Baby Letter 2

Dear Baby,

My deepest apologies for my lack of letter writing.  This pregnancy, it turns out, could not be more different from my last one. Not because things are progressing any differently, really. Just because I am far more busy, and therefore more tired and distracted than I was for the first go-round.  Forgive me. I do believe your plight is very similar to many not-first children.  

Still, it's all been very fun.  People (your parents included) are, apparently, really excited that you are a girl baby.  We've been inundated already with scads of adorable clothes and I have your nursery in full-swing. I'm doing my best to avoid the usual over-kill of pink but it does seem to be happening anyway.  Even I, it seems, am succumbing to girl culture in a way I never anticipated I would.  But that is what parenting is all about.  You urchins are excellent at taking everything your parents think about themselves and the world and turning it on its proverbial ear.

Speaking of ears, yours appear to be developing perfectly, along with the rest of you.  I skipped a lot of the big prenatal testing I did with your brother, this time trusting nature to do what it does.  So far, so good.  Nice job, Baby!

We have selected a name for you: Lillian Kate.  This was a harder proposition than one would think it should be.  We wanted to outfit you with a solid name that will grow with you, but still be sweet, feminine, and pretty.  Your cousin Kate is delighted to share her name with you as well, and we are very fond of the final product. We surely hope you will be too.

This week, the internet tells me you are the size of a head of cauliflower and you weigh two pounds. I find it constantly amazing that I can be THIS HUGE and all you weigh is two itty bitty pounds.  I think I was almost this big when we delivered your brother, and I shudder to think what I will look like (and feel like) come mid-January.  Baby, you're worth it.  Your dad is ready for you to be here so he can stop waiting on me.  Stairs are no longer my friend, and I am relying heavily on the kindness of your father for my nightly ice cream and laundry-schlepping needs.

In pregnancy good news, I do not have the dreaded gestational diabetes like I did with your brother, so YAY BABY! You are very good at this and I so appreciate it.  You are a good little muffin and I'm so happy to continue to have my nightly sweets since I can't share a cocktail with your father like we used to after bedtime for Johnny.

It's going to be Halloween in a few days, and your dad and I struggled to come up with something we could be that would accommodate a big pregnant lady.  What we came up with will one day make absolutely NO SENSE to you as it is based on a fairly recent feature film that will have fallen into oblivion by the time you are lucid.  Still, your dad looks sufficiently awesome in the short shorts the costume requires and that is all that matters.

Bless your pea pickin' heart. We cannot wait to meet you.  Your brother is just as excited as we are and is telling everyone he meets that he is getting "a Lily" of his very own.

All of our love and kisses,

Mommy 

Johnny letter, #18

Dear Johnny,

You are growing up too fast.  Stop that.

You turned three just over a week ago, and since then you've been doing long division and talking to me about the means of production and whether or not to raise the debt ceiling.

The third birthday was epic, between the Johnny Cash Birthday Bash you shared with your buddy Cash (get it? Johnny? Cash?  Johnny Cash Bash?) and the Thomas party you invited all of your grandparents to.  Kid, you know how to rock a birthday.   You started asking me about Thomas cakes six months before that party.  I was so nervous about giving you JUST WHAT YOU WANTED that I broke my own cardinal rule and had the cake store-made.  And no prefab Dillon's sheet cake job, either.  No, I had Muncher's Bakery do a layer cake with Thomas's face plastered atop it, because that is the picture you kept pointing to when we'd pour over the cake choices online.  Yes, that was the entertainment in this house for the past several months. Checking out Thomas cake options online was a nightly event.  No way was I going to attempt my own cake wreck skillz on this thing.  I had to go pro.

You also very much enjoy watching your own baby videos on my computer these days.  I think this is excellent preparation for your upcoming stint as Big Brother to Baby Sister.  See baby? See how cute and fun?  We LOVE the baby.  (Please don't suffocate the baby!)

I got a new job a few months ago, and it turns out my new job is in the same place where you go to school!  That turned out pretty neat.  I love to go in an visit you occasionally during the day, and check you out while you're sleeping, and peek at you through the window in the door to see if you are being a good boy and if you play with the other kids or if you are a loner.  You seem to be doing swimmingly at school, and you even have your first bona-fide best friend. His name, like the buddy you shared your birthday party with, is Cash, so we affectionately call him New Money around the house, and our tried and true Cash is Old Money.  Son, you are wealthy in friends, that is for sure.

Thomas the Tank Engine is still your first love, but you recently discovered Buzz Lightyear (or, BuzzBuzz to you), and your fickle attentions have been diverted, at least for the short term, to Toy Story.  It's all Toy Story, all day.  That, and SUP-er HERO!  Your aunt Debi bought you a t shirt sporting Mickey Mouse in a cape, and it has it's own real live cape velcroed to the shoulders.  You ask me every morning to wear your super hero shirt, but I am trying to limit it to once a week, in fairness to all the other shirts.

We said goodbye this week to your "nursery" as it is in prep for the new baby, and you have moved to your big boy bedroom with the new red blanket and it nearly breaks my heart every time I see your small self sleeping soundly in that big bed.  Yesterday you were sleeping in a bassinet.  Today, you have a comforter and a nightlight.  Yes, you're suddenly a little bit afraid of the dark.  And of cars.  And clowns, and flies, and the moon, and anyone who can roll their tongues.  Developmentally, you're right on track, but seriously, could we keep the fears to only one or two?  You reassure yourself constantly.  "The fly will not get me."  And then you demand that I reinforce it.  "SAY IT, MOMMY!"  "The fly will not get you, Johnny."  Only two hundred times a day.  What time of year to the flies disappear?  I want to mark the day on my calendar.

I know I say it every time, but you get cuter and sweeter every day.  I shed a tear every night when we do our night night routine and you in your little voice say "I lub you too.  See you in the mornin."

You're killing me, Smalls.

We love you more than cotton candy and rainbows and kittens all collected in a box made of smiles.  You are, without a doubt, my heart's delight.

All of me,
Mommy

Baby 2, Letter 1

Dear Baby,

You are 15 weeks "old" at this point.  I've felt good so far, all things considered.  I mean, considering I started a challenging new job when you had only been in there for 8 weeks, and considering that your brother Johnny is all 3 year old boy and is therefore actively attempting to destroy our home.

Speaking of  Johnny, on his birthday, August 31, we will go have a fancy sonogram to learn what you are. I  mean, we know you are a baby and not a puppy, but we don't know if you are a girl or a boy and frankly, your mother is a control freak and I cannot adequately obsess over this pregnancy and planning for your arrival if I do not know if you are a girl child or a boy one.

Which leads me to my next issue: names.  We have been discussing names ad nauseum, and your daddy and I are having a hard time settling on anything.  I have my favorites for girl and boy and he has his, and never the twain shall meet.  I'm hoping that finding out once and for all if you have girl parts or boy ones will help us narrow the discussion and finally put it all to rest.  Just rest assured, Baby, that you will not end up with a name like Truxton or Diesel or Applyn.  We  love you far too much already to saddle you with such nonsense.  However, it has been tempting to assign you the name "Sue" whether you are a boy or a girl, for we love Johnny Cash that much.


I can't wait for that stinking sonogram.  With Johnny, we got to see him often and early, and knew he was a boy before the 15 week mark, because I obsessively submitted to all manner of genetic testing because I am so very old to be having children.  But it was a very un-fun process and ultimately resulted in no very useful information, so with you, we're just throwing caution to the wind.  You, Baby, are healthy and perfect, no matter what is going on in there, and I have no desire to go testing and prodding you before it's necessary.  Hence, no early sonograms and no early gender detection this time.  Bummer, that.

We love you with all our hearts and can't wait to meet you.  It seems like an eternity until January 22, but really it's only six months away.  Not that much time, considering we have to not only prepare your room but also prepare our minds for being "those" people - the ones who schlep not one but TWO kids and all their infernal gear with us everywhere we go.

Please don't weigh a lot.

All our love,
Mommy

Critical Mass

On the weekends, when we're not running amok away from the house, I always put Johnny in underpants and try, try again to get him potty trained.

The boy does. not. care.  He has absolutely no clue how to control his bladder, nor does he care.  He doesn't care if he sits around in sopping wet underwear that is seeping up onto his shirt, and he doesn't mind if he wets all over my furniture.  If he had the motor skills to hold up his middle finger while he peed all over my upholstery, two minutes after I just took him to the potty in the twenty-seventh fruitless trip of the day, I'm confident he would.

In my head, I thought he'd be potty trained on or near his second birthday.  The third one fast approacheth.  I have six months until the second baby is here and DAMNED if I am having two in diapers.  I'm not sure what he has to be promised in order to get this done, but I'm just saying, a Porsche Boxter is not off the table.

On my last day

I can't really say that, until this job, I've had a job in my adult life that I liked.

I mean, I've had some jobs that were good in some ways, but never where I felt like I fit in, or was appreciated, or didn't have butterflies in my stomach half the time.  Much of that was my own fault; I was too  preoccupied with the non-work parts of my life to focus well on my job, or I was too immature to play the game properly.

But at LMH, that all fell away.  Even though the job was certainly not taking advantage of my education or my special skill set, I felt happy.  I didn't dread going to work.  I adored my co workers and appreciated my bosses.  I grew in my role and when it got dull I took on new projects and was able spread my wings a little. I enjoyed learning about healthcare, a field about which I knew absolutely zero when I began there, as a temp, in 2008.  I liked talking construction and having a staff of mostly men.  They're easy to work with and generally agreeable and straight in their talk.

And so, today, I go to my favorite job I've ever had for the very last time, and I carry the last of my belongings out to my car with me when I leave.  It's time for me to move on, use my degrees, skills, and special talents.  It's time for me to set my career back on track and take on a more challenging and advanced role.  But it's not without sadness that I do so.  How lucky I have been to know the people that care for the sick in our community.  How enriching it has been to learn the seriousness with which they handle their tasts, and the love they have for each patient.  How fun it has been to laugh daily with all the people in my "basement family."

I have grown as an employee and a person.  I'm ready.  And I'm grateful for the last four years and the confidence they've given me.  No way would I be ready for this new job if it weren't for this little "career interlude" I've enjoyed.

#crazytalk with Megan Stuke

I'm now painfully aware that my days as a mom of just one child are numbered.  I mean, I can count them.

It's a weird feeling, because for so long we thought we'd only have the one.  I spent a lot of time focusing on the fact that I'd only get to have a first birthday party once, I'd only have a two year old who likes to hold my hand once, I'd only get to watch someone learn to talk once.  I was trying so hard to soak up every minute with Johnny, because his life, for me, was a bunch of firsts and lasts at the same time.

So now, here we are, getting ready to do it all again.  And you would think that would alleviate some of my "this is the only time" anxiety, right?  Because all that stuff? I get to do it again.  And I am delighted that I get to do it again, and thrilled to see how it is the same or different with kid #2 from kid #1.

But at the same time, it's brought another whole level of anxiety to the playing field.  And it's not the kind of anxiety you might think; it's not the OMFG HOW WILL I COPE WITH TWO AND WORK AS MUCH AS I DO logistical kind of anxiety, though trust me, there's some of that going on.  No, it's more of a "Will I get to cuddle with Johnny as much," "What if I can't hold Johnny's hand anymore," "Will Johnny never get to sleep with me again," kind of thing.

I'm not so concerned that Johnny will hate the new baby.  If he does, he does.  That is part of being a sibling.  And I'm not worried that he'll feel less loved or he won't get as much attention from us - I know he will get plenty.  No, it's ME I'm worried about.  I'm worried that Johnny's daddy will get to sort of take over with Johnny while I nurse and parent an infant in the way that moms tend to be best at in those very early months. And I'm worried I'll be jealous.

It's so irrational, I can't even believe I'm admitting it.

So for now, I'm staring at my toddler.  I'm soaking him in, begging him to sit by me in the chair, stealing extra hugs and kisses, letting him have an extra piece of cake, and caving when he wants extra books or songs at night.  Basically, I'm spoiling my kid so he will be EXTRA NIGHTMARISH when the baby comes.  Mom of the year.

So typical. I want him to LOVE ME and NEED ME so he doesn't forget me when the new baby arrives.  I mean, who is the grown up here??

But there.  I admitted it.  What were your "second child" irrationalities?  I'm curious.  Tell me I'm not alone.

8 weeks

• I'm 8 weeks pregnant and the baby is the size of a kidney bean.  

• I'm not nauseous, though I was a tiny bit last week.  I feel healthy and invigorated, until about 8:15 every evening, when the switch flips and it's pretty much game over.  I need to change it because I'm waking up at 5:00 every morning with Todd, and that's just not okay.

• I happily bought some low fat fro-yo the other day and am enjoying a few treats that I haven't afforded myself in recent months.  I'm trying to force myself to add a little dairy to my diet and eat a few more calories than I was before, but in general, I'm carrying on my normal (well, "new normal") eating routine, which now seems so regular I don't know how to do it any other way.  And THAT, my friends, is what Weight Watchers is all about.  A healthy LIFESTYLE CHANGE.  Boy, I'm the stinking poster child, aren't I?

• I think I've decided against any genetic testing this time around.  It was just too stressful and painful last time.  Here goes nothing.

• Compulsive much? I have a whole plan for what to do about kid rooms already.  Just waiting on the sex of the baby to finalize decor.  Yep, I have it all planned in my head for girl or boy, and all of it is cute and el-cheapo.  Yes.  Compulsive.

• I feel like I have a lot of time on my hands these days.  I'm not sure if it's the long summer days or the lack of parties or what, but our house is slowly being cleaned and reorganized.  Yesterday I actually went to Hobby Lobby and bought stuff for a playroom craft and this past weekend I cleaned the playroom and hung new curtains.  Who is this girl and what have you done with Megan?