let's play house. you be the daddy and i'll be the mommy.

Almost all the time, I still feel like I'm pretending to be a grown up. Somehow I still feel like this, despite the fact that I've been with Andy for almost ten years now, married for seven, have two kids, have purchased two houses, two cars, become a stay-at-home mom... I still feel like we are pretending!

This past weekend was a four-day weekend for us. One particular moment that stood out to me...

We had piled both kids in the car -- excuse me, the minivan -- and were heading out to a baby store about 40 minutes away to look at double strollers. We stopped at Dunkin Donuts to get coffee. As we were winding down Algonkian Parkway, each sipping our coffees and reveling in the blissful silence of our car (because with kids, you never know when the silence could erupt, so you bathe in it whenever it comes around), discussing who knows what. I realized that probably 95% of what Andy and I talk about now is completely different than what we talked about when we met ten years ago. We are parents now. REAL parents! Parents who drink coffee on a Saturday morning while going to look at strollers!

In a couple years, I may not remember what we talked about or that we went to lunch afterwards or that we didn't buy a stroller that day. But I think for the rest of my life, I will remember what it felt like to hold that cup of grown-up, parent coffee, look to my left, and see my husband holding his grown-up, parent coffee. And to realize I wouldn't want to play house with anyone else but him.

how's the big brother?

A lot of people ask me how Levi is doing with the new baby. I am happy to report that I think he is a really, really good big brother.

He is generally aware of Wendy's presence. Say she is in the next room, in her bouncy seat asleep while Levi and I are eating lunch. The moment she starts up her stretching, I'm-awake noises, he tells me "wake!" Wendy is awake.

When I ask if Wendy can read a story with us, he says "mm hmm, yeah." He lets me read his naptime story to him with Wendy on the other side of my lap. (Quite the sight, the three of us smooshed in a chair and me trying to turn pages.) A couple times she has slumped over onto his shoulder. Levi is not a particularly cuddly toddler, so I expected him to squirm. Instead, he looked down at her. Looked up. Looked down again, and let her be. When she lost her binky, he gently put it back in her mouth.

Levi understands that Wendy can't eat real food yet because she has no teeth. I am explaining that she has to cry because she can't talk yet. (He has been trying to get her to talk, though. He'll go over to her and just say "talk!") He has been patient when Wendy cries and I say "I need to help Wendy." One time he said "me do it. help Wendy." and he went to her, giggled her bouncy seat and walked away.

Sometimes he brings her toys, he shows her things. When she cries, he doesn't seem too distressed (which is really nice because two crying kids in a car is worse than one). He doesn't get jealous of me holding her, nursing her, etc. Even if he asks me to pick him up and I can't, he accepts my explanation that I can't because my hands are busy.

So all in all, I'm glad that Levi is doing as well or better than I could have expected from a 2-year-old!

the decisions we make

Right now, I'm in a "tired" phase of parenthood. Yes, middle of the night wakings are an obvious contributor to that, and recovery from childbirth, yes. But honestly, we get a decent amount of sleep and I've been lucky to have great help that got me through the first few weeks of recovery. The tiredness I'm thinking of must be a more emotional tired than a physical one. I think the reason this parenting gig can be so tiring is that I feel like every single little move I make has a large amount of reasoning and effort behind it.

It might not be visible to the untrained -- or toddler -- eye, but really, I feel like everything I do in regards to my kids has a hidden reason behind it.

• No Levi, you cannot have my phone right now (because I know that taking it away while you are in this mood will be more difficult than not giving it to you, because I don't want you to be tethered to the phone).
• Wendy baby, I can't give you your binky while I'm driving (because I can't reach safely and also because I don't want you to expect me to rescue the binky in the car all the time, if it's at all possible to get into a habit at this age). 
• Kids, we will talk quietly at bedtime and will not deviate much from the routines we set into place (because we know you like routines and because we believe a quiet routine will help you sleep better). 
• When I make a promise (like the promise that we will go to naptime in two minutes or the promise that we will watch a video as soon as we clean up toys), I will keep it (because I want my kids to trust me and understand follow-through). 
• I will make my own baby food for Wendy, as I did for Levi (because I enjoy cooking, I want her and Levi to see their parents cooking food at home so they learn how, because I found that Levi made the transition to healthy table food easily, because I once tasted a jarred turkey dinner baby food and I thought it tasted like dog food).
• I am going to make a commitment to keeping the house tidy and "clean" as much as is possible (because I don't buy into the "the dust will remain, but your kids will grow up" mentality, because we all live in this house and deserve it to be enjoyable, because I stay home with the kids all day and staring at clutter all day doesn't help me, because eventually it will catch up to us if we don't). 

I can't even think of all the examples right now, but it seems each moment is another choice in this choose-your-own-adventure thing we call parenting. I wish I could just eenie-meenie-miny-mo sometimes, but I just can't. I don't torture myself with the decisions I make or find myself wrestling with regret, but that's where a lot of my brain power goes these days. I have experienced the true cause of mommy brain!

not all hearts and flowers

Lest my paintbrush be laden with too rosy a hue, allow me to paint a picture of motherhood that comes from the -- what shall we call it? -- less glamorous side of the business. The lunch and naptime routine has been stressing me out recently. What am I supposed to do with the baby while I make lunch, feed/supervise toddler, and then put toddler down for his nap? If she's sleeping peacefully, that's great. But what if she's hungry? Or just plain fussy? I've managed for the past couple of days with a variety of techniques, and today I thought I was going to pull off the naptime routine while the baby was napping downstairs. No such luck. As soon as I pull Levi out of his high chair, I realize the clock is ticking so I give him his two minute warning. I think he realizes this is out of the ordinary, because he usually gets to play an extra 15 minutes while I clean up from lunch. But today I want him to go straight to nap so that I can get back downstairs before Wendy wakes up. Two minute warning is up, so I tell him to go upstairs. "NOOOooo!" He does NOT want to go upstairs. Now, if I were able to haul his 28 pounds up the stairs, I would and he would probably be ok with it. But I'm not going to do it since I'm still sore from the whole c-section thing and overdoing it will just put me further behind on recovery. So the battle of wills begins, and then Levi just starts crying. And crying and whining and generally carrying on. I decide that I'm just going to leave the room and let him finish his crying business before we try again. At this point, Wendy is definitely waking up and Levi is just wailing. I sit with Wendy until the noise from Levi subsides. I peek around the corner and see that he's now busying himself with wiping his nose (running from the crying) on his shirt. I'm not a fan of that, but I decide to wait it out until he's really done with his fit. Soon he rounds the corner, calling "mommy" very pathetically. I'm busy trying to change a poopy baby diaper, when I turn around and see that Levi's face is covered in blood. He points to his nose and says "bug" (which means he was trying to dislodge something up there). He was wiping so hard with his shirt, he gave himself a bloody nose. Poopy baby. Bloody toddler. Sigh. Eventually, after I clean him off and remind him to tell mommy about the bugs rather than taking matters into his own hands, I get him up the stairs. He's very tired for nap at this point, so the stairs takes a while. Wendy is in the baby carrier strapped to my chest. We get to Levi's room, I unstrap Wendy and put her on the floor with a binky. Put Levi on changing table. Wendy spits out binky. Re-binky Wendy. Change Levi. Wash hands. Re-binky Wendy. Put Levi in nap clothes. Put Levi in rocking chair. Get Wendy into her room and swaddle her like a burrito. Turn on noise machine. Go to Levi and read a story. (Good thing he picks a very sweet, endearing story about big brothers.) Put Levi down in his crib (which requires me maneuvering him as well I can by using mostly arm muscles, minimal ab muscles). Go get Wendy, take her downstairs and nurse her. Sigh. Must remember to accentuate the positive moments rather than the toddler fits and bloody noses. Must remember the moment instead when I asked if Levi wanted to hold Wendy, he said yes, then proceeded to hold up his shirt for her and say "milk." Much cuter moment for the day. Let's try to remember that one instead.

the second time around

We are three weeks into the family of four thing! We also just celebrated Levi's second birthday. To commemorate the day, we also pulled out the DVD of videos we took throughout his first year. Oh my goodness, was that first birthday party only one year ago!? And do all those things really happen in the first year? It was a good refresher, actually, to see what babies do during their first year. I totally forgot about the phase where Levi would lay on his back and grasp toys between his feet. I also forgot how stubborn he was about walking... he cruised and held onto furniture and walls from about 9 months through 15 months. And now, with Wendy, we get to do it all over again.

When people ask us "so, how's it going?" Andy and I both tend to answer the same way: "The second one is so much easier!" We can't really decide how much of that is due to forgetfulness of what life was like two years ago versus us being more relaxed about parenting now that we've done it once before, but here's some of the things we have found easier:

1) The birth. I never wrote up a birth story for Levi (maybe I'll do that one day), but Wendy's birth was so much easier.

2) The recovery. I was able to walk myself out of the hospital this time rather than having to ride a wheelchair to the door. Of course, I'm still in the first six-week recovery window, but it's generally been easier this time around.

3) The scheduling. With Levi, it felt so impossible to get ourselves out of the house around a nursing, diapering, sleeping schedule. Now, we've managed to get out of the house (and ON TIME!) to various things like church, doctor's appointments, dinner out, without freaking out.

4) The crying. When the baby cries, of course, we comfort her, but I don't feel the same "oh my goodness, what if this is the time when she never, ever stops and becomes one of those severe colic babies?" dread that I felt last time. True, there are no guarantees that Wendy won't be a complete fuss bottom, but what's the point in worrying about it?

5) The nursing. So. much. easier. Again, how much of that is second baby syndrome versus I know what I'm doing this time versus these just being different kids who nurse differently? All I know is that the first four to six weeks of nursing Levi were so all consuming, so difficult and frankly painful. When I was watching a video of me in the hospital with Levi, I heard Andy say "I think he'd be ready to eat again if you're ready." I replied in a very serious tone "I'm not." This time, with Wendy, there's been no pain or struggle. When she's hungry, she eats.

6) The life transition. With Levi, I went from being a full time employee to a woman on maternity leave figuring out what motherhood was going to look like. This time, I went from being a mother of one to a mother of two. I have some of the mommy things already figured out, like which playgrounds have good shade, how to pack up a diaper bag for a playdate or what kind of music will make my kids happy.

I'm sure there are more things, but for now that's my list. Today is my first day at home with both kids without the help of my mom who was here for the first three weeks. We'll see how this goes. ;)

wendy's birth story

Where do I begin? My first baby was born via csection after 12 days of prodromal labor (extended, painful early labor that doesn't help you progress) and then 18 hours in the hospital after my water broke. I got stuck at 8-9 centimeters dilated even with medical help, so c-section it was! When I got pregnant again, we had to decide whether to attempt a delivery the regular way or to continue with a repeat c-section. After much debating, praying and researching, Andy and I decided that I would undergo another c-section.

How strange to "schedule" your baby's birthday, but that's what we found ourselves doing. July 10 at 7:30 a.m. our baby girl was scheduled to arrive. That was a Tuesday. We were supposed to get to the hospital at 5:30 a.m., get all our paperwork straightened out, then walk myself into the operating room and lay down. Well, our baby girl had other plans!

On Friday, July 6, I was busy making the most of my last day of "work." This was the last day I was going to be a stay-at-home mom to an only child. Somehow this made me a little nervous, because my laboring with Levi began on my last day of work at my former job. Could it possibly happen again? Nooo... I mean, I had been experiencing a lot of Braxton Hicks contractions. Seems like my uterus didn't get the memo that it didn't need to practice laboring. That afternoon, while Levi was napping. I was working on my anniversary gift to Andy for our seventh anniversary. Each year I write a letter about our year and turn it into several digital scrapbook pages with pictures. Three typed pages later, I had finished my letter. Man what a year! We started with a one-year-old's birthday party, sold our house, bought a house, and did so much in between. Just reviewing it exhausted me! I ended the letter with "P.S. I won't be proofreading this year's letter because the longer I sit at the desk, the more Braxton Hicks contractions I get." I thought that sitting at the computer and reliving all the crazy events of the year was just making me a little uncomfortable, and as soon as I relaxed a little, the contractions would slow down. But instead, they started to get more uncomfortable. By the time Andy got home at 5:30, they were pretty much painful. At first, I didn't tell him anything was going on. Can we say "denial"??

Eventually I fessed up, and we decided to just keep an eye on things. Well, things started to pick up. I downloaded a contraction timer app on my Kindle Fire, and found that I was contracting for one minute at a time, every three to five minutes. Not only that, but they were becoming more and more painful. I had to stop each time and was losing the ability to talk through them. Uh oh. We put Levi to bed, probably one of the most emotional moments of the night. I read him a story about becoming a big brother and explained to him that we might not be there in the morning, but that Mommom would be and that we would be back. Deep breaths. At this point we call the doctor, she says we can wait an hour or we can come in now. I know that if we go in, we likely won't be leaving without having a baby. I spend a little time semi-freaking out about all the stuff I had planned for our last weekend. Our anniversary celebration. Time with Levi. Taking a bath in my brand new master bathroom. Finishing the last few things on my to-do list. Then the pain took over and I lost interest in freaking out. Andy grabbed my hospital bag packing list that I had already printed out and we began throwing stuff into a suitcase. Thank goodness I had already made that list. The contractions are starting to take over and each time, more and more expletives start flying out of my mouth. I tried to think of something more positive to say, but nope... I turned into a sailor. By the time Andy's sister arrived to stay with Levi, I was "vocalizing" quite loudly on the couch. One big contraction, then I felt this hard snap inside me. I stood up to get in the car, and my water breaks allllll over the floor. Yay for hardwood floors. I apologize to my sister-in-law for leaving her with a mess, and we get into the truck. (The other car is currently at the shop... one more thing that was on our to-do list for the lost weekend.)

On our way to the hospital, the contractions are absolutely miserable. I try making a few phone calls, but with each contraction I chuck the phone in Andy's general direction and try not to be too loud. We get there in record time and I drag myself into the waiting room with a towel between my legs. All dignity lost at this point. Another pregnant lady waiting to be checked in waves me onward ahead of her.

We explain to the nurse that we've already talked to our doctor, we were scheduled for a c-section Tuesday, and she cuts me off... "Why are you having a c-section? Do you want a VBAC?" Lady, now is not the time to question my judgement, I think to myself. All I wanted was for her to check my cervix for dilation because if I was already at 6 or 7 centimeters like I thought I must be, then maybe we'd talk to the doctor. She tries to check me, but apparently everything is still so high up, she can't even reach me. Not a good sign. She calls in another nurse who confirms that I'm barely dilated 2 centimeters. You have got to be kidding me. We talk with the doctor a little more and decide to proceed with our plan to have a c-section.

Meanwhile, I have turned into Wolverine during my contractions. Andy reminds me that my nails are very long. Apparently I've broken skin on his hand. I've also managed to scratch his face and nearly bit his arm. I also attempted to dislocate the thumb of the mean nurse. Oops. They give me some kind of narcotic to "relax" me. I still feel the pain, but I seem to have lost the ability to claw and curse. I think this drug is more for their benefit than for mine!

By 11:30, the operating room and my doctor are ready. I curl up over the edge of the table to receive my epidural and spinal injection. One more big contraction during the procedure (absolute torture to sit still through!) and then my legs start to get warm. They lay me down and things start to go numb. Ahhh, bliss. They continue with the preparation work, draping a curtain between my head and the rest of my body. They lay some sort of warming blow-up tent over my arms to keep me warm since the room is so cold. I have the anesthesiologist check me twice to be sure I'm really, really numb. (With Levi, my epidural wasn't a complete block on my pain and they knocked me out shortly after Levi was born.) I keep asking over and over when Andy will be let into the room, and finally he makes his way in. Just a few minutes later, they warn me that I will feel some big tugging and pressure as they pull the baby out. Sure enough, I feel like a weight is being lifted out of me. In these final moments of my pregnancy, I realize that I will know for sure very soon that I have a daughter. "Is it a girl?" I ask. Yes, it's a girl! The doctor invites Andy to peek over the curtain as she is being pulled out. Instead, he stands and just aims the camera. He actually got a picture of the baby being pulled from my body! She cries like a little goat, and Andy tells me she has dark brown hair. The doctor takes her and immediately brings her around the curtain so I can see her in her natural born state, before she's all cleaned up. For some reason, this moment is really important to me as I memorize the sight of her red, squirmy body. Wendy Harsany Simpson, welcome to the world. It's 12:18 a.m. and she weighs 7 pounds, 6 ounces. She is 20 inches long.

They take Wendy over to be checked out and I'm just elated to have been so aware and awake for her birth. I have told the anesthesiologist that I don't want any more medication that would relax me for the stitching up process. I want to be sure that I'm fully awake once I'm out of recovery and get ahold of Wendy. At this point I finally keep my eyes open. (They have been closed from the time I entered triage until the moment Wendy came out, pretty much.) I feel every tug and pull as the doctor stitches up each of my layers. I hear the nurses counting off the tools with each layer. One, two, three, four, five. One, two, three, four, ten. And so on. It doesn't seem to take very long to put me back together. I later learn that my uterus was so paper thin, that it tore perpendicularly from the cut that the doctor made, as she pulled the baby out. Knowing this bit of information makes me feel even more confident in the decision we made for a repeat c-section.

After I am finished with the surgery, they scoot me off the table onto another bed and wheel me into recovery. I basically twiddle my thumbs for the next hour, waiting and waiting with wide eyes until I can be reunited with Andy and Wendy. Finally it is time. They wheel my bed out of recovery, ram me into a wall on the way out (ouch) and get me to my room. Wendy is wheeled in on her little baby cart and placed into my arms. She's so soft and warm, like a little sleepy puppy. Her hair is so silky and her little feet are so wrinkly. I love her for what she is and for what she may become. I love her for being a little sister and for making me a mother of two. I love her for allowing me to see Andy as the father of a little girl. And most of all, I love her simply because she was once part of me and that thread will never be broken.

the things people say

As I am in my last week of pregnancy with this baby girl, I thought I'd sum up some of the odd things people like to say to me as a pregnant woman. I find it amusing how there is so little filtered out of people when they are confronted with a pregnant woman! 1. After looking at my size... "is it a boy? No? A girl? Well, maybe she'll be a tomboy." 2. "I figured you were either having twins or were ready to pop!" 3. "well, you are looking good. You haven't dropped yet." says a man after staring ay too intently. 4. "oh you are never going to make it another month. No, really, you won't." 5. "may I?" and then after not waiting for an answer, man begins to poke my popped out belly button through my shirt. Awkward!!! Oh people, they sure are amusing sometimes. ;)