Cue the Second-Time-Around Guilt!

Wow. On December 22nd, (which was almost three weeks after Everett was born, by the by), I wrote the following phrase on our birth announcement post:

"Birth story to follow soon!"

It's now January 30th. Over a month later. Doesn't exactly fall within that whole "soon" window, does it? Everett is almost two months old now. I've yet to tell the tale of his arrival, give you stats on height and weight and developmental milestones, brag about what a good big brother Ethan is, and plaster pictures of my baby boy for all the world to see.

I posted a photo and announced Ethan's birth on THE DAY he was born. That's right, I blogged from the hospital, peeps. Four days later, I wrote his birth story, complete with more pictures. I blogged about all of his "firsts" a week after he was born - his first car ride, first visitors, first bath... you get the idea. By the time Ethan was two months old, I had written eleven blog entries and Ryan had conducted multiple professional photo shoots.

And here I find myself, three years and some change later, two months into holding a tiny snorting newborn in my arms again. And all I've done is posted one picture and made an empty promise.

Mother. Of. The. Year.

I've totally let Everett fall prey to the stereotype of a second child. You could wallpaper the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel with the number of pictures of baby Ethan we have. I have a few great photos of Everett, but they're mostly from my iPhone, as we've not had time to do any "real" photo shoots with him yet.

Ryan tells me to rest assured, that since "all newborns look the same" we can just show Everett's first girlfriend embarrassing pictures of a random newborn we found on a Google image search, and nobody would be the wiser.

Here's where I ask myself the tough questions: Do I love Everett any less than I love Ethan? Absolutely not. Do I enjoy being a mommy to a newborn any less than I did with Ethan? No way - I may even enjoy it more, now that I'm not a trembling, terrified blob of irrational fears. Does the fact that I've neglected my blog mean that I'm neglecting my child(ren)? Not in a million years.

I have a baby, a three-year-old, and a husband who works full-time (as opposed to his full-time grad student status when Ethan was a baby, which meant that he was home a whole lot more). Our household is so busy right now that sometimes it's all I can do to remember to eat lunch. If I had to give myself a grade for my daily accomplishments, I'd have to say that I'm rocking a solid C+ average. Calculated as follows:

1) Baby loving: A+
2) Big brother doting: A+
3) Daily shower opportunities: B-
4) Cooking: C+
5) Cleaning: C
6) Newborn photo ops: D+
7) Blogging: F

If I have to fail in any areas (and those who know me well will know that I consider anything less than an A a failing grade...), I'd rather fail in items 3 - 7. My boys mean the world to me, and if all I have to give right now is zapped after making sure that they're happy and healthy, then so be it.

So, Everett, if you're reading this twenty years from now, please know that you are so very loved. I can't prove it by showing you post after post about your first few glorious months on this planet, but that's only because I was too busy enjoying every minute.

(PS, dear readers - Birth story to follow soon!)

Someone Wants to Say Hello...

Birth story to follow soon!

The Kindness of Others

I have an incredible family. I love them all dearly, but from afar... I am on one edge of the country, and they are about 3,000 miles away on the other side. Google maps will tell you that you can make the trek from my town to theirs in one day and twenty-two hours, but I'm pretty sure that's only accurate if you're carpooling with a robot that doesn't need to take breaks to eat or sleep. Point is, they're super duper far away. While modern conveniences like Facebook and texting and cell phone calls help keep us all in touch, it's not the same as having them here, in my neighborhood, available to pop over at any time. Especially not when you're about to birth a baby.

I also have incredible friends. Friends that are so kind and supportive that you'd think they were family. Friends that do so much to show that they care, it makes you wonder what you did to deserve them. Friends that are local, that have become an adoptive family of sorts.

I am in awe of these friends, especially recently. So many people have rallied around us to show their support of our expanding brood through countless selfless acts. Throwing incredible baby showers. Coordinating meal drop offs and childcare pickups. Volunteering to spend time with me and the little one to help me heal from my c-section once Ryan has to go back to work. Offering to take Ethan - not to get him out of our hair, but to do something fun with him so that he'll know just how special and loved he is. Taking time off from work to be at the hospital when baby brother is born. They give, and give, and give, with open and sincere hearts. These amazing people are like family to me, and I appreciate them more than words could say. Asking for help is not one of my strong suits, and right now I am surrounded by people that just "do" without waiting to be asked.

Let's face it - when you get to this final stage of pregnancy, and definitely once you have a fresh little newborn at home, you may not want to ask for help, but you most certainly need it!

(And this shot is a month old, so imagine what I look like now!)
Perhaps it's the lingering scent of Thanksgiving turkey, or the holiday tunes that play in the background of sappy commercials, or the fact that my little family is about to change in such an amazing and dramatic way, but I can't stop thinking about how important it is to have a strong, supportive, loving family. Be it through birth, marriage, or friendship, the individuals that I have in my life right now have been blowing me away, and I can only hope that I am as good to them as they are to me!

Happy Thanksgiving!

We had such a lovely holiday! It started with the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, which, as it turns out, no one in my house is interested in besides me (I know, it's absolutely un-American, but those boys of mine are total party poopers). Ethan was mildly interested when the Buzz Lightyear balloon floated by, but outside of that he was much more into playing with his wooden train tracks. And, while we're on the subject of the Macy's Parade, can we digress for a moment and talk about the fact that Newsies is now on Broadway?!?! What?!?! I was ridiculously obsessed with that movie back in the day. The performance of "King of New York" alone was enough to make watching the parade worth it. My boys don't know what they're missing.

Given that we're exactly two weeks away from meeting baby brother, I kind of cheated my way out of cooking this year. I cooked a turkey, but most of the side dishes were purchased from our local boutique supermarket already prepared. Call me crazy, but spending hours in the kitchen peeling/boiling/mashing potatoes and making complicated recipes from scratch does not jive with the big baby belly and end-of-pregnancy pains and fatigue.

We did most of the cooking preparing while Ethan was napping, but once he woke we pulled a stool up to the counter and let him "bake the bread" (roll up all of the crescent rolls and put them on the baking sheet). We set the table with "fancy" plates and real silverware, dimmed the lights, and lit candles. Music played in the background as we talked about holidays and family, and I almost burst into happy tears several times. I was too busy enjoying the moment to take any photos, which is a testament to how absolutely wonderful the evening was.

However, a Notch blog post would not be a Notch blog post without *some* pictures. As per usual, I'm horribly behind in posting (It's been over a month! Yikes!), so I have a few catching up photos cued up and ready to go.

Here's Ethan as a scary green dinosaur (don't let that goofy grin fool you - he's a vicious beast).

He began asking for a dinosaur costume back in August, I broke down and bought it for him in September, and he intermittently wore it around the house all through October. We got some serious mileage out of that zip up dinosaur suit.

While this was taken with an iPhone camera in my office, and not with one of Ryan's fancy cameras in just-the-right setting, I figured I should post it anyway. This year for Halloween I dressed up as Mother Nature (ba dum ching!). My amazing friend Stacie spent hours with me coming up with the concept and making the skirt and headpiece. I also wore it to Ryan's office Halloween party and when we took Ethan trick-or-treating, so I suppose I got some good mileage out of this costume as well!
I will do my best to post once more before baby brother arrives - I have some recent(ish) belly shots to show you, and should do so while they're still relevant!

Hey, kid - I like you.

I had a pretty fantastic afternoon. I went to pick Ethan up from preschool, and his face lit up when he saw me. He did a little happy dance when I walked into his classroom. He then ran around to all of the kids in the room and gave them an enthusiastic "Bye bye, (insert kid's name here)!!!" He handed out hugs to his friends like they were candy.

He told me clever things as we walked to the car, got in all on his own, and tried to buckle himself in, stating, "I need to help Mommy." He tried to tell a funny joke. He sang me "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" as we drove out of the parking lot. He danced with gusto to every song on the radio, shouting with glee, "This is my FAVORITE song!" with each new tune. He giggled at me whenever he caught me glancing at him through the rearview mirror.

He asked if he could help me close the garage door when we got home, and asked his stuffed dragon to help me as well. He thanked dragon for being so kind. He requested pizza for dinner and gave me a huge hug when I said yes. He helped me put away the baby clothes that I washed today, and stumbled over the word "onesie" in his cute little voice as he handed me each tiny infant item.

I looked at the boy who has been my only baby for so long, and realized something. I obviously love him. But I also really like him. I enjoy hanging out with him. I think he's funny. I adore his gentle heart and the way he turns a phrase in his adorable, awkward three-year-old dialect. I dig each of the faces he pulls that are so undeniably Ethan.

I love his spunk, his spirit, the way he throws himself head first into discovering everything this world has to offer. He's a pretty amazing kid, and I'm super lucky to be his mom. And when lucky little baby brother gets here, he's going to have a pretty incredible role model.

Newsflash: I'm not Superwoman.

"I was always hearing talk about golden mystical baby things and precious time,” she recalls. “And I was like, ‘Who are you talking to?!?’ If you could see me naked, you would weep. Children are like crazy, drunken small people in your house.” ~ Julie Bowen, star of Modern Family, on her pregnancy.

I bet I'm not the only mom that can totally relate to this quote! Don't get me wrong, pregnancy is an amazing thing, and definitely worth it, but honey, it ain't no picnic! And while children are beautiful, wonderful, incredible little miracles, they do wreak havoc on your life, your house, your sleep, your schedule, your everything! It's really refreshing to hear people tell it like it is.

I try to take it with a grain of salt, but when I read an article about how Jessica Alba got her pre-baby body back in two weeks, or hear Giselle Bundchen talk about how childbirth “wasn’t painful, not even a little bit,” I can't help but have two simultaneous reactions: mostly smug eye-rolling, with a dash of motherly guilt. I start with the thought of, "of course it's easy to get your baby body back when you have a nanny, personal trainer, and a chef to prepare all of your meals" (though, to be fair, I have no idea about the status of Jessica Alba's household help). But there's a little voice that sneaks into the back of my mind that says, "You could try harder. You could exercise, eat better, keep the house cleaner, be more mellow."

We had a bit of a scare with preterm labor this week. I started having contractions that were 2-3 minutes apart, and ended up in the hospital on Monday night. Thankfully, with the help of doctor-ordered temporary bed rest, all seems to be well now. I won't lie and say that it's been a horrible experience, lounging on the couch and taking mid-day naps. But is has been hard being home all day, faced with everything that I want to do. The floors need to be swept and mopped. The bathrooms need to be cleaned. There are areas of clutter that are awaiting organization. I make the mental list of chores while sitting in front of the TV eating a bowl of ice cream, and the voice in the back of my mind comes back. "You could try harder. You could exercise, eat better, keep the house cleaner, be more mellow."

I think I'm going to listen to that voice... but only the last part. I could be more mellow. I could come to terms with the realization that I can't move at the same pace that I once did. I will spend more time at my desk when I return to work, and less time running around the halls. I will ask for favors. I will not try to tackle everything myself. I will take my amazing husband up on his countless offers to do whatever it is that I need. I will mellow out for my sake, the baby's sake, and the sake of my family. I will listen to my body and slow down. I will take care of myself. I won't feel guilty about it.

(And, because every blog post needs a picture, here's a recent belly shot. Sorry baby brother, we're not going all out on the maternity photos this time like we did with Ethan. I won't feel guilty about that, either.)

Nursery Rhymes Creep Me Out

Ethan sang me a new song this afternoon. It's a common tune that he thinks goes a little something like this:

Flea flying mice
Flea flying mice
See how day one
See how day one
(incoherent mumbling)
(more incoherent mumbling)
(continued incoherent mumbling)
Flea flying mice
I think we all know that the real story goes more like this:
I'm kind of okay with him not knowing that those poor visually impaired rodents met with a violent end. I don't fancy myself super sensitive, so I'm sure that some of you reading this are with me on the creep-out factor of most nursery rhymes. Humpty Dumpty? Dies. Jack who went tumbling down a hill? Probably dies. And Jill may have too, for that matter.

Some of my least favorite classics:

Goosey Goosey Gander
Is an old man refusing to say his prayers one night justification for throwing him down the stairs? Seems harsh.

Rock A Bye Baby
Call me crazy, but a cradle crashing to the ground after a gust of wind is not the most comforting image to fall asleep to.

There Was an Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe
Overwhelmed by the parenting responsibilities of many, many, many small children, the woman starves and beats them.

Ladybug Ladybug Fly Away Home
Your house is on fire and your children are gone?!? *shudders*

I realize the purpose that nursery rhymes once served. I get the necessity for oral tradition and coded messages due to political persecution back in the days of yore. But these are the days of free speech, and the internet, and social media. We'll slap ratings on our TV shows and movies and censor video games, but tell the most awful, depressing tales to our young impressionable children. I'm totally guilty of reading nursery rhymes before bed, or singing lullabyes to Ethan that are less than wholesome. Chalk it up to nostalgia, but even though some of the poems give me pause, I can't really picture childhood without thinking of Mother Goose.

But today, in the car on the way home from preschool, I took a quiet stand. As much as it drives me crazy when people sing the wrong lyrics to songs, I let Ethan belt out what he probably thinks is a song about a flea circus. In all honesty, I'll go right back to reciting poems about locking people up inside of London Bridge or imprisoning wives in pumpkin shells if Ethan requests a nursery rhyme book before bed.

But today, for a brief moment during our car ride home, I preserved a little bit of his innocence.