Date Archives → August 2008

enjoying…

…a little man who’s growing up so fast. He fills our days with energy and laughs, boo-boos and songs, kisses and hugs and life. Oh, how we love him. Even when he cries his head off the whole walk home from Trader Joe’s, there’s something about his toddler intensity that just makes me smile.

His second birthday is approaching, and his daddy and I sat for two hours on the couch last night, looking for just the right presents. How much fun is it to look at toys and realize that his little imagination is going to blossom and develop, and that his childhood days will be filled with memories provided by these special things — just like mine were. It’s too much fun. I can’t wait for September 15th!

One of my favorite moments of the day? When I first open my eyes in the early morning and see his sweet baby blues staring right back at me. And he caresses my cheek and says, “Hi, Mom.”

feeling…

Somewhere in these last two weeks, I suddenly began to feel…well, pregnant. Funny how for weeks and weeks, people ask, “So how are you feeling?,” and you think to yourself, “Huh. I guess fine, ’cause I haven’t given it a second thought.” And then suddenly, one morning, you feel…well, pregnant.

And I’ll write out what I mean by that, since I seem to totally and completely forget during that blissful second trimester that I happily, ignorantly traipse through.

Pregnant: Exhausted. Out of breath. Out of shape. Sore. Aching back. Swollen feet. Swollen fingers. Swollen everything. Actually, just fat. Grumpy-ish (sorry, Ry.) Uncomfortable. Strange constant pressure on bladder (strange because it’s pressure from the outside, as opposed to the inside.) Strange pressure elsewhere that suddenly makes walking a huge endeavor. Did I mention out of shape? Yeah.

I kind of sort of forgot about this part. I guess it’s a little late now to back out? Yeah.

The bad news: Other things that I’ve kind of sort of forgotten about are inevitably going to come, and they will be far less fun.

The good news: This is not a malady. This is pregnancy. That means that there’s a baby at the end of all this.

(I wish I was mature enough to remember that when I’m fretting over my fat face in the morning. Sheesh.)

“mom” days

There have been moments in the last two years when I feel like a “real” mom. Usually it’s when I’m in the middle of something that I so clearly remember my own mother doing.

Yesterday was one of those days. I suddenly decided to totally rearrange bedrooms. This included moving queen sized beds, dresses, disassembling a crib, removing a door, etc — all while very pregnant, and with only an excited toddler to help. The most enjoyable part of it all, including even the outcome, was thinking about how many times I’d seen my own big-bellied mama hauling dressers up and down the stairs, while we little people jumped around (in her way, under her feet) with excitement about something “new”.

Of course, last night my body ached so much that I literally couldn’t even fall asleep. (How frustrating; after dreaming about laying down all day long, I couldn’t even enjoy the moment!) Ryan suggested that after three long days of deep cleaning and rearranging, I take a down day. Rest this body, give a little attention to the baby inside, relax. Do something fun.

So I slept in a bit.

And then I made chocolate chip scones.

I lit a candle, turned on Diana Krall, and am having a lovely little breakfast with my favorite buddy (who thinks chocolate chips for breakfast is about as good as it gets!) He’s making me laugh, imitating the squirrels we see out the window. I think later I’ll go grocery shopping, tidy things up a bit, maybe walk to the playground — and generally resist the urge to delve into the last room waiting for an overhaul.

(Now he’s making me laugh with his little head-bops, closing his eyes when he’s really getting into the music. Who taught him this stuff? What a ham…)

Jameson bits

Twice a day, I lay down next to Jameson while he drifts off to sleep. He doesn’t mind sleeping on his own “special bed” as long as someone cuddles with him for those 10 minutes. And I don’t mind obliging. Call it a crutch or a prop or whatever else, I’m not too worried. In fact, I love it. I realize that at least for now, with this child, it’s an opportunity for my pregnant body to lay down midday and rest, even if I don’t take a full-fledged nap. And in the evening, it’s a chance for me to slow down, to turn off the energy and agenda of the day.

And most of all, I know it won’t last forever. In fact, chances are, Daddy will do more and more bedtime with Jameson come late October. So for now, I’m loving those dimpled little arms wrapped around teddy’s neck. I love watching his eyes, wide open and staring into the dim evening, wondering what he’s thinking about and what far-off sound he’s taking in. And I love when he suddenly decides he needs to be curled right up against me as he drifts off to dreamland.

*****

As soon as we left New York, Jameson decided to begin adding to his small vocabulary of “yes” and “Mama.” One of the first new words, of course, was “Dad.” Now that he’s got that one under his belt, I hear it all day long.

He looks out the window: “Dad?”
We sit down for lunch: “Dad?”
Little feet hit the floor in the morning: “Dad?”
I open the door to get the mail: “Dad?”
We drive past the road Ryan’s office building is on: “Dad?”

Too cute.

*****

I have real cleaning on my agenda for this week. I knew I wouldn’t have to worry too much about how to entertain Jameson while working, and sure enough, this whole clearing furniture and rolling up rugs thing is totally exciting to his sanguine self. When I unzipped a pillow cover this morning, his eyes got huge and I got a big, “Wow!” in response. He’s such good company.

*****

Speaking of sanguine:

Last week we started doing devotions together. I wanted to start having some regular church practice, as well as just learning to sit still when I say so. At first, when I plopped him down on the couch next to me and pulled out his “Bible,” he wasn’t too happy about the whole thing. But when we moved from reading to prayer time, he started to catch on that we were doing something new and special. The best part, though, was when I sat him on the piano bench next to me while I sang “This is the Day.” He sat straight up the entire time, ankles crossed and hands folded in his lap, beaming up at me. And he couldn’t wait to sing the song for Daddy the next day.

back

I’m back home.

And back here, in my little space. Big thanks to Ryan, who at least kept some pictures going while I took a long, unplanned break from blogging. And when I say break, I don’t just mean from writing. I definitely took a break from reading, too, because google reader says I have over 400 unread posts to catch up on. Ha. Fat chance!

What an adventure this summer was. The first days of my time back in Madrid are hazy June memories. That was early summer, and now it’s definitely the end of the season. In between, trips to Maine, Florida, back to Maine, back to Madrid, and to Long Island made for lots of newer memories. Fun memories. Clam festivals, Red Sox hats in Papa’s den, riotous laughter with cousin Cam, first tastes of calamari, dinner at friends’ houses every night we were in Madrid, theater outings, tennis, wedding showers, anniversary celebrations, eating too much at Aunt Judy’s, building sand castles at the beach, mad-dashes onto subways with big bellies and toddlers on hips, trying on perfect wedding dresses, pulling off surprise parties, and taking three days and lots of flight cancellations to finally get home.

Phew.

That was a summer.

Coming home after two months away was a strange feeling. The last time I did such a thing, I was 16. I spent two months in India, and when I came back, I felt pretty lost. (And rich, but that’s beside the point.) Tuesday afternoon, when I opened the door, the kitchen was bigger than I’d remembered…and strange. I suddenly wondered where everything was kept, like I was a stranger in my own house.

For the record, such disoriented feelings are quickly cured by a full day spent unpacking. I knew there must be some purpose in that much-hated chore.

And now there’s just the overwhelming question of where to begin… Obviously the house needs to be thoroughly de-spidered and otherwise cleaned. That conveniently coincides with nesting instincts that have begun to kick in (at least, in the mental arena; I haven’t actually experienced much extra energy to carry out my ambitious plans.) Bedrooms need to be rearranged, and clothing needs to be sorted out. I need to work on more routine for the sake of Jameson. Yes, there’s all of that, too: what do I need to work on with him before a new baby makes their entrance? (More on that in future posts.) And routine for me: time to revamp and get excited about meal planning and daily grind that equals an inviting and restful home.

So yes, time to get back into the swing of things.

And in closing, *sigh*, I miss my mom.