Shan Kat's Doppelganger.

Resolutions, Moderation and Why a "Healthy Obsession" is an Oxymoron

2012-01-02T12:34:00.000-08:00

Like many of you, I've been thinking about 2012. I quit doing resolutions several years ago, because they're usually a recipe for self-loathing. I'd either set my goals so high, I might as well be aiming for perfection, or I'd set them really low and still not attain them, making me feel, well, LAME. This year, I'm making resolutions again. But, before I focus wholly on self-improvement, I want to remind myself of what I did right in 2011. Because, despite having some goals for growth, I'm actually pretty happy with who I already am.

My family in 2011. I'm pretty satisfied with all of us.

Before I go any further, I need to explain one of my philosophies. When I tell you about cutting back on certain things or increasing certain things, you may be of the opinion that I should just get rid of something completely or embrace something more fully. I'll disagree with that assertion 9 times out of 10. Here's why: I think the "all-or-nothing" mentality about most things can be unhealthy, unless you're fighting an addiction and the "all" in that "all or nothing" mentality was what got you there in the first place. There are exceptions, of course. Some things are 100% bad and should be treated accordingly. Not everything in life is relative. But most problems don't come from exposure; they come from a lack of moderation. So no, I'm not throwing my TV in a dumpster or banishing all sugar from my kids' diets. I can make responsible decisions without creating unnecessary "black or white" lifestyle choices. You'll see this theme a lot with me. Gray areas exist. And that's okay.

1. TV watching way down. Book reading way up. I cut the amount of TV I watch by about 75% and increased my reading by about 50%. My brain is thanking me. I highly recommend dumping a show or two and using that time to read, among other things. It makes us better thinkers. And better thinkers tend to do a lot of other things better, too. (But again, moderation, people. Watching a TV show doesn't make you dumb. Reading 24/7 doesn't make you wise; it makes you incapable accomplishing anything else. You get what I'm saying.)

2. Lost my baby weight. And my marriage weight. And my post-pregnancy... er... skin. Right now, I weigh about 10 pounds less than I did at my wedding. I'm no food-hater. I'm not a gym rat. But slow and steady wins the race, as they say, and I dropped a slow and steady 40 lbs over a year's time with (wait for it) moderate diet changes and exercise. After (and only after) I lost that weight, I got to lose the had-my-babies-in-my-30s-with-the-worst-skin-elasticity-genes-on-the-planet excess skin as well. Yep, I got a tummy tuck. I had my post-baby body surgically altered to resemble my this-skin-has-never-been-stretched-beyond-recognition pre-baby body. Feel free to judge me and tell me which exercises I could have done to accomplish the same results or blast me for not being proud of my battle scars. I'll gladly defend my choice in private. If you know me well enough to know how to reach me directly, you're allowed to share your opinion with me. If you don't, please spare me the unsolicited sour grapes.

Don't worry; I still kept a couple souvenirs from my empowering pregnancy experiences.

3. I manage my household pretty well without having morose, neglected children. I've heard rumors (mainly from pinners on Pinterest, heh) that a clean house* and happy children are independent of each other. I agree that no house can stay photo-shoot ready if it houses happy children. Small children make messes and inflict chaos upon a household. BUT, if I used them as an excuse to have my home resemble an episode of hoarders, my happy kids would probably have MRSA. We're far from perfect. But grown-ups live in this house, too, so we try to find some balance. And my kids like pretending to be grown-ups. I'm kind of proud of how I've harnessed the energy and grown-up aspirations of my kiddos to get them doing a little housework. Chores help with long term work-ethic. I mean, hey, that's not just good for my kids; it's good for society. You see? I'm basically a civil servant here! (*truth in advertising: We do have housekeepers who come twice a month. I pay for them with money I earn from home as a freelance writer and copy editor. I'm not under the illusion that my house would be quite as clean if I didn't have help. But I'm pretty sure I still spend more time cleaning than your average American - even if that's setting the bar pretty low. There's a daily routine in place. There are kid naps. There's playtime with mommy and without mommy. There's time to play, teach, clean, read, exercise and play some more. There are 24 hours in a day. Heck, I cleaned my floors, vacuumed, did dishes, and picked up my son's room before I went anywhere near this computer today. But yes, I'm thrilled that someone else will be scrubbing my toilets on Thursday. Who wouldn't be? And I've been using the "there aren't enough hours in the day" excuse not to prioritize things my whole life. So I'm preaching at myself here. I'm reminding myself of the ol' saying: "If you want something to get done, give it to busy man." Too true. The more time I have, the less I get done.)

Okay, enough self-righteous braggadocios obnoxious mom-of-the-year shiznit. (Would that have been a better title for this? Hm.) You get the idea. I'm kind of proud of my 2011 accomplishments. So I'm now ready to tackle my 2012 resolutions without bashing my "before picture". Get my drift? My resolutions are pretty simple:

1. Improve my spiritual life. The results may be subjective, but if the fruit is an indication of the health of the tree, I hope you'll all see me bearing more and better fruit. It will include adding more to my reading that tackles spiritual matters, including another full read of the Bible. I've decided it's awfully hard to claim to love or even to claim to understand someone if you aren't spending any time trying to learn about their worldview. Even if that someone is the one who built you, one atom at a time. It will also include being more proactive in my prayer life, because what kind of relationship can I claim to have with anyone I rarely talk to? So, yeah. Improve my spiritual life.

2. Improve my fitness. I may have the right measurements these days thanks to 2011, but my cardio and strength could use some improvements. Gonna exercise more. I'll never be a gym rat, but I certainly understand the benefits of a healthy body, and I definitely have a few purely vain goals for improvement as well.

3. Increase my creative endeavors. As I've stated in my bio from day one, I'm a lot better at working on the writing that I get paid for than I am the stuff that could, maybe, or maybe not, pay me down the road if it's ever good enough. Yeah, I need to write more. I need to finish the stuff I've started. Even if I never make another dime in the true creative arena, I should be creating something. Because I currently have some talents buried out in a field. And some of the reading mentioned in my first resolution has convinced me of the wrongness of buried talents. ;)

This blog post was too long. Sorry. I resolve to take your feelings into account and keep them shorter for the rest of the year. Maybe. Happy New Year!

I'm a Prideful, Self-Righteous Jerk

2011-10-21T12:34:00.000-07:00

You are currently being judged by the cupcake princess.

I don't know about you, but I get really annoyed when I feel like someone is being self-righteous. I cringe when people can't let others have an opinion different than theirs without getting defensive or smug. I roll my eyes when people talk about choices they make that they deem superior to the choices I've made. You know what I mean, right? Sure.

But, um, I totally do it too. That stuff I mentioned in the last paragraph? Yeah, totally guilty. I have a self-righteous streak. I get a little defensive when I feel like someone has a different opinion than I do. (And, I probably call them self-righteous for disagreeing with me.) Sometimes my responses are smug and full of "righteous" indignation. And I totally judge other parents sometimes when they make choices for their kids that don't seem wise. (Or, I judge them for being paranoid and obsessive -and yes, self-righteous -when they make choices that are technically "better" than mine.)

The truth is, I think most of us are prideful, self-righteous jerks at least part of time. We may never tell a soul what we're thinking. Or, we may be the type to talk about it. A lot. But I doubt any of us are exempt. And really, if you're reading this and patting yourself on the back because you never do, say or think these things, welcome to the group. That was self-righteous, too.

We've all heard of the notion that we're quicker to see (and judge) weaknesses in others that we have ourselves. Totally true. But, I'll expand on that in the name of self-righteous jerks everywhere: We're even more likely to judge a weakness in someone if it's one we're prone to, but have mastered (or at least feel like we've mastered at the time). Especially because we think maybe we can change their ways if we shame them into wanting to change. Sound familiar? No? Sure, okay.

So, how do you handle it when the smugness starts to get the better of you? These are the tools I use: (I'll probably silently mock you if you don't use them, too.)

1. Self-deprecating* humor. There's nothing more useful to diffuse take-yourself-way-too-seriously disease like learning to make fun of yourself. Try it. You'll like it. (*Note: self-deprecating humor is different than self-hatred. If this method causes a spiral into depression and self-loathing, discontinue use immediately.)

2. The ol' put yourself in their shoes trick. Seriously. Sometimes we get a little too comfortable seeing the world from our own point of view. Ask yourself what about their life is different than yours. (Stuff that's out of their control, please... otherwise you're missing the point.) You may find that the reason they can't be like you is because (gasp) their life/children/resources, etc. are different than yours. It's true. That effects stuff.

3. Mirror, mirror on the wall... If neither of those seem to work, I have your trump card. Look in the mirror. Hopefully you'll see a couple things. First, that the smug look on your face is ugly as hell. Second, that maybe you have a few (minor, tiny, almost invisible, but still...) flaws of your own. Recognizing the stuff you've yet to master should soften up that view considerably.

If after trying all three of my tools for killing the evil smug beast, you're still pretty sure you're a little better than most people, I give up. There's no help for you. You're a prideful, self-righteous jerk. I'll be the one who mastered that weakness, watching you with a smug look on my face.

Oh, the Drama! Getting "Unfriended" on Facebook.

2011-09-24T16:43:00.000-07:00

Are you one of those people that gets offended if you find out someone dropped you from their Facebook friends list? Yeah, get over it.

Yesterday, I took a long hard look at my list and cut about 30 people. (The very phrase "cut people" sounds like we're all trying out for coveted positions on competitive teams.) I'll be honest. I wanted to trim it down by more. I still might. I don't love the fact that there are so many people in my supposed social sphere, because let's face it; there AREN'T.

Completely unoffensive reasons to strip someone of Facebook Friend status:

1) I wouldn't even recognize you on the street if we bumped into each other.

2) We don't actually communicate. In any fashion. At all.

3) We don't even communicate much with that friend in common who was the only key to our virtual friendship in the first place. Was that trip to Vegas three years ago when we danced in the same vicinity one night really that meaningful?

Moderately uncomfortable (but still not offensive unless you're deeply insecure) reasons to strip someone of Facebook Friend status:

1) Inappropriate comments and/or status updates. I realize this is subjective, but if I sense a creepiness factor, even if it's just because I don't know you well enough to realize you were being sarcastic and/or ironic, you should not be offended if you get cut. (See, "I just don't know you well enough" above and get over it.)

2) Politics/Religion/Etc. No, no, no. I absolutely do not trim my list based on political or religious affiliations. I'm a big fan of balance. Of intelligent debate. Of putting the shoe on the other foot. BUT. If we aren't very close, and the only reason we ever communicate on Facebook is to counter each others' points in political or religious discussions, I will tire of you. At that point, we aren't FB Friends, we're FB Foes. You should not be offended. (See, "we aren't very close" above, and get over it.)

3) Parenting Shiz-Nit. Yes, if you overstep boundaries to comment on how I raise my kids, you'll probably get unfriended. If we're actually friends, we already talk about these things privately and have no reason to discuss them on Facebook. If we're not really good friends, your opinion on that matter doesn't carry much weight with me. But the fact that you'd cross that line unsolicited anyway is just rude, so I'd cut you on principle. You should not be offended. (See, "we're not really good friends" above, and get over it.)

Totally, straight-up, offensive (but still better in the long run) reasons to strip someone of Facebook Friends status:

1) Dude. I just really don't like you. You annoy the living snot out of me and I have to escape. I'm sorry that you think I like you. I really don't. It's okay. You can be offended. I would be, too.

2) I only friended you because I thought you were hot at some point. Lately, you've gotten decisively less hot. You should probably be offended, but at least you're no longer being used for your looks. (By me, at least. I can't speak for everyone else.)

3) You're a stalker. No seriously. You need to get help. Getting 81 notifications in an hour is not healthy. It's really frickin' disturbing. I'm willing to offend you if it means you'll seek psychological care. Or at at the very least, stalk someone else. Someone not related to me. Or close to me. In any way.

If none of these things apply to you, congratulations! You've maintained your coveted position as Shannon's Facebook Friend. For now. Lucky you. If you don't think any of these apply to you, but you've still been cut, read it again. You're in there. I promise.

What's on Your Mind?

2011-06-01T09:39:00.000-07:00

I like Facebook because I'm a social animal. But, dang it, I wish there was a little less "share this link" going on. I love an interesting article or a funny story with the best of them. I like fun blog posts. (Like this one? Sure! Like this one!) But if your Facebook wall is just a collection of links and videos, you're not a person; you're a portal.

Maybe a qualification question would help. "What is your motive for sharing this link?" If you check the box for, "to make money", or "to help people learn about being more like me and less like them", or "because I have nothing to say, but I want to remind people I'm alive," you'll be redirected to an article on link-share etiquette.

We're all guilty of it from time to time. I'm not addressing your one-offs. I'm talking serial link-sharers. If you share every article from your favorite news source on a regular basis, you may want to consider that there's a reason the other people in the world have not subscribed to it. They may not be as engrossed by it as you are. And that's okay! Did you know they don't have to like all the same things you do? It's true.

Oh, and mommy links are the worst. We moms are notorious for making ourselves feel better about our bad decisions by highlighting our good ones. It's mommy-guilt 101. Or, we make our own decision on a controversial topic or parenting style and then feel to need to justify that decision to all of our friends with helpful, one-sided, "educational" links. Maybe it's just a defense mechanism. The best defense is a good offense? I'm not sure. But let me just get this out now: I don't care if you did or did not circumcise your son. None of my flippin' business. I don't care whether or not you vaccinate your kids. I don't care what parenting style you have adopted as the one and only best way to parent. Okay, I DO care if we're close friends and you want to discuss it one-on-one. I DON'T care if you're preaching your choices to everyone you ever knew on Facebook with a "helpful link".

I'm not a fan of how the links go flying during election seasons either. Share "what's on your mind" all you want. Just, for goodness sake, let it be what's actually on your mind, not the mind of the random author of an article you found on Google while you were doing your "only show me what I want to see" research. Pundits can be helpful in wording things the way we wish we could word them. But how about you just quote your source instead of assuming I want to read 3 pages on why you're right and I'm wrong?

So, that's my take on it. I guess I've just shot myself in the foot if I was hoping you'd share this link with your friends, eh? ;)

I Want to be a Dancer!

2011-05-10T15:02:00.000-07:00

Tonight is my son's spring show and preschool graduation. He's not pulling a Doogie Howser and finishing preschool two years early or anything. Just graduating from the 2yo class to the 3yo class. But regardless, there's a show. A show where they sing and...well, sort of dance.

Wyatt has been talking about the show nonstop. He has shown me his beloved stage (in the sanctuary of the church where his preschool is located) on multiple occasions. His teachers told me he learned the songs faster than the other kids and that he sings at full volume when everyone else kind of mumbles along in typical preschool fashion. It has occurred to me that when I tell him he's a rock star for using the potty in the proper way that he may actually believe that he is, in fact, a ROCK STAR. Or, you know, a cast member of Glee.

Part of me is thrilled. After all, I was a complete ham as a kid. I was the obnoxious child in the chorus who'd purposely mess up choreography because I knew everyone would look at me whether they wanted to or not. ATTENTION, PLEASE! Look at ME! I starred in my first school musical when I was in the 4th grade. I liked the spotlight. A LOT. So, naturally, seeing a little of me in him warms my heart.

On the other hand, I'll admit to the cliched sit-com theme. We're a red blooded American family. My husband played football. There's a certain assumption that Wyatt will be a jock. I know it's a stereotypical dilemma, but it's ours nonetheless. What if our son doesn't want to be just like his dad? What if he wants to be an actor? Or (gasp) a writer? (A blogger? Oh, heavens, no!) What if he gets his dad's broad shoulders and my family's height, and then he uses them on the stage instead of in the NFL?

Or worse; what if he goes into SALES?

Amazon isn't Paying Me, I Swear.

2011-05-02T16:13:00.000-07:00

I remember rolling my eyes when a friend of mine started talking about how much he loved his Kindle. As a die hard bibliophile, I found the idea of digitizing literature a little obnoxious. But sometimes I'm a slow adapter. I had the same reaction to MP3 players. I like the smell of books. The paper. The glue of the binding. I like the weight of a book in my hand. I honestly couldn't imagine enjoying a good book any other way.

Last Christmas, I finally decided to give the Kindle a try. Why? I actually have no idea. I was out of ideas for what I wanted for Christmas. I was pretty sure no one was going to foot the bill for an Audi Q7, so went with an easy book reader's request. I half expected to shelf the thing. (After all, I've certainly shelved a few books I thought I wanted to read in my day, right?)

But here's the thing. I immediately started reading more. There's something about getting books immediately for less. There's something about even the biggest books being lightweight. Packing multiple books into one place without having to haul around a library. Yes, I started reading more. Not just a little more. A lot more. About four times more.

So, am I more of a bibliophile for having 500 books in my library, or for actually reading them all on my Kindle?

The Great Blog Revamp of 2011

2011-04-30T10:27:00.000-07:00

One of the least interesting things to read in the world is the inner workings of a writer's head. I was all set to explain, in depth, why I'm changing up my blog and starting fresh. Why I've decided that I want to be an actual blogger, not a housewife with a web page that gets updated every few months. (Did I really just refer to myself as a housewife?) That when it takes six months to get to your next blog post, something has to give. But as I started typing all about my thoughts on the subject, I put myself to sleep. Literally. Okay, not literally. (Don't you hate it when people use that word wrong?) But I was too bored to finish writing. And so, here you have it: the general idea. I've gone back to the original name. I'll be posting again shortly. It might even be about something interesting... or something that offends you... or something you totally agree with. (With which you agree... yes, I know. I know.) You get it. 'Nuff said.

On the Verge

2010-10-19T19:47:00.000-07:00

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

2010-10-16T16:40:00.000-07:00

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

2010-10-06T13:17:00.000-07:00

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'!

2010-10-05T14:19:00.000-07:00

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

2010-10-02T12:39:00.000-07:00

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

2010-09-30T08:08:00.000-07:00

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

2010-09-23T14:38:00.000-07:00

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

2010-05-05T14:27:00.000-07:00

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!

2010-04-01T10:02:00.000-07:00

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!

2010-03-02T07:52:00.000-08:00

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

2010-01-28T12:09:00.000-08:00

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

2010-01-18T15:58:00.000-08:00

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

2010-01-06T15:39:00.000-08:00

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

2010-01-04T11:02:00.000-08:00

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.

2010-01-02T14:57:00.000-08:00

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.

Gag me with a Spoon!

2009-12-28T08:02:00.000-08:00

7 weeks, 2 days

If it was a beating heart that helped me feel more secure about the outcome of this pregnancy, it's the onslaught of morning sickness that has sealed the deal. Something can always go wrong, of course, but the most common thing would be a 1st trimester miscarriage. And the odds are increasingly in favor of success with every nauseous day that passes. As much as I hate this part, morning sickness is evidence of a healthy pregnancy. That doesn't mean if you don't get sick, your pregnancy isn't healthy; you just have no evidence either way. Sickness screams it from the roof tops. So in that regard, the bug and I are passing with flying colors.

This pregnancy is definitely different from with Wyatt, though. The queasiness and milder symptoms showed up earlier this time, but the all-out morning sickness hit later. (Which is a blessing, because if I'd followed my last pattern to a t, I would have been in the midst of the worst of it over Christmas.) And of course, I have a toddler this time around. That's the funny part, actually. My son is now playing pretend with the sounds of gagging and moaning. I even saw him this morning fake puking into a toy bucket! Holy cow, kid. You're a riot. Ryan's been home a lot over the holidays, so that's been great. But when Ryan's gone, it's pure comedy. When I'm at my worst, my son runs wild while I lay pretty helplessly on the couch. Last night, he found a box of tissues that he emptied all over the living room. Luckily, the hard parts come and go, so when I feel better, I can right at least the worst of the wrongs, ha. But my son is under a little less supervision than usual...

Hello, television nanny. What's up first? Handy Manny or the Backyardigans?

A Beating Heart

2009-12-19T11:34:00.000-08:00

For the last few weeks, I've really wanted to blog about our latest news. Wyatt's gonna be a big brother! I've wanted to write down every little thought and feeling and physical change, and share the news on the forefront of my mind. But, thanks to the confidence-rocking miscarriage experience of a year ago, I decided to bite my tongue and wait. And wait. And wait. Every day felt like a week. Our goal: To see a strong heartbeat at our first ultrasound. Well, yesterday we saw just that. A heart rate of 154. Our little bug is thriving, so we're ready to tell the world. It's still early. A lot of people would wait longer. Hit more milestones. But I'm a writer. I need to write about milestones. I need to share, because keeping it inside hurts my head. There's a tiny little being with a beating heart hanging out in there, and I think she (hopeful thinking) is here to stay... well, until August at least. Then she gets to take up residence in the rest of the world.

So, changes. I've lost 8 pounds since I got knocked up. And, no way, I'm not dieting. I think the bod's just working really frickin' hard. I actually thought maybe it was twins, because I hadn't lost weight in the beginning with Wyatt until the morning sickness began. This time, I've only had a few bouts of nausea and sickness so far, but I'm dropping weight pretty fast. Who knows? Maybe it's a girl! Maybe that's the difference. Or maybe we really are having twins, and one was just hiding behind the other one in the ultrasound, haha.

I'm not shy about the fact that I'm hoping for a girl. I know that's not very PC. And I will obviously be madly in love with a little boy, too. But we're not planning on any more pregnancies after this one, so I'd really like to complete the set. Heh. And, while we're not quite ready to share our current name options yet, I have a girl's name I would really like to use. And I want to SHOP for a girl. They're superficial reasons, of course, but reasons nonetheless. And of course, mostly, I just want to experience being the mother of a girl. I want to give my parents their first granddaughter. Yep. A definite preference. Sue me.

I think that's all for now. I hope you all have a fantastic Christmas! God bless us, every one. ;)

Word.

2009-11-16T08:18:00.000-08:00

I recently read that at my son's age (19 1/2 mo), he's adding a new word to his vocabulary every 90 minutes. Now, I don't know if that's just waking hours, or averaged based on a 24 hour day. What I do know is that, regardless, that's a lot of new stuff to say. I think it's referred to as the "language explosion". I love hearing him say new things. The only problem is that a lot of those newbies totally throw me for a loop. It took me about a week to realize, for instance, that "awahnee" means "I want it." In case you think he's referring to the famous lodge at Yosemite. And "iman" is not the supermodel from the 80s married to David Bowie. "Iman" means "Come on". Wyattese is a tricky language, but I have a team of translators on the job day and night.

This week has been rough. Wyatt's been great, but I've had a cold. It's hard to be on top of everything when your head is in a vice grip. And so, my kid has a few more freedoms than usual right now. Hey Wyatt, climb down from that 10' ladder. If you fall down, it could take me a while to remember how to dial 9-1-1. We're making it work, though. I thought about calling in sick, but figured leaving Wyatt in his crib all day would be asking for trouble. Out of pure hunger, he'd figure out how to climb out, and then my prison tactics would go the way of the dodo bird. Can't have that.

We're also prepping for more quality one-on-one mommy-kid time. That's glass half full code for single motherhood. Ryan's leaving again for South Dakota on Friday. The good news is that Wyatt and I get to fly out to see him on Tuesday and stay for a couple days for Thanksgiving. So it's only 4 days solo bookended by 2 more days solo. Ryan should be home by next Sunday sometime. And thanks to the same generous benefactor that allows us to use the SD ranch, we'll be flying private, so I won't have to do the airport security thing with a toddler. I'll admit it seriously weirds me out that my son's first flight will be on a private jet. I may need to get pics of him next to the plane in the hanger with sunglasses on, and start calling him Vinnie Chase. (I'm not sure. Is the mommy blog reading demographic the same as the Entourage demographic? Show of hands...) So anyway, the flight should be a lot easier than a typical traveling-with-toddler scenario. But lest you think he's being raised a spoiled brat, I hasten to remind you that he has a built-in humility regulator: i.e. we're raising him in humble Bakersfield. (Apologies to Bakersfield, which is actually a rad place to live. Sadly, a lot of people won't see it that way, because their only real education about Bakersfield has come from its freeway properties and it's non-LAness.)

So, anyway, to summarize: Wyatt talks. I'm sick. South Dakota for Thanksgiving. Bakersfield is rad.

Mommy Meets Judge and Jury

2009-10-19T14:43:00.000-07:00

And then it was Fall. I guess this blog is seasonal. So, anyway... The monkey is now almost 19 months old. He's a rascal. Adorable? Heck yeah. But a RASCAL. Ha. He climbs shelves to get to "out of reach" coffee cups. He then drinks said coffee, spilling half of it on himself and the couch. He pulls bottles of wine out of the wine fridge. He pulls outlet covers out of their plugs. Basically, if he can climb it, knock it over, throw it or snatch it, he will. He is an evil genius and an angelic whirlwind. He is a toddler. And as far as I can tell, even with all that, compared to a lot of tykes out there, he's a really good kid.

And, as it turns out, this is also the age by which parents are judged. This is where people watch you intently to see how you'll handle the latest bit of toddler terror. This is where your family is suddenly public property. Discipline is at the forefront of conversation, and even the most gray minded people you know become apostles of the black and white. Their way or the highway. It makes me mad. But I think I just need to let it go.

Here's what I know: I care about the character of my child. I don't want him to be spoiled, nor do I want him to be opressed. I'm pretty sure that it's my job to teach my son about responsibility. About community. About faith. About consequences and rewards. About real life; not bubble life. And I'm going to do that in the way my husband and I have agreed upon, even if it's not in perfect alignment with the world's latest "only way" parenting craze. Child psychology is great. Sure. But the philosophies change with every generation. One guy writes a book and suddenly last year's wisdom is thrown out the window. New is better. It's shiny. I wonder what new study will overshadow everything we know today? I guess we're all kooks to somebody. So, yes. I have strong opinions about raising MY son. I promise not to inflict them on you. Just do me a favor and give me the same respect. It's none of my business whether you use time outs or lollipops or spankings or distractions or a mix of all of the above. I'll save my concern for the truly unwanted. The truly abused. The truly neglected. I'm just glad you love your kid enough to parent. That's pretty awesome.

Thumbs up. You're doing a good job. Ignore the snide look from the know-it-all in the corner. :)

Living on the Surface of the Sun

2009-07-03T09:32:00.000-07:00

It's summertime in Bakersfield. This is the time of year when I question the wisdom of moving away from the gorgeous coastal climate of Marina del Rey to oven-baked Bakersfield for love. Then Fall comes along and I forget all about the miseries of summer. I assume this phenomenon is no different than living in the Midwest or Northeast in the winters, though. No one can tell me subzero temperatures are a party. It's the same deal. You stay inside more. You take advantage of artificial climate control. You grit your teeth and bear it because you know it's just a couple uncomfortable months, and it'll be over soon. And there's a reason such a huge percentage of the population of the country live in places that don't have perfect weather all year long. Those places are frickin' expensive! So we sacrifice a couple months of yucky weather for home ownership, low-stress commutes, and some expendable income to visit those perfect climates on demand. I think it's actually a pretty good deal. I just have to give myself the sales pitch a little more frequently when the temps jump past 100 degrees... :)

Wyatt is 15 months old now. Hard to believe. He runs. He climbs. He dances. He speaks Wyattese peppered with English here and there. (His favorite word is "Daddie", which sounds like "Daddy" but actually means "Sadie", our dog. Ha!) He has a sense of humor and plays pretend and has very strong opinions about all sorts of things which show in his myriad of facial expressions. I keep flashing back to the tiny bundle of a being he used to be. I keep remembering how we'd grasp at straws to assign personality to little instinctual baby behaviors. And now here he is, projecting his personality so boldly, there's no mistaking it. He's stubborn and goofy and stubborn and mellow and stubborn and loving and STUBBORN. Tons of fun and frustrating to the core, all at the same time!

Hard right. Next week, we're going camping. But before you get a picture of tents and cooking over an open flame in your head, you should go back and read my "camping" blog from a year ago. Just so we're clear, I'm a spoiled brat in that arena. I grew up going to a beautiful cabin in the Sierras with all the comforts of home. I don't think making life harder and less comfortable on purpose constitutes a vacation. But I think this trip will be a lot of fun. To start, we're going to be camping in Peteluma right on the Russian River. That means wineries and civilization are nearby. Did I mention wineries? Yes, wineries. Also, our friends Travis and Amber are loaning us their motor home for the trip. It's a really nice one, so we'll be far from roughing it. And lastly, our son will be a 15 month old on this trip instead of a 4 month old like he was on the last one. I won't be nursing, something I did not enjoy despite all my attempts to be a good little earth mother, and I won't be trying to decipher different kinds of cries from a squirming blob. Yes, I like having a toddler better than I liked having a baby, even with the occasional tantrums and him getting into everything. Because even with all that frustrating work, I still feel a lot more fulfilled parenting a little person than simply keeping a little blob alive. I know. I know. Everyone has their own opinions on that. But for me, when we have another one, I could just skip to him/her being about a year old, I'd be a happy camper. (Bada bing. Hope you pun-lovers enjoyed that one.)

I'm sure there's more. There has to be, because this is my first blog in like 3 months. But I don't have the energy to tell you about it right now, and you could probably do without several more paragraphs. So, stay tuned. Maybe I'll do a little better at keeping this sucker up to date now. Maybe I won't. :-)~

A Year in the Life...

2009-03-26T08:44:00.000-07:00

My son is almost 1 year old. He turns 1 on April 1st, which now seems like a fitting birthday for him, because I think he's already a bit if a jokester. He likes to test limits, yell loudly, and grin from ear to ear even when he knows he's about to get in trouble for whatever sneaky thing he just did in plain view. It's ridiculously cute, and also quite manipulative. Ha. You have to watch him like a hawk, and be prepared to adminster consequences, even to the sweetest face!

In the last month, Wyatt has learned how to walk. He was a cruiser for so long, I almost couldn't believe it when at 11 months old, he decided to take 15 steps in a row, solo. It's been a couple weeks, and he's already moved on to something that resembles a speed-walking/running hybrid. It's so cute, I can barely do it justice. He just goes until his head gets too far ahead of his feet and he falls over. He especially enjoys these little jaunts when Sadie is with him. Standing, he is still taller than Sadie. When he was crawling, she towered over him; I think it made her less appealing. But now, he's the Master. All alpha-male at 1 year old. Look out world. And yesterday, he stood at the door watching Sadie and said, (albeit with some prompting), "Dadie". Loved that.

Basically, my baby is doing what babies do: escaping babyhood in favor of toddlerdome. It's a fun process to witness. Kind of mind-blowing. Finger foods. Sippy cups. Whole milk. Finding treasures all over the house from the rollercoaster of fascination and disinterest associated with toys and papers and boxes and spoons. It's awesome, pure and simple.

In grown-up news, Ryan and I get to go to Hawaii right after Wyatt's 1st birthday party! Ryan's parents blessed us with the use of their timeshare and flight miles. An unreal and generous gift to be sure. We're sooooo excited. Especially because they'll be watching Wyatt. Yep, we get to go munchkin-less. It'll be like a 2nd honeymoon! (Only I won't be wearing a bikini, and we probably will actually have contact with the outside world.) :) Then, at the end of May, I'm taking a whirlwind trip to St. Maarten for Gina's wedding! Dude, somebody is gonna start the summer off with a TAN. Don't think I've had one of those since my honeymoon, either.

Life feels charmed. I feel amazingly blessed right now, and not just because of travel, although that certainly sweetens the deal. It's funny, because I know the world is in a pessimistic place these days. And yet, at the same time, I have an ever-increasing appreciation for things that endure beyond economics. My family. My friends. My faith. Priorities change a lot when you realize you're not in control of the big picture. You start to assess, instead, the character of people. The bonds of parenthood. The nature of belief. And in those things, I think my life will be charmed, even if everything crumbles to the ground. Ryan always teases me about the future when we'll be living in a trailer, farming the ground for our own sustenance, after the economy has finally completely tanked and the government can't find anyone else to borrow from or tax. And while he gets me all riled up, when I really think about it, I feel secure in the important things, no matter how the future unfolds. So, maybe economic systems are really just frosting, anyway. :)

How funny that my blog went from light-hearted to serious in the span of a paragraph. :) Oh, well. Life does that to us all the time, eh? I'm just writing about it. Hey look, I'm writing about it at my finally clean desk... You can't see me? Stinkin' invisibility cloak...

Uh oh, Dada. Catch!

2009-02-02T14:58:00.000-08:00

This installment of the blog is dedicated completely to Wyatt. His words, his skills, and his unexpected boo boos. No pesky stories about mommy, unless she's a supporting roll in a Wyatt story. Sometimes you just need something that's all kid.

I'll begin with the words. I mentioned briefly in one of my last blogs that Wyatt says, "Uh oh!". He also says "Mama" and "Dada". I hadn't heard either of the latter two for about a month, but yesterday he decided to play with his whole vocabulary. He said "Dada" all afternoon when Ryan went out of town. When I put him in his play pin thingy for a bit so I could wash dishes, he kept putting his hands out to me and saying "Mama". So I think it's safe to say he has an idea as to what he's saying. And he definitely understands certain words. He know what "No" means, and he's very familiar with the meaning of the phrase "Stay on the carpet". We have natural boundary lines from carpet to tile in our house, and he's not allowed on the tile. We don't have gates up; but so far basic discipline has worked pretty well. It's more work, because it requires consistency and he loves to test us, but since he already understands what "no" means, it's become effective in lots of areas, not just the tile. I have no idea how hard it'll be to maintain it when there's eventually more than one kid, but it seems to be pretty effective and doable with one. (That, or we just have an easy kid. I guess I won't know that for sure until we have another one, too.)

Yesterday, Wyatt and I played catch with his soft blocks. It's pretty amazing how good of an arm he has. He can throw pretty far, and is surprisingly accurate. The very fact that we play catch back and forth is pretty impressive for a 10 month-old. So now I have to decide whether or not to encourage him to be a pitcher or a quarterback. I enjoy watching football much more than baseball. On the other hand, pitchers usually still have the use of their knees when they're 45. So, hmmm.... my entertainment vs. Wyatt's long-term health. Right now it's still a toss-up. ;)

Lastly, there is the topic of boo boos. On Thursday, Wyatt fell off our bed. I was sitting right next to him, but still didn't manage to catch him. Naturally, I feel pretty bad about that part. He face-planted onto the carpet, and now has a rug burn on the side of his nose. At the time, he also cut the inside of his lip with his new teeth and was bleeding a little from his mouth. Yeah, it shook both of us up. He's totally fine. No broken bones or anything like that. But I have a little reminder of how fast things can happen every time I see the slowly healing boo boo on his nose. Such a bummer. :(

The Last Day: I'm Okay

2009-01-27T11:43:00.000-08:00

Let me start by saying that I'm okay. I'm sad, and a little thrown for loop, but I'm not breaking down or cursing God or dwelling on what could have been. What I am doing is assessing and then continuing to function. The reason, if it's not obvious, is that I've had a miscarriage. Miscarriage is one of those words that almost seems vulgar to say in a public forum... cold, clinical, and maybe too much information. I said it differently on Facebook. I said, "Shannon thinks Facebook is a fun venue for sharing good news, but a terrible one for bad news. Sadly, she has the latter. She's not pregnant anymore. :(." But Facebook is a different forum, isn't it? It's vastly public, and it's about lots of people, not just about me. Somehow, even though I have an open blog, it seems a lot more right to talk about the experience here; where if someone's reading this, they've made a choice to find out more. They aren't just having the information thrown at them on a news feed.

Without falling into the too-much-information trap, I realized it was very likely I was miscarrying on Sunday morning. I was pretty upset, naturally. Confused. Not quite sure what was happening. Sad. I called an Advice Nurse, who suggested I go into an Urgent Care to make sure I wasn't having an ectopic pregnancy. I didn't go. I wasn't in pain, wasn't light-headed, having chills, or anything suggesting it was anything more than an early miscarriage. So I ignored the advice of the advice nurse. I slept for a big chunk of the day. I sat around. I wondered.

Monday was my birthday. I turned 32. I woke up to decaf coffee one button away from brewed with a note from my husband saying Happy Birthday. He'd done the dishes for me, too, and he'd taken the dog to work with him. I'm sure I've mentioned before that he's a keeper. I spent the morning on the phone with an advice nurse again, this time in order to make an appointment with my doctor for an ultrasound. I dropped Wyatt off with my friend Lesa, (thank you so much for the last-minute help, Lesa!) and met Ryan at the OB's office. The ultrasound showed an empty uterus. No evidence of pregnancy. So I got a blood test to measure my hcg levels. I'll have another blood test on Thursday, just to confirm that my levels are going down, but the doctor said that's it's highly unlikely that I'm still pregnant. Maybe a 5-10% chance at most, and I think that's being generous. I know in my heart that I'm not in that 5-10%. So, I spent the rest of the day having already come to terms with the loss. That evening, Ryan and I went out to eat for my birthday. Then I dragged him to the chickiest chick flick I could find. (Bride Wars. Have I mentioned that he's a keeper?) It was a very pleasant evening, despite the bittersweet tones of the day.

Today is just another day in the Kuhns house. I've had some very nice quality time with the munchkin, and I've already completed 9 out of the 15 things on my To Do list. I'm functioning. I'm peaceful. I'm okay.

Days Two - Five: Proof

2009-01-23T11:03:00.000-08:00

It's been just under a week since I found out I'm having another munchkin. For the most part, I've just been walking around in a daze. The very beginning is kind of bizarre. I've been popping prenatal vitamins, cutting way down on caffeine, turning down wine at dinner, and, well, that's it. I haven't been all sick and miserable yet, which is great, but it also means the proof of my pregnancy is the digital display on a test that has already gone blank again. No proof. Well, until yesterday...

Yesterday morning, I went to clean up the first real dog mess since we got the puppy. My preggo nose caught a wiff and that was it. Sick. My husband came home from work for a bit just to clean up the mess and to take the puppy to work with him! He also brought me a decaf Starbucks. That's pretty high up there on the amazing guy scale, I think, eh? He's got how to pamper a preggie down to a science. After that, I went about my day, which included about a million errands. Wyatt was in and out of car seats, strollers and shopping carts all afternoon. One of those stops was to the Lab, where I had my official blood test done for the doc. Got my results back a couple hours later. Positive. Not that there was a question, but it always seems so much more real when the doctor tells you. So now I have my proof.

I'm also turning 32 on Monday, so there are a few little birthday things going on, including a visit from Andrea next weekend, which I'm really excited about! But nothing else related to the bun in the oven. In the 1st trimester, that's probably a good thing. Oh, and yesterday Wyatt learned how to say "Uh oh!". I don't think he actually knows what it means, but he says it all the time, which is pretty stinkin' cute. So that's where we're at. A happy little family with a whole lot to think about these days.

Day One: Again

2009-01-19T20:25:00.000-08:00

I'm knocked up. Again. Whoa.

It's not like we didn't know there was a chance, but who in their 30s gets pregnant the very first month off the pill? Who's that stinkin' fertile? Well, evidently I am. I must have been built for another era... I would have been such a catch to some farmer in Arkansas in the 1940s who wanted about 18 kids to help him run the farm. Just imagine my potential, had I started young... Ha!

I told Ryan with a text message. It's not quite as lame as it sounds. I sent a series of pictures. First, a close-up of Wyatt saying, "Dad, I have something to tell you." Then a not-as-close-up picture of him wearing a big brother wife beater saying, "I'm gonna be a big brother!" And lastly, a picture of the Pregnant digital display of the pregnancy test saying, "Yes, that's what it means." He came home with balloons (one "boy", one "girl", which I hope simply say one or the other, and that they aren't an omen for twins, ha ha) and flowers, and we celebrated by going out to dinner. I had Panang Curry and wondered how much longer it'd be before I'd be eating saltine crackers and 7-up. Yum.

Needless to say, we're not really secret-keepers around here. I didn't wait until I started my 2nd trimester to tell everyone. In fact, it's already on my Facebook status, and I just found out today! I know, I know. It's probably smart to hold out for a bit - make sure everything sticks. But I'd die having to wait. And as soon as we can, we'll find out if we're having a boy or a girl, too. At that point, baby "it" will have a correct pronoun and a proper name (because we already have those picked out, too). That's just how we roll.

Yeah, it's a whole new experience the 2nd time around. I'm excited, but also filled with a mild sense of dread. You know, just about certain aspects of pregnancy (the 1st and 3rd trimesters) and certain things about the baby (the birth, the first 6 weeks of his/her existence, nursing again). Yeah, just some minor concerns... :) But then I look at Wyatt. At this little person with his own personality and those big blue eyes. And yeah, I think I can do this.

Again. :)

Merry Christmas, You Pantless Baby!

2008-12-18T10:48:00.000-08:00

So, you know how time goes by, and then you have to scramble to remember what's been happening? Yeah, guilty as charged. What is this strange blog you speak of?

Wyatt has a few new skills. They're not necessarily "milestones" but they sure are funny. For instance, this morning after his nap, I went into his room to get him. He'd managed to take off his own pants! We don't have video surveillance of the event, so I have no idea how he did it. I just know he had pants on when he went to sleep and when he woke up, his pants were scrunched up in the corner of his crib. Crazy kid. And speaking of strange slumber happenings, the kid also occasionally talks in his sleep. And by "talks" I mean "babbles unintelligibly", but still. Full volume "talking" while fast asleep. Who knew you could talk in your sleep without actually knowing how to talk? Hmmmm, what else, while I'm on the Wyatt topic? He gets more splishy and splashy with every bath. These days, I get soaked when I try to bathe him. :) But he LOVES bath time. He just grins and giggles the whole time, even when I pour water on his head and it gets in his eyes. It's pretty stinkin' cute.

Another big topic these days, naturally, is Christmas. We have lots of family stuff planned, of course. Should be fun, and crazy, and exhausting, and, you know, still fun. And I'm sure Wyatt will get lots of fun presents. Well, from family, at least. We're not really getting him that much this year. In fact, he only has two presents from us, and they both fit in his stocking. I know, bah humbug, right? But the thing is, he's not going to remember this Christmas. Plus, we already buy him everything he needs, and he's not old enough to have a Christmas list of wants yet. And we know he'll get all sorts of things from the family, so he's hardly losing out.... Gosh, I'm really working hard to convince myself I'm still a good mom, huh? :) Well, the thing is, gift-giving is totally my love language. So, even though there are a million logical reasons not to spend a bunch of money on presents for the munchkin this year, it still hurts my heart a little! If it were solely up to me, I'd go practically bankrupt buying everyone I know presents. It takes a lot of self-control not to. Seriously. A lot.

Okay, so then after Christmas is NEW YEAR'S EVE! Normally, that's not quite so exciting. But this year, we're going to a super cool party at Brian & Lesa's house. It's a pre-depression party. Totally 1927. We even have a password to get into the speakeasy. And we'll all be in costume, naturally. And of course, being a huge fan of double-meanings, I can't help but get a kick out of the whole "pre-depression" theme. I certainly hope we're not headed into another depression, but to be on the safe side, we'll have to party pre-depression style, like it's 2008! I'm so glad I'm not pregnant this year! I'm not sure I could have pulled off a wayward knocked-up flapper with much grace. And I'm pretty sure I didn't see any maternity costumes when I was looking for the perfect ensemble. Now I just need to get the right shoes and I'll be good to go. It always comes down to shoes, doesn't it, ladies?

Say it Like You Mean it.

2008-11-25T10:15:00.000-08:00

"Mama." Yes, ladies and gents, Wyatt's first word is "mama". I win! And how, you may ask, do I know for sure that he's saying "mama" and not just playing with the "ma" sound? Oh, I know. A mama knows. Plus, you know, he just says it when I leave the room or he needs me. Yeah, guys, that's definitely "mama". That's "Where are you going? Come back! I need you." That's "Mama" with a capital M. And while there may be a day when I wish he didn't know how to say it, because it will have been abused beyond recognition by stuff he wants in stores and separation anxiety melt-downs, right now it's pretty much the coolest sound in the whole wide world.

And now for the crazy news. It looks like Ryan, Wyatt and I are moving to Boise, Idaho. Wait, what? Huh? I know. Like I said, it's crazy news. It's something we've been talking about for a while, but we wanted to be sure it was the right decision before we let too many people know about it. I won't get into too many details, but this could be a huge opportunity for Ryan's company, and a smart move for Wyatt. The schools are great. The shopping is surprisingly good. The health care system up there is great. The cost of living is really low, too. There are four seasons, but they're mild enough not to scare this California girl away... etc. I know, it's a sales pitch. Can you blame me for hoping I can lure some of my friends up there, too? :) And I guess, technically, it' not in stone yet. Ryan and I are flying up there the weekend after next so I can get a feel for the place and make sure it's somewhere I could call home. I've been there before, but never as a prospective resident, so I need to see it with new eyes. It's going to be kind of strange to live in a different state. Beyond some short stints as an exchange student in Germany and in Australia, I've never lived anywhere except California. And now a quote for my friend Jade: "We're in YOUdaho!"

WWK's Mobility Revolution

2008-11-05T19:36:00.000-08:00

We've had our first casualty of Wyatt's mobility revolution: his head. Yeah, the little dude took a spill while climbing Mt. Coffee Table. We estimate, from his all-boy energy, that this is the first of many. Great. I guess it comes with the territory, but no Mama likes to see her kid with a fat bruise on his forehead.

As you know, Wyatt's a crawler now. He gets more confident and a little quicker every day. Well, it turns out that mere crawling was boring my child to tears. So, he decided the night before last to pull up to a standing position on the coffee table all by himself. Yes, my child is now standing without help. This is where I remind you that this kid is only 7 months old. In a month's time, he has gone from playing on his back and tummy to sitting up on his own to crawling to standing. The next step will be cruising, which doesn't seem too far off. And then, of course, comes walking. Exactly how early is this munchkin going to walk? Holy frickin' cow!

I have one last little milestone to share. This one helps me out a lot. Wyatt is now consistently holding his own bottle. Yesterday he did it for every bottle, so he's proven his capability. When Wyatt proves he's capable of new things, we don't allow him to opt out. If he wants a bottle, he now has to hold it. End of discussion. We did the same thing with sleeping through the night. Once he'd done it 3 nights in a row, we knew he was capable. After that, he never got another middle of the night feeding. (Well, except for that one time when he was sick, but those were extenuating circumstances.) Everyone has their own parenting style, but for us, enforcing things like this have been very successful. That, or we just have a really good kid, in which case I'm sure I'll be eating crow when we get around to baby #2, haha.

Well, I guess that about sums things up. Clearly my son is in a hurry to grow up. I have a theory on that. Ryan always tells him that when he gets bigger, he can go to work with Daddy. Wyatt obviously likes this idea a lot. Watch out for our blue-eyed boy in a hard hat and work boots any day now...

Fast and Furious

2008-10-29T08:07:00.000-07:00

Dude. Seriously. This kid is in milestone overdrive. Last night, Wyatt crawled for the first time! He's been taking a few "steps" before losing his focus, but he's done it several times, so we know he has the mechanics down. He ought to be a speeding bullet of a rug rat in no time. As I mentioned in my last post, he's also learning to climb. We finally lowered his crib in order to prevent him from taking a dive over the top. Last night he also attempted to pull himself up to a standing position on the couch. He couldn't quite get there, but he looked determined, which seems to garner quick results in Wyatt land. I'm also trying to teach him how to crawl down backwards from the couch. I got a picture of him on my cell phone standing steady after a crawl-down lesson, and I expect we'll see more of this pose as he figures out how to pull all the way to standing. And since every time he's in a standing position, he tries to take steps, I foresee an early walker... I keep having to remind myself that my milestone-ramming, super tall little boy is really only 7 months old. Sometimes he looks so much older than that. Oh, but those chubby cheeks give him away... :)

I'm also happy to report that yesterday I slipped into the jeans I wore for my engagement pictures two years ago. I wore them comfortably for most of the day until Wyatt managed to get carrots on them. Fun with laundry! But it felt great. I'm not quite to my goal weight yet, but getting into some of my skinnier clothes is definitely incentive to keep fighting the good fight. It'll probably take a "mom job" after we're done having kids to get me back into my favorite bikini, but I sure do have a lot of great jeans I'll be thrilled to wear all winter. :)

More about me, me, me: I've been wrestling with an old manuscript lately. (Yes, reading Twilight inspired me.) I love my characters and the premise, but something was eating at me as I tried to move the story forward. Well, I figured it out! Now I can move forward, and potentially finish this thing! I realize this is kind of cryptic, since I'm not going to reveal my secret ingredient... or even the kind of recipe for that matter, ha ha, but I just had to share. I made a breakthrough. And for a writer, that kicks ass. :)

Here's the happy mama with her munchkin. I so rarely have pictures of myself posted anywhere, so I figured I'd drop in and say hello:

Lucky Number 7

2008-10-27T13:30:00.000-07:00

On Saturday, the munchkin will be 7 months old. It's strange to even try to think about whether that happened quickly or slowly. Like with all things time-related, I have a mixed response with dramatic swings of the pendulum. But whether that took forever, or happened in a blink, we have a 7 month old child. And I say child, not baby. This kid quit being a baby a while back. He's such a little boy. It's crazy to listen to him growl, see him create his own game of peek-a-boo, and watch the milestones wander past us. He's cut his second tooth as of this morning (a grumpy morning indeed), and is learning how to climb. Evidently, a child doesn't need to know how to crawl forward in order to crawl up. He is easily bored, fights naps like a champ, and will always grin wildly at his first glimpse of his dad each day. He's a beautiful little boy, and he now actually knows what "no" means, and responds (usually) accordingly. Pretty stinkin' miraculous stuff.

I will now enter the portion of my blog I'll call "luck-schmuck". I'm going to give you the very abbreviated story of what I referred to at the end of my last blog. A week ago today, Ryan was called in to help his landlord evict a tenant. It was a church, which sounds innocent enough, but when all was said and done, the "pastor" had called in some thugs to break Ryan's face, and he had to pull his pistol (a gun he carries legally, by the way) to get them to stand down. (I put "pastor" in quotation marks fairly, considering by the end he was yelling "don't call me pastor. I'm not a pastor". I think that's what we refer to as a "wolf in sheep's clothing.") Well, they claimed they were gonna go get more guys and guns... As they sped of, Ryan called 911. After 5 attempts, he got through. (Makes you feel really safe, doesn't it? 5 attempts to get through to 911? Our safe society is such a thin veneer...) After a tense and scary 15 minutes, the police came to "diffuse" the situation. That means they made everyone go away, not that anyone was actually safe. But still, a gun fight was obverted, so that's a relief. Especially over a frickin' eviction of a church. Well, the next morning, the landlord got a call from the "pastor", saying the boys didn't like getting a gun pulled on them, so they were out looking for Ryan with a few "shooters" fresh out of the Pen. Great. Perfect. So there was like a hit out on my husband for evicting a church that never paid a cent of rent... and he's not even the landlord. Needless to say, we decided to leave town for a while and let things cool down. Things seem to be okay now, but no mother of a small child (okay no one, period) enjoys scary threats. So we're still on high alert for a while... Awesome. Heartwarming, ain't it? So that's the short version. I don't know if I have the energy to get into the longer version, but let me just tell you one thing: Ryan acted in wisdom and more importantly - he acted rightly. And I'll always be glad I'm married to the good guy, even if dealing with a bad guy may put him in danger. Contrary to what some may think, there's still such a thing as right and wrong, and my husband is on the good side.

On a lighter note, where are my book recommendations, people? Come on, throw this literary fiend a bone! I'm almost done with my rebound book and I'm jonesing for input. Thanks!

Read the Signs

2008-10-20T12:15:00.000-07:00

I basically decided that if I was going to start reading again after Twilight, it was going to have to be something very different and potentially mindless. I found the perfect transition book to help me enjoy some lighthearted chick lit again. It's called Baby Proof by Emily Giffin. The protagonist is pleasantly sarcastic and completely grown up, which helps my cause. I needed something written in a voice that sounded nothing like Bella Swan, so I wouldn't keep comparing and getting bored when she didn't fall madly in love with a vampire and repeatedly almost get herself killed... So yeah, this one works. Hopefully the books keep on coming. Ideas are always appreciated!

Wyatt, now 6 1/2 months old, is really on verge of crawling. I know I've said that several times, but he actually pushes with one knee now and magically finds himself a couple feet away from his initial location. I don't think he quite knows what out of his arsenal of movements actually works best, but he'll probably figure it out any day now. I started putting outlets plugs all over the house in preparation, and Ryan even put corner guards on our ridiculously sharp coffee table corners. We haven't installed the cabinet locks or actually moved things out of their low-to-floor positions (i.e. vases in the entryway...) and we still need to get something to guard the fireplace from little hands, and I guess we're gonna need a couple retractable gates... oy. Not sure how these changes will look in our house... Get over it, Shannon. You're a mom now. These things go with the territory... And really, can I complain when I already have a pile of toys in the living room and blankets spread all over the floor for playing? How is that not an eye sore? :) Only the best fo my little dude.

Speaking of the boy, I forgot to share his latest measurements from the doctor. He was 20lb 13oz (90th percentile) and 29.5" tall (off the charts). Still on his way to some sort of high-paying professional sports career, I think. :) But you know, we'll settle for a doctor; so he has options.

I will very briefly touch on one more topic from our day, before calling this blog quits. I am exceedingly grateful to God that my husband is safe today. And I have a brand new level of understanding as to why the 2nd Amendment was written for the good guys. Holy CRAP. If you know Ryan (or me, and want to know more details) give one of us call, and we'll give you the breakdown on how Ryan's CCW (permit to carry a concealed weapon) saved his life today. I'll blog little more about it next time. Not trying to be cryptic, just absorbing it before I spit it out to the masses.

Sit Up Straight!

2008-10-13T15:56:00.001-07:00

A month after my last post, it has finally occurred to me that perhaps I should write again. You'd think I didn't find my life interesting enough for public consumption or something.... jeez.

So, anyway. Wyatt is sitting up on his own now! He just started doing it, without immediately falling over, today! I think it was the incentive of getting to beat up a toy football, as is illustrated in the picture. :) I'm hoping maybe this will also mean he'll stop spitting up soon, spitty little bugger that he is, but I'm not holding my breath. I think I may have a son who spits up until well into high school, ha ha. He's still working on the whole crawling thing. Not quite there, but very much on his way. And no, we still haven't baby proofed our house. Yeah... we really need to get around to that soon.

Let's see, what else? I just finished reading all four books in the Twilight saga. I'm embarrassed to even say it, because until I read them, I thought they were just obsessive teen books... about as tempting to me as the Jonas Brothers. But then, you know, I read them. I blame Andrea, who convinced me that they're as fun for adults as teens. :) And it turns out she was right; they're really good! And now every time I start a new book, I'm bored after a few pages. Nothing is entertaining me! Help! If any of you have some good ideas for books that are super entertaining and fun, I'm all ears. I was digging the reading thing so much, and now I'm ruined for most of the books I had on my "to read" list. For now, the good news is that I'm back to working on a book I started writing in grad school. My goal is to write a book that entertains me as much as those did. If you can't find one, write one, right?

I guess that's about it. Have a great October!

That Bites

2008-09-17T11:06:00.000-07:00

Wyatt has a tooth. Oh yes, after two months of sore gums, runny noses and pain relievers, my son's first tooth has finally broken through... or at least a corner of it has. So, um, how long do you think the other corner is gonna take to make its appearance? And does the first tooth prep the gums for the other 20 or so teeth that still need to arrive? I'm feeling.... underwhelmed. Poor kid. No wonder kids start to get a little grumpy and bratty in their "terrible twos". They're just finally fed up with the whole teething process! Or, um... something like that.

Oh, and there's more. Wyatt has a new sound. He has learned to shriek like a girl. It's cute, because he's squeaking with glee... but you know... it's also loud. Very loud. And it can be hard to decipher from his other shriek... the one where he's crying in misery. Glee, misery... same difference? Hmmmm.

The third Wyatt tidbit involves mobility. Our boy is on the brink of crawling. He gets his butt up in the air and sort of scoots forward accidentally. It's not quite deliberate mobility, but it's definitely shaking up his world a little bit as he stumbles upon the ability to get to some of his toys. You think maybe we should start baby proofing our house? Yeah, maybe...

Short and sweet. It's a cliché. It's also the perfect description of this blog, so you'll have to deal. Bye!

Bottle Shock

2008-09-12T15:49:00.000-07:00

It's been almost a month since I've updated my blog. Shame. Shame. I think sometimes you get into a groove, and then sometimes you lose it. I lost my groove. (And no, I don't plan to get it back Stella-style...) So, anyway, I'm back. Hi.

Wyatt is now 5 1/2 months old. He's a kick. He's finally to an age where he's trying to do new things... where you can see the gears turning in his head as he turns things over in his hands or tries to move somewhere once he's rolled onto his stomach. He does that all the time. He starts on his back, rolls onto his stomach, and then lays for a while and tries to figure out how to crawl. So far, he rocks and squirms, but he hasn't quite figured out the coordination or how to get up on all fours at the same time. It's coming. I think crawling is about a month or two out. He's also getting closer to sitting up on his own. He can balance as long as he doesn't lose focus, but as soon as he looks in a different direction, he tends to tip over in that direction. :)

In other Wyatt news, I've decided to wean the munchkin. I know, I know. Evil Momma. Good mothers nurse for at least a year, not 5 1/2 months, right? Blah blah blah. Here's your medal for mommy sainthood. Listen, all I can tell you is that my son is teething, and he's a stubborn little monster when it comes to chewing and biting during feedings. YES, I tried flicking him when he did it. I tried it with a stern "NO!". I tried it over and over again while he alternately cried or laughed at me and then went back to gnawing on things he shouldn't be gnawing on. He's either a little thick and doesn't understand cause and effect, or he's as stubborn as his father. I think it's the latter. So the shop is closed for business. I'm dealing with sore boobs and he's dealing with bottles. Yea for bottles!

Okay, now for a paragraph about something new. We have a backyard! It's true; the dirt lot behind our house has been transformed. Beautiful stained and stamped concrete, green grass, a retaining wall, trees and a jacuzzi. It's pretty stinking nice to have a reason to open the shades. The only thing we don't have yet is the patio cover, which is being engineered for a large span. It'll be nice, pitched, and have a matching roof with our house. Pretty sweet. And then of course we'll invest in some good outdoor furniture, etc. But honestly, just seeing green grass and trees makes me happy!

I guess that's enough for today. Been following the election? Yeah... me too. It's been hot lately... Sure am glad fall is coming... So... The Trojans are playing some awesome football, eh? Yeah... You can hang up now.

Rollin' with my Homies

2008-08-15T09:50:00.000-07:00

We're in milestone land. On Wednesday, August 13th, Wyatt rolled over for the first time from his tummy to his back. He was chillin' on a blanket on the floor with his buddy Alex, who's 2 weeks younger. He saw Alex rollin' like a pro and decided to give it a try. (Jealous, much?) To our delight, he pulled it off on the first try! (He hasn't done it again since, ha ha, but it still counts!)

And while we're talking milestones, we can add Mr. Wyatt to the solid food club. Yep, my boy now eats from a spoon. Rock on, little muncher. He seemed a little weirded out by the texture of something not-milk-like, but being the hearty eater that he is, he got over it in no time. Watch out world, Wi-Fi is learning to chow.

In other eating news, not Wyatt-related, I'm learning to cook. And by "learning" I mean "teaching myself with random recipes and expensive grocery bills". I find that the basics are boring, so I've jumped right into gourmet-land. Okay, that's an exaggeration, considering I don't even really know what all the tools do, or the difference between "chopping" and "mincing". But if I don't know, I just improvise. So far, most things have turned out pretty good. I've had a couple flops, but I guess that's the whole "learn from your mistakes" angle. Tonight, I'm cooking for the first time for Ryan's family. (I made jerk chicken for my parents a couple weeks ago, but knowing me, they have such low expectations in the kitchen, ha ha, it wasn't much pressure.) What's funny is that it's not like the Kuhns are a high-maintenance group. We could order pizza and they'd be perfectly happy. But I know Ryan wants to show off his wife's culinary progress, ha ha, and so I'm stepping up to the plate with a repeat performance of my Garlic Sesame Pork Tenderloin, Artichokes with Creamy Dill Dipping Sauce, and some Garlic Bread. Garlic is the thru-line for this meal, so my apologies to anyone in the family who was planning on having minty fresh breath tonight...

I feel like with as long as it's been since I blogged, I should probably have more to say. I should, for instance, be telling you about Wyatt and my perfectly fun day in LA last week. I should be writing about Ryan and my sans-baby trip up to the Napa area for the Bottling Party at the Housley's winery. I should, but I'm tired of typing. I'll get back to you on those. It'll be a teaser - setting you up for the sequel. Try not to be too impatient. :) And speaking of impatient, I'll leave you with a picture of the little dude, who was too impatient to take his nap to let his mommy know he was tired...

Our Little Dude is Bulking Up for Fall

2008-07-31T18:44:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow, Wyatt will be 4 months old. He'll start eating cereal with a spoon. I had to stop by Target today to buy spoons and plastic bowls, because somehow that age just seemed so far away... I didn't even prep for it. And yet, here we are. And of course, he isn't just getting older; he's getting bigger. At his 4 month appointment today, he weighed in at 17lb 7oz and measured 27" tall. That's still 90th percentile for weight and a whopping 95th percentile for height.

Here's my theory: Wyatt's obsessed with football, because he could hear his momma watching both NCAA and NFL games through a good chunk of her pregnancy. It soaked into his very DNA. And he will, of course, be justified in his goal come the end of this month. Football season is almost here again!!! Yea! Pure heaven for me and my little linebacker. I do, after all, watch more football than my husband, even though he used to play.

Here's Wyatt working out for fall:

Post Traumatic Vacation Disorder

2008-07-27T14:58:00.000-07:00

We're home! Mammoth was fun and exhausting and adventurous and funny. And as with so many vacation experiences, it's the old "I need a vacation to recover from my vacation" scenario. I don't really know where to start, so I'll just sort of jump right in.

First, I have to fess up. We didn't make it a week in the trailer. :) We stayed in it for 3 nights. Then, on Wednesday, after a fun, long day at the ghost town Bodie (a baby name we actually like a lot, by the way) and to the sound of the wails of a teething (more on that in a second) cranky baby, Ryan suggested that perhaps we should finish out our vacation at the Westin. Now you're talkin'. We did, after all, want to get a little relaxation into our vacation, and Ryan and I tend to find luxury very relaxing. :) Granted, we still had an infant with us, so it wasn't quite as relaxing as it would have been with a sitter, ha ha, but it definitely took the edge off! I know what you're thinking. How spoiled are you? You can't handle a week in a perfectly good trailer? Plenty of people go tent camping all the time, and they don't complain! They like it! It's fun! And hey, people even do it with babies and have a good time. Well... yeah... I don't know what to tell you. I do have a better understanding of why people enjoy camping now, but I still kind of like a soft, king size bed and daily maid service better. I'm a nut like that. Normally, one of my favorite things would be the pool and two hot tubs. I'm still, however, widdling away at the 64 pounds I gained with my pregnancy (I know, gasp!). So I just couldn't bring myself to pack a swimsuit. I'm happy to report that I didn't gain any weight on vacation, at least. So there's that.

There's no rhyme or reason to how I'm writing this blog, so hey, let's start a new paragraph, shall we? (She's a writer?) We had a few obstacles on our vacation, as I hinted at earlier. I'll start with the teething baby. My son isn't even 4 months old yet, but he's already starting to get a tooth. You can just make out a tiny white spot, but it's there. What an overachiever. I guess he figures if he's as big as an 8 month-old, he might as well prep himself to eat steak and potatoes like a man. With that discomfort, plus a ravenous appetite from what we assume is another growth spurt, (because our child clearly wants to catch up with Shaq's kids), we had some moments of pure delight in the trailer. One night, Wyatt screamed for about 2 hours straight. It was insane, and let's just say I did my share of crying that night, too. And it didn't help, obviously, that I'd just found out that day that my grandpa had passed away. I was a little, shall we say, fragile. I'm sure that contributed to Ryan's decision to treat us to the Westin.

Wow, that got somber. But we also had a lot of fun on this trip. Mammoth is a very cool place, and we enjoyed spending time with Ryan's family. Wyatt was in hold-the-baby heaven. He also really gets a kick out of his cousins. Babies seem to really enjoy other little people. :)

Okay, I'm going to change the subject. Wyatt is almost 4 months old. He has his 4 month appt. on Thursday, so we'll find out just how big our little dude has gotten. Despite some little frustrations like teething and growth spurts, he's actually amazingly fun right now. He smiles and laughs all the time. He's also obsessed with his hands, tongue and feet (in that order). If he could spend hours chewing on one hand, using the other one to pull a foot in front of his face, and experimenting with new ways to stick his tongue out and make new sounds, he'd be in heaven. (And let's face it, that's basically exactly what he gets to do for good chunks of the day, which may explain why he's always smiling and laughing.) He also thinks he can already walk. If you hold him steady and stand him up, he'll lift each foot and try to take a stroll. Again, this is a child who wants to grow up too fast! I figure he ought to roll over, sit on his own and crawl before he walks, but what do I know?

Here's more about our little dude. Let's talk binks. (Those are pacifiers, by the way.) Wyatt pretty much only uses a bink when he's sleeping or in the car (when his parents want him to be sleeping). There's a pretty strong sleep association there, so we're big fans of the bink. Well, Mr. Curious has now figured out how to pull the bink out with his hand and look at it as he's drifting off to sleep. This would be awesome if he were skilled at putting it back in his mouth. But the boy is notorious now for going down for his nap with a bink in his mouth, pulling it out to investigate it as he drifts off, but not fully falling asleep because he can't figure out how to get it back into his mouth. He's also good at spitting it out accidentally because he wants to play with his aforementioned tongue. We don't plan on letting him have the bink past a year old, but we weren't expecting it to have complications by 3 1/2 months! Oh well. It'll just be a race to see if he learns how to sleep without it, or how to put it back in his mouth first. Honestly, I'm okay either way at this stage.

More pics from Mammoth (in the trailer) of the boy:

Vacation, Kuhns Style

2008-07-19T11:39:00.000-07:00

Those of you who know me, know that I'm not a camper. I love the mountains, but prefer to experience them in a cozy cabin with all of the amenities of home and plenty of room to stretch out. Especially a cabin with a cleaning service. When we were kids, our family had a nice cabin up at Huntington Lake. Vacation was laying out on the deck getting a tan while reading about 5 new novels and watching sailboats. There were a couple hikes, maybe a day on the lake in a houseboat, and possibly a couple hours of light fishing. Most of these were just alternate ways to work on my tan. We'd make s'mores in the pot bellied stove in the cabin, or down at the country store fire pit. To me, that's a vacation in the mountains. I like the smell of the woods and nice views of a lake. But I've never understood the point of purposely roughing it. Let's pretend we're homeless! Not you style...? Okay, well step it up. Let's pretend we live in a trailer park! I guess I've just never quite understood the appeal.

This week, we're heading off for a vacation, Kuhns style. We're going to Mammoth. We're staying in our trailer (more on that in a second) and will be spending the week doing activities with various members of Ryan's immediate an extended family. And, we'll have Wyatt with us on this adventure, of course. I really want this to be fun. I especially want it, because I know Ryan is totally excited about the trip. I like it when Ryan's happy. And there are certainly aspects of the trip that I'm looking forward to. It'll be cool to see the whole family. I like Ryan's family. They're an entertaining bunch. I also know there will be more hands than usual to hold Wyatt, which is always a plus to a new mom. He'll get to meet his new second cousin (who is only like a two weeks younger than him) Elliott, too. Ryan will hopefully not be working (on job work, project work, or any other work -- crossing fingers), so he shouldn't be overly stressed out or tired. At least I hope that's the case, because I think that's the whole point of being on vacation, right? The air will be clean. The weather should be nice. I've also heard that Mammoth is a pretty cool town. So good stuff, right? Yeah, mostly...

I do have some concerns, however. One, of course, is staying in the trailer. I know, I know. What a princess I am. But as a long-time insomniac, new mom, and general relaxer during vacations, I foresee a few discomforts and inconveniences that in the past, I have never associated with vacation. First is the trailer itself. It's nice enough for what we paid for it, but you know, it's no Ritz-Carlton. The premise for our purchase of said-trailer was for "if sh!t hits the fan". My husband was doing the very responsible thing of protecting his family in case of natural disaster, societal breakdown, or great depression. It's good to have a "just in case" trailer. I could have sworn that was why I was okay with getting a trailer, when for other reasons...like I don't know...vacationing... hadn't convinced me prior to that. So I'm mildly bummed to be vacationing in our "if sh!t hits the fan" trailer after all. Maybe that makes me a spoiled brat, but there it is. I'm also not stoked about the general lack of room when we have so much needed baby gear. And of course, to be perfectly honest, I have protested the very idea of camper/trailer/RV vacations from the moment I met Ryan, because as my grandmother always said "If mom has to take her chores with her on vacation, it's not a vacation for mom". And so... yeah... a few concerns. To Ryan's credit, though, the positives should outweigh the negatives. So there's that.

The truth is, I think we'll have fun, for the most part. That's what I'm hoping. My goal is to be positive and embrace the new vacation standard. I mean, otherwise it's a losing battle. After all, my last name is Kuhns now. It's just one of the many changes I've encountered now that I'm married. I'll let you know if I succeed with my goal to enjoy myself... :)

Ghetto Fabulous, Sorta...

2008-07-03T13:45:00.000-07:00

This has been a seriously amusing week. I'll start with an update on Sleep Watch '08. Wyatt is now definitely a child who sleeps through the night. He now sleeps anywhere from 8-10 hours in a block. (The pic is actually of Wyatt after he fell aseep while playing, but it fit the sleep theme, so go with it, okay?) My husband has been telling people about how he suddenly has his wife back. It's true. I didn't even realize just how much my energy and mood was still being affected by the daily broken sleep until I started getting normal, full nights again. All of a sudden, things that have felt overwhelming and difficult since Wyatt was born (like cooking meals that actually require recipes and running more than one errand at a time with the baby in tow) seem totally doable. Sleep. Dude, it's a powerful thing.

While we're on the subject of my adorable little monster, I'll switch to a topic that's less about celebration and more about imperfection. The term is "original sin" when a baby starts to show his flawed humanity - when flashes of rebellion, manipulation and general pissed-off-ness start to replace basic survival reasons to cry. Wyatt turned 3 months old on Tuesday, and he definitely turned that corner. He gets impatient, even when he knows he's about to be fed, and screams to get his way faster. It's no longer "I'm hungry; feed me mama." It's "Speed it up, woman! The prince does not wait for his meal!" My son has learned how to be a brat. Tsk tsk. To his credit, he's also learned other social behaviors like smiling and laughing. And there's a lot more of that than the bratty fits, so I'm not suggesting I have an evil child. I'm just saying, you know, he's learning way too early that there's a system to be worked...

Onward to other things: I got new 20" Denali wheels and a new Denali grill for my Yukon! Needless to say, I don't actually have the Denali model. But the Yukon I have is the fully loaded, nicest non-Denali you can buy. Pretty much, the only differences are the wheels and the grill. Do you see where I'm going here? I basically just upgraded my vehicle for a fraction of the cost of buying it that way, without getting all flashy and ghetto. (No offense to the ghetto-fabulous owners of spinners and super-bling rhinestone grills, but that wasn't quite the look I was going for in the mommy-mobile.) It looks pretty stinkin' good, I think. I haven't gotten a picture of the new grill yet, so I'll have to get back to ya on that, but you can see the new wheels, which are pretty awesome. I also realize that a good percentage of the people I know read this blog could care less about the diameter of wheels, the shine of rims, or the line of a grill on a car. But I've always been a car nut, so I have to be true to my motor-trend reading heritage... :)

I also got paid on one of my latest freelance jobs. There's nothing like a check in your mailbox to brighten up your week. So basically, all of this is just to say that it's been a good week. Whaaat, whaaat.

Sleep Watch '08

2008-06-25T07:40:00.000-07:00

We're currently in the midst of Sleep Watch '08. The star of our saga? Mr. Wyatt William Kuhns. Yep, we have ourselves a little experiment going here in the Kuhns household. We're testing out a baby sleep remedy recommended by countless aunts, grandmothers and friends, but not recommended by BabyCenter.com and other official baby care resources. Oh, the controversy... Two nights ago, we tried giving Wyatt a bottle at bedtime with a little rice cereal in the mix. I misread the measuring spoon and only gave him a teaspoon of the good stuff instead of a tablespoon. Wyatt gave us an 8 hour block. Success! Last night, I rectified the measuring spoon fiasco and used a tablespoon instead. (Drum roll please...) Wyatt gave us a 9 hour stretch! Yes, ladies and gentlemen, our son went from 10pm to 7am between feedings. Ah, sweet slumber! So, that's 2 nights in a row that the controversial rice cereal has worked its secret magic. Take that, oh baby elite... My little dude likes it old school.

This past weekend, the munchkin went on a couple road trips. Saturday, we spent some quality time in Visalia. It was 108 degrees. Whoop whoop, Summertime. Thank you, Jesus, for air conditioning. We got to see lots of family and friends, which was a treat. Wyatt also met (in his sleep) my Papa, his great-grandpa who's in the hospital. We love you, Papa. Then, on Sunday, we went down to LA. Ryan was showing our sailboat to potential buyers (please buy that sucker, oh maritime enthusiasts of Marina del Rey) and I got to hang out with T and Riley. We also went down to Torrance to visit the Ludwig clan, which was a welcome surprise! Wyatt was the most excited about Riley, I think. He did, after all, get his first kiss from a girl.

Here, as usual, are a few more pics of my handsome kid. He'll be 3 months old on July 1st, but he's about the size of Riley who is more than twice his age! (7 months old.) Yeah, my husband and I both come from some hardy stock...

Ditching the Little Dude

2008-06-19T09:40:00.000-07:00

Sooooo.... I haven't really done that much blogging lately. I've been stumped. I'm sure you all found my diatribe on Wyatt's napping schedule fascinating and everything, but... :)

I took my first trip away from the little dude this past weekend. It was a girls' weekend in Palm Springs. I got a little teary-eyed when I left because Wyatt was asleep so I couldn't give him a bunch of obsessive mommy-kisses on my way out the door. Once we got to the hotel, though (which was actually a resort in Rancho Mirage) I was perfectly content to get some quality time away from the squirt. I got to experience pre-baby things like 8 hours of uninterrupted sleep for two days in row (although I woke up in the morning with boobs about to burst...) and having three bloody maries by the pool without having to worry about the dangers of buzzed-mommying. T and I also got to bond with our pumping parties in the hotel room. It was one of the benefits of not being the only nursing mother in attendance. :) The down side was actually wearing a bathing suit in public only 2 months post-baby and the still-itching sunburn I got on my back even with "waterproof" 45 SPF sunscreen. But hey, those were minor negatives to an over-all much appreciated positive experience. And boy did I appreciate my son (who I swear grew visibly over the 2 days I was gone) when I returned, not to mention his angel of a father for taking care of him solo while I was gone.

Okay. Time to feed our little giant. Here's a couple pics of Double Dub from today:

Adventures in Napping

2008-06-09T08:13:00.000-07:00

The napping phenomenon is an interesting part of the routine in this newly established Kuhns Family. My son is not a good sleeper. He comes by it honestly. I've dealt with bouts of insomnia and the curse of being a very light sleeper my whole life. I was hoping not to pass that on, what with those dominant Ryan genes and all, but it seems my son is about as skilled at sleeping as I am. I also hate naps. For starters, falling asleep in the middle of the day is a challenge for me, no matter how exhausted I am. And then, if I happen to overcome that hurdle, I tend to wake up grumpy and groggy - basically ruined for the rest of the day - which pretty much ruins the point of taking a nap in the first place. I'm afraid Wyatt may have a similar reaction to naps.

This morning's nap is chalk full of great examples of Wyatt at his finest. It begins, inevitably, with the slow transition from happy baby to fussy baby. This signals Mommy that he's tired, and needs a nap. And so it begins. I take him into his room, make sure he has a clean diaper, and cuddle him for just a bit to get him calm before placing him sweetly in his crib. He fusses, whines, and generally expresses his disapproval. He hates naps, after all. He grumbles and cries as his eyes get smaller and smaller. He sucks violently on his bink to make himself feel better about his terrible bad luck about being in his crib. His eyes are slits. He stares through his slits at Mommy until his lids are so heavy, he has no more strength to hold them open. And then, even in sleep, he whimpers for about 5 minutes, still annoyed at the evil nap. 30 minutes go by as he sleeps quietly, and then, out of his room, the crying begins again. Mommy is back in his room to soothe him, knowing that if the light crying gets worked up into wailing, he will not fall asleep again. He has spit out his bink and rolled his head to the side, on top of it. He's uncomfortable sleeping on a bink, naturally, and he's ticked. I put the bink back into his mouth, which he attacks like a piece of meat. He wimpers, staring at me with wide eyes, daring me to make him keep napping. I hold the bink in his mouth with one finger while I stroke his cheek lightly and stare him down. We hold a staring contest for about 5 minutes as his eyes get smaller. His "blink" is sleep, and he's out again to complete the second 30 minutes of his evil nap. (This dramatization was edited to keep it intertesting. In all honesty, there were actually about 4 trips back and forth to calm him before he napped, but that would have been overkill...) The beast wakes up hungry. He is MAD that he isn't being fed immediately upon waking. He hollers until he is given sustenance. After he eats, he smiles and gurgles and talks to mommy. He plays and he grins. Happy as can be. No beast in sight...until it's time for his next nap, of course...

Here's our 10 week-old Wyatt, post-nap and post-meal of course, testing out his new big-boy toy. He's trying to decide what he thinks about this shocking new thing. :) He's still too little to touch the ground and jump on his own, so we've added a phone book under his feet to help, which is working out nicely.

The Green in My Grass

2008-06-06T10:16:00.000-07:00

When I was pregnant, I mused from time to time about what I missed. Sushi. Alcohol. Sleeping on my stomach. Sitting in booths without bruising my stomach... You get the idea. Today, I can have sushi whenever I want. Ryan and I have taken advantage of that gift wholeheartedly. I've sampled from my various cravings of martinis, mojitos and margaritas... (evidently, I have a thing for the M drinks?) I sit in booths quite easily. Sadly, I still can't sleep on my stomach, thanks to the boob-food supply, but I can sleep on my back without my arms going numb, so that's a gift in and of itself.

Now for my 'grass is always greener' moment. I miss a few things about life pre-baby. Pedicures. Leisurely shopping experiences and other uncomplicated errands. Uninterrupted sleep.

Now, you'd think I could get a pedicure with a baby in tow, right? But think about the logistics. You're in a massage chair thingy with your feet in water or being man-handled by the pedi lady. Your child is sitting in his car seat/carrier (which he hates) and he decides to start crying to let you know it. Do you A) Stop everything, regain the use of your feet, and go to pick him up, B) let him scream and disturb the relaxing pedis of the rest of the women there, or C) request that one of the technicians pick up your child for you and hand him to you, and also his bink, and also his burp cloth, and pray that's enough to get him quiet again? Needless to say, you do NOT want to see my toes right now.

Then there's shopping. I'm in that in-between stage where I'm still too fat to fit into my pre-baby clothes, but my maternity clothes are too big and fit weird now that I don't have a rock-hard spherical belly. I need a couple cheap get-me-through-this-lame-stage outfits and a one-piece swimsuit, because 2 months out, my mid-section is FAR from ready for prime time. But there's a very small window of time when my son is neither fussy nor hungry. And sadly, that small window is not even remotely long enough to engage in true shopping. It's just enough time to make a mad dash to Target to pick up emergency diapers. And even that is a far from enjoyable experience these days. The up-side is that the only money I spend is on stuff I need for Wyatt. No leisurely oops-I-accidently-spent-$200-at-Target moments. Those are by far a thing of the past.

And lastly, sleep. I have to laugh that I ever complained about lack of sleep when I was pregnant. I thought getting up every few hours to pee and doing a lot of tossing and turning throughout the night, was "lack of sleep". No, lack of sleep is having a baby who doesn't sleep through the night yet. Getting up to pee is nothing compared to getting up to feed (20-30 min), change (5 min), and soothe (alternating intervals of 5 - 15 min after he's supposedly gone back to bed) a baby. That half hour to hour break in your sleep cycle, a couple times a night... that's lack of sleep.

Would I change it? Would I give him back and say "no thanks, life was 10 time easier before we had a baby"? No, of course not. It was 10 times easier, but I know and love Wyatt intensely now. He's a real person, a member of our family, and I wouldn't trade him for all the sleep and free time in the world. But that doesn't mean I don't miss the simplicity of life before. I miss it like crazy. I wish I would have soaked it up a little more - appreciated the gift of simplicity, of self. I wish I could express to people who aren't to this stage yet, how important it is to enjoy that! People told me, of course, but I guess I didn't really let it sink in.

As always, here are some pics of our now 90th percentile (in both height and weight), 2 month-old boy. (Yes, he'll be playing football for my USC Trojans. Obviously.)

These blue eyes will someday get me both in and out of trouble.

The elusive smile. I do it all the time, but mom and dad have a hard time catching it with the camera! This is sort of a half smile. It's a start.

No one told me I'd be getting close to outgrowing my swing at a mere 2 months old. I guess that's what being in the 90th percentile does to ya.

We'll call this "napping". Um, yeah...

Might As Well Face It; I'm Addicted to Love.

2008-05-30T11:37:00.000-07:00

I have a new addiction. I'm addicted to seeing my kid smile. Every day, he gets a little more free with his happy faces, and for every time I see that toothless grin, I need even more. I know it's cheesy, but it's true. It's a weird feeling. Sometimes I'll resort to just about anything to see his lips curl up, even for just a second. High pitched baby talk? Singing silly songs? Making funny faces? Taking a little longer to change his diaper because sometimes all he needs for a grin is to be naked? Yep, I've done them all and more. :)

Conversely, I have an intense allergy to his crying. The big lipped pout prior to the wail is actually pretty stinking cute, but the actual crying, when he gets really riled up, makes me feel ill. It's not the annoyance of general baby crying that I always had pre-child (although I still have that reaction sometimes). It's like an ache in the pit of my stomach... a sad heart. And sadly, sometimes it's unavoidable. My boy, for instance, hates his crib. He has to be on the verge of passing out in order to go to his crib to sleep without a fight. But given its obvious role in his future, I can't have that. He isn't going to magically start liking the crib if I don't teach him to work through his frustration. And so, I've been hearing a lot of crying lately. It sucks, because we finally got him over his massive fussiness, and now we're having to do battle with the crib, invoking crying once again. It's tough being a mommy. :) I guess as long as I get my regular fix of goofy grins, I can handle the other stuff!

Okay, now you can laugh at me. I just attempted to talk tough. Then, I went on a walk with the boy before publishing this post. He fell asleep on the walk with his thumb in his mouth. Instead of pulling him out and putting him in his crib when I got home, I wheeled his stroller right into his room next to his crib and left him in it to sleep. Why? That pesky cry allergy, of course. Here's a couple pictures of him waking up (that's the hungry cry) from his stroller nap:

Wyatt is 8 1/2 weeks old today. I guess we move away from weeks and start talking months now, right? Well, he'll be 2 months old on Sunday. We've all come a long way... :)

Babe Wisdom

2008-05-19T14:02:00.000-07:00

I have an endorsement to make. As anyone who's been reading my blog knows, our sweet little darling Wyatt can be a bit of a handful in the fussiness department. My s-i-l babysat him last week and confirmed that he's challenging. :) Which was a relief to Ryan and I, because she's an experienced mother of 2, which means maybe we're not just baby-wimps. Well, we've gone around in circles trying to figure out why our child gets so weepy all the time. And then we started reading a book that our friends recommended. It's called On Becoming Baby Wise. And we realized what the problem was. Wyatt fights sleep. He doesn't generally just fall naturally to sleep when he's tired. And so, by the end of the day, if he's napped at all, they've been cat naps. So he's overly tired and cranky. And those strange intervals of fussiness throughout the day? Yeah...those are the times he needed to be put down for a nap. A real nap. Not just a quick doze in the swing before he eats. We've started following the loose schedule set up in Baby Wise, and have discovered a much happier baby boy.

Here's what's funny: The information in Baby Wise is really the same stuff my friend Talitha, who's a doula, has been telling me all along. I recognize the loose scheduling (which is a welcome and logical balance between the hyper-scheduling camp and the attachment parenting philosophy, both of which are based on flawed logic and extremism... I'm sure I'll piss someone off by saying that...) as the same recommendations she's given me. When she advised me last time though, I was still in the midst of baby blues and general unfamiliarity with my child, so I didn't quite understand how to implement it, and I wasn't really completely capable of understanding it. :)

So, anyway, kudos to Brian and Lesa for recommending the book to us, and to Talitha for giving us the same advice even without a book! We now have a child who naps, who isn't so psycho in the evenings and a hour after every meal (turns out, it had nothing to do with his tummy), and who is already sleeping a little longer each night. I'm starting to feel more confident about the fact that my child may be sleeping all the way through the night in a few weeks. (Knock on wood.)

Our almost 7 week old:

Truly, Madly, Deeply

2008-05-12T16:12:00.000-07:00

I am truly, madly, deeply in love with my son. Even as we speak, he's squeaking and talking to the fish on his bouncy seat while he hiccups and gives me the occasional toothless grin. This intense feeling of adoration is amazing. And I'll admit it; it's new. I wish I could tell you I felt this way the day he was born. That I, like so many women on TV and in books, had felt a magical connection to my child the moment I saw him. But like many moms (who've felt ashamed of themselves for feeling the way so many other women feel, but don't admit), I had to get to know my son first. When Wyatt was born, I was still in pain, exhausted, and scared. I could appreciate his cuteness and wowed by his very existence, but he was still a stranger to me. I had to figure him out, discover his goodness and be charmed by his personality the same way I had to get to know my husband before I fell in love with him. In the beginning, I was angry at all the moms who'd gone before me and hadn't warned me... I'm not angry anymore, but I refuse to repeat their mistakes.

But tomorrow, Wyatt William Kuhns will be 6 weeks old. And I can't imagine life without him. Maybe it's because he responds to me now. Maybe it's because he's awake more now, so I'm actually seeing parts of his personality. Maybe it's because I'm getting a little more sleep now that Wyatt has a 4-5 hour stretch at night, and my husband is so active in making sure I get some rest. Maybe it's because my son cries less now, and seems to have more logical reasons when he does. I'm sure it's all of the above. And I'm also sure that needing those things to finally get to a place where I melt in my child's presence doesn't make me an inferior mother. It just makes me an honest one, who's getting better abd better at her new job every day.

Here are some more pics of my strapping 12 pound child:

Fun with Colic

2008-05-06T14:47:00.000-07:00

I still don't know if I can officially call this colic, but when your baby cries for at least half of his waking hours (minus while he eats), that's a lot of frickin' crying. And if colic is even worse, I commend all parents of colicky babies who have survived without sending their babies to infant boarding school.

Ryan and I finally finished watching 'The Happiest Baby on the Block'. We'd already learned the 5 S's, but it was nice to get a refresher course. We've found that one of the only ways to soothe our son is to swaddle him as tightly as we can (although our little Houdini can eventually get out of anything...), slip a bink in his mouth, and put him in his swing. Right now, he's staring at me wide-eyed, but he is not wailing. That, my friends, is a miracle these days. A few minutes ago, you would have thought he was being water-boarded. "Fess up, Wyatt. Where did you hide your other sock, and who are you working with to vaporize all the pacifiers?" Fun, fun!

I was planning to take a walk today, but I can't find a happy medium between the straight-jacket in the swing and the screeching howls of my tortured son elsewhere. And so, I'm taking a written walk down Blogger Lane instead. It's just as refreshing, but doesn't do as much for dropping the baby weight...

In another topic entirely, I have to bring up politics. It's only fitting, because I pretty much watch the news 24/7 these days to keep my brain from turning to mush. As usual, I won't be endorsing anyone. But I do find one thing funny about campaigns in general. Themes. Right now, the focus is on the democrats, of course. Clinton vs. Obama. (I'm sure this is news to all of you.) The two themes are "Change" and "Experience". I've been entertained by how passionate the voters interviewed are about these slogans. You'd think it was the first time any candidate had based a campaign on experience or change... And yet, as far as I can remember, those have been the rally cries in just about every election in history. I'm assuming McCain will take up where Clinton leaves off with the "experience" theme. (I'm convinced Obama will be the democratic nominee... but if Hillary pulls off the super delegate coup, I guess McCain will find a way to adopt a theme of "change" instead.) The truth is: they're really just buzz words. Experience can only get a politician so far, and they're only capable of so much change. In the end, no matter who wins, he/she will be considerably more impotent than they let on. But for now, enjoy the cries of "experience" and "change". You won't hear these themes again for a long time (or at least until the next election).

I guess I'm as fussy about the semantics of politics as my son is about life as a 5 week old. :)

Good Bye, April Showers.

2008-05-05T10:23:00.000-07:00

It's May now. Bring on those flowers! Here's a weird thought: The only month Wyatt had ever experienced until now was April. And now he's experiencing May. :) He'll be 5 weeks old tomorrow. For you and me, 5 weeks don't necessarily amount to much. But this kid just keeps changing. (I realize this isn't news to anyone, but it's a whole new ball game when suddenly it's your own kid who's changing fast!) Here are a few of the changes:

First, this kid weighs almost 11 pounds now. Just to give you some perspective, that means he's gained like 75% of his original body weight in 5 weeks. (I didn't actually do very specific math, so I could be off by a bit, but you get the idea.) He's gone from wearing newborn size diapers to Size 1. I think he'll be in size 2 before long. Luckily, he's still wearing his 0-3 month size clothes. (Well, except the Gerber onesies, which are made for midgets and fit him for about a day.) This is good because we're getting use out of the smaller sizes, but I'm also looking forward to getting to change his wardrobe. :) I'm living vicariously through him, since I have to drop all my baby weight before I'll have lots of clothing options again... SIGH.

Second, he likes toys. He's fascinated by things that jingle, swing, move, or play music. He looks us in the eye and follows our gaze, and he makes the cutest little noises. This probably doesn't sound like much, but you have to remember just how little newborn babies actually do. When he was born he pretty much just stared into space, slept, ate, pooped and cried. He certainly didn't play and he really didn't acknowledge the existence of other human beings. So suddenly our cute little blob is seeming more like a little person. :)

There is no third. I mean, I'm sure there are tons of things that have changed, but nothing else I feel like blogging about. That's tough on Americans. We like our information in 3's. :)

There's one other thing I totally have to write about. I found out that my husband is a diaper snob. We're a Huggies family. I totally thought Ryan would think that diapers are diapers. That he'd roll his eyes at the idea of paying more for a specific brand name. But having an awesome man who changes his share of the messy little numbers means he has an actual opinion based on actual experience! The cheapies aren't the same. They're more likely to leak and they don't get the mess away from Wyatt's skin as well, so they're more of a pain to change. Heck, even Pampers don't measure up. It's Huggies or the highway. Talk about a conversation I never imagined having... :)

Our chubby tough guy at 4 1/2 weeks old:

Isn't it Ironic...?

2008-04-30T14:15:00.001-07:00

Are you now humming the Alanis song? Fabulous. More on my irony in a moment...

First, I heard a new word on the news today: tangentially. I need to work that into a conversation soon.

Okay, where was I? Ah yes, irony. As many of you know, I'm a writer by trade, among other things. I just took on a new project for a couple months or so. It's a pretty small, straight-forward gig. The irony lies in the reason they need me. The woman who usually handles the work they need me for is going on maternity leave for a couple months. Meanwhile, the freelancer taking on the job has a 4 week old baby, and if she (why am I speaking in 3rd person?) were still working in corporate America, she would still be on maternity leave, too.

I actually came close to taking on another project this week, until I reminded myself that my kid deserves as much of my personal attention in the first 6-8 weeks as any other working woman's kid. And in truth, we're in a pretty good place financially right now, so what would be my reasoning for taking on more work? And so I did something I've never done as a freelancer before. I turned down perfectly good work.

Wow. Two blogs in one day about completely different things. I'm clearly a blogging maniac. And I even got a shower today. I feel so productive...

Playing the Fool

2008-04-30T09:56:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, Wyatt hit the 4 week mark. I have no idea what that means, ha ha, but I guess we're still counting in weeks for a while. I wonder how old I am in weeks... Nope... too lazy to do the math. Never mind.

So anyway, for a few days now, our child has been attempting to make fools of his mom and dad. And who better to do it than a child born on April 1st? He has a new trick. Crying for what seems to be no reason. Fed? Check. Clean diaper? Check. Comfortable clothing and temperature? Sure, as far as we can tell. Healthy? Yes, actually, although he's tried to fool us there a couple times too, with the newborn stuffies. Gas drops? Yep, we try those, too.

He's also employing some manipulative behaviors that all the baby books swore wouldn't start until he was about 3 months old. For instance, "Neh". The Dunston baby language DVD clearly told us that "Neh" means hungry. For about the first 2 weeks, that was pretty dead on. But now, Wyatt has learned that if you throw the "Neh" into the mix, mom or dad will come running with a boob or a bottle. He even tries to use that ace card like 10 minutes after he finishes eating. (Even if it was one of those times he had a bottle, so we know he just downed 4oz.) "Neeeeeeeeeeh. Neeeeeeeeeeh. Feed me. I'm starving to death!" Is it colic? Well, no, not technically, right? Because it doesn't go on for 3 hours straight. (And honestly, if it did go on for 3 hours straight, I probably would have started using noise-cancelling headphones.) Usually, he fusses for about an hour or so at a time, several times a day, especially in the evening. It sucks. We love the little dude, but he's trying as hard as he can to be less likeable....

But then he goes and smiles at me, and I kind of forget that he's on my bad list. Seriously, you try holding a grudge against those big blue eyes. It's work. And so I tend to give in and believe everything that tiny smile suggests: "I'm done with my fussy stage, mom. From now on, it's all cute, all the time." Two minutes later? "Neh!!!!!" Go figure.

More snapshots of the little dude playing me the fool:

These Babes Like to Party!

2008-04-27T10:32:00.000-07:00

Last night, Ryan and I got to experience something pretty surreal. We went to a raging party with Wyatt. Okay... "raging" may be a bit of an overstatement. :) Our friends Dan and Jennifer had a group of friends over to their new house. Four of the couples (including us) came with newborn babies, ranging from 1 1/2 weeks to 7 weeks old. Two of the other couples were expecting. A year ago, we were all getting together to go out for drinks. No babies in sight. Plenty of free time and discretionary income. And now here we were, holding margaritas in one hand and baby bottles in the other. Occasionally, there was a line for the counter in the laundry room that was doubling as a baby changing station. There were babies and bellies everywhere! And yet, here's the crazy part: It was fun. A year ago, I think that would have sounded like my own private hell, and yet I honestly think we were all having a really good time. The babies just added this bizarre layer to the evening. And there was this comradery among the new parents, because we were all just figuring things out as we went along and breathing sighs of relief as we realized we weren't alone in this strange new adventure. And frankly, we were with people we really enjoyed just as much now as we had a year ago when none of us had kids. Same people. Same personalities. Just new circumstances. And that, my friends, was such a huge relief. Our lives aren't over! :) I think we're all gonna be okay.

A Good Man, Part 2

2008-04-22T18:51:00.000-07:00

Here's a quick update on Super Dad. Ryan's picking up Chipotle right now for dinner. For those of you who don't know, that's one of my favorites. There used to be one right down the road from my place when I lived in Marina del Rey, but in Bakersfield, the only one is on the other side of town. So sad. Again. I have a good man!

A Good Man

2008-04-22T09:09:00.000-07:00

Can I just brag for a second about my husband? Ryan has bent over backwards to help me maintain my sanity through these first three weeks of parenthood. A girl couldn't ask for a better hands-on daddy for her child. Last night, he took the late shift with Wyatt, letting me go to bed early and then giving him a bottle during his midnight feeding so I could get a real block of sleep. (And other than rock hard skipped-a-feeding boobs, it was pure heaven!) I can't even explain the difference in my attitude after a night where I actually got something I used to take for granted: REM sleep. There is an actual sanity difference. My brain is actually functioning in a whole new way today. I didn't even know I could feel this normal.

So, yeah. Nice to meet you. I'm Shannon.

I'll be honest. I have no idea if this is the start of the rest of my life or just a blip on the radar. It's very possible that I'll be a weepy mess again in a day or two. Or maybe, like people keep telling me, things really will get easier and my emotions really will stay stable even when it's hard again. I can't predict how things will go. After all, I certainly didn't predict round 1. But it's nice to recognize myself today. The familiarity is amazingly comforting.

Okay, more pics of my munchkin:

He actually does live places other than his swing, and he does wear clothing other than Naartje, ha ha, but what can I say? He says, "Take my picture, momma. I look fantastic," on days with those two things in common. :) Come to whatever conclusions you want...

Coping with Imperfection

2008-04-17T19:41:00.000-07:00

My sister-in-law said it best when she told me being a new mom is like starting a new job with no experience and being expected to know what you're doing. She's right. And there's no warming up period. You're pregnant one day and thrown into the deep end of motherhood the next. I can honestly say that I'm not very good at this. And if I'm perfectly frank, there are days I wish this were a job I could just quit. I love my son. That's part of the problem. If I didn't love him so much, maybe I wouldn't feel so horrible about not being very good at this. But instead, all I want is to get it figured out, so I don't mess him up. So I don't mess my own life up in the process. I want him to be happy and content. And he seems pretty miserable half the time, which breaks my heart.

I've read enough to realize that I'm still floating through the "baby blues". I come up for air sometimes. Occasionally, when I get enough sleep, I feel almost human again. But eventually, even well-rested, the gray cloud comes back and I wish I could just run for the hills. I want to be good at this. I want to be one of those women who realize this is what they were born for. I'm praying that maybe I'll feel a little more like that once I get past the first 6 weeks... or maybe the first 3 months... depending on who I talk to.

Breastfeeding may be part of the problem, too. I'm doing it exclusively, and at the moment, it makes me feel like a prisoner. I hate feeding or changing him in public, so I dread all outings. My version of time to myself is running out to pick up some take-out for dinner while Ryan watches Wyatt as quickly after a feeding as possible so I get home in time to feed him again. I'm grateful for those little blocks of time, but until I can either pump enough to get more than an hour or two away (something I haven't figured out how to do, and in what time to do it in) or else put the little guy on formula (which I have in my head might make me a bad mother, since breast milk is so much better for him - how selfish of me to even want it, right? ...sigh), I don't think I'll really feel like much more than a glorified cow who doesn't speak the language of her calf.

So, yes, this is a little more of the storm. And while there are moments of sunshine - Wyatt has started smiling frequently, usually in his sleep or when he's starting to drift off, and he is still insanely adorable - the storm is still the point leader.

The Storm and the Sun

2008-04-07T19:18:00.000-07:00

As I waited to give birth to my son, there was a lot of talk of "the calm before the storm". I can now describe a little about the storm. The first few days were kind of rough. Beautiful, magical, and rough. First, there's just the physical recovery. Let's face it: They don't call it "labor" for nothing. :) I've also experienced what 80% of women experience: the baby blues. And I've realized that they have nothing to do with mental instability and everything to do with circumstance. Sure, your hormones are a little crazy, but more than anything, you're just so sleep deprived, you get weepy. And when that sleep deprivation comes from a new baby, you also feel overwhelmed. You get a little scared that you'll never sleep well again. And, you get a little lonely, because no matter how beautiful your baby is, he can't talk to you or reassure you or even listen with understanding to what you have to say. I cried in the middle of the night at first when Wyatt had his days and nights mixed up and wouldn't sleep for hours at a time. I would sing to him through tears. I've been a chubby, weepy, physically less-than-completely-healed mess. And so, I experienced some stormy weather.

Now for the sunny weather. We discovered that if we keep Wyatt awake and stimulated as much as possible in the evening, and give him a sponge bath before bed, he seems to associate night more with sleeping. And so, last night, he slept for two blocks of three hours each. That gave me almost 6 hours of sleep. Six hours. I felt like a new human being this morning. I had energy. I enjoyed every moment with my son. I got dressed in one of the cute tops Ryan picked up for me when I realized I had nothing that felt right for the postpartum bod. It's amazing how much sleep can effect your outlook on life!

Oh, and here's the kicker: I weighed myself this morning. And although I still weigh more than I ever thought possible, I was excited to see that I've already lost 17 pounds in 6 days. 10 pounds since I've been home from the hospital. And I know there's still more water weight that'll come off pretty fast because I still have cankles and puffy feet. It's pretty nice to know that my starting point for the long journey to a pre-preggo body is going to be a little lighter than what I'd assumed. Don't get me wrong. It'll be a lot of work. But every pound that drops off now is one less I'll have to lose later. And that, my friends, is true sunshine.

Here are some new pics of the little dude:

The New Guy

2008-04-04T09:48:00.000-07:00

I know as soon as I get going on this blog, my beautiful, much awaited son Wyatt will be waking up to eat. But we'll see how far I get... :)

The last time I wrote, I was in the early stages of labor. The stages where you can still communicate like a human being and do normal things like sit on a couch with a computer on your lap! Little did I know that it would be thirty-some odd hours later before I would actually meet Wyatt. It turns out, despite all my mind-over-matter will power to the contrary, I would have the kind of long labor they warn first-time moms about. And so, my March baby played the ultimate April Fool's Day joke on me by coming in April! Here are his vital statistics:

Wyatt William Kuhns

Born: 4/1/08 @ 1:34pm

7lbs 6oz, 20 1/2" long

He's a really good looking kid. He looks a lot like his daddy with light brown hair and big blue eyes. We're almost certain they will stay blue because Ryan and I both have blue eyes. Mine are a little greener now, but they didn't change until I was a teenager, so either way... He's also a really mellow little dude. It takes a lot to get him mad enough to really cry. He'll fuss if he's hungry or uncomfortable, but for now at least, it's just enough to get your attention. I think God knew I was going to have kind of a rough recovery physically, so He gave me a baby with a lot of patience. Now, I can't guarantee that he'll stay this way, but hopefully he will be at least long enough for me to get fully mobile again.

Well, I made it through my first blog as a mom without having my son wake up to eat. Pretty stinking impressive. I'm sure there will be more later, but for now, here's some eye candy to tide you over.

Gentlemen, Start Your Engines...

2008-03-31T01:22:00.000-07:00

It's the middle of the night. Well, 1:23 am, which is very much the middle of the night for Ryan and I these days. Not so long ago for me, this would have been more like bedtime... but I digress. For the last hour, I've been having contractions about 10 minutes apart. I'm thinking this is early labor, and I'm debating when to wake up my blissfully dead-asleep husband with the news that if things continue in this fashion, we may be getting our March baby after all, right under the wire. I figure this early labor will probably last for quite a while, especially with a first pregnancy, so there's no sense creating two exhausted people instead of just one. He'll be much more use to me later if he's had enough shut-eye! :)

So, to entertain myself (and maybe you too, as a side benefit), I will now attempt to describe these contractions. For the ladies, it's a pretty easy jump. In this stage, they feel like cramps. They hurt more than the light ones you notice but ignore when you're PMSing, but they aren't as bad (YET, obviously) as the ones that have you rummaging for the fetal position and a heating pad. They're like I-definitely-need-4-Advil cramps, but they come in waves instead of just hanging out, tormenting you. I fully expect them to intensify as the night goes on (at least if Wyatt's really gonna make an appearance sometime tomorrow), but for now, they're just uncomfortable and frequent enough to keep me from sleeping.

Needless to say, I am no longer on strike.

The stats: I'm in the wee hours of 2 days past my due date. I'm in early labor, and I think Wyatt's birthday is going to be March 31st! Rock on...

Soon-to-be-Momma on Strike

2008-03-27T10:40:00.000-07:00

I wonder if I just go on a blog strike, if this child will be stifled by all of my pent-up creative energy and feel the need to exit his comfy belly home. Until now, I've been ramping up. More and more frequent blogs as I sit in waiting for parenthood. (Might as well take advantage of the holding pattern, right?) Perhaps, instead, the key is to out-stubborn the kid. After all, I was frankly flabbergasted to wake up this morning after a rough night of tender, over-stretched skin, mild contractions and whirling thoughts to find I just had another day of waiting in store instead of a midnight dash to the hospital. My 3/29 due date may still be 2 days away, but come on. That's late in this family! (See my blog from a few days ago, "Bonus Points for Promptness".) So this will be my new strategy. No more blogs until I'm a Mom. All I really need is will-power, right? And you know I have that. Just ask my last diet. Oh, wait...

Yeah, you'll probably hear from me again soon, regardless. Doh.

Jitters

2008-03-26T09:34:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I had yet another prenatal appointment. I'm now 1 1/2 cm dilated and 60% effaced. That's not too bad, especially because the doc said Wyatt's head is sitting really really low. The doc also stripped my membranes, which should help get things going, theoretically, because it's supposed to stimulate dilation and weaken the bag of water. But I've tried a lot things that are supposed to be the magic pill, and so far none of them have worked. So I guess I'm still not holding my breath. Oh, and I forgot to mention that I happily tested negative on the strep B test, so I won't need antibiotics during labor. Sweet. Good news, all of it.

But here's the thing. This whole time, I've been praying to go into labor ASAP. I still want it to happen soon, but it's starting to mess with my head a little bit. Last night, I tossed and turned. My brain would not turn off. Granted, part of the problem is also that my entire body is just achy and fatigued from carrying this million pound belly around. And the only fix for that is delivery. But still, it was the first time I thought, "Man, I might really go into labor tonight". And it freaked me out. I was actually kind of willing the morning to come without any drama. And it did. Did I jinx myself? I hope not. I really do want a March baby. That gives me 5 more days to work with. I can do this. I can do this...

The Stats: I'm 39 1/2 - 40 weeks pregnant. That puts my due date some time between TODAY and Saturday. 0-3 days. The big brick wall of induction hits in 13 days. I think it's time to start taking bets. Ante up, kids.

Bonus Points for Promptness

2008-03-24T10:43:00.000-07:00

Ryan and I are the kind of people who usually arrive places early. We're planners. From having our wedding all figured out months in advance so we could enjoy the day stress-free, to finding out the sex of our baby so we'd have a chance to prepare our lives (and our hearts) for a son, we've been pretty stinkin' good at keeping things simple by planning ahead.

I think someone needs to explain this to Wyatt. He only has a few more days to be early! Come on, buddy. It's in your blood. If you're late, I'm going to have to find some other family member with late genes to blame. Tsk. Tsk.

The Stats: I'm 39 wks and 2 - 5 days preggo, putting my due date in 2-5 days. Let's get this show on the road. I'm not sure how much longer I can handle looking down at my feet and seeing cankles.

The Anti-Pamper Pedicure

2008-03-21T15:47:00.000-07:00

Today I'm veering away from my usual topic of pregnancy and babies to discuss my most recent pedicure experience. I don't know about you, but besides the opportunity to come home with well manicured feet and nicely painted toenails, I also think of a pedicure as a form of pampering. I tend to go for the experience as well as the end result. I especially expect this when I hear promises of a "spa pedicure". You're going there with me now, right? Nice smelling bath salts, a foot rub, a massage chair.... It's a small piece of relaxation heaven amidst the hustle and bustle of everyday life...

It goes to show just how selective our memories can be. If you really think about it, how many times have you left a pedicure truly rested? I'm referring to the affordable pedicures of the masses, not the Burke-Williams type experience. I do recognize that you get what you pay for. But, for those of us who can't regularly blow that kind of cash on our feet, pedicures rarely live up to our expectations. Here's a little peek into today's tranquil spa pedicure.

Exhibit A:

Would you like manicure, too?

No, thank you.

Eyebrows? I need fix your eyebrows. Your eyebrows need fix.

I take a look at the line drawings she has for her own eyebrows.

No thank you. I'll take care of my own eyebrows. Just the pedicure, thanks.

Okay, have seat. Here magazine. Feet go there.

There's a television in the corner, just out of earshot. The smallest flat screen known to man, but still, a flat screen. A middle aged man, probably one of the manicurists, flips the channels periodically. Not flip, flip, flip... he leaves it there just long enough for me to get mildly interested in whatever is on, and then, flip, the X-Files. Oh, so spa-like and relaxing. Is that green goo coming from under the door? Yes, Sully. Alien green goo.

You want French manicure?

No, thank you. Just this pink.

Hmmm. You have callous. Bad callous. You need callous remover. I add that.

No, thank you. Just a basic pedicure.

Okay, okay. But paraffin wax, yes? Make feet so soft.

No. Just the basic pedicure. No add-ons.

She then proceeds to file the bottoms of my feet raw. Evidently, this is my punishment for not getting the special callous remover.

Oh, your feet swollen. From baby, eh? Big and puffy.

Yes, they're pretty swollen.

You need extra foot massage. Good for swell.

No, thank you.

She shakes her head disapprovingly and finally begins to paint my toenails. The television is now tuned into Judge Joe Brown. My bliss is almost complete.

You want flower?

Single Digits

2008-03-20T08:25:00.000-07:00

I dreamed last night that Wyatt was here. He was just a tiny bundle of cuteness, and I didn't want to put him down, even though my arm was sore from holding him so long and Ryan volunteered to carry him in his car seat for me. In reality, that was just the side I was sleeping on, of course, and my arm really was sore, but our little dude is still safely tucked away inside his Momma, waiting on his mysterious perfect timing. In the end, he's picking his birthday, not me.

Some interesting phenomena happen in the days surrounding your due date.:

First, you feel weird calling anyone, because when they see it's from you, they'll stop everything (regardless of what they're in the middle of) to take it, just in case you're in labor. So if you're just calling to chat, you've caused quite a stir!

Second, your friends and family all start putting in requests for when you should go into labor based on their own schedules. And of course we all know I have no control over it anyway, but I know there's this little something in their minds that thinks maybe if they just put it out there, Wyatt will go along with their request. It's sweet, in a way, because they'd all like to be a part of the big day and I totally appreciate that. But if I'm not careful, it can stress me out a little, too. A nice little reminder of how little control I have over it all!

Lastly, you inevitably end up psyching yourself out. Every contraction could be the first in a pattern this time. Every time you get out of bed to pee, you half expect your water to break as your rapidly change positions. Last night, I found myself pacing the hallway in the middle of the night, hoping the next step would be the one that kicked things into gear. Isn't it strange how even though a pregnant woman knows that labor and delivery are gonna be painful and messy and exhausting, she still begs for it to come now, now, now? I never understood that until I got to this point. But here I am, willing the pain to start. Go figure.

The stats: I'm 38 1/2 - 39 weeks pregnant. Even according to my original 3/29 due date, we're in the single digits now. 9 days. And there are only 6 days until the 3/26 due date. And, of course, there are 19 days until I get to the magical day where I'm 10 days past my due date and the doc says enough is enough. But of course, if it's up to me, I have absolutely no intention of getting to that day still pregnant!

St. Patrick's Day Hijinks, and Amish Babies!

2008-03-17T08:44:00.000-07:00

Happy St. Patrick's Day, guys and gals! Last night, Ryan and I had corned beef and cabbage to celebrate. (Sadly, no Guinness to complete the Irish circle... a sacrificial gift to my unborn child. Although with a ton of Irish on both sides, maybe Wyatt would have enjoyed some spirits, haha.) We made a lot, so we'll have plenty to keep the tasty Irish food going today. We fixed it a night early because we're going to a party at our next door neighbors' house tonight. But lunch will definitely be Irish leftovers.

Every night, Ryan and I read from a pregnancy journal we got when we found out we had a baby coming back in July. We usually read it the night before the day it represents, so last night it said 12 days (referring, of course, to the time left to the original 3/29 due date). Is it just me, or is that a ridiculously short amount of time? Counting in weeks has been one thing, but now we're in days. And while I realize that I could easily go past my due date (please no!), he's coming really soon either way.

While I'm blogging, I feel like I should mention something about the book I'm reading right now. You may laugh at me or shake your head in dismay, but I'm reading a book called To Train Up a Child. It's a book about raising children based on a lot of the principles that the author observed in the Amish culture. And while I'm obviously more of a tattooed city girl at heart than an Amish mother, I do think there's something to be said for well-behaved children. And the Amish are known for their well-behaved children despite the fact that they don't scream and yell, and rarely need to use harsh punishments. That's pretty impressive. And so, I'm reading the book. It's actually really interesting. The very basic premise is that a well-trained (disciplined) child rarely needs punishment (which the author shows is not the same thing). So the key is early training, and obviously, consistency. And I'll be honest. There is a method to my obsession with well-disciplined children that goes way beyond the views of the Amish. I've found that children who haven't been well-disciplined spend more time unhappy (whining and tantrums and unnecessary boo boos from doing unsafe things aren't fun for them, either), and their parents very quickly lose their social lives. Because let's face it: how much time do you want to spend with people when their children are terrors? It's like a one-way ticket to family hermitdome. (Let's pretend that's a word.) That's something this tattooed city girl thinks is completely unnecessary, and that's why I'm hoping I'll be able to apply some good old fashioned Amish training to an otherwise modern and social family.

Anyway, here are the stats: I'm somewhere between 38wk 2d and 38wk 5d pregnant. That puts me at 9-12 days until my due date. And the longest we'll have to wait will be 22 days. Please send up a prayer that it'll be sooner rather than later. I'm really ready to be done with this pregnancy thing for a while!

Croi follain agus gob fliuch!

(A healthy heart and a wet mouth!)

The Days in Between

2008-03-14T11:21:00.000-07:00

Well, the milestones I set up for myself have come and gone:

I had my strep B test on Monday and am expecting the results any day now. As I mentioned before, it'd be nice to get a negative result, and I probably will because only about 15-20% of women test positive, but I guess it isn't the end of the world if I need antibiotics during labor. I'd just prefer to avoid it.

Then, yesterday, I had a very nice prenatal massage, complete with uterine acupressure points to help get labor going. I had two somewhat uncomfortable contractions while I was on the massage table, and an increase in the little Braxton-Hicks throughout the day. And while that's encouraging, I seem to feel pretty normal today, so I'm not getting my hopes up. Speaking of... I'm having a Braxton-Hicks right now. Interesting. But I'm still not getting my hopes up.

The Stats: I'm 38 - 38 1/2 weeks along. 1 1/2 - 2 weeks until my due date. The doc said the latest they'd let me go past my later 3/29 due date is 10 days, so I guess the absolute last day I could still be preggo would be 4/8. Let's hope I don't go that long, because then I'd have to be induced, and I really don't want to be induced. So yeah... stay tuned...

A Day in the Calm

2008-03-10T11:01:00.000-07:00

Knowing this kid is coming soon, I think Ryan and I have realized we need to spend some time together before the big day. We had a pretty stinkin' great Sunday. It started with sleeping in. And you know that'll be a rare treat after Wyatt arrives. We vegged out together for the first part of the morning and then met Ryan's mom and dad at the country club for brunch. I had a nice healthy meal... but then I went back and got a waffle. Oops. :) It was heavenly. And we ate outside on the balcony, because the weather was just too perfect. After that, Ryan and I went golfing with his parents. I forgot how fun it is to drive a golf cart. Naturally, I wasn't attempting to swing a club around this ballooning belly, but the weather was so nice, and the golf course was so pretty... I wasn't the least bit bored as a spectator. We just did 9 holes, and then Ryan and I went to the movies. The movies. Another little something I'm sure will be a rare activity once we have a little one. We saw Semi-Pro. It was funny, but also kind of slow. Not Will Ferrell's best, in my opinion. But still, it was a big screen and a quiet theater. I figure I should cherish it, haha. We then picked up dinner and went home to relax a little more before bedtime.

Ah, a content sigh. This is the calm. The storm can't be far behind...

Same day update: I went to my prenantal appointment today. I'm only about 1/2 cm dilated and 60% effaced. So, yeah... like I said in my previous blog, it feels further away than ever...

Full Term (in Reverse)

2008-03-08T08:25:00.000-08:00

Today, according to the furthest-off (and first) due date I've been given (3/29), I'm 37 weeks pregnant. That makes me full term. This is also the first weekend I haven't had plans in 6 weeks. In fact, I don't have anything on my calendar for the last 3 weekends leading up to my due date. I think that's part of the reason why I'm ready for this little guy to make his appearance. I had things going on all through the 3rd trimester that made the weeks fly, and now it's like I'm in a holding pattern. I've just blocked off a bunch of time and said "land here". And it's strange, because the closer I get to the due date, the further away it feels... like somehow I'm actually going backwards. Meanwhile, I think Ryan expects me to go into labor any minute now. Ah, the mystery of perceptions...

Big blingy diamond update: My fake ring lasted a week before turning my finger green. Way to go, Target. Jeez. So I think I'm just gonna go ringless until I pop this kid out. It was a nice idea, but clearly my real ring is the only ring for me. No cheap replacements for this married gal. (Insert sappy romantic sigh.)

Nested and Ready

2008-03-05T10:31:00.000-08:00

Ready for a play-by-play on the last few days? I've been checking things off my list like crazy, and I think it's pretty safe to say I'm ready for this little munchkin to make his debut.

There are only two events that it might be nice to get to before he comes. But, they definitely aren't a must. The first is hopefully a negative on the Strep B test. That's on Monday. I'd like to avoid antibiotics during labor if at all possible. The second thing is my prenatal massage. I mean, who wants to miss a massage? That's on the 13th, and as I've mentioned before, my massage therapist is going to hit specific pressure points to help get labor started. I don't know how effective it will be, but I think a massage is a pretty stinkin' nice way to get the ball rolling!

Okay, now for the last few days... Saturday was my family/local baby shower. It was fun to get so many people together, and our friends and family spoiled Wyatt rotten, ha ha. Good stuff. The day after the shower, once we knew where we stood in the gear department, we went to Babies R Us and pretty much bought out the rest of our registry. We left the stuff for older babies, but made sure we had everything we'd need for a newborn. It feels really good to know we're prepared. I also did a bunch of laundry and put away all the cute (and a couple not so cute, haha) outfits away in his drawers and closet. Feathering the nest, I suppose.

Yesterday, I made my last little pre-baby road trip. I drove down to LA to spend the day with Talitha (and baby Riley!) and have lunch with Andrea. It was great to spend time with my friends and enjoy a day of independence, knowing that the next time I go down to see them, I'll have a little one in tow. Talitha will be my doula for the birth, so the next time I see her will probably be when Wyatt comes! And it'll depend on Andrea's work schedule if that's when I see her, or if it's later. It's kind of surreal to think about.

The stats: I'm 36 1/2 - 37 weeks pregnant. That leaves 3 - 3 1/2 weeks until my due date. We're in the realm of "full term" now, so we're ready. Wyatt William Kuhns, come on down!

Leap Year, Childbirth Class 5 and Great Big Diamond Rings

2008-02-29T13:42:00.000-08:00

Once every 4 years, we actually have a February 29th. Enjoy it, people. This day won't come again until 2012. And a special Happy Birthday to Liberty, who gets to celebrate her big day on her actual birthday this year! Rock on with your bad self, leap year.

Last night was our final childbirth class. We noticed at least two of the couples were not there, suggesting, I assume, that they'd already had the real graduation: the baby. Crazy. We primarily covered all the postpartum stuff, and had a quick review of the labor process. And with that, we were done. No more classes. Just waiting for the test...

As we enter the last few weeks, I've had some very slight swelling in my hands. Well, this morning my wedding ring wouldn't fit. So I put it on the chain around my neck. When Ryan came home and picked me up for lunch, he decided it was time to buy me a fake ring in a bigger size. It's pretty big and blingy, ha ha, but it's nice to wear a ring that fits. :)

yeah, that's all I got.

Playing Footsie

2008-02-27T15:18:00.000-08:00

I have strange feet. This is new, and of course, like everything these days, pregnancy related. I may have already mentioned that when my feet swell, it's really just my right foot. So I get one puffy foot and sexy cankle, and one normal foot. Well, my left foot was feeling a little left out. But like a twin (a topic I know well), my left foot wanted something else to set it apart. And so, my arch seems to be collapsing on the left foot. I'm getting one flat foot and one puffy foot. Way to go, feet! Way to set yourselves apart!

We have a full week and weekend ahead. Tonight, Ryan is taking a tactical firearms course with his dad. This is a hobby I wasn't particularly familiar with until I moved to Bakersfield. But what can I say? My husband digs special forces skills. At least I feel profoundly protected. :) Tomorrow night is our last childbirth class. I can't believe those classes are ending. I feel a little like I'm graduating from Pregnancy U. Then, Saturday is the local/family baby shower. As I mentioned in my last blog, I really can't wait for that! But we have a lot of family coming in from out of town, so it'll make for a full weekend, not just a couple hours at a shower.

It's nice to have a lot on our plates. It makes the time go faster, which is becoming one of my main priorities as I get a little more uncomfortable every day. :) It's really not miserable, exactly; it's just a little annoying. I'm reminded a little more every day of things I miss, like certain sleep positions, a refreshing alcoholic beverage and sushi. Knowing they're just around the corner makes me want them more!

The stats: I'm 35 1/2 - 36 weeks pregnant. Wyatt's due date is 4 - 4 1/2 weeks away. My dream would be to have him in 2 - 2 1/2 weeks, haha. And since I totally have control over that, I'm sure it'll go exactly as planned. (Insert naive 4-year-old grin here.)

Gettin' Dolled Up

2008-02-25T12:11:00.000-08:00

I got out of the shower this morning, looked in the mirror, and made a decision. I'm getting my hair done, and I'm getting it done today. What we see here is very similar to the need for a pedicure I mentioned a few days ago. I do, after all, still have my hair. In fact, it may actually be better than my pre-pregnancy hair. And so, let's improve it, shall we? Generally, my sister-in-law does my hair. She does an awesome job. But today, I just decided I wanted to pamper myself a little, and I wanted to do it last minute. So that means I have to pay the big bucks. :) And of course, the fact that my Bakersfield baby shower is on Saturday is another good reason to get rid of the drab dark roots. Yes? Yes.

Speaking of the baby shower, I'm really looking forward to it. I had an awesome one with my friends in LA just over a month ago. The one on Saturday will encompass both my and Ryan's families as well as my friends who live locally. The closer I get to my due date, the antsier I get about being prepared for a baby. I feel a little like I can't really finish nesting until I know where I stand in the baby gear department! Ryan and I will do a big trip to Babies R Us to buy whatever we still need after the shower. I'll probably drag him there the very next day.

I'm also going to start packing my hospital bag today. I'm sure we still have at least a couple weeks if not considerably more before Wyatt makes his debut, but every now and then, women go into labor early, so I feel like maybe I should be prepped for that, too. Yeah... like I said... nesting.

The stats: Today I'm roughly 35 - 35 1/2 weeks pregnant. That leaves 4 1/2 - 5 weeks until my due date. Anyone want to start a pool on when he's actually gonna come??

Childbirth Class 4: The Tour

2008-02-22T10:53:00.000-08:00

You know, there's something a little eerie about being on your hospital tour with your childbirth class and finding out that there's someone there in labor from your class who's just as far along as you are. Then you look to your left and the girl you're standing next to mentions that her doc told her she's 3 1/2 cm dilated already. It gets your brain going. This is really happening. Soon.

Hmmm, what to say about the tour... The labor rooms are big. They're pretty nice for hospital rooms, but you know, it's still a hospital. :) The recovery rooms are tiny, but I guess that's the case at most hospitals. I'm hoping to spend a minimum amount of time there anyway. I feel more comfortable being familiar with the place, but it also has my head spinning!

So, that's it. Nothing all that interesting today. Still, I'd gotten all worked up about going to do the hospital tour, so I figured I'd better at least mention it in my blog. And so, here it is. Peace out.

Bellies, Boobies and Toes.

2008-02-20T08:53:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was a Wyatt day. I had my last non-invasive prenatal appointment (meaning I got to keep my clothes on), and I had a breastfeeding class. I also got a pedicure, which I'll attribute to Wyatt too, because it helped out a little with the look and feel of my semi-swollen feet.

Let's start with the appointment, shall we? My blood pressure remains low, so no signs of preeclampsia. My uterus (belly) is measuring right on target. Wyatt's heartbeat is strong and steady as always. The baby's head is down. He's locked and loaded for final approach. At my next appointment, I'll get tested for Group B strep. (I'm crossing my fingers it comes back negative, because I really don't want to have to have antibiotics during labor, due to the increased possibility of later problems like thrush.) I'll also have my first pelvic exam since my first trimester. The doc will check my cervix for changes like dilation and effacement. That's pretty crazy to think about. I keep calling this the home stretch, but DANG, that's the home stretch...

And now on to the breastfeeding class. It was actually part one of a two part class, which I didn't know going in. This class was called "Getting Started". It was actually really informative and answered a lot of questions I didn't really know I had. So, while I certainly don't claim to be an expert now, I do feel comfortable that I'll have a better experience than I would have otherwise. So, you know, there's that. It is pretty comical how many classes I've been taking in order to prepare for this kid! I was talking to my grandmama on the phone yesterday about it, and she's pretty amused. When she was having her babies, she just had her mom and grandma there for a month to train her in everything she needed to know. But these are different times. Support networks work differently, so I guess we have to educate ourselves differently.

Lastly, let's talk toes. I have long, thin toes. I've always liked my feet because of them. I guess it's because "long and thin" is a lot like "tall and thin". And since the "thin" in that phrase isn't really guaranteed in other parts of the body without work, ha ha, I'm grateful for my skinny toes. Well, I got a pedicure yesterday in "hooker red" as my husband so delicately puts it, to highlight the last remaining skinny part of my expanding bod. Because, alas, even my pretty feet have begun the swelling adventure, now, and my toes are all I have left!

The stats: I'm 34 1/2 - 35 weeks preggo, depending on the source. 5 - 5 1/2 weeks until the infamous due date. Bring it on. I'm ready for other parts of my body to match my toes again...

A Year in the Life...

2008-02-18T10:11:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, Ryan and I celebrated our first wedding anniversary. It's seriously hard to believe it has already been a year since our wedding. (Although my ridiculously large belly suggests otherwise. This is certainly not the body I had a year ago.) Intuitively, I'd say we've been married for about four or five months. But then I think about everything that's happened in the last twelve months, and I obviously reevaluate. We bought a new house, found renters for our old house, got pregnant and got a "family" car (a Yukon). That's kind of a lot of changes in a small amount of time! Ha ha, did you see how a year went from a long time to hardly any time at all there? Yeah... trippy. Anyway, we had a very nice anniversary. Very low key, but lovely. Maybe one of these years, when I'm not with child, we'll do a big trip or something. This year, however, low key was perfect.

Tomorrow night, I have yet another class related to becoming a new mom. It's a breastfeeding class. I clearly have no experience in this department, but I know it's a lot trickier for new moms to master than many of them expect. I figure I should probably educate myself in order to avoid too much frustration. I like to think it'll come naturally to me, but then again, I like to tell myself labor will be a simple process, too. So I'm clearly already delusional.

Today I'm 34 weeks and 2 days pregnant. That puts my (furthest away) due date in 5 weeks and 5 days. In my childbirth class, the instructor stresses that a first baby usually comes between 40 and 42 weeks. But since we've already established that I'm delusional, I'm gonna claim 38 weeks. So expect Wyatt in around 3 1/2 weeks. I realize that mind over matter did nothing for me during the first trimester when I was sick and exhausted, and it hasn't done a thing to prevent stretch marks, leg cramps, or back aches. But this is different. I swear. :)

The Basics. (Because it's that cut and dry.)

2008-02-13T10:00:00.001-08:00

Tonight, Ryan and I are going to take a Basic Baby Care class with some friends of ours. It's a three hour class, and I'm curious to know what they're going to cover. I imagine the "basics" will include glamorous topics like diaper changing, umbilical cord stump care, and in our case, circumcision care. (I know this has turned into a more debated topic than it used to be, but for us, there was never really a question.) How to bathe your baby... How to burp your baby... etc.

It's funny. You can take classes to learn the mechanics of caring for a new baby, but that's not the same thing as learning how to be a parent. That's the more ambiguous part. I used to laugh when people would say, "Babies need to come with an instruction manual." After all, aren't these classes and all those books like What to Expect the First Year exactly that? Oh, but as the idea of a baby coming into our home gets closer and closer to reality, I'm gaining a little more perspective on what that means. The classes and books can't teach you responsibility, or how to love no matter what. Childcare? Absolutely. Parenthood? No.

And now for a complete 180. Politics. Being pretty moderate and about as close as you can get to an Independent without giving up the right to vote in a California primary, I rarely broach the topic. Even today, I'm not going to endorse anyone or take on any major issues. But I do have a small gripe with the Democratic party that I'd like to address. Super delegates. What's the point? Who came up with this brilliant set up? I think the idea of super delegates (especially having over 700 of them) is ridiculous. It has nothing to do with my specific political views, per se, but it does say something about the flaws in our systems... Yeah, anyway, just thinking...

Today I'm 33 1/2 weeks pregnant (or 34 weeks based the last two ultrasounds). 6 - 6 1/2 weeks until our due date. Tick, tick, tick.

Changing Formats

2008-02-11T10:28:00.000-08:00

Guess what I found out. When you try to compartmentalize your life into two separate blogs, and you've already had issues getting motivated to write, you end up giving up on the harder blog. (In case there's any question, this was the harder one. It requires effort to ignore a pregnancy and admit failure when the professional side of things takes a bit of a tumble.) And so, I'm merging the blogs. My apologies to anyone who was hoping to avoid talk of pregnancy and babies! But alas, it grows into a bigger piece of my pie all the time. I can no longer avoid it. I'll try really hard to at least maintain some balance. We'll see... :)

I'm going to post my last three Myspace blogs below, just so you're caught up (if you want to be). After that, the two blogs will probably mirror each other. The only difference is that I think I'm planning to post more pictures on this one. We'll see how that goes... So, here's the review of past musings, from oldest to newest. (So you don't have to read backwards.)

Friday, Feb 1, 2008

Childbirth Class 2, Massage and Music

Well, last night was our second childbirth class. It was much more of what I was expecting (and hoping for) in a childbirth class. So I guess the first one was just a soft intro. Last night we learned all about the childbirth process, watched the standard videos (much to Ryan's chagrin) and practiced different techniques for dealing with labor. It also made me realize that despite the pain, I want to try to go as long as I can without getting an epidural. I'm not going to beat myself up if I decide to get one, but I do want to hold off as long as humanly possible. Mainly, because I don't want it to slow down my labor, and I want to be able to stay mobile for as long as possible for the sake of gravity and all that. So I've kind of come full circle even from where I stood on it a week ago! I also found it interesting that according to our instructor (who's employed by our hospital), only about half of their labor and delivery patients get epidurals. That's really low by most hospital's standards, so they must really support natural labor there. (That or her numbers are wrong.) Anyway, food for thought.

On another topic (kind of), I got my first prenatal massage today. Heaven. Pure heaven. And Lorre, my massage therapist, told me she knows the right pressure points for getting labor started. So I scheduled another massage for 2 weeks before my due date. :) I have every intention of requesting that she hit those pressure points! By 38 weeks, I'll be ready, and so will Wyatt.

Lastly, Ryan and I are going to a George Strait concert up in Fresno tonight. I think it'll be fun. He's just one of those musicians who can put on a great show. I know a lot of you aren't country fans, but even then, you'd probably enjoy it. He's kind of a cultural icon, ya know?
Well, I guess that's all for now. I'm also going to my great aunt Joan's memorial service tomorrow morning. But that's more of a sad topic, so I don't think I'll say much about that.

I'll be 32 weeks pregnant tomorrow. Wow.

Wednesday, Feb 6, 2008

A Passing, Among Other Things...

My grandma passed away yesterday. She's the first of my grandparents to pass, and I just wasn't expecting it. I knew her health had been declining, but somehow it just didn't occur to me that it would happen this soon. I don't really have a lot to say, but it's kind of a surreal time in life to be going to funerals. I guess the whole 'circle of life' concept comes into play here, but it's never really that simple, is it?

We're expecting Wyatt to make his appearance in around 7 1/2 weeks, give or take. Needless to say, the method of his exit has been running around, knocking things over in my head lately. I still have an ideal in mind, of course. I vote that he comes about 2 weeks early, weighs in the 6lb. range, and comes quickly, easily, and without incident. Which is, of course, totally typical for a first baby... ha. Yeah, well... a girl can dream.

Ryan is going to be out of town this weekend. He's meeting up with his friend Josh (who lives in Redding) up in Carmel. It's going to be a mix of your basic guy time, plus some accountability and motivation for both life and business. They're planning to get together on a somewhat regular basis, which I think is great. And of course, I'm calling in reinforcements for my time alone. Andrea is coming to visit Friday night through Sunday morning, and Talitha and baby Riley might be coming Saturday night through Sunday. I'm looking forward to some quality girl time, either way.

Friday, Feb 8, 2008

Childbirth Class 3 and Weekend Plans

Three down. Two to go. We have a break next week because our class would have landed on Valentine's Day. I guess the assumption is, if you're knocked up, odds are you either have a Valentine to celebrate with or you'll be too busy making a voodoo doll of whoever formerly played that role to be bothered with a childbirth class that day. But anyway, it was another pretty useful class last night. We went over the stages of labor, specifically early labor and when to go to the hospital. We also went over different forms of breathing (questionable...I'll let you know when I'm actually in labor and don't just have a clothes pin on my ear) and some massage stuff. So yeah... it's starting to get real. I'm excited, but I'm also getting nervous...

I'll be 33 weeks tomorrow. 7 weeks to go, give or take.

In other news, Andrea is coming to Bakersfield to hang out with me this weekend! Ryan is on his way up to Carmel Valley even as we speak to meet up with his buddy Josh, who lives in Redding. So it'll be nice to have a friend in town, for sure. I'm taking Andrea with me up to Fresno, where we're having sort of a "celebration of life" get together with my family to remember my grandma. She didn't want a funeral or memorial service, so we decided just getting the family together to honor her and for a certain level of closure would probably be a good idea. It should be pretty casual, but I'm happy Andrea will be with me. I told Ryan not to cancel his trip. He only met Nonna twice, and he's been planning this trip for months. It would be different if it was an official funeral or memorial service, but since this is kind of an impromptu get-together, it's different.

But anyway, other than that, I'm just really looking forward to a girl weekend. :) Maybe we'll catch a chick flick or get pedicures or go shopping. All of the above? Perhaps. Complete veg-fest? Perhaps.

Catching Up

2008-01-04T13:50:00.000-08:00

I won't make any excuses for why it's been so long since I've added anything to this blog, but I will tell you why. Basically, what I've had to say lately has been directly related to my pregnancy, so I've been blogging on my Myspace page about that. I promised myself I wouldn't use this one for that kind of talk, so it's been sitting untouched for a while. That tells you how dangerously close I've come to getting too caught up in domesticity, ha ha.

I'm happy to say I have a few freelance projects right now that I'm excited about. One, which I mentioned in my last blog, is starting to take fruition. The blogging gig. I've never felt more comfortable doing new work for someone. I feel like it's really a medium for personal style, so I won't feel as client-restricted as I have in the past. It's kind of a relief. I'm also back in touch with a former colleague from my dot com days. I learned that his company likes to keep a couple stable copy writers on their speed dial, so he's added me their list of vendors. I actually discovered that writing copy was one of my more productive skills when I was working with him, before I even went to grad school. So coming full circle with a much fuller skill set is a pretty great feeling, no matter what comes of it.

In the non-paid realm of writing, I've starting working on a kids' book. It's not exactly a book for my son, like I'd previously planned, because my little protagonist is a girl. But in the end, I grew up female, so until Wyatt's old enough for me to have some experience with little boys, I don't know if it's so smart to try to fake it.

So, that's where things stand right now in writing land. It's good. I'm home a lot, and I'm settling into some of the day to day stuff that used to mess with my head, but I think I'm starting to be able to wrap my brain around some of it without feeling like I'm melting. I think my next breakthrough will be adding more reading to my schedule. That, after all, tends to be the best kind of inspiration a writer can receive. And so with that, I'm off.

Blogging for Dollars

2007-11-30T14:33:00.000-08:00

A couple days ago, I got seriously depressed. Weepy and sad and claustrophobic. Pregnancy is a big factor, of course, because it's pretty obvious my hormones are whacked. Anyway, I got a little wound up concerning where my value lies. I hadn't realized just how much I depended on my work identity to feel whole.

One of the main issues is that the other part of my life is made up of the obligations of being a wife. And while I really enjoy most aspects of that, there are other parts I wasn't really expecting. Maybe it's just the 30 years of a single life prior to taking on the challenge of being a wife that trips me up, but the truth is, most of us have very different expectations of ourselves than others have of us. My work as a writer in a paid position was a constant reminder of what I do well. And after plenty of experience and a Master's degree, it was the visible manifestation of my worth. Cooking, vacuuming and laundry were just the necessary evils that made up the fringe responsibilities of my life. I could handle them because they didn't define me. When the writing work suddenly went away, I felt lost. I was terrified of being defined as a housewife or homemaker. I have absolutely nothing against women who choose that line of work. And yes, I do believe it's work. In fact, it might as well be neurosurgery as far as I'm concerned because it's composed of things I am not trained in, good at, or happy doing. And I'm envious of women who take joy in keeping a house. I desperately wish I could find some of that. But sadly, picking me to be a homemaker is kind of like hiring a plumber to represent you in court. Wrong qualifications for the wrong job. And that's a frightening predicament when you look into the future and your only real guarantees are the latter part of the equation.

And so, as I said in my last blog, I'm starting to write again. The start-up is painful, because it's so abstract, with no easily defined outcomes mapped out. So I'm still a little lost, but I'm at least trying to cut out a path. In fact, besides the commercial work I'd been doing in the fashion industry and other corporate clients, the only real creative writing I'd been doing for the last 3 years was on my other blog. And I didn't count that... until today. Today, a funny thing happened. I received a communication from someone at a television network requesting writing samples. The gig in question? Blogging about TV shows. Yes, there is a very good possibility that another form of blogging is a part of my professional identity. And all this time, I thought it would only lead to narcissism... :)

I also have another project that my husband has challenged me to complete. He wants me to write a children's book for our son. His mother is an artist, so the idea is to do a joint project, since kids' books need pretty pictures. I was a little resistant to this idea at first. The last time I attempted a children's book was in high school, and it was shot down in flames. But the closer I come to motherhood (4 more months, if you're counting), the more I'm realizing that integrating my chosen profession with my home life may be the real key to some form of contentment. And that, I suppose, is the whole point.

Finding It, All Over Again

2007-11-28T13:11:00.000-08:00

A writer operates under the constant fear that he/she isn't actually talented or capable. There's just something about finding part of your identity (and spare me the theology on this one…I have the sermon memorized) in work that's considered subjective. And although there are educated people out there who can show you just how not subjective some forms of creativity really are, your average everyday joe won't know the difference. And who are we kidding? 99.99% of anyone who will read what you write falls into the everyday joe category. (As well they should. Don't get me wrong.) So, even if you have talent, you may not see an ounce of educated affirmation. And even if you don't have talent, some idiot or well-intentioned someone will think you do, and that's all your inflated ego will need to keep driving down a dead-end road. It can make it hard to take yourself or your "purpose" very seriously. Am I useless today or a genius? Just somewhere in the endless middle.

Okay, so here I am today, dealing with the fact that if I'm not writing I'm just wasting my days as an unemployed housewife. A little laundry isn't going to mean much to anyone, especially not to me. (Then again, if it's not done, I'm failing, too.) Maybe it should be empowering to start typing on an empty page, but sometime it feels more like going through the motions to convince myself I'm not just a big disappointment. I think deep down we're all a little disappointed in ourselves. Some of us just get more reminders on the subject by former employers and well-intentioned spouses.

And with that said, I’m going to try to write a poem. A good poem can take weeks of revisions and re-writes. But since I’m looking more to complete something than to get published in the New Yorker today, this one will not be a labor-intensive, multi-week project. Let’s face it: most people wouldn’t know the difference anyway… But I have to start somewhere, and I’m not completing a novel today. I'm going to start by posting something from when I was in grad school. It'll be an example of one of those multi-week poems I'm not writing today. Then I'll measure my progress or regression in a second poem, written on the fly. Needless to say, this is an exercise for myself. I have to measure the rust if I'm going to be serious about writing something other than fashion cliches after 3 years of that mindless crap at GUESS. So, without further ado, poem #1:

Unassisted Living

Lately unaccompanied, brittle
gray swaggers through her skin.

A wasted face, solo called
child once, mother,

then simply old, without changing
shadows, none came

but stranger helpers
dressed in white, soft sneakers.

She feels the weight, waiting.
We grew blind when she turned

invisible. Our voices strut
amidst failing ears, noting volume not heart.

She forgets the order
of ninety three years, and familiar

faces grow extinct.
Just strangers in white,

soft food, soft shoes,
hard days still left to breathe sour air.

The thing most of my poetry from the educated, undiluted years seem to have in common is darkness. Like most writers, I've found most of my inspiration in the sadder elements of life. I just did a survey of my final readings for Master Poetry and they're all like this. They all explore some part of life people don't talk about during their greeting time in Sunday morning church services. I wonder why our most creative moments are so darkly infused. Okay, enough stupid commentary. I'm stalling. I'm afraid to write... Here goes:

Sun, Then Shade

This day is shedding
its frilly coat to wake
me from the haze of contentment.

I wrote aimlessly of fulfillment found
in a day of lists and familiar
faces. Then I sank

into the darker place. I made
the mistake of reflection and discovered
the brittle shell of a woman child.

I have let the machine
run dry. I have sleep-walked through
a big, clean empty house.