Erik has been off for about ten days (he went back to work today, sad panda) and yesterday was our last "official" day as a family of 3, since Grandma Pat arrives today and will stay until the baby comes. I was a little sad, to be honest. We went to church and then to brunch at the local (how do you say?) greasy spoon. We played trucks with G while we waited, quizzing him on what color each one was, which was bigger, which was smaller, which had lights, etc, and I realized he's not going to get that kind of undivided attention from both of us for a long time. I guess maybe it's good that he doesn't know what exactly is coming his way.
I had every intention of doing something sweet and fun with G, but we came home and I fell asleep on the couch for like 4 hours. Whoops. Then I acted on a growing concern that the baby wasn't moving very much and ended up on the maternity ward for another two hours to be monitored (she's fine).
The best of intentions...
I did end up (finally) shopping for his big brother gifts for Piper to "bring" him when she comes. He's getting a few books, a card game, a puzzle and a blue plastic airplane (so that hopefully the metal one can be hidden away until the baby is a little less fragile). And best of all, they'll come in a blue backpack covered in planes, trains and automobiles. He's desperate for a "pack pack" he can carry himself, so I think this little package will earn P a one way ticket right into G's sweet little heart.
Monday, August 5, 2013
Friday, July 26, 2013
Boys Love Toys
Last time Grammie came to visit, she asked G what she should bring him and he told her he wanted an airplane. Naturally, she delivered and brought him a metal plane. It's not my favorite - it hurts when you step on it, or when it ricochets off something and hits you after being thrown mid-tantrum - but he loves the thing. He asks to sleep with it, and for awhile it even went into his bathtub. It plays indoors, outdoors, upstairs, downstairs, he.loves.it.
And yesterday, he asked me to photograph him with it. Naturally, I obliged.
And yesterday, he asked me to photograph him with it. Naturally, I obliged.
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| "Pro" Tip: B&W photos hide playroom mess. Sort of. But only if you don't draw attention to the mess in the caption. |
Thursday, July 25, 2013
There Will Come a Day
There comes a point in every life when they have to move away from the nuclear family that has protected them all their life and move into a different one. One that isn't any less "theirs," but "theirs" in a different way. A family that, instead of being the protectee, you become the protector - the guardian, the decision maker. It doesn't happen at the same time for everyone, it's not automatic upon moving out or getting married or having children, it just sort of happens when it happens.
For me, it happened about six months ago. After a series of medical emergencies, my Mima (my moms mom) had been told she likely wouldn't make it through the night. Our family came from all over the state during a rare Oklahoma blizzard to say goodbye. Everyone except for me. I am the only one who doesn't live within driving distance and hopping a flight from one blizzard affected area to another with same-day notice isn't possible, so my guilty conscience and I dealt with the fact that my family would be saying goodbye to her without me.
Being pregnant, still experiencing all-day sickness and knowing I'd have to tote my two-year-old, his huge car seat and all his accouterments by myself through an airport (after paying $1000 for tickets) and with other commitments looming on the horizon, I decided that if my grandmother didn't make it through the night, I would not go home for the service.
Thankfully though, she rallied, and once the dust had settled I told my mom of my decision (because the day will come when she does pass on) and my mom said "You have to do what's right for your little family now, and not worry about me," and she was absolutely right. I knew she'd need me when the time came, and she knew it too, but we also knew that there would be plenty of other support. I gained a lot of respect for my mom that day. She has always known when to hold on to us kids, and when to let go. I've got to get my finger on that one.
The time for Erik to move out of his parents nuclear family and into ours was yesterday. After hoping for several months that things would "work out," I was told at my OB appointment yesterday that it was not a good idea for Erik to be 8 hours away at his sisters wedding this weekend (I had been told several months ago that traveling that far at 37 weeks was out of the question). We had hoped maybe my body would prepare for this baby as slowly as it prepared for G, but that turns out not to be the case. I'm slightly dilated, which is great, but not great news for the family as a whole I guess you could say.
Sure, we could chance it. He and G could hop a flight at 6AM on the day-of, fly into Boston and fly out after the service, but in our lifestyle, there are so few times that we can truly count on each other to be around, that we feel the times we can make it happen, we should.
Erik had to leave for 3 weeks just 36 hours after G was born. He was forced to leave me alone in the hospital with a newborn while he flew to the mainland for training, and was then not allowed to call for 10 days (though he snuck one in) because of the simulated war games they were "playing." My mom had to bring us home. My mom had to cook for us, and care for us, and be my partner for those few weeks. Though we are all incredibly grateful that mom was able to be there and have that time with G, it was unnatural. It wasn't right. It was very likely the single most traumatic experience I've had as a Military Wife. I have sent my husband to war 3 times, but in those few weeks he was gone I was so upset I couldn't eat (not a bad post-pregnancy diet) and I literally scratched myself bloody. Erik wore our hospital bracelet on his wrist the entire time he was away - which I kept once he cut it to explain to G someday how much he's loved, even when Dad can't around. I think it's safe to say he was more than just a little affected himself. And this was when he was FORCED to leave. I do not expect to go into labor this weekend, but if I did and he weren't here there would be no end to the despair experienced, simply because we chose to roll the dice. We couldn't bring ourselves to take the risk.
And so Erik moved out of that nuclear family and into this one - by phoning to tell his sister that he wouldn't be able to attend this weekend. I can imagine it's a hard pill for someone who hasn't experienced parenthood to swallow, and I hope some day she'll understand why we made the choice we did - because no one truly can until they are looking out for a child of their own.
We are in charge of the well-being of those living under this roof now. We've both slid into our roles as protector and are no longer protectees. We are lucky enough to come from families who not only understand this transition, but are supportive, understanding and encouraging when the time came for us to make it. I hope to be as strong a parent as they are when the time comes for my own children to do the same.
For me, it happened about six months ago. After a series of medical emergencies, my Mima (my moms mom) had been told she likely wouldn't make it through the night. Our family came from all over the state during a rare Oklahoma blizzard to say goodbye. Everyone except for me. I am the only one who doesn't live within driving distance and hopping a flight from one blizzard affected area to another with same-day notice isn't possible, so my guilty conscience and I dealt with the fact that my family would be saying goodbye to her without me.
Being pregnant, still experiencing all-day sickness and knowing I'd have to tote my two-year-old, his huge car seat and all his accouterments by myself through an airport (after paying $1000 for tickets) and with other commitments looming on the horizon, I decided that if my grandmother didn't make it through the night, I would not go home for the service.
Thankfully though, she rallied, and once the dust had settled I told my mom of my decision (because the day will come when she does pass on) and my mom said "You have to do what's right for your little family now, and not worry about me," and she was absolutely right. I knew she'd need me when the time came, and she knew it too, but we also knew that there would be plenty of other support. I gained a lot of respect for my mom that day. She has always known when to hold on to us kids, and when to let go. I've got to get my finger on that one.
The time for Erik to move out of his parents nuclear family and into ours was yesterday. After hoping for several months that things would "work out," I was told at my OB appointment yesterday that it was not a good idea for Erik to be 8 hours away at his sisters wedding this weekend (I had been told several months ago that traveling that far at 37 weeks was out of the question). We had hoped maybe my body would prepare for this baby as slowly as it prepared for G, but that turns out not to be the case. I'm slightly dilated, which is great, but not great news for the family as a whole I guess you could say.
Sure, we could chance it. He and G could hop a flight at 6AM on the day-of, fly into Boston and fly out after the service, but in our lifestyle, there are so few times that we can truly count on each other to be around, that we feel the times we can make it happen, we should.
Erik had to leave for 3 weeks just 36 hours after G was born. He was forced to leave me alone in the hospital with a newborn while he flew to the mainland for training, and was then not allowed to call for 10 days (though he snuck one in) because of the simulated war games they were "playing." My mom had to bring us home. My mom had to cook for us, and care for us, and be my partner for those few weeks. Though we are all incredibly grateful that mom was able to be there and have that time with G, it was unnatural. It wasn't right. It was very likely the single most traumatic experience I've had as a Military Wife. I have sent my husband to war 3 times, but in those few weeks he was gone I was so upset I couldn't eat (not a bad post-pregnancy diet) and I literally scratched myself bloody. Erik wore our hospital bracelet on his wrist the entire time he was away - which I kept once he cut it to explain to G someday how much he's loved, even when Dad can't around. I think it's safe to say he was more than just a little affected himself. And this was when he was FORCED to leave. I do not expect to go into labor this weekend, but if I did and he weren't here there would be no end to the despair experienced, simply because we chose to roll the dice. We couldn't bring ourselves to take the risk.
And so Erik moved out of that nuclear family and into this one - by phoning to tell his sister that he wouldn't be able to attend this weekend. I can imagine it's a hard pill for someone who hasn't experienced parenthood to swallow, and I hope some day she'll understand why we made the choice we did - because no one truly can until they are looking out for a child of their own.
We are in charge of the well-being of those living under this roof now. We've both slid into our roles as protector and are no longer protectees. We are lucky enough to come from families who not only understand this transition, but are supportive, understanding and encouraging when the time came for us to make it. I hope to be as strong a parent as they are when the time comes for my own children to do the same.
Tuesday, July 23, 2013
Anniversary Gift
When I was a senior in college (152 years ago...) I served as the Student Body President, and had a weekly meeting with the Dean of Students. I didn't particularly care for her, nor she for me, but I guess that doesn't bear on the story except to say that this is literally the only thing I gleaned from those weekly meetings that has stuck with me.
We were sitting in the local coffee shop (shout out to The Cup in Weatherford, but back when it was called The Coffee Cup - home of the best breakfast burritos on the planet!) when I noticed a huge (I mean HUGE!) canary yellow diamond ring on her finger that I'd never noticed before. I asked if it was new. She explained that when she and her husband got married they decided that they'd only give gifts on big anniversaries (1 year, 5 years, 10, etc...), so when they DID give gifts they were exceptionally extravagant things that they wouldn't dream of buying themselves. They had just celebrated 20 or 25 years and he gave her that honker of a ring, and she gave him a Corvette. (Yeah, they weren't struggling...) Now I didn't expect (nor do I now) to ever receive a ring like that or to be able to give a Corvette, but the idea was a great one. We are so lucky to be able to buy what we want (for the most part) without having to wait for a holiday, that finding gift-worthy gifts is very often difficult for both of us and usually results in things that we only sort-of like. At least, I think, as it applies to the gifts I give Erik - he's a way better gift-giver than I am.
We gave little gifts (I think we had a $25 limit) on our first anniversary because we had just moved to Hawaii and things were kind of tight. Last year when we hit 5 years we had just moved here to PA and decided to gift ourselves with a Tempurpedic mattress and the accompanying pillows (which Erik has stated over and over since that he absolutely couldn't live without). So that was a definite win and something that we probably wouldn't have justified spending the money on otherwise. (Though if you're considering one, I can't encourage you enough to take the plunge! It's the best sleep we've ever gotten!)
Saturday was our 6th anniversary - not a gift giving anniversary. We usually just exchange cards, and sometimes a little something (this year, I got him a big bag of dark chocolate Lindt squares) and he came home from work with a card and a big box of Twizzlers (I have been craving chewy foods like nobody's business this pregnancy - pasta, chewy candy, I even look forward to my gummy fiber chewables at the end of the day) - so it was a perfect gift! I told you, he's a great gift giver!
We were sitting in the local coffee shop (shout out to The Cup in Weatherford, but back when it was called The Coffee Cup - home of the best breakfast burritos on the planet!) when I noticed a huge (I mean HUGE!) canary yellow diamond ring on her finger that I'd never noticed before. I asked if it was new. She explained that when she and her husband got married they decided that they'd only give gifts on big anniversaries (1 year, 5 years, 10, etc...), so when they DID give gifts they were exceptionally extravagant things that they wouldn't dream of buying themselves. They had just celebrated 20 or 25 years and he gave her that honker of a ring, and she gave him a Corvette. (Yeah, they weren't struggling...) Now I didn't expect (nor do I now) to ever receive a ring like that or to be able to give a Corvette, but the idea was a great one. We are so lucky to be able to buy what we want (for the most part) without having to wait for a holiday, that finding gift-worthy gifts is very often difficult for both of us and usually results in things that we only sort-of like. At least, I think, as it applies to the gifts I give Erik - he's a way better gift-giver than I am.
We gave little gifts (I think we had a $25 limit) on our first anniversary because we had just moved to Hawaii and things were kind of tight. Last year when we hit 5 years we had just moved here to PA and decided to gift ourselves with a Tempurpedic mattress and the accompanying pillows (which Erik has stated over and over since that he absolutely couldn't live without). So that was a definite win and something that we probably wouldn't have justified spending the money on otherwise. (Though if you're considering one, I can't encourage you enough to take the plunge! It's the best sleep we've ever gotten!)
Saturday was our 6th anniversary - not a gift giving anniversary. We usually just exchange cards, and sometimes a little something (this year, I got him a big bag of dark chocolate Lindt squares) and he came home from work with a card and a big box of Twizzlers (I have been craving chewy foods like nobody's business this pregnancy - pasta, chewy candy, I even look forward to my gummy fiber chewables at the end of the day) - so it was a perfect gift! I told you, he's a great gift giver!
 |
| Pregnancy is the only time in which candies are better than flowers. |
Monday, July 22, 2013
A (poorly written, ill-rhyming) Ode to Antacids
I don't like anything that is mixed berry flavored,
But you're all my warehouse club had.
And I knew I would need the 600 count package,
So home you came, I didn't think you'd be so bad.
I keep a pack of you in the kitchen,
And another in the bedroom.
A small roll of you rides along in my purse,
It's usually gone when I need it - I should replace it soon.
I pop you like candy in the evenings,
Three, sometimes four in a jag.
Chalky, gross, mixed berry flavored candy.
You kind of make me gag.
Sometimes, I fight the urge to chew you.
I sit in pain as a fire in my chest and throat boom.
But then I give in and climb the stairs, wondering
"Why aren't there any in the basement/family room?"
I chew you, grimace.
Swallow, grimace.
And find relief.
Thank you.
Even my son knows you by name.
"Mom need Tums?" - or after explaining what you are and do
"Sorry babies hurt you, Mommy."
Oh, if he only knew.
But you're all my warehouse club had.
And I knew I would need the 600 count package,
So home you came, I didn't think you'd be so bad.
I keep a pack of you in the kitchen,
And another in the bedroom.
A small roll of you rides along in my purse,
It's usually gone when I need it - I should replace it soon.
I pop you like candy in the evenings,
Three, sometimes four in a jag.
Chalky, gross, mixed berry flavored candy.
You kind of make me gag.
Sometimes, I fight the urge to chew you.
I sit in pain as a fire in my chest and throat boom.
But then I give in and climb the stairs, wondering
"Why aren't there any in the basement/family room?"
I chew you, grimace.
Swallow, grimace.
And find relief.
Thank you.
Even my son knows you by name.
"Mom need Tums?" - or after explaining what you are and do
"Sorry babies hurt you, Mommy."
Oh, if he only knew.
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