Harried Mamas, Rejoice! There is online grocery shopping! (no fee this week)

It is 7:30 am and I just finished what would normally be the hardest part of my (current) hardest household chore: grocery shopping, and I'm still in my p.j.s.  IN FACT, I'm still in bed!  What? Yes. In bed.  Laptop on my lap and groceries ordered.  Online.  I'll pick them up at lunch time, but for now, someone else is doing my actual grocery shopping.  The best part: I'm not dreaming.

Yes, harried Nashvegas mamas, this service actually exists!!  For a mere $4.95, you can have this service. A friend told me about this service a long time ago, but I didn't think it was for me.  Now with being at home with our 2 year old and newborn, I figured I'd give it a shot.  What did I have to lose?  And now, I'm hooked!

The Pros:
- I don't have to get me, a baby and a 2 year old dressed, think about what I need all while wandering down aisles telling my 2 year old that everything she can reach is 'not for you' and 'put it back' and 'don't touch, please'. All while either wearing the baby in a carrier or stuffing groceries in around his car seat while he sleeps.
- I stick to my list and I am not tempted to impulse buy.  Let's face it.  When I'm hungry, tired and faced with Little Debbies, I can hardly resist.  But this way, it's not right there, on sale, calling me and telling me that chocolate will make my sleep deprivation crabbiness and raggedness all disappear like magic.
- I can plan my menu for 2 weeks in advance, fill my 'cart' with what I need and then 'check out'.  Then I drive to the store, ring the buzzer and my 'personal shopper' brings out my stuff (to the car) and then puts it IN MY CAR.  I then swipe my bank card, or hand over my check and then I drive away.  It's practically magical!  No one had to get out of their car seat.  Not one had to convince a 2 year old that they REALLY do have to hold hands in a parking lot.  Nope.  That's it.  I'm done!
- I can add things to my virtual cart as I go and then save it.  The weekly specials and sales items are all there for me to see and I can sort my list by brand, price, unit price, sale items etc, etc. 
- I can send my sweet Geek to the store for me and know that he will come home with what is on my list and not something else because he couldn't find what I wrote down and so bought cocoa crispies instead.  (Love you, Honey!)
- I can search by key word and it will bring up all of the items with that word in it, cutting down on search time.
- I can save a list as a starter for items that are staples at our house. You just go to the list and select from the list of things you usually buy and add them to your 'cart'.

Cons
- The only chain of grocery stores that offer this service locally is Harris Teeter, which I generally don't shop at because they tend to be more pricey than my local Kroger. (but with savings from not impulse buying that bag of clearance Christmas chocolate, it evens out pretty well)
- Like every new grocery store, its a little bit of a learning curve to find what we normally eat at a whole new place, and in the categories offered on all internet grocery stores.  (Peanut butter is a 'condiment or sauce'.  Who knew!)  Add the tiny online pictures as my only guide and sometimes I end up with weird things like 3 oz of Parmesan cheese, which is a tiny can!!  I had no idea how many oz. our usual parm cheese purchase was for.  Learning!!
- The three locations that offer the 'Express Lane' service are in Belle Meade, Brentwood, and Franklin.  So it's a bit of a drive.  It's 15 minutes door to door for the Brentwood location.  But considering how long I'd normally spend at the store (typically an hour or more, if it's a big trip), the trade off is pretty worth it.
- You can use coupons, but they apply them to your next order, so you gotta buy more to get your savings.  Not crazy about this feature, but we are not huge couponers, so it's not a problem.
- There is a fee.  However, the fee is pretty reasonable at $4.95.

How it works:
1. Head over to the Harris Teeter Express Lane website and sign up.  You can also link your Harris Teeter VIC card, but that is separate.  Be sure you actually register for the 'Express Lane' login so you can save your cart.
2. Shop!  Add things to your cart at your leisure. Be sure to save your cart so you can come back to it.  If your cart mysteriously empties between visits to the website, just click 'view last cart' and it should bring up what you had.  If you want, as you go, add things to your 'starter list' so your next trip to the website will be even shorter.
3. Click on 'check out' and let them know if you will be paying by credit card or check.  You don't actually pay online.  You pay the cashier who comes out to load your stuff.
4. If you forgot something, you have an hour to log back in and add it to your list.  You can also call and tell them to add something.
5. Select your pickup time.  I usually order the day before and select an early pick up time, but you just need a lead time of 4 hrs in advance to pick up same day.
6. Drive to the store (of your choice) and look for the pickup buzzer lane, ring the bell, have someone load your car, swipe your card or hand over your check and do a little happy dance.
7. Drive home!  You are done!  They even split up the groceries into 'frozen', 'refrigerated', and 'non refrigerated', so I can bring in the stuff that needs to get into the fridge or freezer right now and get the giant package of toilet paper when everyone is down for a nap.


This week only (2/23/11-3/1/11) Harris Teeter is waving the fee!  You can place as many orders as you like and pay no fee.  What a great way to try out this service!  By the way, I am not affiliated with H.T. nor do I get paid to write this post. I am just so excited about a service that makes my Stay At Home Mom chore list just a bit shorter and easier, allowing me more time with my sweet babies.

Edited to add:  This week (8/8/12) is super double coupon week at Harris Teeter!  If you play your coupons right it could be a lot of savings (on your next order).

Viral what? Happy one month, baby!

Judah was one month old on Saturday and we spent Saturday night in the E.R.  The little wee man caught Cora's cold and couldn't cough it up like she could.  It became hard for him to breath and after several calls to the doctor, we took him in at 10pm.  Luckily my mama was here to be with Cora!

After much watching and some brutal looking nasal suction of the poor wee man's nose, we were admitted to the hospital at 2:30am.  I sent Matt home to get some sleep and I camped out in the E.R. room on a cot until they had a bed for us upstairs at 5am (I slept about and hour and half total).  Judah had stopped eating in favor of concentrating on breathing, so he got on i.v. put in his tiny hand to keep him hydrated.  Finally upstairs in the Children's Hospital, we got a little more rest.  Matt and I switched out and I tried to take a nap at home, but how could I nap with my tiny baby in the hospital?

I headed back napped a little there, where I could keep and eye on him.  They weren't hopeful that we'd get out that day, but he made a turn for the better, and by that evening they sent us home.  Hurrah!  Judah is on the mend and sounds much, much, much better now (no wheezing, no crackles).  When I took him in to his pediatrician for a follow-up he said that what he had was a form of viral pneumonia.  I'm glad they didn't say that word to me while we were in the hospital.  I might have lost it.  It's such a big scary word to be applied to such a wee little boy.  So that was his one month birthday.  I'm glad we made it through!  Now everyone keep their colds to themselves, will ya!  Sheesh!

Like Mama - for better or worse

These wee ones are with me 24/7 and like it or not, for better or worse, they want to be 'Like Mama'.  My 2 year old says that quite a lot.  And the baby? Well, he just wants to be in Mama's arms. Cora has been wanting to carry her baby like I carry my baby so today, in about 15 minutes, I disassembled an old belt and made her a ring sling, just like Mama.  She picked the purple butterflies fabric out herself from my scrap fabric stash. Now if I could only keep them from picking up my...ahem...less desirable qualities.

And for good measure, the sweetest wee baby boy, who has been the subject of decidedly less photos than his sister as I spend most of my time enjoying him, or chasing after said big sister!

We are all kinda enamored with the little guy. :)

Judah's Birth - A Beautiful VBAC Story

It was 5 am when I woke to contractions on January 11th, 2011. I lay there, wondering if this was the real thing.  After all, for a week or so I had been having regular spells of time-able, but painless, contractions. I got up in the dark and went downstairs.  As I passed the side door, I saw snowflakes falling in the pink light of our neighbor's street light.   Hmm.  That worried me a bit.  Nashville tends to shut down at the slightest flake.  We had already had some snow, but it had seemed to be clearing out the day before. 

I put a load of laundry in, ate a little breakfast and just as daylight began to show, I went back to bed and whispered to Matt that this might be the day.  For being half awake, he took it surprisingly well!  I assured him we had a long journey ahead of us, so rest up.  Twenty minutes later, our daughter woke up and wanted out of her bed.  So much for sleep!

The hours of the morning passed quickly with packing and laundry and getting Cora off to a friend's house, each passing 5 minutes punctuated by a contraction.  Around noon, my contractions got to be 2 and a half minutes apart and we decided to head to the hospital.  We were so excited and I was all dressed and showered.  We really thought this was it!

Four discouraging hours later, we were sent home.  My contractions all but stopped when they put me on my back to be monitored.  I was only 1 cm dilated.  Frustrated and hurting, I was told that this was only 'first grade' and to come back when I was in 'fourth grade'.  I disagreed, but what could I do!  I had all the right signs at home, but on my back in the hospital, it looked a lot like false labor.  As soon as I got up and began getting dressed, the contractions piled back on and by the time I got home, they were 4 minutes apart again.  We were both angry and frustrated. I got in the tub to labor and Cora came back home.  A friend came to watch her and spend the night should we need to go back in and my Doula, Angel, came over.  We put Cora to bed and then Angel sent Matt to the store and then to bed while she timed and helped me manage my contractions.  I tried to sleep, but woke for every contraction and then fell back to snoring and dreaming in between.  At 10 or 11 pm, I woke up and told Angel we needed to go back. I was tired of hurting and wanted to go to the hospital.  Surely it was time now!  My contractions were 6 minutes apart, but lasted one and a half to two minutes, each.

This time I arrived at the hospital raggedy and exhausted, wearing my robe and P.J.s.  We entered the garage but the elevators we had used hours earlier were closed for security reasons.  We had a time just finding our way into the building!  Matt absconded a rolling office chair from somewhere to push me in so I didn't have to walk (my sweet hubs!).

This time, I refused to lay down to be monitored (I stayed standing up, 'dancing' with Matt through each contraction) and the contractions stayed strong and close together. (4 minutes) Sadly I had only progressed from 1cm to 3cm.  By this time, it was midnight on Tuesday. (19 hrs had passed)  The hospital didn't 'admit' me, but the put me in a room and gave me some pain killers via i.v. for 'therapeutic rest'.  I slept some and Angel went home to sleep too.  Matt kept vigil over me, dozing as he could.  After a few hours, the drugs wore off, and the contractions increased.

Wednesday morning, January 12th dawned cold and cloudy with snow, so they tell me.  The hours ran together by this point.  The next clear memory I have was being told by the midwife I was only at 4cm and this was somewhere around 9am on Wednesday morning.  I was so disheartened by this news. I had really hoped to be almost done, not hanging out at at 'fourth grade'.  I got sick then, vomiting up nothing (my stomach was beyond empty) and kind of freaking out.  The contractions were so painful and after some convincing, I decided to get an epidural and to start Pitocin to speed my labor up.  I had heard so much about how bad Pit was for VBAC mamas and could cause rupture that it took some serious discussion before I was willing, all in between contractions.

At 10 am I got the Epidural placed in my back.  I was 29 hours in at this point.  I slept on an off most of that day, waking up for 10 or 15 minutes here or there to be checked or to be flipped from one side to the other.  At some point I asked my midwife if I was headed for another C-Section.  She very honestly said "I think so."  I responded, "Well, I've done that before, so I know it's OK."  But we weren't there yet, so they let me rest and watched me and the baby on the monitors.  Somewhere during the middle of the day the midwife checked me, accidentally breaking my water and I was at 5cm.  I slept on.  Matt and Angel talked to me at various points about things I can't remember.  The sun set.  The hours grew long again.  Matt fed me the most delicious orange jello I'd ever had.  I drank juice and slept and slept and slept.  Just before seven pm, it felt as though my epidural wore off.  The contractions grew painful and the anesthesiologist came in to check on the epidural.  The midwife checked me and I was at 7cm.

Then things got more painful.  Suddenly, a lot of people rushed in, flipping me over in the bed, searching for the baby's heartbeat and handing me an oxygen mask, telling me to take long slow breathes.  I was panicking, Matt was in my ear telling me everything was OK, to just breath.  I couldn't catch my breath and then someone said "It's not about you right now, Ariana, you need to breathe, for your baby" and I did.  They found the heartbeat and it was fine.  The midwife checked me again and I was at 10cm, but the baby was at a high station.  It was 7:20pm.  They arranged my body in the bed so gravity would do it's work, turned the epidural and the Pitocin back on and I slept, wearing an oxygen mask. 

At 9:30 pm, I asked Angel to get the midwife.  I felt the most tremendous pressure!  She came in about 9:45 and checked me, asked me to give a test push and then told me to stop while she put on her gown.  They dropped the end of the bed to prepare and I was surprised.  I didn't think we would get to this point!  Matt held one of my numb legs and Angel the other.  I focused on a point on the wall and pushed through 4 contractions and at 10:04 pm, Judah entered the world, straight to my arms.  I was just so surprised!  I really didn't think it would happen.  I had resigned myself to another C-Section and here was my baby after a few short pushes!  To top it off, my darling, but very blood squeamish, husband watched the entire thing and even cut the chord!  (I was shocked!)  It was the most beautiful moment and we got to share it with each other. 

Everything that I had asked for in prayer had happened.  A healthy baby, a natural (mostly) delivery, health and protection for us both during labor and on and on!

It was a grueling forty-one hours from start to finish, but it was such a blessing.  Later the midwife (I saw four of them during the two day ordeal) who said we were headed for a C-Section came to see me and was overjoyed that I had had the baby normally.  She said she was SO glad to be proved wrong.  I thanked her for letting me just continue to labor.  She told me that anywhere else, they would have taken me in for a C-section, but that day (and night) the Labor & Delivery wing was slammed with mothers delivering and as long as I and the baby were stable, they left us alone and tended to other mothers.  I believe God was in that too.  Judah's name means 'I will praise God' and it was even more fitting after everything that happened.

Welcome to the World: Judah William Evans

On a snowy winter night in January, a small little boy made his entry to the world.  Matt and I are so proud  to introduce our son, Judah William Evans, born January 12, 2011 at 10:04pm, weighing 7lb, 4oz and 20 inches long.

Judah - I will praise the Lord

William - (Matt's grandfather's name on his mother's side) - protection, will, desire, conqueror

Gen 29:35 Once again she became pregnant and had a son. She named him Judah, for she said, "Now I will praise the LORD!" So much has been a gift and a blessing during this pregnancy and I can't wait to share it with you.  I am writing his birth story now and will post it soon.  For now, we are resting, recuperating and praying for continued health for both of us and swift healing for my body.  God be Praised for our son! 

The Kindness of Strangers (and friends)

Have you ever seen the show 'Hoarders' on A&E?  I sometimes have nightmares that that is what my house looks like and have seriously examined myself to see if I am headed there.  In some ways, I am.  I have the natural tendency to hoard.  (Although filth gets me moving and cleaning)  On my to-do list before this baby was born was to de-clutter and get rid of stuff.  I had started several 'to donate' bags and as they filled up, I tossed them in the storage room since I was too pregnant to haul them to my favorite charity myself.  Well, then they got mixed up with the bags of baby clothes that people have been giving me and all the other stuff and I was back to square one with a room full of junk.  I can seriously see why some cultures don't bother to clothe their children until age 2.  It's a lot of crap to keep around when they grow so fast!

So there I was, just weeks before my due date with nothing done.  The guest room was full of semi-sorted baby clothes, Cora's room was full of semi-sorted clothes that she had grown out of, but hadn't found a 'pass it on' recipient and lets not even discuss my room and the piles of dirty clothes, clean clothes, my normal clothes that don't fit right now, gifts for the baby, Christmas stuff etc, etc, etc!!  I was feeling a bit frazzled, knowing I couldn't do it all and I couldn't add one more thing to the Geek's 'Honey Do' list when he is working tons of extra hours per week in order to earn enough time off for when the baby is born!

And then in walked 5 women.  I didn't ask them, they just decided that on such and such day at this time, we are coming over.  And I should be prepared!  They cleaned, they aired out, they sorted, they threw away, they vacuumed, they organized, they sneezed from all of the dust, and totally blitzed my upstairs into beautiful.  In 2 hours.  I was amazed and overwhelmed and grateful and so at peace with the state of things.  I was totally ready for the baby to come, should he decide to. 

Well, he didn't decide to, in spite of some signs to the contrary so those women came back.  Not the same exact 5, but with a few of the same ladies, they did the same thing to my downstairs.  All of the horrible hidden rooms (laundry room) that I keep the door closed on because I can't stand to even think about it and its cluttered shelves and piles of whatnot.  Matt kept Cora entertained and out from underfoot while a gaggle of women asked him where things went and in general did what he has been too stressed and tired to help me do when he finally gets to come home in the dark, cold evenings.  I directed traffic and made executive decisions about what to toss and where things went. They cleaned, they organized, they vacuumed, they were charmed by my little 2 year old chatterbox, they helped me part with things, they swept and sorted, and blitzed my DOWNSTAIRS into loveliness.  In 2 hours. I am, again, grateful, amazed, overwhelmed and at peace with my home.  There are things that just can't get better right now for lack of appropriate storage tools (like a craft cabinet), but for the most part, my house is done.  I'm ready for this baby.  It is a huge weight off of me!

Now I could go into my crazy space and wonder what these women thought of me and my borderline hoarding nonsense, but instead, today I can just be grateful for the gift of starting this round of motherhood fresh with things straight and organized and for the sweet kindness of close friends and not so close friends that were just willing to come help us.

One of the women mentioned that we should do this for each other monthly and how little work it really takes if all of us get together and help.  I agree and as soon as I'm recovered enough, I can't wait to do my share!

To my girl

The day
The dawn
The joyful moments captured
Forever in my mama heart
The giggles, the questions
The snuggles.
The much loved books insisted upon before dawn
The tired body forgotten
In the wake of conversations
That if overheard would not be understood
But are a part of the daily patter and chatter of life
With my girl.

Habits and frustrations
Learning and teaching, each one to each in their turn
Eggs with cheese, Puffins and milk
Bananas and conversation
Serious blue eyes answer my question with an insistent
"Yes, Mama"
These days swim past me like a river
Like a tide that I cannot hold on the sand
My baby girl becomes a big girl
A big sister, a little friend,
and I hold her gently,
like a tiny bird
Before she flies away.

To friends who are now famous:

Nashville is a funny town.  People come here with a plan, but Rock and Roll dreams either turn to bus-boy realities or rockets to stardom (after about 10 years of work).  I'm always a little sad when friends 'make it'.  Not because of jealousy, but because 'making it' often means that that person will grow a hedge between themselves and the people they used to know. 

I think of sweet friends who I played music with, wrote with, sang with, ate lunch at the street cafes with, who no longer return my calls.  It's odd.  Are they too busy meeting with record lables, stylists, producers?  Do they think I have some ulterior motive?  Are they too exahusted from driving from town to town and singing to carve out time for friends back home who knew them before the stylists, the lables, and producers?  Do we just not have anything in common any more?  Am I to busy with motherhood and my own life to be intentional with them?  Not sure.

It is hard to watch friends pull away.  It is a hard thing to miss them and to still want to tell them about my little girl, my expected son, how things are growing and changing with me and my husband, my life now, how the music I make now is mostly for kids under the age of 5 at the public library, and often is only heard by one little sweet baby girl (and how I much I love that!).  How I'm happy for them and thrill at seeing them in a music video when not to long ago, we were singing to the cakes (i.e. and empty room) together in some out of the way bookstore cafe.  To wish that we still could talk about our lives with the honesty and frequency of years past.

So to my friends who now grace the music channels and the radio: I hope you are well in heart, mind, soul, and body.  I hope that you have joy and peace in your day.  I hope you have time for quiet and rest.  I'm so proud to have known you, even for a little while. 

The importance of a red cape

Every gal needs a red cape to wear.  It starts with some red flannel, 

an imaginative mama (and a free tutorial and general pattern) and proceeds to costumes.

And snuggly warmth for cold mornings

And all sorts of other things.

A Thankful Heart

In my usual style, I planned too much for Thanksgiving.  My parents were coming to visit, there was a guest room to set up, food to prepare, a baby to grow and my daughter to care for, not to mention squeezing in a little time with my sweet husband.  But I decided that we needed to invite a crowd for Thanksgiving lunch.  I swear.  Sometimes I lose my mind!

In the end, it all turned out alright.  There was much food, much fun, the children played, the grownups ate until stuffed and our home was filled with conversation and laughter.  It was beautiful.  And then I took a nap!  I am so thankful for the gift of a home to share, a husband that lovingly tolerates my perpetual chaos (sorry babe!), for family and friends, for my health and so much abundance that I have to give it away, both in love and hospitality.

The rest of my parent's visit was spent in a relaxing way with pumpkin pie for breakfast, making cookies (pictures are from the cookie making), watching Christmas movies, decorating, and in general having good conversations face to face with my dear parents.

They brought my niece, who is 5, with them and she and Cora played so well together!

Actually, Cora was so independent of me that I felt a little at a loss without her constantly at my side talking to me and saying 'want up' and 'hold you' and 'Cora help you?'.

  So I am full and happy and grateful.  Happy (late) Thanksgiving.

In my own words

I spend a lot of time lately writing other people's words down.  I'm the secretary/ website editor and manager for my local MOMS Club as well as working part time (from home) as the personal assistant/web designer/graphic artist/ copy editor/ all around go-to gal for a friend of mine who has an interior design business that she wants to put on the web. (still working out kinks and adding info to the site, but she is a fabulous designer, if you ever need someone)  With all of this time spent with other people's words, I find that mine are the last to get written down.  I can't journal on paper any more because I've officially lost the use of my right hand for small motor functions (pregnancy related carpal tunnel - don't worry, it'll come back) so this is my journal.  And it gets left behind when I'm busy.  My darling 2 year old, when she sees me in this office chair, comes over, stands at my side and says 'want up?'  So she sits in my lap with her sweet questions and fiddlings, making it very hard to type.  So I give up and we go read books or play blocks or paint with her watercolors.  It's not a bad life really.

But my 34th birthday came and went without much of a blip this year.  Usually I throw myself a cookout, but I didn't have the energy to clean the house, so I settled for a quiet cup of cocoa with friends and then later that week, a movie with my hubby when we could get a babysitter.  I also record the date for posterity to go back and see who I was at the time, or at least a small snippet of me.  So here are some post birthday thoughts.  As was the case in my last pregnancy, I feel very strongly that I am not my own.  Not just because my body is currently inhabited and dictated to by a very small, but very bossy little boy, but because my life and days belong to my family and to others right now.  My home, my husband, my children, my groups, my work, my friends.  They own me right now, and by 'me', I mean my time, my body, my thoughts, and my heart.  It's a season and I'm not complaining, but just writing it down.  (p.s.  It is super frustrating to type with double wrist braces on that somehow manage to delete my words and open  random programs on my computer while I am writing!!)

Middle age is creeping up on me and I don't really mind.  I see my body aging and while I'm a little concerned about how far south my boobs are gonna go by the time I'm an old lady, I realize that not everyone can be medically reconstructed every other year to maintain some impossible standard of beauty. (and actually they never manage to.  Old ladies with lots of work done look strangely stretched and plastic and no longer human. I prefer wrinkles.  It's much more becoming.)  I also love my body when I'm pregnant.  Bulges and bumps and imperfections seem to fade in the face of this growing roundness.  I don't worry about the size of my rear end or whether I have 'muffin top' in my jeans because I have WAY more than muffin top right now. :)  And my hair looks awesome.  Thanks pregnancy!  Truthfully, I'd rather have the use of my hands, but I'll take whatever small concession I'm given and settle for a little extra beauty, at least in my own mind.  I know my puffy face will return to normal and the use of my hands will return and my round belly will (post baby) resemble a half filled waterbed, but for now, for what it's worth, I find myself beautiful.  It's an odd thing to say since most of my life I have looked in the mirror and thought the opposite, despite my sweet husband's vehement protests to the contrary.

I recently read the blog of a young girl who is living in Africa and has sacrificed everything she had to be there and serve God.  She wrote a post about giving everything for Him and how, in her opinion, most people aren't willing to do that for the sake of creature comforts.  I felt a little guilty since my life does not resemble hers at all, with her 14 (yes, 14) adopted daughters (she's in her 20's), her days spent caring medically for the poor, the neglected, and the starved.  And yet, in my own way, I can lay it all down for Him.  This season in my life is about giving myself to others and while I'm not serving the poor in Africa, I am laying down myself, daily, for the purpose I have been given (even when I whine about it).  I get the benefits of being in a place and situation where creature comforts are easily had, but how I choose to give of myself and the state of my heart is what God sees.  I pray that this year is about loving those around me better and laying my own self down in order that others may see the light of Jesus.  And to be unashamed about that.

You - only 2

You, only 2.

This past year of your life has flown by to me.  It seems only yesterday that you were my little bitty babe in arms.  Now you are big and talking, potty trained (at least except for overnight) and doing things that I never even thought you knew how to do!  We celebrated your birthday in the park today with bright orange iced cupcakes that I bought instead of making. Boo.  Homemade things suffer a bit when mama is pregnant!  No one seemed to mind or care, especially you who ate cupcake to your hearts content and ran all over the park with Papa.  You even decided, after nearly a year of boycotting the swing set that you were going to swing.  I was especially shocked since I've been trying to get you to swing ever since you gave it up for no apparent reason about a year ago.  I guess all it took was a trip with Papa to the swings and to see your little friend Suzi do it.  it's been a big hit ever since!

I am, in a sense, mourning the end of our time together, just me and you.  Your brother (at least I hope all the tests were right and he is a brother) is due soon and every moment with you seems precious.  Like I want to capture it in my heart or bottle it up for later.  Later on, you may never remember a time when you did not have a sibling, but I will remember with beautiful clarity the two (and a bit) years we spent as just you and me.  My little shadow, my little helper.  Everything you do right now is either 'like Mama!' or 'like Papa!'  Mostly Mama, since we are together all day long.  We paint our toe nails and finger nails (incentive to get you to not scratch your eczema) and talk about the colors you want to paint them.  Mostly blue or pink. Or green, because you know that is Papa's favorite color. 

You 'help' me in the kitchen, meaning you put on the 'helper apron' I sewed for your birthday and push up your 'helper chair' (one of the tall kitchen chairs) and do your best to grab whatever I am working on, dump ingredients for me (mostly on the counter), play in the dish water and so many other things that make all of my household work take twice as long, but are so much more fun with a little you at my elbow.  We talk about so many things during the day.  We talk about emotions, since you and I seem to have a lot of them lately.  Me, because I'm pregnant, (We say 'Mama sad' a lot right now because everything makes me cry) and you because you are two.  Recently I was helping you into the house, but had to unlock the door first, which took way to long for you and you had a little tantrum right on the steps.  I told you to stop 'freaking out' and go inside.  Later on that week, when I sent you out of the kitchen for throwing another fit when I told you no about something, I heard you say 'I MAD!  I Freaking out!'  I just laughed.  Of course I taught you that, but it seemed so funny coming out of your little self.  You go from quiet and introspective to wild and wiggly.  I look for you when the noise stops and I find you in a sunny spot, looking at a book, all by yourself, content to just be there.  Then you get together with your little friend Liam and you two run around squealing and playing.  Often with you kind of bossing him around and him totally ignoring that and doing what he wants.

I love the way you think about things and then we talk about them later.  Songs, books, things that happen.  You just kind of take it in and then I'll find you singing a song I thought you weren't paying attention to when I sang it.  Or you will say something from a book we happened to read.  The latest was a book called A Beasty story that you found so fun, all about colors and a prank Beast and dark dark brown or blue etc. You say little lines from that all the time and I am so glad that I am the one taking care of you, not someone at a daycare so I know what you are talking about!  I've thought a lot about that lately with so many of your little friends in Mother's Day Out programs.  I'd be missing out on big things if you were in school a couple of days per week.  I know it has to happen eventually, but it's too soon.  You are my little helper!  My little shadow.  You are MY girl. (and Papa's girl, you would remind me)

I am so grateful for this time with you, even thought I don't get done all of the things I'd like to.  It has been such a sweet time.  A joyful time.  A test of who I am as a person, as a mother, as a woman.  You have brought me to life in ways I didn't know were missing.  I hope I can continue to be a light that points toward Jesus for you.  I pray beautiful and wonderful things for you as we cross into the next year.  Our family will grow bigger, you will grow bigger.  Mama and Papa will perhaps grow in wisdom and patience with you and your brother as we sort out what it means to be your Mama and Papa.   Please know that we are learning as you are growing.  All we can do is our best and ask for forgiveness when we mess up.  I love you so much and so does your Papa, even though he doesn't show it in letters to you.  You are a precious gift to us.

Love,

Mama

The battle for our bed

This began nearly 2 years ago when we brought home this wee little bundle who, after 9 months snuggled against my ribcage, did not want to sleep alone.  Early, tiny and so very dear, I willingly complied and she slept in my arms, literally, every night.  She outgrew it, eventually, and moved from bassinet, to pack-n-play, to her own bed in her own room.  For a long time she slept peacefully through the night in her own bed, but then began to wake up at 4 or so and wanted to be UP.  I put her back in our bed and she slept till an reasonable hour (6:30 or so), but we snuggled the whole time.  All this was working fine until I got pregnant.

Suddenly the need for sleep trumped all and she got the boot.  I still gave in occasionally but she has this thing where she can't just sleep beside me, she has to have one of my arms underneath her and one over the top of her and her face smooshed against my face.  For a pregnant mama struggling to keep feeling in her swollen carpal tunnel limbs, this does not work.  I have to sleep with my arms just so or they go dead believe me when I tell ya, 'just so' isn't under a 25lb nearly 2 year old.  I'm just sayin'. 

This morning's episode began at 5am where uncontrollable sobbing from my girl woke me up.  I got her, she said 'Mama's bed' and 'Snuggle you', so off we went where we slept for nearly 45 minutes until I HAD to move my arms.  What followed was a kicking, screaming fit which got poor Matt kicked in the sleeping kidneys and wide awake. (He usually sleeps through this drama.  Oh for that skill!)  He tried to hold her while I snuggled NEXT to her.  Nope.  It's IN mama's arms or nothing.  Screaming and more fits.  Finally after several warnings, she got plunked back in her bed to throw her fit.  9 minutes of raging fit later she fell back asleep.  I, however, did not.  I cried for my sweet snuggle baby and I cried for having to help her learn things this way, which is, in truth, the hard way, but good for her in the end.  I know I started it too!  Her desire to sleep in my arms is from a history of being allowed to.  I don't regret that time, (and would do it again in a heartbeat!) but it's just time for something new.  So the battle isn't over.  This is just a skirmish and one I am sad to win.  There won't be room for a newborn and a 2 year old in the bed and it's for the best, but I will miss snuggling with my girl.

4am - 6am

I'm at 26 week now.  Just a smidge over 6 months for those of you who have never counted out your life before baby in weeks.  I'm at minus 4 lbs from my starting weight (don't worry, my midwife approves), eat a great diet, drink massive amounts of water, work out several times per week, avoid salt, and keep my blood pressure low and still, the carpal tunnel gets me.  I wake up some time before dawn with a dead hand that tingles and hurts and I have to get up to make it stop.  Something about lying down pinches off a nerve in my back and I feel the tingly pain start creeping back into my thumb and then my fingers and then my hand. 

So I get up, have a cup of chamomile tea, throw a load of laundry in the washer and wait.  If I get on the computer I wake up more, so I usually avoid that.  I wish I could hold a pen so I could write, but no, pens make it worse.   Then maybe a shower with no kid in the bathroom, then maybe a book.  Then fold the laundry.  After awhile I fall back into bed, determined to not feel the tingles.  Sometimes I get another hour to sleep and then I hear a little voice from the next room calling "Mama?"  And so the day begins.

I wanna rock and roll

I wanna rock-n-roll
I wanna give my soul
I'm wanting to believe
I'm not too old (or pregnant)

Save You from Matthew Perryman Jones' 2008 album Swallow the Sea (parenthesis mine)

This is the season where every part of me starts to rebel against being pregnant, where my fitful dreams are filled with longings and bits and scraps of my history.  And some little selfish part of myself starts whispering in my ear that if I give all of myself to loving these children and being in this season of motherhood, I will eventually lose all of the things that made me.  I know it's a lie, but the fears still linger.  Next month, my 34th birthday will roll around and I'll still be growing this little boy inside me.  My 30's seem to be destined to be focused solely on the raising of these children and I honestly don't know how music (at least the agsty chick folk rock that I loved doing before Cora) fits into that.

Not that music is gone from my life.  I find myself playing children's songs for wild gangs of pre-schoolers in the basement of the local library branch and loving every moment of it.  But that little fear whispers that when my children are old enough for me to go back to music as a job, then I will be too old.  Some of that is the reality of the music industry, but most of that is what I tell myself in the dark moments when I am sick of the monotony of washing the same dishes over and over, of planning meals and cooking for my family every. single. day., and waking up in pain because my body does not like being pregnant. 

It's that old lie of finding my worth in what others think of me.  I play it on repeat like a cassette tape that automatically flips to the other side and just keeps going. (Remember that?)  I want some reassurance in the future that I will be worth something to people whose opinions, in truth, don't matter.  It's my reality today.  Even if, in the light of day, I can set it aside and say to myself, "that's not what's important". In the dark, between trips to the bathroom, it comes back in the yearnings of my dreams and how does one surrender their secret dreams?  I haven't figured out that yet.  I do my best to not let them bleed into the dawn and turn the sunrise to gray.

In praise of innocence (ie, the unpolluted mind)

Some books, movies, tv shows, and a few other et ceteras have come across my path lately and I have been questioning why they need to be in my life.  At one point, I was told that it was just me, that I was just 'sensitive' to these things.  At the time, I was a little cowed and shut my trap.  Perhaps I am too sensitive.  But after some thinking, I asked myself, "Why not?"  What's wrong with NOT filling my head and heart and dreams up with the worst of humanity? 

Now, I'm no fool. I am not talking about putting on blinders and pretending that violent, terrifying, and horrific things don't exist so I'm gonna stuff my fingers in my ears and say "la la la la la."  What I'm talking about is using these things as a form of entertainment.  And in time, desensitizing myself to them.  The things that we see on television are full of murder, language, sex, gore, and anything else the writers can dream up to get people on the couch and watching.  Now I admit, I'm a sucker for murder mystery shows like Castle or Lie to Me, but I know that these are not things Cora should watch.  For the most part, I wait until she has gone to bed.  But, really, why should I be watching things that I know my child, with her wide eyed innocence, will be frightened of, or confused by or keep talking about why the 'man' was 'sad' when really he was terrified and being hurt, when a scene came up that I wasn't expecting and she happened to get a glimpse of it before I could turn it off.  It's one thing for me to stand guard at the gate of the world around her and explain things that happen and people's actions that I am not in control of, but it is another to read it to her, or let her see it on the TV because I'm too bored/tired/busy to take her for a walk outside and let her pick up leaves and acorns and talk about the rocks and the sky and I happen to be trying to catch up on Ugly Betty while folding a pile of laundry! 

I am thinking I need a major shift if I have to defend no only my child's innocence, but my own, from my own choices.  I have no idea where to begin, but I just had to say this out loud (so to speak). I'll leave you with this thought from my own faith tradition.

Philippians 4:8 (New International Version) Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.

In praise of dirt

There is something to be said for getting out in the wider more open spaces and just exploring.  I'm a big fan, personally.  So when a nice little day outing was offered at the infamous 'dirt pile', we packed our lunch, a change of clothes and a towel and hit the road!

Cora has never been much of a get dirty kind of gal.  Get wet and swim?  You bet! But stuff on her hands HAS to come off as soon as she can drag me to the bathroom sink.  So I thought we'd check it out and see if she liked it.  If not, we packed a snack and could just hang out.

I could be wrong here, but I'm thinking it was a hit.  And I'm so glad.  I hope to return there as often as we can and let her explore the world around her in this tactile way.  Mudpies, sandbox, a little log cabin, a spigot for making mud, a spigot for cleaning up.  Benches for mamas in the shade...Oh how I wish it were on our side of town!

Technically called the 'Nature Play Area', but lovingly referred to by mamas and kids alike as 'the dirt pile', this fantastic kids space is set on the fringe of huge Edwin Warner and Percy Warner Parks, just behind the Warner Park Nature center.  Directions and details can be found here.  I highly recommend this adventure!

 A word of warning to you though, don't let your kids wear anything you care about to the dirt pile!  See that hat?  Yeah.  It used to be white and no amount of soaking in Oxyclean has gotten it white again. Ah well.  Happy adventuring!

The line

I've been trying to find the line of late.  The place where I can say, this is where I stand on an issue.  It's hazy, it's gray, it's confusing.  I've been watching from the sidelines as a friend defends her beliefs and her right to practice them the way she sees fit in her own home.  Not only that, but limiting how others practice their beliefs when they come to visit her.  So, where does the sanctity of my own home become paramount, overshadowing my ability to be a gracious and understanding hostess to friends?  Should it be?  Should I force others to conform to my belief system, just because they happen to be in my house?  If not to conform, to respect?  And what does that look like? 

I'm being vague on purpose, because it doesn't matter what the issue at hand is.  Lifestyle choice, religious beliefs, food, sex, violence, language, dress...they all carry different weight in my mind, but in honoring a guest in my home and that guest honoring me, they are all the same.  For me, it comes down to how we respect one another.  And with all that aside, do I feel that my children will somehow be harmed by welcoming this guest into my home?  It's a heavy thing.  It divides.  It creates silent barriers that friends are unwilling or unable to cross.  Most of all, it makes me very sad.  I don't have an answer, just ponderings.  I hope that a middle ground where both parties can come together without feeling compromised exists, but are we willing to do the work to get there?  I hope so.

Makin'

It's only the 4th of September, but already the weather is pulling my thoughts on to colder days.  I'm getting all the knitting I can in before my hands become disabled by swelling like they did last time I was pregnant.  Still there is so much to make and do.  Curtains for my kitchen with this lovely fabric, (it's the blue one of the below set)

Plus all of the things that will make this house cozy for the winter months with no carpet down on the floor! Including slippers for all, fingerless gloves for the Geek and a snuggly flannel robe for me. I feel like the days until this baby's due date are both forever away and rapidly approaching. (We find out the gender this week!) There is just so much to do.  I have a list that I think we may accomplish about half of, but even if we don't get it all done, this home is still more than ready for another sweet bundle.  With one newborn experience on our belt, we are much more confident about this upcoming one.  Things that I thought HAD to happen with Cora either didn't or didn't matter much once she arrived.  Lessons learned.  I'm sure this next one will bring a whole new set of lessons with him or her.

In the mean time, I make, and wait, and make some more because I love to make!  What are you makin'?

Nesting FOR me

The Geek has had sympathy pregnancy symptoms with me both (3 really) times I've gotten pregnant and this one has included home repairs.  (Hurrah!) A weekend or two ago, he pulled up the carpet while I went out with some friends.  I came home to furniture shoved in the spare rooms and our living room empty with wood floors.  I wish I had taken pictures before we put the furniture back in!

Then the next day, the dining room got emptied out and had the same treatment.  We were disappointed  to find a large patch of water damage in front of the (walled in) fireplace, but all in all, they are not too bad.  They are overed in paint and plaster and some random other stuff, but not horrible!  We plan to live with them as they are until spring time rolls around and I'm not with child.  Then maybe I can help with the refinishing!  I'm investigating some craigslist rugs currently to keep little feet warmer this winter.

On a very good note, it appears that with some elbow grease, the floors in the worst spots go from this:

To this:

So there's hope!