping with Ryan and Noah and he was back by the time the three of us woke up for the day.  When I pried my eyes open, I leaped out of bed, ready to go with a wakefulness that I don’t normally exhibit first thing in the morning.  Noah had just nursed, Ryan was still sleeping…I was ready to go.  I wiggled on a pair of jeans, pried the sweatshirt directly off the back of my husband (it’s go to be the most comfortable sweatshirt and unfortunately, it’s his!), threw my purse around my neck and onto my shoulder, and out the door I went. 

My destination?  The mall.  I mistakenly thought that by 7 am I would be dodging other cars for a parking spot, but there were many open.  I snagged the first one I saw and so it began…

I could hear the Salvation Army bells jingling as soon as my feet hit the pavement.  Giving is definitely a virtue I’d like to instill within my children as they grow older, most especially during the holidays where we want for nothing and there are so many children and their families that are in need.  This is another blog entirely, but I placed some money in the tin, my heart beginning to warm already and I hadn’t even set foot inside the doors.

I open the door, walk a few steps, and I’m in.  I’m a woman on a mission.  No children in tow, I have nothing holding me back.  I can go anywhere I please.  Now, most people I talk to hate Black Friday.  They hate the crowds, the noise, the pushing and rudeness.  I think the day after Thanksgiving shopping crowds and sales have the opposite effect on me.  Christmas music is playing.  The smells are in the air.  I’m shopping for my loved ones and can envision the smiles I’ll see come Christmas Day.  Was the mall busy this morning?  Absolutely.  But I had nowhere to go.  I wasn’t in a hurry.  I hit some amazing sales and now the Christmas season has truly begun.

I’m anal when it comes to oral hygiene, so when I  looked in my mouth last week and found a cavity forming, it was infuriating to me.  A cavity?  What the heck?  I took myself to the bathroom where I proceeded to brush my teeth feverishly.  Still there.  Darn it!  I have a cavity!  I picked up the phone the following day and made an appointment to see my dentist this afternoon.

Having no sitter, Ryan and Noah had to come with me.  My timing must have been perfect because Noah sat in his car seat happy to be tugging at his dangling bear and Ryan plopped himself on the floor in the office excited for the chance to attempt a rather difficult Elmo puzzle.  Up on the chair I went.  In walks the dentist.

“So…you think you have a cavity?”  Ummm…yep…I’m pretty sure.  Otherwise why in the world would my tooth be black for a good four days now?  I recline and he looks in my mouth.  “Oh, I see it,” he says.  “It looks a bit like a  poppy seed.”  A what?  A poppy seed??  “There you go…it’s off.” 

What????!!!!

A poppy seed.  I had a darn poppy seed (or something of that nature) stuck in my tooth.  I had been brushing and brushing and that darn poppy seed had still managed to finagle it’s way into my mouth and burrow itself into the crevice of my tooth.  I felt the temperature in my cheeks begin to rise.

“Well, that’s one to go home and tell to the wife!”  I could joke all I want.  I was still mortified.  I had made an appointment for my dentist to extract a darn poppy seed out of my tooth. 

Hey…at least my boys were on their best behavior.  I didn’t have to joke about a toddler tantrum or a baby having to be nursed in addition to my black-toothed fiasco.

I fit into my pre-pregnancy jeans!  Well, okay…the word “fit” isn’t exactly the most appropriate word I could have chosen for my situation.  They don’t exactly slide over my thighs as if I were lathered in butter.  Instead, I stand there wriggling my lower body.  Left, right… fingers through my belt loops tugging as my knees buckle forward and my ankles creep into the air, toes holding my weight.  Left, right.  Front, back.  Tug.  Ahhhh…they’re over my hips.  I suck my stomach in as I tug once more to place the button in the hole and wallah…I’m done.  Exhale.  Yes!  I can actually lift (okay, okay…with some difficulty I admit) my pre-pregnancy jeans onto my body.  What an amazing feeling this is!  And yet, that exhilaration doesn’t last all that long as I peer down and see what my friend, Jenn, refers to as my “Muffin Top”.  There couldn’t be a better title for the post-baby belly skin that just seems to linger along my waist-line like jello, seeping it’s way over the waist-line of my jeans.  It’s truly amazing to me what changes your body endures during and after pregnancy.  And yet, it makes complete sense to me when I think back upon how absolutely ginormous I got with both my boys and I’m in awe of my body’s capabilities.  Muffin Top?  Yeah, unfortunately I’ve got one for the time being, but eventually I can slim back down as I did after my first son.  For now, I can stare in amazement after my four-month-old son, and each time I wiggle my post-pregnancy body into my tight-fitting jeans I’ll tell myself to lift my chin with pride.   My body nutured this incredible little boy.  Muffin Top?  I can take it!

I was pregnant with Noah when I read Marley and Me for inspiration. I knew I needed something. My Goldendoodle, Toby, had just leaped out the window of our playroom to chase a squirrel that had caught his eye in our backyard. Picture it now: 80 pounds of curly golden fluff, long ears flopping up and down in slow motion as his hindquarters are lifted out the window, long tail flopping in the air, mouth agape, tongue panting relentlessly…yeah, okay, I’m overexaggerating. In actuality, he was too quick for me to store any mental picture of his leap in my memory. All I remember is the simple fact that one moment he was in the room with us, and the next he was moving faster than Superman on a mission.

I had heard of the book Marley and Me from a girlfriend that said it was just simply a great read for animal lovers. And that it was. From start to finish, I was living the journey with Marley and his owners. I found myself nodding my head from page to page at the behaviors Marley exhibited. I laughed, I cried. But most of all I realized that even with all the behavioral training we poured into Toby, he was probably still going to be, well…Toby. Obnoxious, disobedient, nail scratching Toby. And yet, I love him.

The day ends now, Ryan and Noah are sleeping, and Toby does eventually wind down and lay himself next to me. This is when I can sit and cuddle him. When I can look at him and conclude that through it all, I wouldn’t trade him.

How did this happen?  Seemingly overnight, my just-turned four-month-old son has outgrown the infant support in his bathtub.  I gave him a bath tonight without the added support and he did an amazing job.  And…he loved it!  Those ginormously chubby legs of his found that kicking around was quite the thrill and his face said it all.  He was having the time of his life!  It may seem like such a small step but I admit that it’s bittersweet in a way.  No infant support means that I no longer truly have an infant.  I’ve got a full-fledged baby on my hands.  And with Noah possibly being our last child…well, you get the picture.  He’s sitting on my lap at this very moment and I just drink in the smell of his skin after his exciting bath time experience.  My BABY!  -sigh- 

Four months old.  I’m absolutely in awe that my son is now four months old!  I sat at the computer last night looking upon pictures of when Noah was just born, a five-week preemie weighing in at seven pounds, nine ounces.  A large preemie, that’s for sure, and yet, for me,  he was so incredibly tiny.  Ryan was born at nine pounds, two ounces, so holding seven pounds in my arms made me that much more cautious.  And yet, he has thrived.  Although I haven’t had his four-month doctors appointment yet, I believe he’s about 19 pounds now.  That’s more than Ryan was at this age.  His thighs are full of baby chunk.  When I give him a bath at night, I have to smooth over his rolls in order to clean in the creases.  The chub on his chin has grown to such proportions that he’s now got two chins entirely.  When I lift him into my arms it’s tough to remember that just four short months ago, he was this tiny swaddled being cuddling to my chest.  When he smiles at me, that adorable dimple in his right cheek making it’s mark, I literally swoon.  I forget what it is I was about to do and just sit there, enjoying my time with my son.  Four months old.  Can time please stop it’s ticking?

Wet burps make me jump. You know the kind…you’ve got your baby over your shoulder and the sound of the burp they’ve just made sounds like they’ve just left the contents of their last feeding on your shirt. Ryan used to spit up after almost each feeding, so I was definitely justified in my jump, a little pop of the shoulders, eyes widening up as I grab him from under the arms and away from my body. Gave me time to survey my shoulder…would I have to wash another outfit? But Noah at three months old has only spit up a handful of times. Knock on wood for sure, but I’ve lucked out! Why is it, then, that each and every time he has a wet burp I continue to react as if he was inevitably going to leave his mark? It’s funny how our instincts take control

I type this with Noah on my chest. As a newborn he never seemed happy unless he was in my arms or attached to my breast (ha!). Then he hit two months and seemed to turn around. His vision was improving and he was able to see himself under the mirror on his swing, he could look around the room and survey it’s contents, still finding particular enjoyment in the contrast between light and dark, his head always seeming to move toward a window, drawn to it like many men seem to be drawn towards women’s chests…try to turn away, but you always seem to slip back (-smile-). Finally I was able to actually cook dinner without Noah in my arms. I was able to wash Ryan in the bathtub without Noah crying right next to me in his bouncer. Goodness, I was even able to go to the bathroom without having to put him down and hearing his sobbing protests. Doesn’t it always seem to go, though, that once you figure things are going to be a specific way, they taunt you mercilessly? The past couple of days, Noah has decided once again, that it’s just entirely too nice in Mommy’s arms to ever want to let go. One moment, I’m holding him and he’s smiling and giggling, entirely content. I think I’m safe…yeah, right! He seems to feel even the motion of being placed down b/c his face contorts to a grimace even before I’ve let go. Just goes to figure. Back to the days of cooking one-handed, of showering for two minutes…tops. Well, at least the boy knows what he wants

Cramping and spotting is a combination you don’t want to experience during pregnancy. So of course, it would happen to me! I was walking with my son around the neighborhood when I was a few months pregnant, something that was not uncommon in the warmer months. Before I even returned home, I began to feel quite crampy and later that night I began to spot. Not a lot in volume, thank goodness, but no pregnant woman ever wants to see the color red when going to the bathroom, that’s for sure! Luckily, I was scheduled for a routine prenatal appointment the following day. Speaking to my OB/GYN, I told her what had happened and it was then that she told me I should “take it easy” throughout my pregnancy. I laughed. Right then and there. Take it easy? I had a toddler who had just turned two who had (and still has, mind you!) an extremely energetic and demanding personality. I was home with him all day long and there had never been any lack of activity in our days. Running him to and from playdates, the library, it all takes it’s toll on the pregnant body. Even grocery shopping became trying as I attempted to entertain Ryan away from either kicking my growing belly as he sit in the cart seat, or knocking down the items from the lower shelves. Darn he’s fast! And yet, grocery shopping still needed to be done. The house needed to stay at least fairly clean, and anyone with a toddler will understand how quickly your floors begin to look like you’ve just ended the chaos of a playdate for ten. Take it easy? Yeah…I wasn’t thinking that was going to happen anytime soon. And yet, there was something I could do to allow my body rest. Refrain from going to the gym.

Ugh! Not go to the gym? I had finally found my niche…the gym was part of my weekly schedule. My husband would come home as early as he could a couple times a week and would take over bathtime with Ryan as I practically leaped down the stairs, taking them two at a time, and out the door to my waiting car. The gym! I’d arrive there to that distinct gym smell…sweat and new equipment. Yeah, kind of gross, but I would breath it in and my stride suddenly had a bounce to it as my feet found their way to the locker room. Put away my coat and keys and I was ready.

There I was, feeling parts of my body work that I felt nowhere else but here. I didn’t want it to end, but I eventually would stop and when it was time to find that mat and begin to stretch out the muscles that never seem to fail me, I would sigh. Sigh because of the feeling I had within. The happiness…the feeling of accomplishment. The feeling of health and wellness. I’d lay there stretching, extending the pull, and I don’t think I had one day where I didn’t think to myself that this must be one of the best bodily feelings ever. A feeling of release almost. So perhaps now you can see my reluctance and dissapointment at having to say goodbye to this part of “me” for quite some time. But part I did for the duration of my pregnancy.

When I had my six-week postpartum visit with my OB/GYN and she cleared me for exercise it was bittersweet. My husband was in Portugal and I was alone with the boys so there was no way I could make it to the gym. Daycare? Yeah, they have daycare, but I just know that Ryan would throw the fit of the century if I were to leave him there and that’s a battle I don’t want to fight at this time. Walks around the neighborhood? Yeah…I was able to take them every so often, but it was always a game of russian roulette…was it THIS time that Noah would scream and need to be held? It’s rather a tough position to be in when you’re a distance from home, pushing a heavy double stroller with your infant in a sling. So walks were limited.

I was set for a much-needed Mom’s night out with some girlfriends just the other weekend. I was beyond elated when my mother and I spoke and she was going to come over a few hours early and take the boys from me to allow me to do whatever it is I wanted to do before meeting my friends. What did I want to do? That question needed no thought…I headed to the gym immediately. What an experience. The memories from almost a year ago began to surge within me as I stepped beyond the boundary of the gym’s floor. My workout was exhaustive…not only because I pushed myself, but also due to the fact that it had been so long since my last extensive exercise and my body was aching to be pushed. Push I did and when I was done and my body was tired, yet satisfied, I found that black floor mat and stretched my way into a Heaven

Sadly, it had to end. Jay continues his business dealing in Portugal and I’m with my beautiful boys but no gym. One more thing to look forward to when Jay finally returns to us! Get this body up and working!

I spoke entirely too soon. 

Day two of potty training Ryan has so far proven to be an overly frustarting day for sure.  I placed a diaper on him last night for bed (as I was on Cloud 9 from a wonderful first potty training day) and removed it as soon as we woke up this morning.  I had him sit on the potty but to no avail.  Nothing.  Not two minutes later he was in the kitchen and proceeded to pee on the floor.  Right then I knew it was going to be a fun day.  Ha! :)  Another useless potty attempt led us to the playroom where he decided to once again pee on the floor, this time on my carpet.  The catch?  He smiled when he did it.  He absolutely, one hundred percent, knew what he was doing. The little booger!  Two more “accidents” and we headed out the door for a playdate.  I returned home about an hour and a half ago and I’m unsure as to why I have hair left on my head as I should have pulled it all out by now!  As soon as he walked into the playroom, he peed on the floor.  “Look Mom!”  It was almost as if he were excited.  I, however, was not.  We’ve implemented a “rest” time in our house because Ryan no longer takes naps.  He proceeded to pee FOUR times on my bed during rest today.  Mind you, I was right there, and the little sinker looked at me with a sly little grin on his face!   He’s even come to the realization in just one day that he can use the potty as an excuse to get out of rest time.   “Momma, Ry potty now.”  Oh, my goodness…  And the kicker was just now when I looked at his little face looking back at me with what I’ve come to call “the I’ve messed look.”  I walked right up to him, and what do you suppose I find?  Yep, that’s right…another wonderful puddle of pee on my bed.  So much fun!

So many mom’s that I’ve spoken to have claimed that boys are incredibly hard to potty train, but this is just ridiculous!  And it baffles me that I’m SURE he knows exactly what he’s doing!  I’m in for a long ride here…