i guess congraglashens are in order

We haven't done a lot to get "ready" for this new baby, at least in the traditional sense of the word - registering items, assembling the layette, preparing the nursery, pre-enrolling in college, etc... It's not that we aren't excited about its arrival - we are, very much so - it's just that we don't need a lot of things this second time around (plus add in all those other things accumulated by my sister and her two children in between our two) and the things that we will need can be easily acquired along the way. We had no nursery for E - it was literally still an unfinished attic - but what started out as a necessity really turned out to work in our favor. We enjoyed our little roommate for the first eight months of her life, and we shared a room quite nicely - no squabbles or chalk lines down the center were ever drawn. Her room evolved with her, and continues to do so to this day. And so will the room for this next one. But when I'm asked what my nursery looks like I draw a blank. It's hard to imagine designing a space for a person that we haven't even met yet. A lot of thought went into E's room, and a good portion of that thought was directed at creating a room that seemed as if it didn't have a lot of, well, thought put into it. I think it's a room that allows her to grow and change and try out new things, with ample room for all her cars, her scotch tape and her endless rows of books. Who knows what this next one will be drawn to, will love to do? I'm not chancing it that I might know in advance. So we'll wait, and we'll see, and then we'll grow into this new space.

I had wonderful baby showers the first time around, and have no need for another this time. But I sometimes forget that this is the first time for my daughter - this is a really, really big deal to her, and she wants to do it up right. This was evident in the baby shower she threw me a few weeks back, and by her planning and scheming to throw me a "real" one this past weekend, with all my family in on the secret. She called up her Nana, ordered cake and flowers and balloons and streamers, and pulled off quite the surprise on Friday afternoon. She and her dad purchased a bunch of snacks and treats and other pregnancy goodies and made homemade labels for them all such as "Baby Sips" on the bottled waters and "Crunch Cravers" on the protein bars. There were board books to open, first diapers to line up on the shelf and some pampering items just for me. But the best part of all this attention are the little daily notes and reminders that something special, something extraordinary is about to happen in our family, and it's to be celebrated - not with showers of gifts and things, but with the preparation and the anticipation of the gift it truly is.

twenty-fifth week

We're welcoming the third trimester this week, and E's already told me she's a bit bored with having to take the sideways belly shots. "Would it be too much to ask for a front shot every once in awhile?" she asked. And, yes, it did sound as sarcastic as just that. So here it is, for my overly burdened photographer. I bet that camera's really tough to carry around for the whole minute and a half it takes to get the right shot - pretty heavy I'm sure. That must explain the gigantic sigh that came from her lips as she set the camera back down on the desk. Must be as tough as carrying around her squirming sibling inside my own body, twenty-four hours a day. I should really let her off the hook every once in awhile.

(Yes, I can do sarcasm just as well as she can, no worries.)

wrapping up vacation nostalgia week

The scenery is always great - the flowers, the sunrises and sunsets, the sand and the surf...but what's a vacation really about to a five year old? Well, just ask her. Here it is in her own words:

i liked swiming the best. and looking for shels, and i went to the playground and i had fun at the playground. the food was delishus but swiming was my faverit and my best. By- by.

(Thanks for your patience - that took about ten minutes to type, but not bad for a first go at blogging.)

foliage

Back in the Midwest we are waiting with baited breath for the spring bulbs to emerge...on vacation, the flowers seemed to require no effort at all.

castle one-upmanship

Each day E tried to outdo the previous day's creations. Tunnels and canals were de rigueur; one day we had three of each weaving in and out of the various towers. I really liked the last day's castle with its mosiac of white shells and Gaudi-like suspension bridge with a concealed structure. The shell flags were a nice touch, too.

sunrise, sunset

Every morning at the beach I woke up before the rest of the gang, slipped on my tennis shoes and hit the sand. With water bottle in hand and a camera over my shoulder, I made the brisk walk to the tip of the island and back - a nice three mile journey round trip. That first morning I remember taking such deep breaths. Yoga breaths, cleansing breaths. After a few minutes I'd catch myself gulping. It was like I could not get enough air in and stress out, the sound of shell fragments under my shoes and the stiff breeze off the ocean were what my body had been longing for all winter. I was stiff at first, forgetting how it felt to walk in warmth, at my own pace, in my own space. I'd been walking on borrowed time at home, catching a quick trot or two around the park whenever the weather broke for more than a minute, but still stiff-backed and tense against the winter winds. These beach walks were different. I had no other commitments to the day except to stretch those aching underused muscles and ligaments and rock that restless nighttime swimmer inside to sleep with my rhythmic pace. I made this same walk later in the afternoon, and again sometimes in the evening, but it was that morning walk that took me out of my old place and into a new place of calm and of peace.

To say that a healthy pregnancy in itself is not a joy would be a lie. It's a fantastic and fragile journey that we are lucky to be taking once again. We have known what it is is like to have that journey shortened, and we are always grateful for the health and vigor of this new little one inside. But pregnancy is not a pleasant experience for me. My husband may tell me that I'm glowing, but that's just a combination of chubby cheeks when I smile and good lotion. I have not enjoyed the violent sickness that lingers on still, no one who's gone through it can tell you that they enjoy feeling like they have the flu for five or six months straight. I don't care for the endless churning and poking from within, the urgent need to go to the bathroom every time I slightly shift positions, the way my sneezes don't completely release, but get tangled up just like my diaphragm is now tangled up somewhere in my upper ribcage. And that muscle strain in January? That was, in itself, a true test of my stamina and composure. Luckily no one came along during that time and offered me a fair trade for my roommate. I was in no way capable of making the appropriate motherly choice. And the fatigue, oh the fatigue. I close my eyes for the few moments it takes my photos to upload. I close them in the shower. I close them in the bathroom at work.

Perhaps that's why a vacation at the beach is so important to me, so essential. It allows me to wake up each day and walk towards that sun, releasing the stress and the tension that will inevitably build up again that day. The weight of change, of growth, of responsibility, of the unknown presses its way into me as each day goes by. I toss with this weight at night, changing positions for comfort, for relief, for necessity. My bones feel old and tired and strained at daybreak, but then I put on those shoes and stretch them out once again into a shape that resembles the person that I was and that I will be again. And I give thanks for my walking companion who accompanies me on this journey we are taking together.

...

Sunsets are so different. They are social, they are communal. They are better spent in reflection on the day's events, the changing tide, the too large dinner or the dinner yet-to-be. Skin feels warmer, tighter from a day spent in the sun and water; hair smells of salt and wind and suntan lotion and sand dusts your forearms and the backs of your calves. Tennis shoes have been discarded and the flip flops dangle from your fingers and your daughter yawns the yawns of swimmers who will fall asleep the moment their head hits the pillow. Sunsets at the beach are so valuable because there is no tallying of items done or needed to be done that day. They are just the passing of the day, not of time, or of our role in it. It takes real effort to halt the unconcious counting down that occurs during pregnancy - the counting down of weeks, of days, the minutes between contractions, the breaths and bursts of effort to bring this child into the world. At the beach there is no counting of days, just sitting on the sand at sunset with your arms around your daughter, watching the sun slip into the ocean once again.

paradise found

This is the way to spend the last week of winter...

twenty-fourth week

We slipped away while you weren't looking...

And - hey wait! Where did that belly come from? As E put it sometime during the last week or two, "Mom, I'm so glad you finally got huge!"

So the posting this past week was a bit light since I did it all before we left town for a fabulous sun-filled getaway to usher in spring. We thought the best way to accomplish this was to leave winter behind and jump right into summer, and by golly, it worked. We're home, and it's late, so that's the most picture sorting I'll do tonight. But never fear, we'll celebrate this first week of spring in style with photos of our tropical paradise by the sea.

And about that belly...

Things are definitely moving up and out around here. This baby is way higher than E ever was, and growing by leaps and bounds. I'm going to completely ignore the scale from here on out - it shows little to no progress, but you'd have to be blind to miss this growing bump, and the kid inside it is one strong (and large) little one. Oh the laughs we have when reading our daily pregnancy journal about the beginning of internal "flutters" we should be feeling now. This child already stretches and strains against its confines and clearly shows a fist or foot at one end while jabbing some vital organ of mine on the other end. The baby should measure just under 2 pounds and be around 10" in length right now, which is probably just about correct if I measured from that fist to the aforementioned vital organ. Discomfort has set in, and it seems early in the game this time, seeing that I'm just now getting to that final trimester and am still throwing up my breakfast every few days. It's like the best of both worlds around here, pregnancy symptom-wise. But we're surviving, really, we're thriving - I mean, look - we've got the photos to prove it.

This was our attempt to get a shot of my belly silhouette, but all it really did was produce some weird shaped shadow that looks like it has an enormous bottom half and some strange growths out of my head. But the belly shot from above is always more impressive, and I must say that walking around barefoot in a knit skirt on the sand for a week should be a requirement at least once in every pregnancy.

The Boy Went to Bed

It's been awhile since we've featured a kindergarten story here. I'm not sure the plot lines have gotten any more exciting... it starts out with such promise, but really, it's all revealed on the title page.

(And I know it looks like the poor kid wet the bed, but he really just went to bed. Perhaps the first way would have been more exciting.)

He is sledding on a hill of snow. He is going to skate on a skate rink. (That's his mom at the house yelling "Honey, come here!)

The boy is coming in to eat dinner.

Then he went to bed.

The End.
Wow.

a leprechon came into the kidgardin class

Friday was a really exciting day in the kindergarten class. While the kids were outside playing and their teacher was "running an errand" a leprechaun managed to get into their classroom and wreak havoc. The art center was a mess, chairs were overturned and a note was left on the marker board. The kids spent the afternoon working together on a trap that will hopefully catch him if he returns over the break. And they must have read plenty of leprechaun lore because E knew loads of information on just how to trap them and keep them and get rid of them.

Unfortunately, later that night, all the excitement from earlier in the day turned against us as bedtime came and went. I noticed that she wasn't falling asleep after her reading lamp turned off - a few times I checked in on her and she was sitting straight up in bed, as if on watch for the night. After about an hour I asked her what was up, and she confessed that she was a bit nervous a leprechaun might show up in her house that night. I had to walk that fine line again - the kind you walk when trying to keep the mystery of Santa and the tooth fairy and the Easter bunny alive, while not getting so caught up in the details of the magic that it's impossible to sleep. Every possible bit of rational thought that I sent her way was contradicted by some fact (of fiction) that she threw back at me. I'll say one thing - when a small green legend visits her classroom, they sure do their research. Here's a sketch of the trap the class constructed for the big catch...

Finally I asked her what I could do to make her more comfortable so that she could go to sleep. "Build a trap, mom - it's the only way. There's no way you're going to convince me that one can't get in, so you might as well just build a trap to catch it when it does."

The next day the leprechaun jitters were gone, just like the tooth fairy unease and Santa confusion fades with the discovery of the coin or the presents. In this case, the leprechaun didn't leave any loot, but the story of how one managed to sneak into the kindergarten class was treasure enough.

Happy St. Patrick's Day.

superis! (surprise!)

All day long, while we did the routine, and not-so-routine things that make up a Saturday, E was busy working on something in her room. I've heard the warnings before. "Don't look, Mom!" "You can't come into my room right now Mom!" "Are you peeking? Because I think you're peeking!" She's always working on some project or another, and she enjoys the grand reveal as much or more than the creative process itself. At some point in the afternoon she brought her dad on board who gamely tried to tape her winter scarf to the door casing in a sort-of streamer like fashion...with scotch tape. He didn't complain once when he had to reattach it once every twenty minutes.

The beauty of most five-year-olds is their ever present gullibility. It didn't matter a bit to her that I actually picked up confetti-like pieces off her floor and sent the robotic vacuum on its way in her room while she lounged in the tub. "I'm not looking at anything!" was a sufficient disclaimer. And other than the folded paper on the table and the drooping scarf at the door, it wasn't very apparent what she had up her sleeve.

She asked to borrow an envelope and then sealed something inside and affixed a postage stamp in the correct corner. "I need an address from you," she asked, but was cagey when I tried to dig deeper. "It's for my friend," she told me, but I wasn't convinced. I sent off a quick email to her friend's mom to let her know that something unknown was on its way. Bedtime was nearing. The hushed whisperings were getting louder. I was banned one last time from her room and I took up a magazine in the other, waiting.

A few minutes later, the freshly scrubbed and pajamed kid came slinking into the room, dropping a folded note at my feet before dashing back to her bedroom. The note said:

Dear Mom, I love you all the way to the moon and back. Plesse come to a superis partey in E's room. Love, E.

The next page had a lovely drawing of the three of us standing in a park together, looking expectantly at an empty baby swing. I approached her closed door where the scarf had once again been attached, and a paper welcome mat that said "Welcome Mom" was taped to the threshold. I knocked and announced that I was there for the party and when I was told to come in, they jumped to their feet from behind the bed with a giant banner that said "Superis!" "Welcome to your baby shower!" she exclaimed, and then pulled out another drawing and handed it to me with a flourish. "And what would a party be without cake?" she cried.

I was touched to no end that she had worked so hard on this party. It made no difference that there were no gifts, no real party, no guests. She confessed that her letter wasn't actually to her friend, but to his mother, and she let us slip the envelope open and read her note. It said "Dear A, Plesse come to a superis baby shower for my mom. My house number is (full address!) and my fone number is (full number!) Love, E" She let me know that this was the dry run for the party, but she felt sure that we'd have real guests, maybe even by next Tuesday. She was so happy that I had come, and told me what a wonderful job I was doing while I was pregnant.

There are few days when I feel like I'm doing a wonderful job at anything. I give it my best go at home and at work and at being healthy and some days there are just tears, and projects undone, and breakfasts lost and I wonder how I'm going to get through the day.

And then I have a Saturday like this one, with the kindhearted gesture of my biggest cheerleader, and I know I'm doing something, something pretty well.

twenty-third week

It's hard to get a lot of sleep around here these days. The kiddo treats my insides like a giant hamster wheel and spins at will with all limbs flying. The baby responds to voices quite a lot, and particularly when E speaks directly into my belly, which must sound a bit strange in that echo chamber within. The baby responds to each phrase with a resounding kick, which delights E to no end, and she searches for something else to say. Running out of clever greetings to say the other night, she finally said "Oh, baby, you have such great integrity." We laughed out loud at her choice of words, the theme and constant refrain of her kindergarten class this year. She seemed a bit miffed that we laughed, because she was being completely sincere. And she's right after all, kiddo. You are doing just the right things, even when no one is looking...

another room, another entry

I'm wrapping up my contest entries tonight that I talked about last week. Another entry is E's bathroom, which started out as lovely as her bedroom. My only regret is that we photographed after the pigeons were removed. (Many thanks to my mother-in-law for that bit of cleanup.) You've probably seen photos before, but here were some test shots I took night before last. It's tricky to photograph a smallish space without a lot of distortion at the edges or capturing yourself or weird perspectives in the oversized mirrors, but these show the transformation fairly well. One more category to write up tonight, and then I'm done. We'll see how it goes! My favorite part of this room is knowing that both the sink and the tub were sitting in the first floor kitchen when we bought the place and that we were able to reglaze and reuse them. The tub weighs just under 300 pounds (without water) and we invited a few guys over with a pizza and beer bribe to get it moved from the basement up to the top floor. That's forty-four stairs if you're counting.

And if you are holding onto the rim of a 300 pound cast iron tub on an incline, then you're counting...