Little Kite Girl

The thing is, she’s a woman!  No really, I super dig Camper’s doctor.  First of all, she’s a Mom herself.  She’s managed to raise a couple of happy kids (I think they’re school-aged now) AND finish med school and that goes along with it.  She’s knowledgeable and attentive and Camper loves her.  She’s got an incredible bedside manner (do people say that anymore?) with both the kids and the parents.  I always leave feeling like things are just as they should be.  Today she got a load of wax out of Bubby’s ear and he just sat still and waited for her to be done.  She ALWAYS gives him a book, and talks to him like he’s a real person.  I mean, I realize he IS a real person, but not a lot of people make an effort to include him in conversation.  I really trust her, which is very important.

When I go to the appointments I actually ENJOY talking to her.  She’s funny, and acts like she has nothing better to do than sit there and talk about my kid’s poop with me.  You can tell she loves her job.

I think I am more starstruck by Mommy-professionals than I am by actual “stars.” Katie Holmes, whatever.  Angelina Jolie? Couldn’t care less.  Kate of John and Kate Plus 8?  Completely lionized.  (I’ve been waiting to use that word it a blog.)  But my kid’s pediatrician?  I think she’s pretty cool.

Let it be known that I’m totally a fan of women doctors in general.  My OBGYN was 7 months pregnant herself when she delivered Camper.  It was pretty awesome.

Once upon a time I met a new friend.  She was awesome.  (Still is…she just lives further away now.)   I used to go to her house once a week or so for a playgroup, and it was always fun.  Once while changing Camper in her kid’s room, I noticed a beautiful plush rug on the floor.  I thought to myself, “Wow, that is beautiful.  And plush.  Maybe I should find something like that for Camper.”  But then I promptly forgot all about it.

A little while later she moved!  I went to visit her in her new, faraway kingdom and found that the carpet in her house was still AWESOME.  Camper LOVED it.  I showed her how Camper rubbed his face in the carpet and luxuriated.  She said, “Oh!  If I had known he liked it so much I would have left that other rug for you guys!  I gave it to someone else.”  She told me the someone else, and we both noted that the someone else also had little kids who would probably luxuriate in the rug, as well.  So it was all cool.  Until I remembered that the someone else was moving soon, too!  Maybe, just maybe she wasn’t going to take it with her.  I knew she was having a tag sale, but it was the same day as ours…so there was no way of just checking it out.  Finally I just emailed and figured she would forgive me if I sounded silly, trying to figure out what was happening with a rug.

She emailed me back promptly and said that even though the rug was AWESOME, that they weren’t taking it with them after all!  But it had already been given to our church and sold in a tag sale to fund summer camps for the youth.  A very noble cause indeed, but who owned it NOW?  I found out, and this person was not moving anytime soon.  The rug was gone.

Sad.

I put it out of my mind, until John came home and said, “Hey, there is a really thick, dark brown shag rug in a room at church.  Was that the one you were asking about?”  Turned out, the person who bought it had never picked it up and brought it home!  Here I was, all ready to let the rug go, and it comes back into my life!  To be honest, I kind of thought about going to the church in the middle of the night and absconding with the rug.  But that was more for the adventure than for the desire to steal, so we didn’t.  I figured out who bought it and was going to ask if I could buy it from them, but then I decided that I was kind of becoming obsessed…so I didn’t.

Then one Friday night John, Camper and I came home to find the rug, the very rug, propped up in the corner of Camper’s room.

Apparently, the owner of the rug had found out that I liked it and kind of wanted it, and wanted me to have it.  JUST BECAUSE SHE’S NICE.  And so now the rug and I are together, at last.

Check out that plush shag, yo.

So thanks to all who were involved in getting us the rug of my dreams

So it’s no secret that John and I have a child. One son. I have a son. (I heart saying this, so sorry for the repetition.) I pretty much dig him, enough that I stay home and stare at him all day long. Ok, so maybe I play with him and read to him and watch Noggin with him and feed him and go on walks with him and change him and cuddle him and try to teach him to be a decent human being. Anyways…he is so amazing and time-consuming that I am currently postponing (not indefinitely) my masters degree and an amazing career to be his stay at home mom.  It’s a pretty good job.

Good enough that John and I recently started talking about when to have another baby.

When I got married I said, “We’ll wait a year to have a baby.”  We have now been married for almost two years (in September) and have a 9 month old baby.  For our little family, having a baby is a decision between the two of us and God.  We take that pretty seriously.  Although we went through all the practical considerations of  “Are we ready? Can we afford this?  Can we handle it?” none of that mattered, because we just felt deep down inside that pregnancy prevention was not for us.  So I was 8 months pregnant on our first anniversary.

Cut to now, when I once again start to wonder, “Is it time?”  We’re living with my Mom and Dad, doing the husband working/in grad school thing, not really all that established in any way shape or form.  If I had another baby, it could definitely delay the grad school thing for me even more, but at the same time I’d be DONE with babyness in a couple of years and not have to interrupt school again for quite some time…either until we decided that 2 was not enough or decided to adopt.

Then there is my health, still precarious.  I’m even experiencing a bit of a flair-up this week, almost as if my body is telling me, “Remember how sick pregnancy made you???”  And the fact that even on the best of days, my son tires me out completely.  Totally.

Then there is the dread.   The dread of no sleep at all, trying to decide between whose diaper need changed the worst, who needs to be held more when they’re both crying, who has to get up in the middle of the night to do whatever needs to be done for one and then the other.  It’s pretty overwhelming.  I’ve read a MILLION things these past few weeks about how to choose the space between siblings.  I’ve thought about the siblings I know and how they interact with each other, their parents, and the world.  Some say space is great, you have two babies that you get to cuddle and love.  Others say have them all in quick succession, if you can handle the “intensity” there’s a great payoff at the end.

I’ve obsessed, to say the least, over whether or not it’s time to have another baby.

And you know what?  Again, none of that matters.  The scholarly articles about the psychology of children in different age brackets or the puff piece in Parenting magazine explaining what it’s like to nurse while going to the bathroom AND saving your 2 year old from drowning in the bathtub…the scouring of blogs of Moms with kids 3 or more years apart wondering if they’ll be close friends or if my academic life would survive such a long stint in Mommy-hood.  Wondering if it’s best to have another baby now, with family so close by in case I’m sick again, or even well and just SO TIRED.  Because I love having my wonderful supportive parents nearby.  Because they are a good Lala and Poppop.

Even with all that said, we’ve made no decisions about anything.  I’m coming to realize that we’ll just know when it’s time.  Just like we knew with Camper.  When we found out we were pregnant (a surprise, that’s for sure) we knew that it was the right time for us, that everything would be just fine.  When we decided to stop birth control we didn’t know if I’d get pregnant the next day or the next year, if at all.  But we did, and it was PERFECT for our little family.

So I guess what I’m TRYING to say is that I just need to trust that God who let me know what to do before.  He’ll let me know again.  And until then, Mirena it is.

Oh, and I did take a pregnancy test in Big Y today.  We stopped in there to find my Gorton’s Fishermans and some chocolate chunks (why o why do we have to travel to find the foods that we love?) and I was SO NASEUS that I was going to drive us ALL crazy wondering until I just KNEW.  Mirena and all, we convince ourselves of crazy things sometimes.  I felt very Juno.  Except that I’m 26, and the only adoption that’ll go on in the future will hopefully add more children to our family, and my husband and baby were waiting outside the bathroom door.  And I’ve never met Jennifer Garner.  Anyway.  Good times.

I finally finished a book I bought awhile ago called The Blessing of a Skinned Knee by Wendy Mogel.  I loved every sentence in the book.  I couldn’t get through 5 pages without going to get a pen so I could circle and write exclamation points in the margins.  Her child philsophy comes straight from Jewish teachings and practices, and although I’m not Jewish myself, I found myself wishing that I belonged to the culture she was describing.  She talks about real things, and her book seems to offer a way to integrate religion into real life, unapologetically, while still living in the here and now.  I can’t find words strong enough to encourage you to read it, so I’m going to give one away.

I feel like I am downright blessed to be able to stay home with my son.  However and in any case, work at home, work out of the home, stay at home, all parents are obligated to raise their children to be healthy, happy members of their community.  I felt it keenly in this book, both the duty and the “how.”

So here it is: Leave a comment on this post to enter.  If I receive 15 (yes, 15!) comments, one person will be picked at random to receive this awesome book.  (A new one, so you can make notes of your own.) I can only ship to destinations in the US, sorry!

This giveaway ends on 7/10/09 at 12pm.

Good luck!

Every night when I go to bed I find another bruise or red mark from being attacked by my vampire child.  He is getting stronger, and doesn’t know that he’s hurting us with his playing (AND biting!!)  Am I alone in this, or do all kids go through an accidental violent phase when they become more mobile?  My least favorite trick: throwing his head back into my teeth.  At least I don’t have braces like my Mom did when she had me!

Ouch peeps.  At least he gives lots of kisses, too.

I did some Bubby cooking today.  I am MOST proud of my turkey meatballs!  I made mini meatballs, just ground turkey mixed with egg and baby’s rice cereal (I know, right?!), and then boiled them in tomato sauce. I think they turned out really well, and I was excited to figure out a way to work the cereal in, as it seems to disgust Camper now.  Who knew?  I did more sweet potatoes, too, but when I tasted them they were GROSS.  No more shopping at that “better, cheaper” produce store.  I can’t afford to hit or miss, with money OR time.  That was pretty disappointing, but I’ll make more this weekend.

Other than that, just been doing the weekly stuff.  Teaching piano (new student started this week, another one will start next month!), cleaning, laundry, trying to go through my GRE book.  We also got a seat for the back of my bike (eh…the bike I’ve stolen from my mother because I like hers better than mine) so that Bubbs can ride along.  I tried it out during a sunny patch yesterday, but I’m hoping for sun again soon!

Meanwhile, enjoy some pictures from an after dinner walk.  (Proof, there is sun in New England!)

It’s been thunderstormy for a couple of days (watching the weather, apparently…everywhere), but we hope it goes away soon.  There’s a new swing in the backyard that misses us.

This past weekend I had a FIRST, we went to a drive-in movie.  My Mom had mentioned it earlier in the day, and then when John and I were walking around the mall for lack of a better going “out” option, I told John about it and off we went.  We had to drive an hourish to get there, but I was excited because they were playing Up, a movie we’ve been wanting to see.  ALSO, we could bring the Bubbs!  Another thing he’ll never remember but we’ll be able to tell him he did!  When we lived in Utah, people brought babies to movie like it was their job.  I remember we went to see that Will Smith movie with the vampires…I can’t for the life of me remember what it was called…and there were newborns in the theatre.  Like…5 of them…it was so odd to me.  I mean, I can understand kid’s movies.  That’s makes sense, but scary, grown-up movies?  No. That’s just annoying.  But a drive-in is different!  We’re in our own car, who can we bother?

When we got there we hit the concession stand and then settled in.  Camper was amazed by the front seat, and ended up touching every single button at least twice.  We had to pull the plug when he learned how to honk the horn.  When the movie started we turned his carseat around in the middle of the backseat and strapped him back in (the ONLY WAY HE’D STAY STILL!) and he actually cuddled his blankie and watched the movie for a good hour before falling asleep.  We had to reinstall the carseat with him still in it when it was time to go.  Possible, not recommended.  It was a really fun night.  The movie was good, I felt very comfortable in our own space, and it was the latest we’ve been out in forever.  Made it feel special.

Saturday we ran some errands, got a new baby gate that I don’t want to talk about right now (ARG) and then watched another movie late into the evening.  Again, felt special and fun to stay up late…but made Sunday a SO TIRED day.  Today it’s just been cleaning up, trying to get life back in order and get some stuff done.  It’s a little chaotic after running around all weekend and not sleeping/cleaning/resting as much as we should, but it was worth it.

I love, love, love being a Mom.  I really do feel fulfilled with my daily activities.  It took me awhile to see the real worth of what I do every day, but once I understood, I no longer felt the need to work outside the home.  (At this point in my life, anyway.  I have every intention of continuing my education and working in the not-to-distant future.)  I’m just grateful that we live in a place and that John has a job that gives me the chance to stay home.  I realize that many moms simply don’t have a choice.

That said, the last week or so has been rather difficult for me, and I’m not sure why.  Maybe it’s the emergence of my son’s GIANT personality coupled with his burgeoning curiosity (not to mention mobility). Maybe it’s the fact that I’m meant to be studying more than I find the time for, or the sad truth that I’m completely unable to get as much done around the house as I’d like to on a daily basis.  All I know is that I had at least two moments this week when I wanted to throw scrambled eggs, a noisy monitor, or a baby bottle out whatever window I was closest to and just go take a long bath. I didn’t, I simply took a deep breath and go through until naptime.  The weekend, especially, was very long.  We ended up going to a drive in until late Friday night, and then redboxing some other movies we’ve wanted to see on Saturday, so I probably didn’t make very wise sleep choices.  After waking up this morning and realizing that Camper was NOT going to take a long nap, I commissioned LaLa to spend an hour with him so that I could get a little more sleep.

Sleep helps so much.  And hey, the weekend was fun.

I am amazed, daily, by how amazing my child is.  He is funny, fun-loving, steady, cautious, thoughtful, a little hot-headed and very cuddly and affectionate.  He is also an extremely picky eater (I know I asked for that one) and only a so-so sleeper.  There are plenty of babies out there that eat and sleep like clockwork,  but Camper is not that baby.  I told John yesterday that I felt like all I do all day is try to take care of a being who’s job is it to make it as difficult as possible.  Good thing he’s a dream in every other way imaginable, and honestly, he really is.

It’s crazy, I wait for nap time so that I can get something done, and then end up missing him and waiting for him to wake up.  I think this is one of the hardest “jobs” I’ve ever done, and I’m proud of the job I’ve done so far.  Here’s hoping I don’t throw any eggs out the window this week.

After writing that post I realized that our baby monitors are crapping out on us, AND my dresser drawer is somehow broken.

I swear, it’s like my husband just went out to sea or something.