Blurry

Life is going by in a blur.



I know I am participating in it -- and time often creeps slowly toward naptime -- but it still seems life is taking us for a ride instead of us being in control.

It sometimes seems like too much work and not enough play time. But when we get down to the business of playing, we really play.



Fly is starting to differentiate among kids his age and prefer some over others -- he is making friends. Preschool is going great. His favorite subject? Digging in the sand.

The Bug is suddenly four months old. He is already teething, as his big brother Fly got his first teeth at four months. He takes everything in and rarely complains. It was about this time last year we knew he was on his way.

Now there are just two months left in the year, so I'm trying to hold onto every day because I know they will never be this small again and I don't want my memories to get blurry.



Scenic Route stamp by Scrap Girls, Refresh frame by Scrap Girls, Scrapping Sisters word art


Halloween Show kit by Digiscrapbooking.ch, Digi-Designs by Nicole frame

I'd like to say I've been a bad blogger because I'm spending my time being a better mother. But that's not true.

OK, it's true that I'm trying to be a better mother. And it's true that Fly's third-birthday party knocked the wind out of me. (I'm such a rookie at this birthday-party business. I invited everyone I know who has a child. It was such a huge party that I was jokingly calling it the social event of the season for our county's preschoolers.) And it's true that after the party, Fly got sick and passed the cold onto Junebug, and when I got it, I almost wished I would just die already. We all still have a yucky cough.

But I am a bad blogger too.

Anyway, I know no one wants to hear me ramble about stupid excuses, so here are some photos, which, if anyone is still coming to this blog looking for new content, is all you probably wanted to see anyway.

Fly's preschool photo


Um, yeah.

Cuteness



One of Bug's first really big smiles



More matching outfits



Fly at his birthday party

Two months

When you're two months old, you don't have a lot of control over your life. People like to do this kind of thing to you:


(My friend took this photo of me and the babe.)

And there's that wild creature who's always being loud and accidentally-on-purpose bumping into a tiny person. On a rare occasion, he sits down for a picosecond.


(Another photo by the fab Jennifer.)

You also have no control over what you're wearing.



Or how you're worn.


(Experimenting with a mei tai -- made by the lovely and beautiful Bloggy Mama -- for the first time.)

But in general, at two months, life is pretty good.

P-p-preschool!

Everyone else does it, and I'm giving in to peer pressure: the standard photo-by-the-front-door picture of a kid on his first day of school.

Fly! In preschool!

Just a few weeks shy of his 3rd birthday, Fly is going to school two days a week -- six hours total, really. His first day went perfectly. In fact, while I was handing off his snack bag and diapers (still not potty trained, ugh) with one of the teachers by the door to his room, he slipped in without me noticing. And then it was too late for me to take another picture or even say goodbye. Something about no clingy parents inside the school.

One day, you're carrying a child everywhere you go, and the next he's ambling into a preschool room without you even noticing. Gah! I didn't get to savor the moment.

But I didn't cry. No, I'm not emotional over the thought of Fly growing up and moving on. (Although he better not love his teacher more. I already consider her The Other Woman.) Maybe I'm a weird mother, but I am excited for him. And a little jealous. After looking at the daily schedule the teacher handed out, detailing everything from story time to water table play to music class to bathroom breaks right down to the minute, I kind of wish it was me going to preschool. It's a great gig. I want to play all day with super-cute little people!

Oh. Wait. I guess I kind of do that already. Except, you know, laundry and meal planning and dealing with home repairs and changing diapers and stuff.

While Fly is in school, I'll be playing with my little Junebug. Because soon enough, he'll be the one trotting off to The Other Woman when I'm not looking.

(Find me over at my new blog.)

A month after my perfect birth

Dream quickpage by Kimberly Pollinger

It's hard to believe that my baby is a month old today.

Funny how time keeps going forward like that.

My little Junebug is a much more laid-back baby than Fly was. JP tentatively suggested the Bug is my do-over baby -- partly kidding, of course -- because Fly was and still is an intense child.

JP also pointed out that with the Bug I got the labor I always wanted, and because some people enjoy birth stories, well, here ya go. (If you don't want to read the birth story, you can scroll down for a picture of a super-cute baby!)

The day before the Bug was born, I was determined for him to come out. My doctor was planning to induce me because I went past my due date and an ultrasound showed the baby was big. Not a fan of pitocin, I desperately wanted the Bug to come out on his own. So I started the day with a plan. I took Fly for a bike ride over speed bumps. I went out and bought, then drank, raspberry leaf tea (which turns out probably doesn't do anything to encourage labor). I made super-spicy "jump start your labor" cookies as suggested by the Rookie Moms. For a week before, I had been walking as much as possible and trying just about any trick and old-wives' tale I heard about.

Nothing happened.

I woke up early the next day because I couldn't sleep. I did a little yoga -- for the first time during my whole pregnancy -- and watched the morning news while JP and Fly slept. It felt so good to move and stretch my body, which I hadn't been doing for months, and I felt the baby was almost moving and stretching with me.

I had an appointment then, when my OB had me do a non-stress test to get a read on the baby's heartbeat. I sat there for an hour while nurse after nurse tried to get the baby's heartbeat -- which was clearly audible -- to show up on the test machine's printout. It wasn't working, so the doctor told me to have the test done at the hospital and also to get another ultrasound. Perfect! Just what I wanted to do with my day. Did I mention I was trying to squeeze the doctor appointment in before JP had to go to work so he could watch Fly?

When I called JP to tell him I had to go to the hospital, he called his parents to come watch Fly, and we went to the hospital together. Everything checked out fine with the baby, who was still measuring big, and I begged the doctor to give me a couple more days on the induction on the evidence that the Bug was doing just fine in my womb.

JP and I stopped to pick up some lunch for ourselves and his parents to take back home. After eating, I started not feeling so good. Before his parents could go home, I decided to lie down. It was about 2 pm. I wondered if I might be going into labor. JP's parents went home.

By 3 pm, I started feeling mild contractions. Another hour went by, and I told JP maybe he should call his parents to come back. Fly had been napping, which was good timing, I guess. At some point, he woke up and came into my room, where JP was helping me time the contractions while I tried to use hypnobirthing techniques. I was able to relax through the contractions, for the most part -- I lasted longer with the hypnobirthing this time than with Fly.

Very quickly, the contractions started getting stronger and closer together. JP called our doula at 5 pm to tell her to come. Around 5:30, I felt the urge to pee, and my water broke while I was in the bathroom. JP called the doula again, and she was stuck in traffic. She told him to have me get in the tub and try to relax. By this time, the hypnobirthing wasn't working for me anymore. My in-laws were across the hall from the bathroom now, in Fly's room, and probably hearing every moan I made. Suddenly, I felt I couldn't stay in the tub anymore. I got out, and JP found me trying to put on some clothes and helped me get dressed.

I was about to tell him we should get going to the hospital without the doula when she arrived. I don't remember details at this point, except for really wishing I didn't have to go to the hospital and just have the baby at home because I dreaded the thought of getting in the car for the ride there. JP and our doula helped me into the car, and she followed us in her car to the hospital. I'm pretty sure JP broke several traffic laws, but I was too busy writhing in my seat to really notice.

Once I got checked at the hospital around 6:10, I was already 7 cm dilated. They put me in a labor and delivery room pretty fast. My nurse suggested getting an IV in me, but I was moving around a lot, and JP and my doula knew I didn't really want an IV and somehow I didn't end up with one.

I'm not really sure what all happened between the hospital check-in time and the time the Bug was born (7:47), but it didn't seem to me to be as long as an hour and a half. Someone would tell me how far along I was, or asked about when my OB was coming, and the contractions kept coming in waves. Finally, my doula told me I was going to have the baby and I said, "Don't tease me." I didn't think the baby could possibly come that quickly -- Fly took forever.

And then one contraction had a bonus: a strange urge, like the urge to throw up, except, well, of course, at the other end. I started pushing. This was strange to me because with Fly, I had an epidural, and my OB told me when to push because I didn't feel anything. (I pushed him out in eight minutes.)

My nurse naturally told me not to push because my OB hadn't arrived yet. But how can you tell someone not to throw up? Every push felt like a crash throughout the inside of my body. I'm pretty sure I sounded and looked like the Exorcist. This was torture, and yet I thought about my baby and how soon I would be holding him and this would all be over.

My OB arrived, and then everyone in the room tried to get me off my side and on my back, down to where the doctor was at the end of the bed. I basically refused, so they dragged me into position. JP told me he could see the baby's head. I couldn't believe it! A couple more pushes, and the little Bug was out and immediately in my arms, screaming heartily.

I shook.

Here was my 8-lb. 13-oz., 23-inch blessing.

He's perfect. And beautiful. (Today, he's 11 lbs. 5 oz. and 23-3/4 inches.)

Another blessing is I got to have the drug-free birth I wanted. No induction. And not even an IV. (Although that came later. Pitocin to make sure nothing remained in my uterus. Many of you probably know the drill.) I just thank God it went quickly and without any complications. It really was a perfect birth. At the thought of that, I'm amazed.

But I told JP at the time I didn't think I ever wanted to do that again. The pain! The crashing pushes! I still feel it when I cough, sneeze or laugh hard.

Basically, though, I'm just so thankful to have this baby and to have two healthy children. And who knows, maybe once again I'll forget about the labor pains, the pregnancy heartburn and backaches and fatigue, the tussle with nurses and doctors and appointments -- and want to have a third child. I really feel I'm getting too old for this babymaking business, but I can't rule out what is meant to be, can I?

After all, babies are kind of like potato chips: It's hard to stop at just one.

Especially when they're this sweet and cuddly.

I guess I am THAT mom

The kind of mom who thinks it's fun to dress her kids the same. Sigh. I know it's probably tacky, but I just couldn't help myself. It's just for a little while, before Fly starts getting all independent-like and demanding to wear only certain outfits. (Right now, he doesn't care what I put on him.) I mean, it's just a couple of shirt, right? And they have to wear clothes anyway. It's not like I dress the boys the same every day.

Yes, I sound exactly like a person in denial.

Someone please tell me this is completely within my realm.

Or direct me to good group therapy.

Little babies

Remember our anatomically correct boy baby doll?



Now we have two.