On the Verge

I'm writing this on Saturday the 16th of October, but I don't plan to publish it until at least the evening of Monday the 18th, because that's when Ryan will be home. My blog is a little too public to announce to the world that I'm home alone with the kids for an entire week without the the protection of my big, former football player husband. I will say, however, that I'm an armed citizen and we have an alarm system, so breaking in while the man's away is still is a very bad idea for you, if you were thinking about it. To quote the country song, "Our homes are protected by the good Lord and a gun. You might meet 'em both if you show up here unwelcome, son." Heh. 

Ryan is in South Dakota. (Or he was, when I wrote this.) He's been there since Monday, and he's gone a full week. Up until today, it's been okay. We've had visitors or play dates or something to help the days go by. I even had this amazing "my kids are incredible" moment a couple days ago that took my breath away. But today, Saturday, I'm kind of on the verge of a nervous breakdown. The real problem is that Neva was up 3 time last night, so I'm exhausted. I have not had a single moment where the toddler, the baby and the dog have been w/out need at the same time. So I haven't gotten a nap to make up for the complete lack of sleep last night. I have had more than one moment today where I've considered locking myself in my room and letting the kids and the dog run the house, Lord of the Flies style. It's been a rough day.

Tomorrow, one of my favorite people on the planet is coming to visit us. Tomorrow will be great. Today, however, is slightly less than fantastic.

Twins

I'm a twin. My friends and family know that, of course, but you may not. I've lived a large amount of my life being called by a different name, writing fiction about characters in an identity crisis, and running away from just about anything that associates me with a group instead of as an individual. So you can imagine my shock when I gave birth to seemingly the same child twice, once as a boy and 2 1/2 years later as a girl. I'm not crazy! Look:



This is Wyatt when he was Neva's age.




Neva, today.

 
Do you see what I mean? They're  like little clones of each other, only one is male and the other is female. I'm very curious to see how it all pans out when they're older. Will Neva have to keep her hair long and wear skirts in order not to be confused with her older brother? I hope not. I foresee broad shoulders and an overall NFL-style physique for my man child. If my daughter is even remotely as large, I'm sure she'll never forgive us for passing on those genes. :)

Twins. Poor kids. Blimey.

Oh, I Get It; I Don't Get It

It's amazing how many things in life we think we understand. I took a class in college about office politics. It had a different, more academic name with numbers behind it, but you get the idea. I got an A in that class, so naturally, I assumed that meant I understood the workings of people in corporate America. Then, I got my first corporate job and realized how different theoretical knowledge is to practical knowledge. People have these crazy things called differences and personalities. Yes, even in corporate America. People are rarely textbook anything.

The same can be said for all aspects of parenthood. Again, obvious perhaps in theory, but I didn't really get it until these little munchkins entered my world. I had baby and kid knowledge, theoretically, from having nieces and nephews, from rooming with a post-partum doula, and from working nanny jobs while I was in grad school. I think I even referred to myself as somewhat of a "baby expert" to a new mom once. Cringe. What was I thinking? I guess it's true what they say: "You never know what you don't know." Here's the thing: caring for children is not the same thing as raising them. At all. I wish I'd known before I had kids, to just bow out gracefully instead of thinking I had expertise because of a class or a job or extended family.

I also didn't fully understand how different each and every child is until I had more than one. Yes, I'd heard that. I "knew" that. But I didn't really know it. I still half expected baby number two to respond in a similar way to things as baby number one. I mean, once you get a baby figured out, you just apply the same expert principles, right? Ha. Well, not exactly. Big picture principles, maybe. But small things can make a huge difference. Wyatt loved his pacifier. By about 3 months old, it was an easy sleep cue. Neva doesn't really take one at all. Wyatt had reflux. He drenched burp cloths hourly. Neva has pretty dainty spit-ups. Wyatt took to supplemental bottles with ease. Neva also takes a bottle when needed, but it can take her up to five minutes to reacquaint herself with the bottle's nipple before she really starts drinking. Before I was a mom, I wouldn't have understood how these little differences can affect so much about the way a day can go!

Here are my promises to you. I really hope I can keep them. I promise never to claim expertise on anything until I have practical, not just theoretical, knowledge. This includes any opinions I may have formed about parenting three or more kids. I now understand that I don't have a clue what that's like. I also promise not to assume that if something that worked for my kid doesn't work for yours, that it's not because you're doing it wrong. I now understand that it's because it's a different child. I promise not to assume that my advice is the best advice for everyone, and I will never ever ever assume that reading something in a textbook or forum or even a medical journal makes it absolute truth.

So I finally get it; I don't get it. And that's totally okay. Got it?

Get That Kid Some Schoolin'!

What kind of mother forgets to bring a camera (or even her phone) with her when taking her baby boy to his first day of preschool? This kind, apparently. To be fair, it was my first time, too. I was frazzled, because I didn't want him to be late. He ate his breakfast in slow motion. So did his baby sister, who I actually had to wake up to feed. We pretty much ran out the door. Now, Ryan would call these excuses, but I simply call them facts. That's just how the morning went down. We'll get practice every Tuesday and Thursday. We'll get there. :)

I didn't really know what to expect when I went to drop him off. Would he cry? Would I? The answer to both questions is no. He reluctantly kissed me goodbye, met a little boy who said "hi" to him, smiled and took off to play. I was a little sad, I guess, but it didn't kill me. More than anything, I was just curious about what he'd be up to for 4-4 1/2 hours without me. I kind of wanted to spy on him. See if he's a sweetheart or a bully. A genius or the class clown. But instead, I went to Starbucks for a Pumpkin Spice Latte and then to Target for some essentials. It was amazingly easy to run minor errands with just Neva. Then we went home and I did housework. I pretty much blinked and it was time to pick him up.

Wyatt is one of the only Tuesday/Thursday kids who only does half days. So, when I went to pick him up, pretty much his entire class was down for nap time. He was sitting nicely inside the door, waiting for me with his teacher. (I wonder what he thought when all the other kids had to take a nap and he didn't. Probably just that the world revolves around him, so why would he have to nap, anyway, haha.) The teacher said he did really well. He got along with the other kids. Was pretty interactive with the teacher, and only cried once for his mommy. It was right before lunch, and the arrival of food made it all better. (He's already drowning his sorrows in food! Time to get him a therapist, heh.) We drove home, where Wyatt did, in fact, have to take a nap. Because that's how we roll.

I feel good. I think we're all going to benefit from Wyatt's new occupation as a student. I hope he likes learning for a living. He's going to be doing it for at least the next 16 years.

Morning Person 101

I am not, by all natural standards, a morning person. If there were no other forces pulling me toward sunrise, I would stay up late every night and sleep until well into the day. But a funny thing happened sometime between scheduling my college classes after 10am and now. First, a job where I actually got to write for a living had me on the freeway by 6:30am to beat downtown LA traffic. Then, I married an amazing, hard-working man who gets up at 5:45. Now, my house is full of little munchkins who're morning people just like their daddy. And so, by circumstances and plain old true love, I have been forced into the role of a morning person.



Speaking of smiling kids...

 Here's the thing, though: I actually like it. Not to mess up my raging night owl rep or anything, but it's starting to grow on me. Did you know that kids smile more in the morning? That coffee tastes its absolute best before 7am? That even on a triple digit furnace of a day, you can open your windows in the morning and feel a cool breeze? Yeah, I didn't know that either until the crazy morning people in my life took over. It's not so bad, really. In fact, it's quickly becoming my favorite part of the day.

Well, except for when the stars align and I actually get to sleep in. On those wonderous days, you can forget everything I just said.

Little Man

I'm in a very good mood, and it has almost everything to do with sleep. No shocker there. I know I'm not the only one whose mood can be easily dictated by sleep. First and foremost, Neva slept 8 full hours last night. And Wyatt, who usually graces us with his presence during the 6 o'clock hour, slept in until 7am. It's just so normal. I slept as if, gosh, I didn't have a new baby and a toddler in my house.

When he wakes up, Wyatt calls to us from his room. This morning, I went in to give him permission to get up as usual. He said, "Ma, can you turn on the light? You turn off my radar detector, Ma?" His radar detector is actually his sound machine. Ocean waves. But it has a similar shape to the radar detector in Ryan's truck. It got me thinking about how much Wyatt idolizes his daddy. He refers to the backyard as his office. "Can I go to my office, Ma? Drive my truck?" When he wants a granola bar, it's "I want a cigar, Ma." (And yes, he calls me Ma. Because we obviously live on Walton's mountain.) Looking just like Ryan was clearly only the beginning, and that's a good thing. I tend to think Ryan is a pretty great role model (well, minus the cigars, heh). I'm lucky he's the one Wyatt wants to emulate. As he grows up, he'll learn that rewards come from hard work, that happiness comes from a well-balanced life with family at the forefront, and that no matter how big and tough a man may be, his only true strength comes from God. I'd say my little man is definitely on the right track.

Confessions of a Non-Writing Writer

Hmmmm. So it seems my blog has been sitting dormant for more than four months. A few things have happened since my last post, and I'm almost embarrassed to have to catch up on so much. But here I am with my tail between my legs.

If you do the math, you'll notice that our new daughter must have entered the world by now! Yep, Neva Katherine was born on August 7, 2010. She shares her name with my Grandmama and her birthday with my mom. I guess we take that maternal line pretty seriously around here, heh. She also came a week before her due date, which surprised us all! More on that in a moment...

Neva (pronounced with a long E) is almost 7 weeks old. She is lovely. An easier newborn by far than her big brother was, and already sleeping pretty well at night. And the older she gets, the more she looks like Wyatt. In the looks department, I may have given birth to the same baby twice. And speaking of giving birth, I will now share my birth story. (Edited for public consumption...) If you're not a fan of birth stories, feel free to skip past the prolific italicized section below.

Our kids don't like to be told when to do what. When my son was born 2 1/2 years ago, we instructed him not to come on April Fool's Day. So, of course, he chose that day to enter the world. This time, we told our daughter not to come the weekend of August 6-8. My doula (also one of my best friends) and my secondary support person (my sister-in-law) would both be out of state. Tons of family would be out of town. Very inconvenient all around. And so, naturally, she arrived that weekend.

I felt the first "real" contraction while making dinner on Friday night. I told Ryan, "Hey, this is a real contraction. I remember these from last time! Wow, not a Braxton-Hicks!" And then we went about our evening. They started coming, not too painful, every 10-15 minutes or so, and kept that very slow pattern for several hours. I honestly thought it was false labor, because I was just coming up on 39 weeks, and I figured since Wyatt came 3 days past his due date, Neva would probably be similar. I went to bed around 9:30, I think.


I slept maybe an hour. Woke up to a stronger contraction, and then a pattern of those. Every 8-10 minutes. Stayed in bed for a couple more hours, but couldn't sleep through the contractions anymore. Woke up Ryan around 12:30am. Consistently 7 min apart. They hurt enough that I couldn't talk through them anymore. Rested and waited things out at home for 4 more hours until they were averaging about 4 minutes apart. Off to the hospital! We met my brother-in-law in the parking lot. He took Wyatt, and we were admitted just before 5am.


The BAD news: The doctor on call was the same doctor who delivered Wyatt. The doctor we'd filed a complaint against 2 1/2 years ago. The only doctor in the practice I PRAYED would not be on-call. The GOOD news: I was already dilated to 5cm and 80% effaced. And evil doc only had 4 more hours on his shift.

I didn't just go with the flow this time. I took my birth experience into my own hands, but I did try to be diplomatic about it! Those of you who know me well know I'm not much for confrontation. Evil doc checked me 2 hours after I arrived. 6.5cm & 90%. He said he was going to break my water. I told him not to do it until after I had my epidural. He frowned but said okay. Got my epidural when I was at 7cm, 100% effaced. Then the nurse came in and said the doc wanted her to give me pitocin. I told her no thank you. The doc came in and tried to talk me into it. I asked him if I was contracting regularly on my own. He said yes. (I already knew, b/c my epidural was pretty light and the contractions still hurt.) I told him, "Well then, I don't think I need any pitocin. I'm not in a hurry." I also knew his shift was almost over! So yeah, even less in a hurry.

The new doc came in at 9am. He was AWESOME. Very personable. Asked me my opinion before doing anything. Rad. They broke my water when I was at 8cm, 100% effaced. The contractions got very intense right away, and I was at 10cm w/in 20 minutes! I pushed for another 20 minutes. The doc was there the whole time, and was very thorough in doing everything in his power to prevent any unnecessary damage. Neva was born at 10:43 am. Just over 5 1/2 hours after our arrival at the hospital. I came out of the experience basically unscathed, which was a miracle compared to my delivery with Wyatt. Neva weighed in at 6lbs 15 oz. She was 19 3/4" long.

And that brings us back to present day. Wyatt loves his baby sister. He has certainly tested us, but he seems to take out his frustration on us and not his baby sister. A very good thing. We're enjoying our newly expanded little family. I have my complaints, (I'm sure you'll be hearing about them along the way), but overall, I feel amazingly blessed and complete. 

Moan and Groan

25 weeks 4 days

The closer I get to my due date, the more I feel pregnant. Okay, that may seem like a pretty obvious statement, but I mean it in more ways than just feeling the baby kick and watching the belly grow. It's the other symptoms. The bad ones. The aches and pains and lack of sleep. The leg cramps and medical extras that I hadn't counted on. I remember being pregnant. Sure. I just don't remember this stuff hitting me so hard so early. And I don't remember them being quite this bad. I'm a little moan-and-groan style at the moment. Excuse me while I pout.

Okay, done pouting. This weekend is Mother's Day. I just found out we're going to be spending our weekend just outside of Las Vegas! It should be fun. A nice hotel. A pool. Cold cocktails, er, or, um, mocktails? Wearing a sexy granny swimsuit, heh. It should be fun. Hopefully. If I can get past the junk I was moaning and groaning about in the last paragraph that seems to have started creeping into this one. :)

Wyatt has been hilarious lately. He's speaking in complete sentences, busy as can be, and loving quality time with his mommy. He likes to grab my hand and drag me wherever he wants to be, to make sure mama's in on the action. Shame he likes to spend so much time down on the floor. Getting up and down is getting a little challenging. Oh, oops. There's that topic again. Better quit while I'm ahead.

Happy Birthday, Wy-Guy!

20 weeks, 5 days

I cannot believe that my monkey boy is 2 years old today! Yep, my little April Fool's Baby. He played his first April Fool's Day prank on his momma when he decided to come in April instead of March! And now, it's already been 2 years since that fateful day. I also cannot believe that I am voluntarily going to go through labor and delivery again in August! (Oh, new moms, what I meant to say is that I get to! The whole process is, um, blissful?) He was just this itsy bitsy bundle of flesh. I remember trying desperately to read his cries. To learn his newborn language, so I could figure out what he wanted. Now, he tells what he wants. Always. Over and over again. Ha!

In pregnancy news, I'm almost 21 weeks now. Chugging along. Feeling lots of tumbles and kicks from the little lady. Adding splashes of pink to the former boy nursery. Buying girl clothes and blankets and changing pad covers. It's fun. Maybe too much fun. :)

Besides turning 2 today, Wyatt also hit another milestone this week. He moved into his big boy room! No more crib. No more tent over the crib to keep him contained. He's learned quite quickly to stay in bed until mommy says he can get up. It's only taken a couple moments of correction to save us a lot of headaches. And we're lucky to have such a great kid, who learns his lessons pretty fast. Well....some of them... :)

Sugar and Spice!

16 weeks 4 days

I think we pretty much got the best news ever on Saturday. We're expecting a little GIRL! That's proof that 1) Shettles may be on to something, and 2) I have no maternal gut instinct whatsoever. Was totally convinced we were having a boy. It's amazing how much more I'm enjoying this pregnancy now that I know! I love saying "she" when I talk about her. It gives me this warm and fuzzy feeling. I guess I just feel incredibly blessed to get one of each. My little boy is just about the coolest kid around. And now he gets to have a baby sister. I wonder if he knows it's going to be his job to beat up boys who look at his sister the wrong way, so his daddy doesn't get arrested for doing it... Ah, well. We'll cross that bridge when we get to it... ;)

There's another reason I'm excited about having a little girl: her name. We're going to name her Neva (pronounced NEE-vuh) Katherine. Neva is my grandma's name, and I've been really looking forward to giving her a namesake. I also like that I've never met a Neva besides Grandmama, and that my son sounds super cute when he's tries to say it.

Basically, I'm on cloud 9 right now. That's all there is to it.

7 Years to Live

11 weeks 5 days

Well, I'm 33 years old now. Yep, I had a birthday this week. Turning 33 isn't exactly a milestone year. It's just a little step deeper into my 30s. But it does remind me that this ladder eventually gets to 40, and that seriously freaks me out. I was 16 when my mom turned 40. That was not very long ago. I cannot possibly ever turn 40. Ever. :)

But, anyway, I had a really fantastic birthday. Ryan took off work, and we drove down to LA. Yes, I tend to spend special occasions in LA. I can't help it. I love LA. I spent the first 12 years of my adult life (yes, 18-30) there. Most of my closest friends are there, with a couple of exceptions. But those exceptions are like me - transplanted elsewhere, but LA girls at heart. I dragged Ryan downtown to Little Tokyo so I could get the spicy champon ramen I crave all the time. There isn't a single authentic ramen place in Bakersfield. The closest we get is Pho, which is good, but not the same. Then we saw Avatar on IMAX which was awesome. I know people have mixed reviews of the movie, but I thoroughly enjoyed it - and enjoying myself was the whole point of going. :) After that, we met a few of my favorite people on the planet for dinner at Pizzeria Mozza on Highland and Melrose. Oh my goodness - so frickin' good. Seriously fantastic. Go there. But yeah, anyway, it was a perfect birthday.

In other news, I'll hit the magic 12 week mark on Saturday. Nothing really magical about it, except of course that it's the time when gals like me with morning sickness are supposed to finally get a reprieve. Mine has been waning substantially, but it'd be nice to say farewell for good. The belly is growing, and the waistline is disappearing, but I'm still not gaining weight, which rocks. But the pooch isn't exactly looking "with child" yet. It looks more "with ice cream". I do enjoy the 2nd trimester when the belly is more substantial, but isn't controlling your life yet. Looking forward to that, for sure.

So, to recap: I'm 33. My birthday was awesome. Ice cream. :)

Maybe a He

10 weeks 2 days

Intelligender has predicted that we can expect another baby boy in August. Okay. First things first. The Intelligender test is only supposed to be 82% accurate, and it's more likely to be wrong if it tells you you're having a boy than if it tells you you're having a girl. So, naturally, I'm grasping at every possible reason that it could be wrong. But I'm not writing it off completely, which is why I'm now on the baby boy name search. We have our girl name, but we're stalling a little in the boy department. Even names we've liked for a while are starting to seem less likely now. I'm compiling a whole new list to run by Ryan, in hopes of finding that perfect little brother name... just in case. But I already scheduled our appointment at Baby Sightings for the gender determination ultrasound on February 27th. So, we'll find out soon! (But it's never soon enough!)

In other news, the morning sickness is definitely starting to subside. I still have my moments, and I'm still too nervous with the motion sickness to drive over the grapevine, but I no longer feel like crap all day long. And THAT is RAD.

That's it. Short and sweet.

The Window

8 weeks 4 days
Today, we had an ultrasound of the little bug. It was rad. Not because there was anything extraordinary about the experience, but because even an ordinary ultrasound is just about the coolest thing ever. It's a window into a life that's being knit together in a woman's womb. I mean, honestly, the experience is pretty amazing. I'm looking at that teeny grape-sized person, with a strong heartbeat, all its tiny organs, and it's arms and legs wiggling away, and I am in awe. The little ultrasound picture doesn't do it justice, because you can't see the movement and pumping of the tiny heart. It's mesmerizing. I see this little person, and I love it. And I can't wait to find out if it's a boy or or a girl, so I can stop referring to my child as "it". :)

In other news, I have another little miracle right in front of me. Man, my son is cool. I'm glad I didn't give up and run for the hills when he was a non-sleeping, colicky newborn with reflux. Ha ha. None of those challenges stuck around, but the kid sure did. Every evening, Ryan and I find ourselves having the same conversation. "Man, that kid is getting fun." At 21 months, Wyatt is a mimic. He's still hard to understand, because while he knows lots of words, he has his own pronunciations and he fills in the blanks with gibberish. He makes almost everything into a game. He is imaginative, and silly and has ridiculously well-developed fine motor skills. He is still very tall for his age, and he runs full-tilt from point A to point B. Why walk, when you can run? I'm glad he's so charming. I'll have to remind myself of it over and over again when we have a newborn in the house with less, um, personality.


Yep. It's a good day. My morning sickness stuff has lightened up considerably after a few rough weeks. I still get queasy. Heck, I still toss my cookies from time to time. But it's a few waves of nausea instead of entire days of it. It's better. It's getting there.

Nesting, Phase 1

8 weeks 2 days

We interrupt this whine and moan fest for a message from our sponsors. This pregnancy is brought to you by HGTV. And TLC. And Discovery Health. And the Food Network. Yeah, it's weird. The moment all those heightened levels of HCG and Progesterone hit my blood stream, I find myself pulled to cable television channels with themes about house & home & health. Without fail, shows like "Divine Design" and "A Baby Story" find their way back into my boob tube queue. It's almost like nesting comes early, and only in theoretical watch-it-don't-do-it form. I watch cooking shows but don't try to cook the food. I watch home makeovers and don't change a thing about my own abode. I fixate on high risk deliveries all the while praying for simple and low risk.

Not really sure what the deal is. I just know it happens. After the new bug makes his or her appearance, I'll lose interest in most of these shows and channels. I'll go back to watching the news, catching prime time dramas, and praying for other things, like SLEEP.

Ungrateful. And That's Okay.

8 weeks

So, what would you prefer? Want me to be honest, or peppy and PC? If you chose the latter option, I apologize. Not gonna happen. I believe, that while optimism is an important trait, so is honesty. And I think if someone reads this, and is in her first trimester just trying to survive, the last thing she needs me to do is tell her that I'm coming up roses, thinking every second about the miracle of life! Come, sweets. Let's commiserate. I won't judge you for having a natural reaction to difficult physical conditions! So, anyway, we're off and running...

I know some women really love being pregnant. They enjoy every day of the miracle of life, and they never complain. I can admire their goodness and light and all that, and in a way, I'm jealous, but I'd be a poser and a liar if I told you that's how I feel during pregnancy. Especially the dreaded first trimester. I hate feeling queasy. I hate being scared to drive anywhere because I toss my cookies if I ride in a car. It's a finicky, sickly, exhausting, uncomfortable, not-so-exciting period in this little miracle. So, for now, I do NOT love being pregnant. I am ungrateful and grumpy and really wishing I could just go to sleep and wake up at about 12 weeks along. I'd like that. I'd like that a lot.

Now that I've gotten that part is out of my system, on to the good stuff. First, believe it or not, this pregnancy has been easier, so far, than my pregnancy with Wyatt. I spend every day queasy or nauseous, but I've only thrown up a few times. With Wyatt, it was almost every day from weeks 6-14. So while I don't feel fantastic, I'll take it. Second, I've lost weight despite the lesser pukage. Like I said, I'm not PC. I'm female. I like this. Third, I'm getting Chipotle today! And I'm pretty sure I can eat it. I'm pretty sure it will stay where I put it. I could be wrong, but at least I'll be going down swinging. Fourth, we have an ultrasound on Wednesday. I love them. I'd get one once a week if they'd let me. Seriously. And fifth, I'm ridiculously lucky to be married to the kind of man who'll take charge of things when I'm feeling off. Who'll take our son on errands and out riding and out to garage to "help" with projects. Ryan rocks it in the responsible daddy department. He adores his son, loves spending time with him, and makes runs across town to places like Chipotle, monkey in tow, on his vacation, because his wife really really really wants to try eating one of her favorite foods. I'm a lucky girl, and for that, I hope to NEVER be ungrateful.