whoorlwind

Well, hello there! Have you seen this? Yes, that's right: I'm a participant in today's edition of Whoorl's Hair Thursday! And it's not just any Hair Thursday... the results will be shown on national television. Yeah, you heard me... NATIONAL TELEVISION. I am in a slight panic. But an excited one. So get out there and rock the vote. Will it be a sleek shorter bob or a medium-length layered cut with bangs? You decide.

miscellany

Hi there y'all. Well, forget what I said about getting seven-hour stretches of sleep. That, apparently, has gone by the wayside for now. However, the reason I am even blogging at all right now is that both of my children have been asleep, simultaneously, aka AT THE SAME TIME, for nigh on to two full hours now. What have I done with my free time? you may ask. Well, I have caught up on blog reading and eaten my weight in 100-calorie Oreo packs. Those 100-calorie packs are great and yet ridiculous. They are nicely measured so you don't go overboard, but the whole "not going overboard" system doesn't really work when you eat multiple packs. Ugh.

In other news, this week has been crazy so far. CRAZY. I think I'm going to be able to go back to work at a reduced work schedule (YAY!) and something else kooky and exciting is also in the works for next week. More on that tomorrow, I think.

Also, I am stressing out because we are having a birthday party for Evan this weekend and there will be 25 kids plus all the associated adults! Whoa Nelly. I really need to get my act together and start some hot favor-buyin', pizza-orderin' action. Off to make an official to-do list.

life is good

Maternity leave rocks. Let's just get that out of the way right now. And guess what? Today is Evan's third birthday! And Delaney is 10 weeks old today. To celebrate both these occasions, she has been sleeping good seven-hour stretches for the last few nights. Which contributes to my general level of happiness and joy.

Do you know what else contributes to my general level of happiness and joy? Starbucks iced coffee with vanilla.

Again: loving maternity leave. Where else can you eat birthday cupcakes in the morning, have vanilla iced coffee every afternoon, have frequent brunch and shopping dates with your friends and gaze goofily at your happily smiling baby... all while wearing comfy slobby clothes? This is the life, I'm telling you! Why can't I get paid for this?

double trouble

What is more awesome than being up every three hours with a newborn? Why, it's being up every three hours with a newborn, AND being up several other times the same night with a vomiting toddler! Especially when it's the night before Easter, and your holiday plans must be scrapped in order to avoid exposing your entire extended family to the puking insanity.

Yes. So, that happened.

And now everyone is feeling better, thankyouGodamen.

Speaking of feeling better, yesterday was my second full day alone with the two kids, and it was a smashing success. Perhaps it was the universe's way of making up for the misery of Saturday night, but the baby napped blissfully for much of the day while Evan and I played and did puzzles. Then, he took a great nap himself and all three of us went to the pool. It was a gorgeous day.

We capped it all off with a family dinner at one of our favorite places. Mmmmm, guacamole. Plus, I drank half of my husband's Bohemia. Yum. Do I know how to party or what?

(Uh, don't answer that.)

pros and cons

Things I Have Gotten Really Good At Since Having Two Children:

1. Bribing older child with fruit snacks to get him to cooperate while I attend to younger child's need for food and diaper changes.
2. Bribing older child with excessive television to get him to cooperate while I attend to younger child's need for food and diaper changes.
3. Playing soccer with older child while carrying young infant in a Baby Bjorn.
4. Emptying the dishwasher while carrying young infant in a Baby Bjorn.
5. Cooking dinner while carrying young infant in a Baby Bjorn.

Do you see any themes emerging? When #2 comes along, "bribery" and "hands-free" are the operative words for child-wrangling success.

Things I Still Really Suck At Despite Now Having Two Children:

1. Cutting newborn's fingernails without bleeding (hers) and emotional trauma (both).
2. Dealing with night after night of interrupted sleep.
3. Giving young infant enough time after hearing initial explosion to finish pooping BEFORE changing diaper (may possibly be burning out my washer and dryer with overuse).
4. Not eating too much junk food during the day. What? I'm tired and I DESERVE IT.

five hours baby

Hello, and greetings from the land of previously no sleep. But guess what? Last night, I got five hours of sleep IN A ROW.

AT THE SAME TIME.

CONSECUTIVELY.

Followed by another three-ish hours of sleep.

Send champagne and balloons! And maybe also some ice cream, or possibly chocolate, so I can stuff my face in true celebratory style, before I am no longer able to use sleep deprivation to justify my poor eating habits.

Don't get me wrong, in no way do I assume this will happen again tonight or even a week from now. The thing with newborns is that they are hell-bent on confusing and stunning you with their illogical and sporadic sleeping habits. Terrorists, I tell you... they are terrorists.

But anyway. I feel good today, and that's enough for me.

two

So far, having two has been... interesting. Evan is sweet as pie to Delaney; it's actually a joy to behold. He talks to her in a soft whispery voice, always wants to rub her head and look at her, and is generally very interested in what she's doing. It's how he's relating to us that's been a little difficult. For the past few months, he's been mercurial like most kids his age, but now he goes from happy to shrieking with little provocation. His tantrums are longer and louder - and much more frequent. I know it's just a phase, but I am simultaneously REALLY annoyed and yet sympathetic. I feel badly for him. All of a sudden his world has been turned upside down and I think he's just trying to be sure where he fits in.

But look at the two of them... tantrums or no, I feel like the luckiest person in the world.

arrival

OK, so I'm a little behind here... but we have a new baby girl!! Delaney Lea was born on February 6 at 3:19 a.m. after a lightning-fast labor (only 3 hours total between first contraction and delivery - score!). She was 7 lbs., 10 oz. and 20 inches long.

We are absolutely in love. She is totally adorable, nurses like a champ, and smiles in her sleep so much that we almost forget how little we are sleeping. (almost.)

note from the trenches

Uh, yeah. It’s a week after my last post and there are STILL painters in my house.

The baby’s room is still not ready. Why is that, you may ask? Well, let me tell you! We chose a paint color that turned out to be the equivalent of being inside a gigantic bottle of Pepto-Bismol! So, we just lengthened the project and asked them to repaint it. God bless my husband… he is the main liaison for these painters and has had to be the conduit for our frequent changes and complaints. I’ve given him full approval to blame me for everything.

But guess what? I’m still pregnant. Having Braxton-Hicks contractions every five seconds, but pregnant nonetheless.

And did I mention I’m still at work? What was I thinking? Oh well. I think I can hang on through tomorrow, which is supposed to be my last day. Am model conscientious employee.

Also: am model of calm, peacefulness and Zen. (Dave: zip it)

stop the insanity!

Hi, all! How YOU doin'? I just wanted to share a few tips on how to make yourself totally crazy when you are 38 weeks pregnant. These tactics are tried and true and I promise, you can make them work for you!

1. Hire contractors to install built-in cabinets in key areas of your house.
2. Battle resulting sawdust and be annoyed by the many contractor shoeprints on your stairs.
3. Have entire inside of house painted, rendering it mostly uninhabitable because all furniture and other objects are piled in center of each room, covered in plastic.
4. Debate merits of various paint colors with your spouse. Decide on one, then change it, then change it back, then repeat the process.
5. Get involved in planning two large events for work, even though due to your advanced state of pregnancy you will OBVIOUSLY not be around to execute either one.
6. Continue ignoring the fact that you need to finish the baby’s room, pack a hospital bag and OMG give birth to a crying sleepless newborn ANY MINUTE NOW.

Et voila!

there’s a public service announcement somewhere among this drivel

I don’t know what my deal is, but despite several major happenings lately I don’t seem able to update my blog. I was going to write a series of posts to get everyone up to speed, but in the immortal words of one of my favorite movies, “No. There is too much. Let me sum up.” Presenting…

A Bulleted List of the Things that have Happened Around Here Lately:

• (The week before Christmas) A two-and-a-half hour trip to Labor and Delivery to be monitored. This directly followed an exciting episode of me chasing my runaway child out INTO A PARKING LOT, then tripping and falling in said parking lot, causing some impressive bruising on both knees, one elbow and a painful case of road rash on one hand. Once they hooked me up to the monitors, they found that I was contracting every four to eight minutes. Luckily the contractions stopped on their own and yay, I’m still pregnant.
• Christmas Eve) Another trip to the hospital… but not for me this time. Two hours after we put Evan’s new big-boy dresser together and brought it upstairs, and before we had gotten around to strapping it to the wall, he opened all the drawers at the same time and it FELL OVER ON TOP OF HIM. He was trapped, and screaming, and I can say without a doubt in my mind that it was the single most terrifying moment in my life as a parent thus far. Miraculously, he escaped completely unharmed save for a bruise on his back. We took him to the ER to be safe and luckily he was OK. Please, please, please, for the love of all small children everywhere, PLEASE secure all furniture to the wall so that you do not have to go through this or worse. Because I literally cannot breathe when I think of what could have happened.
• (Christmas time) Mellow and uninteresting, and blissfully free of medical drama. Much peppermint bark was consumed.
• (Two days post-Christmas) Trip to Sea World. Enjoyed by all. Especially small child who was rather enamored of Shamu or “that black and white whale who makes all those bubbles” as he’s known around here now.
• (This past Sunday) Despite us having largely ignored the upcoming need for potty training, I was awoken by a small voice yelling “Mommy! I have to go to the bathroom!” I took him in to the potty and sure enough, there he went! Now, I’m not so naïve to think that he just up and decided to train himself one day, but since then we have had multiple successful potty visits. Score!

The only other thing I can tell you is that I am about a month out from D-Day. Um, yeah. I am so ready, and yet so NOT ready. Two children? At one time? I’m not so sure this was a good idea. But I can’t wait to meet her…

yet more proof that being pregnant turns you into a complete and total idiot

I know, I know… I ignore you for weeks on end and then I post twice in one day. What is up with that? You’ve just got to ride the wave when it comes, people.

Anyway, remember how pregnancy rendered me mentally unfit to operate the fax machine at my office a couple of months ago? Well, today my dizzying intellect appears to have progressed to a new and disturbing low. I went to Subway at lunch to pick up a sandwich. In the three minutes I was in there, I did the following:

• Searched my purse frantically for my keys, panicking that I had lost them or something, all the while not realizing I was actually CLUTCHING THEM IN MY LEFT HAND the whole time.
• Forgot where I had parked. I scanned the parking lot for a full 30 seconds before I found my car. Right where I had left it.

Did I mention that these two things happened within three minutes of my arrival? Hi.

Note to self: retract Mensa application.

looks like a pump, feels like a sneaker

So the other day I was in Macy’s doing some Christmas shopping. Like a moth to the flame, I was compelled to wander by the sale shoe racks. I was drawn to a particular pair of shoes. They were black, with a bit of a platform and a chunky high heel. I tried them on: were they cute? Check. Were they comfortable? Check. I looked at the inside of the shoe and couldn’t tell what brand they were – all I could see was a small lower case “e” printed on the footbed. I flipped the shoe over and saw the verdict:

They were Easy Spirits.

I recoiled in horror, but then wondered: is 34 the age when you are supposed to start wearing shoes like this? Was this final proof of my mom status? What’s next… NATURALIZER????

In the end, I got over it. I decided they would be cute with jeans and a black sweater so I went for it. I had made peace with my decision and then was thrown into a shame spiral once again when my husband saw the shoebox on our bed and said with a confused look on his face, “Did you buy a pair of Easy Spirits? Nice!”

So now I need you to decide. As demonstrated in the two photos above, I am wearing them to work today. Are these actually cute or am a) kidding myself, or b) possibly channeling 1996?

And whatever the answer, I think I’m OK with it. It’s like I’m wearing slippers! Honestly! Go out and buy a pair today!

you can’t stop him, you can only hope to contain him

This is what’s known in the industry as a “Christmas card photo shoot gone wrong.” On Thanksgiving we took about 8 million pictures like this one and in EVERY SINGLE ONE, either Evan is running away or someone is not looking at the camera or has a weird look on their face (and let’s face it, that person is usually me).

Once there are four of us, I’m sure we will be even less capable of taking group photographs.

pants emergency

Being pregnant is no picnic, let me tell you what. There are random aches and pains, it’s difficult to find a comfortable sleeping position, you’re constantly getting kicked in the innards, you have to choke down horse-sized vitamins and you are unable to enjoy a cocktail or glass of wine on Thanksgiving. But my chief complaint can be summed up as follows:

Ill-fitting pants.

Yes, that’s right. Ill-fitting pants, or IFPs, are by far the MOST annoying thing about being pregnant. Trust me, I’ve tried all the options. The demi panel, the low-rise, below-the-belly pants, the non-maternity pants in bigger sizes, the full panel with the giant pouch to accommodate the bowling ball that I’ve apparently swallowed. At this point, everything sags. It’s simple gravity. I hike up my IFPs all. the. time. When I get up from my chair. When I walk two steps. After I’ve grunted attractively trying to pick something up off the floor. The pants-hiking is driving me completely crazy. I’ve come to embrace the concept that the full panel style, however repugnant to me fashion-wise, is probably the most comfortable option right now because it resists the pull of gravity by anchoring above the belly instead of below. But it’s ugly! And it kind of bisects my abdomen in an annoying way!

Yesterday I got so fed up with all my uncomfortable pants that I declared a state of emergency. As soon as Evan went down for his nap, I headed out to the mall to see if I could find an alternative to wearing sweats to work.

Ladies and gentlemen, I located a life-changing pair of pants. They have what’s called a roll panel – so you can roll it down or wear it over the belly. But otherwise, they appear to the naked eye to be normal, reasonably stylish tan pants with a nice long boot-cut leg. And they are seriously comfortable. What up, The Gap? I love you, man. I mean, I hate you in normal times and had sworn off your pants for life, but maybe we can make a fresh start. I'm willing to give this one more shot if you are. Please take me back? Maybe we can just be friends right now until I've earned back your trust.

The long and short of it is that I may very well be sleeping in these bad boys tonight. And even if I don’t, my co-workers will be mighty sick of these in two months.

And that is what I am belatedly thankful for this holiday season.

at 32 months

His smile is infectious and his enthusiasm unbridled. He is independent and wants to do everything all by himself: climb in the car, peel bananas, turn on lights, close doors. His words take my breath away on a daily basis:

“You’re my best friend, Mommy,” he said the other day, completely unprompted.

He answers “Of course!” when I ask him for a small favor.

And the other day at the pool, we got into the hot tub for a few minutes and he announced “It’s an octagon!” I counted up the sides and sure enough, it was.

It blew my mind. I know every mother must say this, but I am constantly amazed by his intelligence.

He speaks in full sentences, knows every letter of the alphabet, has memorized page after page of the books we read him at night. His dad takes him to Starbucks early Saturday mornings, and when he hears them call “Grande Americano,” he says, “Daddy, your coffee’s ready!”

Everything he observes is a cause for celebration. Seeing a crab at the beach, or a bird flying overhead, or an airplane taking off – he can't contain his excitement. He literally insists on stopping to smell the flowers on our way out to the preschool parking lot. “Should we smell the flowers, Mommy?” he asks. I know the right answer.

I’ve said it before, but I really never used to be much of a kid person. I’m converted. I’m a “my kid” person. But now, I’d probably really like your kids too, now that my eyes have been opened.

I wanted to write this because I felt like my last few posts were whiny and filled with complaints about tantrums and typical toddler disagreeable behavior. I felt like I really needed to set the record straight and talk about the positives.

When I think about all the changes that the last 32 months have brought, I almost panic. I think oh no, it’s been close to three years. A few more of those chunks of time and he’ll be learning to drive and graduating from high school, not just eating with an adult-sized fork. That’s when I know he’s got it right.

Stopping to smell the sweet white flowers outside preschool is always the right thing to do.

real-life conversations with a two-year old

Below is an almost verbatim transcript of a few of the exchanges Evan and I enjoyed on the way to preschool today.

*******************
Him: “What time is it, Mommy?”

Me: “It’s 7:51.”

Him: “It’s NOT 7:51!”

*******************
Me: “Look, it’s really foggy outside today.”

Him: “No, it’s NOT really foggy outside.”

*******************
Him: “Can I hold my lunchbox?”

Me: “Sure. Just don’t unzip it please.”

(I instantly hear unzipping noises)

Me: “Please don’t open your lunch right now.”

Him: “I’m NOT opening my lunch!”

*******************

If I didn’t laugh about this? I WOULD CRY.

greetings from the land of smoke and fire

Unless you’ve been living under a rock, you know all of Southern California is aflame. Everyone in my family has been affected somehow – from preparing to evacuate their homes to needing to evacuate their homes to having school/work/everything cancelled all week long. Everyone is fine at this point, but it’s crazy. And the air! The thick, orange-gray smoky air… breathing it is a chore. Every morning I walk outside to my car and it’s covered with a layer of white ash.

A couple of days ago, I came to the realization that the costume we had picked out for Evan over a month ago – a firefighter – now seemed in poor taste. So yesterday I went over to Party City and bought a substitute. I didn’t want people thinking we were somehow making light of the situation. Now he’s going to be James, Thomas’ the Tank Engine’s vain red friend. What could be more harmless? It’s kind of a silly costume, but he seems into it.

In other news, my placenta and I don’t seem to be getting along very well. Now how’s THAT for a segue? Come to think of it, my placenta and I have never been BFFs. Last time, I had a retained placenta that took an act of God, a lot of tugging and a sharp instrument to remove. This time, I have a marginal placenta previa that we are hoping will resolve itself within the next four weeks (according to my doctor, it should). But in the meantime, my evil placenta is um, causing some symptoms that I, um, find unpleasant, resulting in me consulting multiple nurses and doctors both on the phone and in person several times since last Friday. I’m sure everything will be fine, but maybe just send some positive placental vibrations my way, would you?

My placenta and I will update you soon. Stay safe, and don’t breathe that smoky air.

I think I can, I think I can

What is the deal with this week? It is quite possibly the longest work week EVER. Maybe because I have been dragging myself through it in a feverish haze of coughing and hacking, spreading love, joy peace and bacteria to everyone in my office. (They love me, really they do.)

Being sick is no fun, but being sick when you are pregnant is even less fun because all the good drugs are off-limits. The books say things like “get plenty of rest” and “gargle with hot salt water,” and let me tell you: not going to happen. What I really need is a double dose of Nyquil and the ability to sleep past 6:30 a.m. without hearing a little piping voice that says “Mommy, please come get me!” in escalating whiny volume until I have no choice but to stumble out of my bed and comply.

There I go complaining again. It’s a wonder you people put up with me. Well, here’s something: I’m happy that today is Friday, that despite my ongoing plague that I seem to be having a good hair day, and that I think I just saw a Krispy Kreme box walk by my office. Oh, and I am also grateful for your understanding responses to my last post. It's good to hear that perhaps I am not a raving lunatic mother after all. Well, not most of the time anyway.

Gotta go find those doughnuts! Have a great weekend.

patience

I’m sorry to keep harping on the tantrum thing. Of late it’s become somewhat of a pattern: he wants to keep doing what he’s doing; he insists on doing everything “all by myself”; I tell him it’s time to do X and he decides he’d rather do Y.

Before these tantrums started in earnest (say, three or four months ago), I had nearly broken my arm patting myself on the back for having the patience of a saint with my toddler. Me, a notoriously impatient person! I could handle this mothering-a-two-year-old thing with aplomb, without losing my cool. As all the books and experts tell you to do, I would give him a choice of two things, he would choose one and we moved on. To my surprise, this technique worked for a long time.

But the game has changed. On Tuesday, he will officially be two and a half years old. He’s smart. He’s fiercely independent. And he knows how to push my buttons mercilessly. He’s got my number, all right, and the patience I thought I had seems to have evaporated overnight. The other day I lost my temper with him and yelled and swatted at him in the car. Shaking and near tears, I apologized, hoping that the tantrum I'd just thrown in response to his hadn’t scared him or lost his trust.

A good friend of mine says it’s good sometimes for them to see that we have limits too. I don’t know. I’m not sure what it is about having a child, but everything you thought you wouldn’t tolerate, everything you thought your child would never do, comes back to you in spades. It’s a lesson in control for both of us. Sometimes I can’t control the situation, or his behavior, and it scares me. Sometimes he can’t control the situation and he lashes out, angry and frustrated, wanting to do something by himself or on his timetable, and I can’t let him.

There’s where I can see common ground. It’s just being human. We like to know what’s happening to us, to be aware and in control and if that is taken away from us it’s frightening. When I step back, I recognize and understand how he feels. And it always passes.

This morning we were again at an impasse. It was time to leave for preschool and he wanted to play in the house with his trains. I could see him start to get upset and knew what was coming. Sure enough, two minutes passed and we were in full tantrum mode. This time I did keep my cool, but still had to force him into his car seat. Once we were on the road this time, I only had to endure a couple of minutes of yelling until he stopped and asked me quietly “Mommy, did you lose your temper?”

I said “No, honey, but you lost yours.” He sniffled and said haltingly “I’m sorry Mommy.” Then he asked “do you love me?”

That was the sound of my heart shattering into a thousand tiny pieces. The fact that my baby could formulate a question like that blew my mind. He is full of questions these days: what is that? Why did you say that? Please can I have this? Many times, he already knows the answer before he asks. I told him, over and over again, that I loved him, praying that this was one of those times.