Mommy Mishap

This is what happens when you assume you'll remember the Nuks you're sterilizing in boiling in water... 45 minutes later you smell burning plastic.

Who stole the cookie?

I got a prezzie in the mail from dear friends, the dearest kind of friend really, and it made me cry. It wasn't something I registered for on my fancy baby registry. It wasn't something I begged them to get me when asked if there was something I needed. It was something I mentioned I wanted to have in our home as our kids grew up. I mentioned it in passing several months ago and a few days ago it landed on my door step. A cookie jar! It's a goofy cookie jar in the form of a ceramic blue monster who looks quite endearing. It came with a 'sweet tooth' recipe book of our favorite cookies growing up from moms and grandmas and family friends and a 'Someone in Zimbabwe Loves Me' tshirt. The jar sits on my kitchen table and is stocked with snickerdoodles, the cookie that always seemed to be on hand at her house when we were kids.

I want a cookie jar in our house to help make it home for our kids. Partly because a balanced diet includes sweets and snacks and cookies are pretty traditional for both categories. But mostly to build memories. Sounds strange, I know, but it's true.

We always had a cookie jar growing up. It sat on top of our fridge and I'm not sure it was ever an actual cookie jar but it's where cookies were stored. Growing up, it was a tupperware-like container of some kind. We could only reach it if we dragged a chair across the room and stood on it, giving mom plenty of time to step in and enforce portion control. In my high school years it became (and still is) a tall white metal tin with a lid on it. A country kitchen style cookie jar. This was probably because right around that time we had 6 extra teenagers living with us, my extended family if you will. We were only supposed to have 2 cookies a day and in fact I think it was only supposed to be 2 cookies, 3 days a week. It's not that we tried to take more than we were supposed to, it's just what happened when 7 out of the 9 kids in the house could reach the cookies without a chair and all 9 of us were allowed to have friends over. It probably explains why the tin was so big and why Mom stopped making regular batches of cookies and started baking monster cookies. One batch makes 24 dozen!

Eating cookies was not a highlight of my childhood, it wasn't what memories were formed around but it definitely is a little detail of what home was for me. Cookies in the cookie jar. There weren't always cookies, in fact many times it was a treat when they were there, but they were one more way Mom gave us better than what we needed and provided not just a safe, but a comfortable, happy home. The kind where memories are made and time together is sweet because we're loved and thought of in the little ways too. That's why I want a cookie jar for my kids.

Welcome to Motherhood

I am a mom. It's validated by the precious little girl sleeping next to me right now and also by the fact that I have been trying to write this post for 12 weeks and been sidetracked by baths, feedings and diaper changes instead.

I wrote a while ago about making 'mom' decisions. In these last 12 weeks I've learned a lot. I don't know it all but here are some things I've learned so far:

1. Since Joel and I are her parents, we are the final say for all things Charlotte. If we don't protect her, we're not doing our job. If someone doesn't listen to us, they're disobeying and lose the privilege of holding her. (As you can see, this understanding makes me sassy.)

2. Parenthood has the most brutal initiation ever. It's like guerrilla warfare- learn under fire or everyone dies.

3. Becoming a mom puts you on a perpetual guilt trip. Perpetual guilt trips will make you crazy. The only way to get away from is it to yell something louder than your thoughts for the rest of your life or talk it out with whoever's around, even if it's your cat because even talking to your cat is a better option than yelling loudly for the rest of your life.

4. Everything is emotional. Everything. This is why it takes your mom 20 minutes to give you a simple yes or no. In those 20 minutes she has just relived every single painful and happy memory you've ever shared- even the ones you don't remember. She's lassoed intense emotions and talked her way back to a rational state with the truth. She then weighs your chances of succeeding in whatever endeavor you're pursuing before giving you the answer that is most likely to increase your win/loss ratio. Don't give her a hard time.

5. You need a fall guy for when all else fails, because it will. And it will render you useless to any kind of decision making. This is when you present the options to your fall guy and say "babe, which one do I want?"

Simply the best!

Wow, we're in our 37th week! I say 'we' because I've become increasingly aware of how much I've seen this as my pregnancy but it's not. It's Joel's too, he just doesn't carry the baby. He does however, carry me... a lot! Sometimes he literally carries me but he's increasingly helping me up from sitting down, bending over for me, reaching up for me, waiting for me and most of all encouraging me.

I've had a lot of supportive people making sure I'm okay but from the moment we found out, Joel has been a fully devoted parent. He was excited even before we took a test to confirm we were pregnant when I expected he'd need some time to get his mind around it all. He was the one who said I shouldn't work during the pregnancy, and to make it possible he changed his job situation. He's always thankful when he walks in the door and can smell dinner cooking and he never complains if I'm just now getting the energy to get it going. There are several times when he's offered to run out just as we're settling in for the night because I mentioned that a certain food sounds good right now. I think we've only done that once for a Frosty but he always means it.

He didn't just show up to register with me, he made it fun for both of us by stopping to pick up Starbucks and having opinions on things. (He also picked a few of his own items for the baby which is why we have this on there!)

He's paid attention to details he would normally care less about and on nights when I'm having a hard time falling asleep he'll rub my back or play with my hair to help me relax no matter how tired he is.

There's no simply way to explain who he is to me and how wonderful of a husband he is. Joel's attitude and commitment towards me, his family and our baby is the most compelling reason why I know we're going to love this adventure. Yes, things will be hard and things will go wrong but it's hard not to be excited when my partner is simply the best there is!

"Can I pop?" and other queries

I'm 32 weeks pregnant. That means there's only 8 weeks until my due date. That also means that if the baby comes a few weeks early like I've been hoping, I'll be able to breathe with full lung capacity in 6 weeks!

Yup, the breathing just keeps getting harder. About a month ago I discovered the only way to put my shoes on quickly was to hold my breath while I bent over. About 2 weeks ago I realized my lack of motivation to weed simply comes from a lack of ability to sit on the ground and bend over at the same time. Two nights ago we were watching Chicago Code and I dropped the remote control. To get it myself would have required me to:

1. Lay down sideways (bending)

2. Roll off the couch (bending)

3. Stand up straight before (believe it or not, this too requires me to bend to be able to get straight)

4. Doing a very ungraceful pregnant-lady plie (definite bending)

5. Stand up straight again so let my lungs get a fill then finally

6. Sitting back down on the couch

By the time all this would be done, I would be gasping for breath and there would be no need for the remote as all 4 minutes of advertisements would have been done and the show back on. Thank goodness for a husband who's more than willing to help with these usually-menial-now-slightly-traumatic experiences.

Yes, occasionally I have a flare for the dramatic but not in this case. Avoiding bending is simply a matter of survival right now.

You see, my stomach has extended as far out as it possibly can. There is no possible room left in there for it to be pushed forward. Because of this, I have started to grow sideways. Yup, sideways.

In spite of the baby taking up extra room on my sides, it has decided there's something about being below my belly button that it doesn't like. So it keeps it's body right about level with it- putting it's arms and legs up into my rib cage. My lungs especially enjoy this during the now-regular 4am stretches that include an extra amount of fist and foot pumping. I find myself waking up gasping for air, as one does when it's lungs get punched repeatedly.

Once I got beyond morning sickness, I've had a pretty easy pregnancy. When people try to keep me from doing daily tasks, moving things or picking things up, my mantra has been "I'm pregnant, not an invalid"... until now. Several times a day my questions about who this baby will be get interrupted by logistical questions like "The baby still has to grow. Does that mean it'll just get tighter living quarters for these last few weeks or does that mean I'm gonna pop? CAN I pop? " and "I heard this baby's supposed to begin moving lower so I can breathe? Will it do this soon so I can bend again or is this baby going to have my defiant streak in it and decide to not move lower at all despite what EVERY medical advisor says? Do I remember how to bend?"

Not so graceful, I know, just like my plies right now. But there will soon come a day when the questions will be answered or won't matter anymore. Because I'm holding our son or daughter and breathing just fine.

The traveling circus

Whew. I'm back. After having Kara visit from Missouri for 5 days, I zipped off to sunny South Carolina to see Amy and Jon for a long weekend. Two days later Joel and I left with his family for a 14 hour drive out to Ohio in an RV for Daniel and Kaydrie's wedding. I spent the last week doing insane amounts of laundry, grocery shopping, enjoying home cooked meals (it really didn't take long for them to feel like a novelty again) and painting several rooms in the house to get it ready for this weekend. Don't worry- I used to No VOC paint which is safe for Baby.

This weekend Daniel and Kaydrie have a wedding celebration for their Connecticut friends and family. Joel and I will be hosting Easter dinner on Sunday for the Lagans and Clymers- 21 people in the immediate family and more if grandparents end up coming. I wasn't worried about it at all until I actually considered how much space tables for that many people will take up... pretty much any that we have. We have a yard and a patio which would be great except Sunday is supposed to be really stormy. Lindz and David will be around to help prep the food, set things up and in general make life more rich.

Next week Dad, Mom and Rach get back to the States and the following weekend Julie graduates. At my Dr's appointment this morning I was told I probably won't be allowed to travel to it. In other words, my Dr actually thinks that she can tell me where I am and am not allowed to go. I understand a strong recommendation against it, but to tell me that I'm not ALLOWED to go brought out that very small part of me that does things out of spite. I really wanted to say "Well, since I'm a grown woman, you bet your bottom dollar I'll be going- because I love my sister dearly but also because you're being silly." Unfortunately I can't do that. My decisions affect someone else now a whole lot more than they have before. I'm probably still going to end up going since I have no real concern to expect early labor or pregnancy complications but I've got an appointment the day before I leave to get clearance from a Dr. I have a sneaking suspicion that she'll let me go IF I promise to stop and stretch every 2 hours... which will make the 12 hour drive closer to 14.

It's times like this, when home is more like rest stop during a trip, when much of my time is spent commuting, when Joel and I have a huge stock of books on CD, that remind me how much we love traveling. Despite the inconveniences, the cost, the energy required, it's still exciting to us. We still look forward to seeing everyone and it's easier to forgo desperately needed sleep in exchange for 2 hours at the wheel because we're on a highway to somewhere to see someone we love.

A few weeks ago we registered at Babies R Us. I think the most expensive thing we asked for was a pack 'n play. We also are so thankful for the comfy car seat we were given and requested a gigantuan diaper bag, several sippy cups and good car window shades. On both of our priority list was good gear to make travel easy for this kid- because we intend to do lots of it still. Baby will learn to sleep in a car seat, to amuse him/herself for a long time or sing along to music. If not by nature then by necessity.

Joel has an inate wanderlust in him, mine however was developed. I can not tell you the number of times I wondered why Dad and Mom insisted we leave the airport to tour London when I was so tired, or added an entire day to an already long trip so we could see the Dakota's Badlands and Mt Rushmore. I went along with it because I had no choice. But then came college and Lindz and I bonded over trips like that- a last minute 30 hour trek to Texas for a wedding only to turn around that same night so we could make it back for work on Monday. A flight out to San Clemente, CA got us lost and stranded on the LA beach line. We barely made it back in time for Aunty Judy to pick us up at the airport. Countless trips between CT, PA, NJ and OH have made us sickeningly familiar with Hwy 84, 91, 287, 80, 76, 13 and Rt 1. All of a sudden the whole idea of dragging myself all over the place was something I LIKED. I LIKE seeing people I love. I LIKE seeing new places. I LIKE building the kind of memories with people that only endless hours in a car seems to build.

Whether Baby is born with Joel's wanderlust or my homebody side, we will teach it to LIKE traveling too.

This is a story about a whale....

I'm a few weeks into my third trimester and getting quite anxious to meet this 'Wee Little Lagan' as Rosemary so affectionately dubbed it. (For some reason Mom liked this name better than David and Julie's suggested 'Squidwad') I get sore if I stand for more than a few minutes and I've started to grow sideways because my stomach is out as far as it's going to go. I can't bend in half and I have to hold my breath when I put on my shoes because the baby moves up against my lungs. In general, I feel like a whale -a beached one that can't really go anywhere or do anything like it's used to doing. Oh the not-so-glorious parts of pregnancy.

In the midst of this discomfort, I'm finding myself more and more anxious to meet this little person who has already so greatly changed my priorities. I'm starting to want to clean everything thoroughly because I want our home to be as safe and comfortable as possible. It's easier to turn down my favorite salty and sugary foods because someone else is affected by even the simplest of my food choices. It's easier to WANT to find my flaws and change so I can be the best wife and mom possible for our home. I find myself getting excited for labor because it means I'm so close to finding out if I have a little boy to love fiercely or a little girl to treasure. Everyone's born with their own personality. I can't wait to discover his/hers. I wonder if our first child will be more like Joel or me? I wonder which uncle they'll look forward to seeing most, which aunt they'll want advice from? I also wonder which of our friends will become extended family members helping raise our children. Not just this one, all of them.

I can't explain the changes that God works in my heart on a daily basis. There's a growing and a deepening of a part of me that has always been pretty small. A part of me that makes decisions and isn't so worried about what other people think. That part of me that didn't quite consider myself an adult is shrinking even more. I not only like respect from kids now, I expect it. I'm an adult in a way I haven't been before. I'm beginning to make 'mom' decisions and struggle with 'mom' struggles. While it's just the beginning, my mentality has changed quite a bit.

As a child, I was always under my parents. I lived a life that meant I respected them and anyone older than me. As a teenager, I was still under my parents but they gave me freedom. College was a time to step out on my 'own' but still have the security of my parents as the final say. Getting married put Joel and I out on our own. It stopped with us. We were in charge of our decisions and we weren't responsible to anyone. Now all of a sudden we're in a new place. We're not just doing life together, we're leading in a way we never have. Leading a new generation of children and we're responsible to teach them in such a way that they can eventually do the same.

Diabetes and Penny Cools

This morning Joel and I got an early start. I was at my Dr's office before 8am to get my gestational diabetes test. It's standard for all pregnant women here and the Dr said to expect clear results but there's still a part of me that wonders if I'll get a call tomorrow letting me know I need to come in to talk about treatment options.

I had to fast after dinner last night and tried not to be grump about missing tea and rusks this morning. The test requires me to drink 10oz of orange liquid quickly, wait an hour and then have my blood taken. It seems as though everyone who has been pregnant recently or is in the OB field has felt the need to explain to me how disgusting this drink is. No one seems to have found a good description for the taste but they always seem to shudder a bit when trying to.

When I showed up this morning I was handed my orange bottle of liquid to drink quickly. I braced myself wondering whether it would taste more like rubbing alcohol or car oil. No one in that office could understand why a huge smile was my reaction to my first sip. Penny Cools! It tasted like Penny Cools! They're the Zimbabwean version of popsicles you get here- the ones in the clear cases that you buy on vacation or the Fourth of July. It was definitely sweet, like when you first suck the flavor from the ice... but it never diluted. I drank all 11oz thankful that I was not only NOT drinking the medicinal equivalent of car oil but feeling a bit like I had a treat from my childhood. Of course, the glucose drink with no food in my stomach left me with jitters for the next 2 hours of appointments so I was pretty happy to grab an early lunch.

It's Jumping!

This morning I woke up to a gloomy drizzle outside. Next thing I know Joel's bringing me tea and letting me know he built a roaring fire downstairs. Nothing beats a slow starting morning with a warm fire and time to meander through your thoughts. As I sat enjoying the pace of life I became increasingly aware of a rumbly in my tumbly (I'm already beginning to quote Winnie the Pooh as I get ready to have a fan of kids shows in the house). The baby has definitely picked up movement strong enough for me to feel and it's a little bit of a second nature now to feel it as it wakes up or goes to sleep throughout the day.

Today though the baby had a distracting amount of energy. I looked down at my stomach as a mere reaction to all the twisting and turning and was surprised to see my stomach twisting and turning right along with the baby! I sat for a good 5 minutes just watching the baby try to get comfortable as he/she poked and prodded my stomach in various directions. It was amazing!

At one point I put my hand slightly to the side and felt a very distinct little foot kick into my palm. It gets me so excited for about 3 months from now when I'll be able to actually hold this little bundle of energy!

Boxes, cleaning and paint

Whew! So much for my intentions of blogging once a week! This year has been a year of new challenges already! I spent much of January on the road with Joel, in PA with Mom and finally packing boxes up to move to our new home a town over from where we were. Early in the month we said goodbye to Grammy after several weeks of watching her in her final fight with cancer. While there were a myriad of details (and still are) that come with losing someone, it has been amazing to know where she is and that she's finally Whole.

On Saturday Joel and I were joined by some much-appreciated friends and siblings to help move all our belongings from our third floor, one bed-room apartment to our new home in Bloomfield, CT. Joel's grandparents raised their children and grandchildren there and had a great home set up. It's been sitting empty since his grandma passed away last year and it has been one more way God has provided for us as we look at starting our own family. His blessings are abundant and it's a little intimidating but mostly encouraging to be starting off in a place that already holds so many good memories for him and his family.

We've unpacked many boxes, set up most of the kitchen and are looking at painting sometime soon.

Pregnancy has brought on a whole new world of "Is Lysol safe for me to inhale?" and "fume free paint is HOW much?!"

In the midst of the bending, lifting and cleaning I found myself getting more nervous about whether the baby is okay or not. I've been taking it extremely easy compared to my normal 'moving' pace and Joel has stepped up to not only do the lifting but even cleaning the kitchen cabinets for me but there's still a part of me that wondered if I was in some way hurting our little one in this process. A few nights ago I managed to locate the heart monitor/doppler from my cousin Amy from our boxes. Nothing can describe the relief I felt in hearing the strong, steady swishing noise of the baby's heart at 148bpm. SO glad!

First Entry

About a year ago Joel and I started asking God to bless us in an amazing way. Right from the beginning Joel knew something big would happen in October. We figured it was a job change of some kind.

The beginning of October came and it was increasingly difficult to keep my skepticism at bay. However, by mid-October I knew I needed to give my notice at work. For what I didn't know and in this economy it seemed plain irresponsible but when God speaks, he doesn't stutter.

So we left for a mission's trip to Nigeria knowing I'd need to leave my job shortly after our return. It was our last day in Nigeria that we finally got confirmation that I was pregnant. What an incredible change. October 30... Joel was right. Something big DID happen in October.

I gave my notice within my first week back, by the next week Joel had a second job that he was sure was God's answer to our question about finances. A week later God had sent a second car and opened a home for us to move into. PHEW... we're still recovering.

The last month has mostly consisted of work and travel for the holidays. Lots of time with family and friends and of course morning sickness... all day.

As Joel gets used to working a much more rigorous work load, I'm preparing the house for our move at the end of this month.

For those of you loved ones who are a little far to be around for our first pregnancy, here's a blog. I'll do my best to update it once a week.