I'm pregnant. I'm very, very pregnant. Also, I'm sometimes a doggie.

I've gained about twenty pounds already during this pregnancy. The odd thing is,  I don't even really think about it or notice it until I'm bumping into things with my (giant) ass. When you have really rapid weight gain, it's like your body spatial awareness doesn't really keep up, and you forget how much room of your surroundings you take up. That's why you keep getting slammed by your toddler when you push him on the swing, or why things seem to get knocked over every time you walk past them. Or maybe it's just me.

I'm also at that point in my pregnancy where my back is like, "See ya later! It's been fun!" It hung in there for a while, but now it's not messing around anymore. It hurts, all the time. The worst part is, being a productive person exacerbates it. Want to do a sink full of dishes? You will pay for that. And just TRY bending over to scrub the toilet. At this point in my last pregnancy,  I just about gave up on life.  I stopped doing everything. (This is the part where my husband earns the Nobel Prize for cleaning up after my sorry self with a smile on his face). I'm determined not to go there this pregnancy, and I might not really have a choice, considering this time around, I have a little miniature person following me, needing me to do stuff all the time. What's up with that?

So our Netflix broke the other week, and I'm really not that sad about it. It's actually been pretty nice. I will admit, I was using it as a bit of a crutch with Collin. A way for him to be occupied and let me get something done around the house. Well, the house has been a little messier lately, but I'm embracing that, because Collin has been watching next to no TV, and we're all doing better for it. Collin spends more time being imaginative and helping me around the house ("Helping" being a relative term, but he seems very pleased with himself when he has a job to do). There have been more moments for us to laugh together during the day. More time to play. This morning, he requested that I sing Christmas carols, only I have to bark the carols because I'm actually  a doggie and he is a "Dancing guy." (Think of the battery operated holiday novelty toys you see at drug stores this time of year that play music and dance around). So, I barked and Collin flailed about, and every now and then his batteries would die and need to be replaced with my doggie paws. We were a sight to behold, I'm sure. There have been lots of moments like that around here, lately, and that's why I am not worried about when Netflix will be fixed.

Babies and Thanksgivukuh and... I should really be sleeping.

It's hard to believe our second child will be here in three months. Three months feels like a really short amount of time, and also, a really long amount of time.  I guess it depends on how I'm feeling during the moment I think about it.

Lately, Collin and I have taken to cuddling, almost like we feel this time together closing in on us. Something really big is going to happen, and change all our lives, and it will be for the better and we will be happier for it, but change is still change. It's different. Collin and I cuddle up under the blankets together in this extreme version of cuddling, where we're cheek-to-cheek and practically melting together to form one person.  I lay next to him at nap time and he falls asleep with his lips on my cheek, and I think, this is love. And then I feel so happy and complete, it's like if I never accomplished anything else in my life,  I would still die feeling like I'd succeeded.

In other, less emotional news, I'm really gearing up for Thanksgivukuh. If you don't know, Thanksgivukuh is the result of Thanksgiving and Chanukah falling on the same day, which won't happen again for another 70,000 years. Now, by 'gearing up, ' I should specify that what I really mean is eyeing it warily from the corner as I wrap my head around all the cooking and cleaning I will have to do. I kind of take Thanksgiving really seriously, in that for one day a year, I morph into this Top Chef version of myself. Every year,  I embark on this unstoppable quest to make the perfect Thanksgiving feast. FEAST being the key word. Even if it's just dinner for two,  I will not stop until there is enough food for twelve.  I don't know why I do this. Since I've become a mom, and thus exhausted all the time no matter how much sleep I get or coffee I consume, Thanksgiving has changed a little for me. Like everything else in my life, my standards for Thanksgiving dinner have significantly lowered. Good enough is good enough, and it doesn't have to be perfect. It can even be a little over done and burnt around the edges. And now I just feel the slightest bit overwhelmed when I think about preparing a big dinner, though that won't stop the Thanksgiving mania once the big day approaches. Especially now that Chanukah is involved.

My biggest challenge this year will not be mustering the energy to cook a huge feast and make the house look like a livable place instead of an episode of Hoarders. My biggest challenge will be finding ways to include Collin in the kitchen without losing my sh*t the moment he sends a cloud of flour in the air. I love cooking with Collin, I really do, and he is such an enthusiastic little chef. However,  I can get a little weird and controlling about silly things like Thanksgiving dinner. I suppose, if he ruins a dish with his toddlerhood  over-enthusiasm, I can always just smile and say, "Collin helped make it! " and all will be understood. 

Late night musings.

It's one of those nights where it's so quiet,  I can hear the ocean from bed. Collin is asleep in his monkey suit, with his top half on my bed and his bottom half on his bed. This is not an unusual sleeping arrangement for him.  I told him to sleep in his own bed, but he inched over to mine, and with the cold he's fighting,  I decided to let it slide. There is always wiggle room, especially when a rotten stuffy nose is involved. Today, Collin woke from his nap, rubbed furiously at his eyes, and sighed, "I'm just so, so sick."

Halloween was the happiest night of our lives. Collin was absolutely ecstatic, we trick-or-treated as a skeleton family. We all held hands, a chain of bones.  I felt like a kid again. I wanted to talk to my brother, who used to live the thrill of trick-or-treating with me every year of my childhood. One day soon, Collin will have a sister to live the magic of Halloween with. It's so weird that I'm going to have two children. That notion has been particularly stuck on me today. We're going to have two children. I'm so happy about it, this is what I've always wanted. A family. A happy family. A family, with two parents who love each other. I feel like that is one of the greatest gifts I can give my children, coming from a family of divorce, myself. Don't get me wrong, divorce was probably the best thing that could have happened to my parents. But, when it's all said and done,  I feel so grateful for the love that I have. I feel so grateful that my husband is my soul mate, my children will never know the pain of watching us fight and hate each other. They will never feel like they need to pick their loyalties. I may be over-sharing, here.

My daughter is still safely tucked away in my womb, but I feel her presence all day long. I'm communicating with her.  She reminds me of her existence with her squirms and kicks. My belly is growing bigger and bigger, and I marvel at it all.  I think about what this felt like the first time around, with Collin. It's the same, but different. I'm different. My circumstances are different. Everything is different. 

Little baby, big baby

9/13/13 Note: This was a post that I had written around Easter time that got lost in the recesses of the Draft section.




The Easter Bunny was good to Collin this year, in that he brought him his first excuse to PIMP  the jacket that makes him look like my grandpa Morton from The Old Country. In a good way.
It was the first piece of clothing, amongst a pile of "First  Clothing", that we got at a yard sale on a Saturday morning when we first found out we were pregnant. I had just finished working a night shift, and we had no intentions of garage sale shopping, but there it was on the side of the road. We suddenly found ourselves descending upon it like a Lion on the slow buffalo at the watering hole. Without saying, we both knew exactly what we were looking for: baby stuff. Any kind of baby stuff. And boy, did we find it (those people had twins!).
We had no idea what the sex of the baby was (which was irrelevent,  because we never ended up finding out for the whole duration of the pregnancy), but we knew that that child of ours, girl or boy, was going to own that jacket. And then we looked at each other and we suddenly knew, for the first time, that we were going to be parents. Real parents. But most of all, we knew we were going to love it, and we were going to have an awesome kid, a kid we were going to be proud of and find joy in.
I think it was then that I hit a new phase of my life. Motherhood. The shock of the positive pregnancy test wore off, and I was plunged into new waters, a place I had been yearning for for so long. Suddenly, nothing was more  important to me than that little life I was chosen to bear, to sustain, to nurture. I made it my life's work.
But back to the Easter Bunny, who was also good to Collin in that he brought Collin his alligator family. The alligator family started out as one rubbery lizard, followed by a package of cheap, plastic lizards, that became babies. So the big lizard became the daddy. Oh, and they're all alligators. Or, "Ayegaygahs."
I'm always finding Papa "Ayegaygah" lounging around in the weirdest positions, so of course I've developed the odd habit of photographing him.
I don't know why.

Update 9/13/13: Daddy Ayegaygah is now just Daddy Lizard. The original Daddy Lizard disappeared one day, and Collin never stopped searching for him. For a while, we were reading The Velveteen Rabbit, and I tried to use the Nursery Fairy idea from the story. "Oh, perhaps the Nursery Fairy has taken Daddy Lizard to the redwoods to be a Real lizard, just like the Velveteen Rabbit." Collin would just look at me blankly. Not buying it, mom.

Thankfully, we happened to find a brand new Daddy Lizard at Rite Aid. Collin was SO excited to "Find" him. But what's with that extra white paint on his mouth? Daddy Lizard didn't have that before he got lost. Must have been eating too much vanilla ice cream at Rite Aid.

Pregnancy: Version 2.0

It's been eighteen weeks since I went to the doctor's office for a pre-surgery appointment, only to find out there would be no surgery for me anytime in the near future. I was pregnant.

This is a picture of us, taken by my doctor, moments after we found out. Collin is holding my positive pregnancy test in a sample cup. We are elated, and stunned. Or, if you're Collin, very confused, but happy that everyone else is happy.

So funny that my last blog post was about feeling ready to be pregnant. So much has happened between that post, and this one. Shortly after I wrote my last post, I was hospitalized for a ruptured ovarian cyst, and began a long medical drama that I thought would never end. The pain from the cyst never stopped. I was bounced from one doctor to another, in almost constant, unbearable pain. Finally, my regular OB returned to work from her maternity leave, immediately pinpointed what was likely the key issue (Endometriosis), and implemented a plan to fix it (minor lacroscopic surgery). God bless her. Only, I had to throw a wrench in her plans, and get pregnant. The funny thing is, by that point, after being out of commission for so long, both Husband and I were beginning to wonder if we were really ready for a second baby. Add financial stress to the mix, and we were REALLY wondering. Ironically enough, I was prepared to ask my doctor about putting in an IUD during surgery, something I never thought I was willing to do.

As for the pain, it's gone now. Thank you, pregnancy hormones! The natural progesterone in pregnancy is an endometriosis pain killer.

So now, there's going to be four of us. I'm almost halfway through the pregnancy already, which feels surreal. This whole scenario feels surreal. Collin is such a big part of our lives right now, and has been since the moment I found out I was pregnant with him, that it's hard to factor in a new baby. I routinely forget I'm pregnant, until I feel a little reminder kick. It's so different from my first pregnancy, where I was SO aware of the baby, that there was no room for anything else in my life. Baby was all I could think about. I had wanted to be a mother for so long. I always figured I would be married three to five years before having kids, but it never worked out that way. I was married and pregnant in the same year. I was happy to have Husband in my life, but there was something missing, a piece to the puzzle that felt like a gaping hole. We wanted a baby so badly. We needed a baby. When Collin came along, we were complete. Almost complete. We still knew we wanted more children, but didn't know how or when. We had our ideal timing (which, accidentally, happened to be the way it worked out) and felt the baby fever kicking in again. We started trying, but I wasn't conceiving, and then the whole endometriosis circus came to town, and I was beginning to wonder if it could be causing infertility. I had a lot of questions, and I was coming up confused, and empty.

I'm not worried at all about the baby. I've been there, I've done that, I know what I'm doing. I'm not worried at all about the birth. The baby is going to come out any way it comes out. I'm going to be receiving great medical care, and doula support this time. And believe me, Collin was a giant newborn- he has paved the way. In my mind, there is a high likelihood of this birth being a lot smoother than my first. I'm not really worried about much, to be honest, save for Collin's reaction to the baby. Thankfully, he LOVES babies. I mean, he loves them more than any other two-year-old boy I have ever seen. He seeks them out and talks to them and kisses them. He has been so fascinated by this whole process, and regularly talks to the baby in my belly. I'm not delusional enough to think he'll welcome a newborn into our lives without a glitch, but I do have much confidence in him. He's going to make a great big brother.

I have mixed reactions when I think about the new baby. On one hand, it will be great, and I know this. It will be so great. I will have another little person to fall in love with, and I'm amazed. On the other hand, I know exactly what I'm getting into. I know I won't sleep again for another two years. I know I will have moments where I feel overwhelmed. I know my house is going to lose all sense of order and baby chaos will descend upon us. This time, without the luxury of a dish washer OR access to laundry machines. But, I am looking forward to having a little more space this time around, as opposed to the first time we brought home a baby to our studio apartment. It will be nice to have a little breathing room. We're in a one-bedroom now, which still means we all still sleep together in a big pile, but at least it's a very spacious one bedroom. And as for the sleeping arrangements (We've been getting a lot of questions about that), we would all sleep in a pile even if we lived in a five bedroom house. We are in love with co-sleeping. It has NOT always been easy, but it has bonded us as a family in ways I can't even describe. I can't wait to do it again (even though I know it will mean nursing all night, and occasionally waking up covered in pee from a diaper explosion).

Collin is such a big boy now, it kind of makes sense to be having another baby. Babyhood is something I feel like I know like the back of my hand. I was so engrossed in Collin's babyhood, that I almost feel out of place without a baby in my arms. Does that make sense? I suppose it's because I came alive when Collin was born. I found my calling. Motherhood is the only thing in my life that has felt so instinctual and made so much sense, even when it was really difficult. And it was, don't get me wrong. There were many moments where I felt like the most inadequate mom in the world. But, at the end of the day, I knew I was exactly where I needed to be. Collin is getting so big, so fast. I can hardly keep up. Thankfully, he makes a great two-year-old. I'm not saying he doesn't have moments where he's on the floor screaming because his banana broke. And let's not forget the boundless energy that makes him zip around the house like a wind-up toy. But he's always had such a knack for making me laugh, and I feel like it's only gotten better as he gets older. The way the first thing he says when he sits up in bed every morning is, "I need coffee." The way he loves to be wrapped up in a towel like a burrito and asks me to pretend to be his mommy burrito. It's the little things that keep me smiling all day. Even though he is a big boy now, he's still so little and innocent. He is still so optimistic about the world and everyone around him. I treasure the way he is right now. I know strawberries won't be pronounced "Sawbooies" and blueberries won't be pronounced "Boobooies" forever, and that makes me nostalgic and a little sad. But then, I remember I get to do it all over again with the coming baby, and I feel relieved, with a healthy dose of "Oh my god. All. Over. Again."

I mean, it did take us two years to get this far, and in that way, I kind of can't believe we're going to start from square one again. A newborn. Up all night. Pooping yellow mustard poops. Crying whenever we put it down. Oh my god.

There will be big, big changes coming up for our little family in the next year. Not just talking about a brand new life entering the world, which is plenty big enough. I'm trying to remain optimistic about everything, and remain an open book waiting to be written. I am remaining in a space of acceptance and calm. At least, for now. We'll see where this next year takes us!

Sleep, and Sleepability.

Collin is almost two, so why has that suddenly opened up sleep anxiety for me? Surely, by now, I must be used to the bed sharing, breastfeeding-all-night version of sleep.

And yes, I am. And I keep it up not just for Collin's enjoyment, but for the sheer fact that I love his little body next to mine at night. I love the warmth of his feet against my belly, and the sound of his little snores. Are you with me, here, fellow parents? Is there nothing sweeter than your child in the throws of sleep?

I suppose my renewed interest in getting Collin to sleep would be because we hope to have another baby on the way, another little creature to keep my belly warm with their feet. Another little heartbeat to feel through a onesie, another little person to nurture, and nurse, and adore. I feel like we're ready to expand as a family, ready to love, and love, and love.

So, that takes us to Collin and Sleep. Sleep. God, how I labored over that word for about a year and a half, until something finally changed for me. It wasn't by doing the normal parent things I hear my friends talking about, such as, transitioning the baby to his own space, or weaning (Although I suspect our flirtation with night weaning had something to do with it). It wasn't Collin, or at least not solely Collin. I think what changed for me, was me. I have been embracing divine motherhood, looking hard at myself as a mother, as a person, as a guide for Collin in this life, on this earth. Taking in the enormity of my truth, that Collin chose us to be his parents, me to be his mother. It was when I finally stopped thinking my job as his mother was to mold or shape him to be the person I thought he should be, and began to understand that Collin has his own shape, his own place in this world, and it is perfect just the way it is. He's loud. He plays rough. There is always something crusted on his shirt, and anything he is set infront of to eat always ends up on the floor or in his water cup. I don't try to change that about him anymore. Now, it makes me laugh and love him all over again. In fact, I've felt lately like I've finally gotten the hang of this motherhood thing, I finally feel one-step ahead of it, like I can actually handle a parenting situation I've never been in before. So why, then, did I fail so badly today?

Collin woke to nurse mid-nap, as usual. To be honest, I didn't know what would happen if I didn't nurse him back to sleep, because I've always valued A Good Nap too much to find out (Wouldn't any parent?). I always assumed it would involve lots of crying and being awake and angry about it for the rest of the evening. I was right, and I was wrong. Collin did go back to sleep today after he woke up and I, for the first time, refused to nurse him. However, I was right about the crying, only it was way worse than anything I could have imagined. It went on for about an hour, and involved lots of flailing and screaming and almost vomiting from the sheer exertion of it all. Collin has never vomited before (except the time he vomited on me when he put his Buddha figurine too far in his mouth- "Oh, honey!" I cried. "Oh, Buddha!" Collin answered).  Definitely not from screaming, he's not really a screamer by nature. In fact, I could hardly remember a time when I had seen Collin this upset. Somehow, I stayed strong, no matter how many times I told myself, "OK, I don't care anymore. This isn't worth it. I'll nurse him as soon as he catches his breath." 

Only he would catch his breath, and instead of giving him a boob, I would just take a breath, myself, and continue to pat his back and Shhh.

Then it was over, and he actually fell asleep without nursing, for the first time ever, and I almost cried with relief. It had turned into a power struggle, something I hate and avoid at all costs.


I wish I could say that when Collin woke up, everything was back to normal. I wish I could say that he woke up smiling and talking about fruit and things that go 'beep', like he usually does. Instead, he slept fitfully, and woke up screaming. For the rest of the day, things were a little weird for us, and it was the first time I'd ever experienced anything like it. We spent the rest of the day holding each other and not talking at all about the terrible hour we'd spent battling wills. I realized, I was repeating an old family tradition of mine, one that goes a little something like, "if you don't talk about it,  it's like it never happened. "

 So, I picked myself up off the floor of my Self-imposed Bad Motherhood Moment, brushed myself off, and gave my child a kiss. I gave myself one, too, because you can't move on unless you show yourself compassion.  Then we talked about it, a little. And I I decided there must be a better way to get through a nap. Any suggestions? In the meantime, I'm feeling grateful for what I have, for the big spirit in a small package that is Collin, whom I am helping in this world. I am loving every minute of being a family of three, because things will change, I know this. Our family will expand, when the time is right. For now, I will love motherhood as I know it now, in good moments, and bad.

My crazy family

Last night, we ate at a restaurant.

There's always a point these days, shortly after arriving and being seated, when the two seconds of restaurant crayon novelty have worn off, and Collin is climbing all over everybody and pounding his spoon on the table, and I'm wondering, "Whose idea was this, again?"

The answer is usually: Mine.

We've made a habit of leaving a healthy tip after a meal, because, as most parents of busy toddlers can attest, the mess is catastrophic. We're talking the rice ground into the carpet, tables sticky with drinks that have been dumped repeatedly, and broccoli that lands on the other side of the restaurant variety.  Usually, I'm so engrossed in keeping Collin from singlehandedly destroying every other person's dining experience, that I kind of go into this "restaurant zone," and neglect everything else around me. But, last night, I could only wonder what we must have looked like to the outside world, to the other diners and wait staff.

There I am, pouring my decaf coffee down my gullet, because being in a restaurant is a special occasion in and of itself, and normal health rules go out the window. Thus, my coffee is LOADED with those toxic flavored creamers that make it nothing short of liquid crack. The evidence is the embarrassingly gluttonous army of empty creamer cups surrounding my side of the table. As the waitress clears them with a fork lift, she reassuringly says, "I like cream in my coffee, too." Um, yeah. Not as much as I do, apparently.

There's Collin, disheveled with his long hair in his eyes, eating his mac & cheese face first out of the bowl, like a barn animal eating from his trough. Every now and then, he takes a break for a big bite of his crayon with a zestful, "Mmmm!" And where are his parents during all of this? Why aren't they correcting him? ("We eat with a spoon, Honey. Like a person.") Oh, they're right there beside him, shoveling their food into their faces as fast as they can so they can finish before he does and starts to get bored again. They're just happy he finished his spoon drum solo.

Who are these people?? How did I become this family? This weirdo, wacky family that I love so much?

My cup dumpeth over.