Repeat C

I don't know if it's self-fulfilling prophecy (I hope not) or my strange intuition, but I called it spot on when I said everything would happen the week Ella starts school. Baby Boy will be born next week, Wednesday, the 18th, via repeat c-section.

The next few days will be a blur and I'm desperately trying to process this new information. He will be born 11 days early because they think he's going to be giganto-baby. As I predicted, they estimated his weight yesterday at 9 lbs. - give or take a pound and 5 oz. Magically, he went from measuring 37 weeks on Monday to 40 weeks yesterday, after my doctor heard the estimate. I'm a bit skeptical. My gut still says he's not going to be overly large, but I'm starting to wonder if that's just wishful thinking. We'll know soon enough.

So, am I ready? Am I ready to see this baby? Yes! Yes! Yes! Am I ready for another major abdominal surgery? I'm still working on that part. Regardless of the fact that I've done this before, it still makes me very nervous to be cut wide open, have two people digging around inside me, and then sewn up again. That doesn't even account for the scary epidural needle wielded by a perfect stranger a millimeter from my spinal cord. I need to breathe - deeply and hypnotically.

I was really hoping for a VBAC this time, and I'm finding it brutally ironic and unfair that the child actually has his head low in my pelvis, but I'm not going to be allowed to push him out. I'd be remiss if I didn't say that just sucks. I know, I know, the repeat c-section probably is the safest option for both mother and baby given that he may be huge and I already have an existing uterine scar. I know that our safety is the most important thing. But, I also know this pretty much seals the deal on me ever having the birth I wanted so badly. I will never have the experience of birthing my own baby. And that's something I have to allow myself to mourn.

Eleven days isn't really very early, but with babies of gestational diabetic mothers, every day counts for lung development. It's a bit of a trap between giving him a few extra days in the womb and making sure he's delivered before I go into labor spontaneously, thus we aren't going to make it to 39 weeks. He's still doing great on his non-stress tests, so I think he's going to be fine but a little extra prayer never hurt anyone. Please pray for a smooth, uneventful surgery and recovery and a healthy baby.

While you're at it, can you also say a prayer for EGR? Her next week will be just as much a whirlwind as mine. Tonight we will go to preschool orientation to meet her teacher and see her classroom. Tuesday is her first day of school - in a completely new place with strangers. Ultimately, I think she'll love it, but I'm hoping for a smooth transition into this new environment. Wednesday, we will drop her off at Grandmother's house, where she will be spending three nights and then she'll come to the hospital to meet Baby Boy. Thankfully, she is well aware of and excited about all of these things, but I'm really hoping it's not too much for her in the moment.

Go ahead and include Dave in those prayers, too. While he's extremely relieved to have a scheduled c-section with my doctor and he's much more comfortable with the idea of it than I am at the moment, I know that he will be scared and nervous when they wheel me away into the OR. Plus, he's just going to have a lot to juggle with my recovery, a newborn, and a 2 year old.

The EGR Update
We are alternating between talking about Baby Boy's birth next week and school. She keeps asking me her teacher's name, and I keep telling her we are going to meet her tonight to find out her name and see her class.

I told her last night that Baby Boy will be born next Wednesday. When she woke up this morning, she asked me, "You go to the hospital next week for Baby Boy?" Yes. "You will have a band-aid?" Yes. "Daddy be there with you?" "Yes, and you will come to visit us and meet Baby Boy." While we were getting into the car this morning, she told me that the babies in her tummy have already been born.

She is also reminding us to say the blessing at every meal, and she is finally bowing her head and being quiet while we say it. Last night she served me a refreshing cup of bath water and informed me that we had to say the blessing before I could "drink" it. So we did. In the tub.

I've been telling her the "bear song" at bedtime every night; the one about "Goldi'ocks not picnic." (There is a Teddy Bear Picnic song she sometimes requests.) The second night, when I got to the part where Goldi'ocks eats all of Baby Bear's porridge, she leaned in really close to my face and asked in her concerned voice, "They make some more pordidge?" Yes, of course they do; Mama Bear will not let Baby Bear go hungry. She really likes Daddy Bear's voice, but for some reason he reminds me a little bit of Karl Childers from Sling Blade, umm hmm.

Stick a fork in me...

I'm done. D-O-N-E. Done.

I'm done with: "Oh my God, Amanda's belly is huge!"
And: "There's no way you will make it three more weeks."
And: "Wow, someone's going to have a baby soon!"
And: "Your belly is just going to split open."
And: "Someone is about to burst!"
And: "Shouldn't you be in the hospital?!"
And: "Amanda, I brought donuts and I want to make sure you are the first to get some."
And: "When are you due again?"
And: "Do they know how big the baby is going to be?"
And: "You don't have much longer."
And, my personal favorite from early on: "You do know what causes this, right?"

These are the things I wanted to say in response.

"Yes, I'm growing a human being."
"You do know that the size of my belly does not determine when this baby will be born, right?"
"Really? Who?"
"Hmm, I did watch a made-for-TV movie about a woman who delivered her baby through her belly button."
"Oh no! Should we call an ambulance?"
"Just because I'm pregnant does not mean I can just shovel donuts in my face twice a week."
"Please write it on your calendar: August 29."
"Yes, my doctor uses a combination of x-ray vision and a crystal ball to determine the exact weight of the baby BEFORE he comes out."
"What do you know about how long three weeks is? I'd like to see you walk around in this body for just one."
"Yup, hot monkey sex."

It has been pointed out to me that these people (with the exception of the random strangers) are just excited and anticipating the birth of this baby. I get that. I do. I also get that I'm not fit for the public right now. I've reached that point. The point of exiling myself to my house in a giant t-shirt, under the ceiling fan. I remember reaching the same point when I was pregnant with Ella. I've been carrying this child for 37 weeks; for at least 30 of those weeks, I've been hearing running commentary on my appearance. It's so old. It's even older than my achy right hip and my near constant bathroom trips.

All I need to hear right now is: "Wow, you are a fine/gorgeous/beautiful looking pregnant woman!" Else, the world can just shut up for the next three weeks.

They 'IGHT up! They 'IGHT Up!

Translated: They LIGHT up!

That's what Ella just told me over the telephone about her new flip-flops. She was so excited she didn't take a breath to hear me respond and she just kept saying it over and over again.

Apparently, she had a secret mission for Grandmother today, and that was to find her some flip-flops. She's been wearing mine whenever she can get them, and she's been wearing some too-small ones that will be Baby Boy's one day, but she didn't have any of her own. She set out to rectify that situation today in a mission that scoured four stores in two cities. Lucky she is to have grandparents that indulge her.

I obviously haven't seen them yet, but I hear that in addition to lighting up, they are clear with lady bugs on them, and that she walked in circles trying to watch them once she realized the were lighting up. I can't wait to watch her prance proudly around in them this afternoon. I expect she'll need to wear them with the new skinny jeans she picked out two weeks ago.

Bye-bye princess crocs, hello blingin' flip-flops.

Are my insides burning?

WHAT is this taste in my mouth when I burp? For weeks, when I wake up in the middle of the night and burp it tastes like I've been eating burnt popcorn that has given me indigestion. I have not been eating popcorn, burnt or otherwise, but this taste has been driving me nuts.

I think I just figured out what is causing it. I decided yesterday, as I sat at my desk in the air conditioning and still struggled to breath, that I should start taking my iron supplement in the mornings. I usually take it at bed time, but I also usually drink a glass of milk at bedtime and eat a handful of Tums during the night. Since calcium blocks the absorption of iron, I'm probably not getting much benefit from the iron supplement when taking it this way. So, in an effort catch my breath and feel like I have a little energy (the real kind, not the kind I fake so everyone will leave me alone), I decided to take it in the mornings. Guess what? Fifteen minutes after taking it this morning, the burnt popcorn taste is back and I realized I didn't taste it in the hours I was awake last night. Hmm. Since I've been taking iron for months and I only started the Glyburide last week, it has to be the iron that's causing this nastiness. Unfortunately, knowing the cause doesn't make it any more pleasant.

The EGR Update
The topic of the week has been umbilical cords. We've been studying her newborn pictures and she's asked about the cord, so I explained that the baby gets his food through the cord while he's in my tummy and when he is born he will still have a little bit of cord that will dry up and fall off, and then he'll have a belly button just like hers. She is very enthusiastic about his belly button. I've explained that we won't be able to put him in the baby bathtub until his cord falls off, and that we'll have to clean it, etc. She has really been doing some thinking about this new baby business. Yesterday morning, she got out of bed and came to find me in my bathroom. She proudly announced, "I'm a big sister!"
Me: "Yes, you are."
EGR: "Baby boy will be born! We will hold him! Bathe him! He will have a cord?"
Me: "Yes, and his cord will fall off and then he'll have a belly button like yours."
EGR: "Yeah!"
Similar exchanges have taken place over the last few days and always lead to a few minutes of comparing belly buttons.

She has a lovely cold right now, so we were up and down a few times last night while she tried to breathe. At 3:30, she came to our bed and after I finally got us settled with everything we needed (milk cup, nose sucker, smelly vapor plug-in thingy, dry diaper, etc), and I got comfortable again with all my pillows, Baby Boy stretched his little self out and started doing flips. As she was cuddled right up to my belly, she quickly informed me, "Baby Boy is movin'." To which I replied, "Yes, I know, Sweet Pea, he always wakes up when you do." I foresee lots of sibling bonding time in the wee morning hours in our future. The question is, who will wake up who?

Glyburide, You are a Friend of Mine...

Even if you do scare me awake in the middle of the night with wicked heartburn and acid reflux. I'll take that in exchange for the ability to eat a freakin' noodle again. Bye bye chicken fingers for breakfast, hello oatmeal with Splenda! Maybe even bran flakes... I feel like the possibilities are endless.

I saw my perinatologist yesterday, and I liked him very much. Some things he said were disconcerting (i.e. "You are 100% guaranteed to have Type 2 diabetes, but you are 100% in control of deciding when you will develop it"), others made me feel much better. He explained that Baby Boy likes my high sugar levels and wants them to stay that way, so the hormones that are protecting him are making them stay high no matter what I do. Nothing I do on my own will bring them down, thus he prescribed Glyburide. It's supposed to increase my insulin production and help my body use it more efficiently. After one dose of it, my numbers were about 40 points lower than they have been in weeks. It's such a relief. Why didn't we do this weeks ago?

For the next three weeks, I'll be going to the doctor twice a week for non-stress tests because they want to monitor Baby Boy more closely as he gets bigger. Two weeks from now, I'll have an ultrasound to estimate his weight. I am not at all thrilled about that because of the level of inaccuracy, but he'll be about 38 weeks at that point so I'm not going to argue. They'll probably tell me he weighs 9 lbs and he'll come out weighing 7. Whatever.

Speaking of non-stress tests, we had our second one yesterday. That child was all over the place. The nurse yelled from across the room, "I don't have to worry about you, I can hear him moving all over the room!" It's the truth. She kept moving the monitor to find his heartbeat again because he kept rolling away from it. So this week, he still looks great and we'll have the same fun again on Monday. Then Thursday. Then Monday again, rinse and repeat.

The EGR Update
She did it. She spent the night away from home last night. She wasn't ready to leave Grandmother's house after supper, so we went through the whole deal again about how I would be sleeping at our house, etc. She decided to stay, and she slept all night. When I talked to her this morning, the first thing she said was, "Mommy, come pick me up." I'm very proud of her, and I feel a little better about the whole hospital stay now. Still worried about the amount of time away, but better. Dave told me last night as he wandered around the house, "I don't like it when Ella's not here." I don't either, but I'm excited for her making that step on her own.

A Pregnant Caterpillar - Is there such a thing?

Oh, yes, there is and she lives in my house.

A bit of background: We have a cocoon in one of the trees in our yard, so we've been watching it and talking about the caterpillars that live in it and how they turn into butterflies, etc. We've also been making preparations for Baby Boy's arrival, including the cleaning out of the ball pit - I mean baby bed - last weekend. EGR was jumping in it Saturday, sans balls, and having a chat with Daddy about the fact that Baby Boy would be able to sleep in there and that she slept in there when she was a tiny baby. Then I overheard this bit.

Daddy: What are you now? (I assume he was expecting " 'ittle girl" as the answer; I was.)
EGR: A caterpillar.
Daddy: You are a caterpillar?
EGR: Yes, and I have two baby boys in my tummy.
Daddy: You do? When are you going to turn into a butterfly?
EGR: Four minutes.

She has also informed me, after a first but unsuccessful attempt to spend the night with Grandma and Pop last weekend, that Grandmother will bring her cot to the hospital when Baby Boy is born so we can sleep "all-gether." She's a bit nervous about the staying away from me part of this Baby Boy deal. I can't blame her; I'm nervous about it, too. She has spent one night away, and it was a quite a while ago. I was shocked when she asked to stay with Grandma and Pop the other night, but willing to give it a try. It was an hour later, after she announced that she was ready for bed, that I got the call from Grandma. Once she does make that leap, I'm afraid I might have the opposite problem - she won't want to stay home. Good grief, I will miss her while I'm in the hospital those few days. She spent several hours with Grandmother after church Sunday so I could get some much-needed down time, and Dave and I both were antsy to see her by the time she came home.

The latest thing she does that baffles me, aside from the fact that she's growing twin boys in her tummy, is wake up from a deep, peaceful sleep in a full meltdown. Over what, you ask? Her cup. She goes from sleep to full trantrum over what kind of cup she is going to drink out of that day. Is she dreaming about cups? I don't know, but I know that I can't talk to her, I can't touch her, and she thrashes and throws herself about with giant tears dripping from her face until I realize in my own early morning fog, "Oh, yeah, she needs to pick out her cup." Once the cup is selected and freshly filled with milk, all is right in the world. This has happened three times in the last week. I can't pretend to understand it. It's one of those things that my friends with similar aged kids and I explain like this: Because she's two.

The world of a two year old is an interesting place. She is desperately torn between being her own independent person and doing everything herself in a world where she has very little control, and being the little baby she used to be. In rapid succession, she goes from climbing into the booster seat, strapping herself in, eating with a fork and wiping her own hands and face to needing to sit in my lap while I feed her. I know that a lot of this is about growing up and establishing her autonomy and the rest of it is about her uncertainty of her place when there is a new baby in the house. I'm just trying to be flexible and keep up. The comment I keep hearing lately is that she's too young to understand about the new baby; I'm here to tell you, she does. She doesn't understand the full scope of the change in her life, but she knows it's coming, she knows it will be big, and she knows it's because of Baby Boy. I've been very careful not to use Baby Boy as a reason for why I can't do some things the way I could before, but she's made the connection on numerous occasions.

She is so ready to meet him. We talk almost daily now about going to the hospital for him to be born. We read books about new babies, and we study the hospital pictures from her birth. We've talked about everything from the umbilical cord to the IV in my hand to the way she nursed when she was just born. I'm grateful now that she's had her own hospital experience so it will (hopefully) be less intimidating for her to see me in the hospital. She seems to be preparing herself as much as I am preparing her.

Feeling a Bit Encouraged

First let me ask WHY you would offer online pre-registration to the hospital if you are only going to make me complete the exact same form again when I get to the hospital to sign my paperwork? I spent 45 minutes in pre-admitting (making me late for my non-stress test) because I had to fill out the same form again and the poor lady working at the desk seriously struggled with her data entry skills. That combined with the fact that is was about 80 degrees in the office and my feet were sweating in my flip-flops did not make me a happy camper. The last time she told me to take a seat because she had to calculate my estimated payment and her program wasn't open on her computer, I nearly lost it. I informed her that my appointment happened to be 10 minutes ago and I wasn't moving from the counter until she was finished with me. I think I was also panting and fanning myself at that point; she took me seriously and figured out a way to make the process faster. I later found out that Brookwood has seriously screwed up their Admitting department - so plan to spend the afternoon if you have to pre-register there any time soon.

Luckily, the nurse overseeing my non-stress test was expecting me to be late because she knew I had to go through Admitting first, and she had no problem expressing her own frustration with the new "process." I hauled myself up onto the stretcher and she hooked me up to the monitors and brought me a cold Diet Sprite (bless her soul). She explained the whole deal - monitoring my blood pressure, baby's heartrate, my contractions, and that we were trying to see Baby Boy's heart rate accelerate 15 beats above the baseline twice in 20 minutes. He passed with flying colors. At one point, he moved so hard I expected the monitor to pop off my belly. I was afraid he would be napping during the test since he played all morning, but the cold Sprite woke him up. Everything else looked good, too. The nurse said, "The doctor is going to be happy with your strip (the print out of all this activity)." To which I responded, "Good, because he's not going to be happy with my sugar numbers."

He wasn't, but because I was proactive and had already been logging every thing I've eaten in three weeks, he also knew that I've been trying to do the best I can and I have what seems like very little control over this. According to him, the numbers aren't outrageous, but they are still trending upward. He asked if I thought seeing a dietician would help and I felt like bursting into happy tears as I said, "Yes! How much more salad and chicken can I eat?!" So, he's doing one better than that; he's referring me to a perinatologist who has developed a strong program for managing gestational diabetes. He'll be able to help me with meal planning along with the timing of when I eat what/how much (like 30 grams of carbs for breakfast, etc) and when to test my sugar to get the most accurate perspective of what's going on in my body. I'm excited about this. As much as I've tried to educate myself, I really need someone to help me troubleshoot my diet to get my numbers where they need to be. With Ella, simply following the sample diet my OB gave me was enough. This time, that was blown out of the water after the second week. I felt so much better leaving there yesterday than I did last week. Now, I'm just waiting on the perinatologist to call and set up an appointment with me.

The EGR Update
She now has two baby boys growing in her tummy and they are going to "get born" so she can "cuddle them, snuggle them, play with them" (I wish you could hear it in her list-making voice). I've told her we might have too many baby boys running around if they keep multiplying in her tummy. It makes me think of Gremlins. I hope they don't multiply in water because I know she's going to bathe them, too.

For supper last night we had ham, cabbage, squash, and green beans. Grandmother asked me if she eats cabbage and I told her just to put it on the plate and we'd see what happened. Ella promptly pointed to it and asked, "What's that?"
"Cabbage."
"I don't 'ike cabbage."
"That's fine, you don't have to eat it."
Ten minutes later, the cabbage hole was empty. Then the ham, green beans, and most of the squash disappeared. She loves her vegetables, but she also had to be starving because she'd been living off of milkshakes and biscuits for two days since her mouth hurt too much to eat. She has two nicely swollen spots on her bottom gums, but still no molars.

My Pregnancy Lists

Now that I'm facing weekly appointments and we are getting the house stocked with tiny diapers again, I've come to the point in this pregnancy where I'm both anxious to meet this baby and I feel like I need to freeze time so I can preserve the last few days with Ella as an only child. It occurred to me last night, as I cuddled her to sleep, that life as she knows it is about to change forever. That makes me a little sad for her, but I also know how excited she is about seeing Baby Boy.

I don't worry about loving one or the other of them more, because there's not a doubt in my mind that I will love them both as the individuals they are, but I do worry about having enough time and energy to meet their individual needs. I fully expect raising a boy to be a different experience because boys are just made differently. I'm excited about that new adventure, but I also wonder how I'll juggle life with two young children.

As I've struggled with feeling ready for this pregnancy to be over and trying to enjoy the last few weeks through the stress of Gestational Diabetes, I made some lists. It's what I do. :)

Things I Will Not Miss
1. Needing to pee every time I stand up. I wonder how much toilet paper I use while I'm pregnant?
2. Hearing "Wow, you must be due any day" and "You'll never make it to August" and variations of the same. Yes, I know I'm gargantuan.
3. Heat rash.
4. The constant worry, guilt, and analysis of everything I eat or think about eating.
5. Splenda.

Things I will Miss
1. Feeling the baby move and random parts sticking out.
2. Having elevators held for me as I trudge across hot parking decks.
3. Elastic waist pants.
4. Not having to maintain the litter box.
5. Watching Ella cuddle and talk to my belly and feed the baby through my belly button.

Things I'm Looking Forward To
1. Moving from sitting to standing without feeling like my body is tearing in half at the hips.
2. Rolling over in bed wihtout lying there wondering if it's worth the effort first.
3. Wearing my fire engine red, patent leather high heels.
4. Bending over without squishing the air out of my lungs.
5. Cuddling Ella without this huge bump in my middle.
6. Cinnamon Toast Crunch.
7. The tiny newborn phase.
8. Ella meeting Baby Boy.
9. Nursing and baby wearing again.
10. Watching Dave with a son, and my dad with a grandson.

Still No Teeth

Last week was rough, what with one child gestating, one child teething, VBS, blood sugar issues, and bedtime pushed at least an hour late every night. Whew! VBS is always a blast, but I'm glad to be back to normal. No new teeth, though. I'm sure they'll pop through the week of August 17th - which incidentally is also the week she starts preschool and will probably be the week Baby Boy chooses to make his arrival - just because my life works that way.

By Friday night, EGR and I both had about had it with the crazy schedule, and we were so glad to fall into bed and sleep until 8 Saturday morning. We had a leisurely morning with breakfast at Chick-fil-a, then we shopped at Target (because the new NCAA football video game has been released and EGR picked out a cute puppy dog lunch box for school), then Books-A-Million (because Mommy deserves a prize due to the release of said video game), and Pugits (Publix). Then we spent a couple of hours alternating between cuddling and reading, and playing while I read and waited for her to wind down for a nap. Saturday night was our first baby sprinkle for Baby Boy, and there was no way I was letting Ella skip her nap. She desperately needed to catch up on rest.

Our sprinkle was fun, even if most of the scheduled events were rained out. We did still have water balloon batting practice - which I loved. My goofy husband said he wasn't going in the rain to get wet hitting water balloons, but he changed his mind after I took my turn. Who doesn't love to play in the rain? We got loads of diapers, wipes, baby wash and lotion AND I managed to find a place to put all of it! In classic EGR style, she played in the rain until she couldn't stand her clothes any longer so she stripped naked. Then she sported Aunt Becca's t-shirt and tennis shoes the rest of the night. She had a blast opening presents for Baby Boy, and a few for herself. We saw a tiny baby at church Friday night, and we was completely in awe of him. I think she's really ready for Baby Boy to be born.

My relationship with food has gotten even more interesting than it's always been. Controlling my blood sugar has been more challenging this time around; my doctor cites my age as a reason (because 2 years older is still 2 years older) and I also think my chaotic schedule has a lot to do with it. Two Fridays ago the nurse told me to cut out all breads/rice/pasta etc., and that worked but good grief it's hard to follow that diet. It's hard to think of things to eat, it's hard to eat on the run, and it makes me feel bad physically. After my appointment last Thursday, during which my doctor told me my numbers aren't runing high enough to justify medicating me so I had to keep following the diet, I gave up and ate a lamb gyro for lunch on Friday. That was the best I felt all week. I've certainly not forgone the diet all together, but I decided to be a little easier on myself because I know stress and exhaustion makes the numbers higher. Proof of that is that regardless of how badly I ate over the weekend because of the party and a family dinner (lasagna, garlic bread, and brownie trifle), my fasting numbers have been okay for the last few days. Besides, chicken fingers and Diet Dr. Pepper for breakfast isn't half bad - just don't make me eat eggs.

I have to start going to the doctor weekly from now until B-Day, and I'll be having non-stress tests again, just like I did with Ella. While it's inconvenient to spend half a day at the doctor's office, I'm kind of glad he decided to go ahead and start the weekly appointments. I want to be in closer contact with him about my sugar, and lying on a cot, listening to the baby's heartbeat for half an hour isn't a bad way to spend an afternoon. I think I will remember to bring my book this time around, though, because afternoon TV is BORING. Oh, because everyone asks: non-stress tests measure contractions, the baby's heartrate in response to them, and the number of times he moves in the 30-40 minutes. Also because everyone asks (and because I just look more pregnant than I am when I'm growing another human), the baby is still measuring right on time and the doctor has not predicted a weight. If you just need a prediction of his size, my gut tells me he will be long and thin; I think he'll weigh less than Ella did (7 lbs. 13 oz).

By the way, this time my Welcome Baby celebration meal should consist of a Chick-fil-a chocolate milkshake, a giant bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, and a slab of chocolate on chocolate cake. Someone make note.

Wild Animal or Hungry Toddler? Is there a difference?

Last night was the first night of VBS (that's Bible School, in case you don't know). EGR is attending the preschool class this week, regardless of the fact that she's only 2. I've had a few worries about her readiness, but mostly I think it's something she will enjoy. I sold it hard over the weekend and she even assisted me in putting together the first night's snack, insisting that we sing Jesus Loves Me while we worked for God.

She was so very excited to have her own VBS t-shirt, just like Mommy and Daddy's - so excited that she accepted no less than I strip down in the middle of the kitchen and put mine on while she watched to make sure it got done. She was so cute in her t-shirt and ponytail (a rarity these days), marching in line with the other preschoolers to the opening rally. She made it half way through the night before she melted down because she had come to snack time and didn't want to leave me to go back to class. I retrieved her and convinced her to watch the movie while I stayed with her, but she just wasn't going to finish the night without me, so I took her back to the kitchen. My thinking was that I didn't want her to be so traumatized that she didn't want to go back. We are in it for a week, that I think she'll enjoy, and that, frankly, I don't want to spend with a toddler glued to my leg while I assemble and serve snack every night. We met up with her class again at the end of the night for the last song, and she was much more composed at that point.

When we got home, my sweet little girl played Bible School with her baby until I thought I might have to pull a Good Fairy move and Bop! her on the head to get her to go to sleep. The baby had it's Bible and bag, and she went to Ms. Amy's (that's Amory) class. As she started winding down, she began naming off her teachers and the kids in her class and we had to pray for every one of them (more than once); then we had to pray for the "other kids" whose names she couldn't remember. She kept asking me their names and I told her she would have to learn them tonight and tell me, because I don't know all of them (side note: there were 14 - FOURTEEN!- preschoolers there last night - Ms. Amory is a patient soul). Alas, she fell asleep.

She woke up after 3:30 and then again many times crying about snack. I considered that she was hungry, but she didn't seem awake enough to actually eat, so I didn't get up to get a snack. She just kept screaming for 'ogurt bites, and "open my snack!", etc. I chalked it up to sensory overload after VBS and a late bed time.

Fast forward a couple of hours to wake up time. Holy cow, I've never seen her act the way she did this morning. She was not the sweet 2 year old I put to bed last night. Oh no, caged porcupine is a more accurate description. I couldn't even get near the child as she alternated between cowering into the headboard of the bed and lashing out with limbs and snarling teeth, all while giant tears ran down her face. She didn't want her clothes on and other garbled things I couldn't understand through all the racket. When I finally got her to calm down enough to hear me, I asked her what hurt (that's the only explanation I could think of for her behavior). She said, pitifully, "My teeth! My teeth! I need teething tablets!" Whew! Finally, something I could work with.

For the first time ever, I sent my child to Grandmother's house in her night shirt. She did have a clean diaper, but that was all we could do this morning. She settled for a milk cup, 'ogurt bites, and the promise of Motrin and teething tablets as soon as we got there. When I left her, she was all "Bye Mommy, 'ove you!" like she had not just tried to maul me moments earlier.

It turns out - she was hungry. Very hungry. I've known that she can go from happy to empty in 60 seconds, and I've known that hunger is one of her triggers for tantrums, but I've never seen what I saw this morning. Reports from Grandmother tell me that by noonish today, she had eaten a breakfast burrito and hashbrown from McDonald's (at her request), eggs and sausage after her short nap, and rice, beans, chips and cheese directly after her 2nd meal. And, she ate ravenously, like she hadn't been fed at all.

I'm thinking she might have a growth spurt, and I really hope there will be 4 shiny new molars with it. But what I know is this - we will be packing the food into that child until she stops eating it. I'm only hoping she'll make it through VBS tonight on the snack provided. I'm hoping she'll make it through VBS tonight without a melt down since she has a better idea of what to expect and there will be a slight change in the snack schedule so that she doesn't see me until it's over.

At this point, because I've been awake since 3:30 am, I'm hoping I make it through VBS tonight without a melt down.

She has a Boyfriend

Last Monday morning, as EGR came walking up the stairs from Basement Time with Daddy, I heard Dave say, “Tell Mommy who that is.” She was carrying a Beanie Baby, Class of 1999 graduation owl in her arms and she promptly replied, “My boyfriend.”

Huh?

“I ‘ove him.”

What?! Me to Dave (perhaps a bit accusingly): “Where did she learn that?”

He had no idea; she just started saying it. I can only conclude that she must have picked this up from older kids somewhere – and given her limited exposure to older kids, it must have been at church.

Here I have been worrying about what knowledge she might share at church (I do have a special affinity for the word “crap”), and she comes home talking about boyfriends already?! She’s 2!

The Writing on the Wall

One of the gifts EGR received for her birthday was bath crayons - the kind you use to write on the tub or yourself or the millions of bath toys. She broke them in in a major way the first night; I think every toy in the tub received a little embellishment before she was finished. She wrote everywhere.

Fast forward to the next afternoon when she suddenly remembered they were in there. In a brief two minutes of quiet contentment, the child made her mark down the length of both walls of our hallway. When she came to the living room with the crayon, I asked her to take it back to the tub because we were on our way out the door. She complied and we went on our way. It was later that I realized what the little scamp had been up to. I whispered to Dave about it so he could see it before I wiped it off, but I decided not to say anything to her yet. If she does it again, I will enlist her help in cleaning it up but I can't really blame her creativity. After all, we gave her crayons and said, "Let me show you how to write on the walls" and neither of us specified that she was only to write on the bath tub walls. Luckily, they are very washable, so it cleaned up with a wet rag. Now, I'm just waiting for her to realize it's gone and ask where her writing went.

In other news, everyone who has seen me in the last few days says Baby Boy has dropped, and I've gotten a lot of "you aren't going to make it to August." I have politely requested that people stop saying that because a baby before August means a baby in trouble. Trust me. I know that his August 29 due date is accurate. I dare you to ask me how I know.

Happy 2nd Birthday, EGR!

Today is Ella's second birthday. When I told her Happy Birthday this morning, she asked me, "Where's my party?" Grandma sang Happy Birthday to her on the phone, and she asked me after we hung up, "Where's my birfday cake?" She totally gets birfdays. The party and the cake will happen tomorrow morning.

I am working from home this week (thus the blog posts), so she and I just put together her first present. It's not from Dave and I, but I don't care since we've been in this house together all week and she really needs something new to occupy her while I work. When Grandma called, she told me to go ahead and give her their present, so now she's playing with a fancy new pirate ship water table. It's cool; it even has a battery operated fountain, which she doesn't care for right now because it doesn't have batteries yet and it's just in her way. We'll rectify that after we go to the store later today.

Dave and I are giving her a grocery cart with groceries and a cash register. She does love to go grocery shopping, and she was so cute driving that little cart all over Big Lots last weekend, so we went back and got it. She told me a couple of days later that she wants the grocery cart for her birthday. I'm sure we will be seen in Pugix (Publix) in the near future with a 2 year old pushing a bright red shopping cart. The most interesting part will be filtering the things she wants to buy when it's time to pay; the child is a serious shopper.

Anyway, Happy Birthday, my sweet little girl!

May / June / Probably July Update

I know it's been two months. That's just life these days.

What have we been up to?

We've been to the beach (see pictures here - there are also some random ones from earlier this year). EGR did not like this sand this year. This was both a pleasure and pain. Pleasure because there wasn't much sand to clean up - especially no sandy diapers; pain because I like to sit on the beach and the only times I did that were when she was asleep. The child did not even want her feet to touch the sand, so she had to be carried while we were on it. I'm hoping this is a passing thing, and maybe next year she'll like it better. We had a great vacation. Ella loved swimming with her floaties, and by the end of the week she had figured out how to move herself around the pool and jump off the ladder. She never got the courage to jump off the side, but that will come with time. The last day we were there, she played in the pool for 7 straight hours and we had to drag her out of there. Needless to say, she fell asleep at supper before the entrees got to the table.

The closer we get to Baby Boy's arrival, the more we see of Baby Ella. She's even taken to crawling again. I'm just going with the flow and trying not to use the words "big girl" too often. She's splitting time between using the potty and refusing to use the potty. Right this minute, she's wearing Dora panties. Last night, after being asked one too many times if she needed to use the potty, she looked at Aunt Becca and said, "Do you need to use the potty, Becca?" I think she made her point. She hates diaper changes these days, so I just told her this morning after she went to the potty, "Either you wear a diaper or panties." She picked panties. We'll see how long it lasts.

Baby Boy is growing and growing. I recently found out that I have Gestational Diabetes again, so I'm following my diet again. This baby moves and kicks a lot more than Ella ever did, but I guess that's because he isn't folded in half with his head and feet under my ribs. I'm not sure what position he's in right now, but I know he's changed position several times in the last few days. I've felt him kicking me in the cervix, in the bladder, in both sides, and directly under my ribs. He's very busy in there.

Georgia's Safe Place

Georgia's safe place has always been her kennel, since the day we brought her home. She doesn't spend as much time in there as she used to, but she will absolutely kennel herself if she's tired or overwhelmed. EGR has also adopted it as her safe place.

Last weekend, I needed to vacuum up some mess in the basement. I knew Ella would want to be downstairs with me, and I knew she would freak out when I turned on the vacuum. I don't know when or why she went from falling asleep when it's running to total fear of it, but she has. In a moment of inspiration, I had this conversation with her.

Me: Ella, I have to vacuum up this mess on the floor.
Ella: (wide-eyed silence)
Me: If you get scared when I turn on the vacuum cleaner, you can get in Georgia's kennel. You'll be safe there.
Ella: Ella kennel.
Me: You want to get in there?
Ella: Uh-huh. (she crawls in and covers up with Georgia's blanket)
Me: Do you want me to shut the gate?
Ella: Uh-huh.
Me: Okay, you are safe there. I'm turning on the vacuum, it's going to be a loud noise.

I proceeded to vacuum and she proceeded to watch quietly from behind the bars of the kennel. She did not cry one tear. When I finished, I asked if she felt safe in there and she told me she did. Then she didn't want to get out, so I left her in there and told her to call for me when she was ready to come upstairs. It worked perfectly. I couldn't believe it.

Baby Boy Eats Cheetos

In Ella's pretend world, where she is already taking care of her new brother, he eats Cheetos. She feeds them to him through my belly button. He's also had yogurt bites and she shared her milk cup with him this morning. I've explained several times that the baby will not be able to eat food until he gets bigger, that he will nurse and drink Mommy's milk when he's a little baby just like she did. I have a feeling there will be lots of discussion about what he can and cannot eat when he's born because she will want to share her food with him. She also cuddles with him and "plays" with him by blowing raspberries on my belly. She says she will blow green bubbles for him when he's born and sing to him. Last night she was singing "Jesus Jesus Jesus, there's just something about that name...". I think he likes it because he usually starts moving around when she's talking to him.

Right now, she's enjoying the benefit of an influx of tiny baby clothes for her dolls. I've already received bags of clothes from yard sale finds and people handing them down. I washed, folded and put away two baskets of clothes ranging from Newborn to 9 month sizes over the weekend and I think I have at least three more loads to do. I can't believe I even worried for a second about boy clothes. Good grief, I'm running out of room to store the ones he won't be able to wear right away. Ella is having a blast ripping through the baskets to find outfits for her babies - suddenly, they are all turning into baby boys. Oh, and I overheard her talking to one of the dolls yesterday while she rocked it, she called it Georgia and referred to herself as "Mommy Ella."

We broke out the kiddie pool over the weekend for the first time this season. Ella wanted to get in it with her clothes on and I explained to her that her bathing suit would dry much faster than her t-shirt, so she should change if she wanted to swim. She finally decided she would wear her "babysoup;" I decided we should call it a swimsuit from now on to avoid confusion. She was wearing 24 month size swimsuits that were too big last summer, and they are pretty much too small already. I think the child might just need to wear tankinis instead of one-pieces because her torso is so long. That would be easier for using the potty anyway, which she wants to do when she's wearing a swim diaper because she knows it's just not right. She requested a Tigger swimsuit because the one she was wearing only had Piglet on it. I hope I can find one, else it won't have characters at all.

I'm happy to report that she finally has her appetite back. It never returned after her sugery when she caught a nasty stomach virus (and gave it to me). I was starting to think she was entering the "toddlers don't eat" phase, but she started shoveling it in again over the weekend. She ate two bags of yogurt melts in between her real meals. WHY don't they make those things in big bags?! We need to buy them in bulk.

As for me, now that I've recovered from her germs, I feel fine. Baby Boy is staying lower in my belly than she ever did, so I feel more pregnant than I am but otherwise I'm doing well. I did break down and buy a bottle of TUMS for my purse, but thankfully I haven't had to eat so many since the virus went away. I was really scared I was doomed to 20 weeks of serious indigestion, but it turns out it was just the virus. This is week 21, and according to my pregnancy calendar, Baby Boy should be about 7 inches crown-to-rump, and and weigh around 11 ounces - and he's probably hiccupping. I started noticing the hiccups over the weekend.

The Little Conversationalist

Since her surgery, Ella's verbal communication has developed even more. She will now have conversations that include her original thoughts.

Here are a few examples:

After eating all of the canteloupe and leaving the watermelon in her snack bowl:
Ella: More. (pointing to the empty canteloupe spot)
Me: You still have watermelon. Eat that and I'll get you some more canteloupe.
Ella: More. (again pointing)
Me: If you don't eat the watermelon, who will?
Ella: (after a moment of deep thought) Birds.
She got more canteloupe.

While I was leaving for work one morning she was picking her nose (an obsession that's reared its ugly head again).
Me: What's up with your finger in your nose?
Ella: Booger.
Me: You have a booger in there?
Ella: Big one.
Me: Let me see. (found no boogers) I don't see any.
Ella: (with finger in nose again) Reach it, Mommy!

Sometimes at bedtime, she pretends someone is handing her things - food mostly, I think. She'll pretend to take it, eat it, and say thanks. One night, she randomly placed this order.
Ella: Two fries, cheese hamburdeger.

Dave is working on our master bathroom. He took a couple of weeks to gut it, during which time the door was closed and we explained to her that Daddy was working and he's going to build a new bathroom. Now we have this conversation frequently, usually when she's checking his progress.
Ella: New bafroom.
Me: Yes, Daddy is building us a new bathroom.
Ella: Potty?
Me: Yes, it will have a new potty.
Ella: Showder?
Me: Yes, a new shower, too.
Ella: Ella, new showder?
Me: Yes, Ella can take a shower in the new shower.

If the phone rings...
Ella: Phone ringin'!

If the dog passes gas...
Ella: Georgia poop.

If she decides she wants to go for a walk...
Ella: Walk! Strollder.

She makes me laugh. I love to watch her think and then put her thoughts into words.

It's a Boy!

Our 20 week ultrasound last week revealed that this baby is a boy. He's also healthy and measuring perfectly for his due date in late August. Much like Ella, he was lying across my abdomen (head on one side and feet on the other) so getting all of his measurments was tricky, but he was a little more cooperative than she was in her ultrasound. He moved around some and didn't hide his face when the tech needed to look at it. He was proud to show off his goods; she got several "it's a boy" shots. Are all boys that way even before birth?

While a lot of things about this pregnancy have been the same - things like what I'm eating, anemia at the start of the second trimester, slower hair growth on my legs, etc - there have been subtle differences. I don't have my strong steak aversion like I had with Ella (that's a relief), my face is breaking out more, and so far this baby is staying lower in my belly. He doesn't seem to have the same sleep habits as Ella either. She was always very low key during the day, then partied in the middle of the night (at the same times she still wakes up today). He seems a lot more active during the day and I think he sleeps most of the night. He might not be big enough to wake me up yet, but even when I am awake, I don't feel him moving.

As for EGR, she knows that we are having a Baby Boy. She leans down close to my belly and says, "Good morning, Baby Boy." Yesterday she was kissing him. She talks all about him - about his ears, his clothes, his diaper, if he will need cream on his bottom, etc. Yesterday while we were waiting for supper, she told him it was suppertime. She also told me to get him out. I explained that he can't come out yet because he's still growing, but I know we'll be having that conversation for the rest of the summer. I can understand her impatience. Now that I've seen him, I'm getting impatient myself. We've got quite a wait left though; this week marks the half way point.

Good Riddance Tonsils; We Won't Miss You.

Ella had her tonsils and adenoids removed and tubes put in both ears Tuesday morning. One week after her last ENT appointment, but only because I harrassed the scheduling lady until she squeezed us in. The day after the appointment when he told us he was going to take them out, she woke up with a runny nose that made her able to breathe even less than she could already. For three days I managed to get a decongestant in her, and then she decided she was finished taking medicine (with the exception of Motrin and Tylenol, thank goodness). At any rate, the surgery couldn't come soon enough.

As directed, I starved her after midnight Monday, and didn't let her have a drink of anything after seven Tuesday morning. With the exception of a meltdown at 2:00 Tuesday morning when she REALLY wanted some milk, she handled it quite well. I had explained to her that she could have some Coke when she woke up, but no milk and then I would have to put her cups away. Well, when she got thirsty later, she first asked for milk. I told her she couldn't have any until after the doctor fixed her throat. So she asked for Coke. I told her she couldn't eat or drink anything until after the doctor fixed her throat. She told me, "Bag. Cup." That meant, "Get my cup out of the bag." Our conversations went like that all morning. She knew we were going to the hospital for kids to get her throat fixed.

Once we got into a room to wait on the surgeon, she started to melt down a little. The waiting was just too much. There were several crying fits just because, and she DID NOT want to wear her hospital gown and bracelet. She took the gown off twice before I gave up on it and let her go in her diaper. As predicted, the hardest part of the entire day was handing her over to the nurse and watching her walk away from us with my crying daughter in her arms. Then we waited.

They moved us to a real room to stay the night, and that's where they brought her back to us. She was pitiful. She'd obviously cried hard when she woke up because the were tears and snot smeared all over her face and hair. She had a new sippy cup clenched in a death grip. When the nurse put her in my arms, she started waving and saying, "Hey, baby." I'm not sure if she actually saw the picture of a baby on the back of the door or if she was hallucinating from the good drugs, but it made me feel better to hear her say something she always says. Then, completely out of character, she held up the cup and said, "Apple juice" and drank it down. Then she passed out for 3 hours. They had given her morphine before she left the recovery room because they didn't know if the crying was from pain or wanting me. Whatever, I was grateful that she was knocked out and not feeling anything. She woke up a little here and there through the afternoon - once long enough to eat some yogurt and finish her juice, and once to eat some mashed potatoes, mac and cheese, and chicken and drink some milk.

Each time she woke up, she passed back out, so we didn't even try to get some more medicine in her until after 6:00. That was a debacle. The doctor had prescribed Loritab for her, and apparently the liquid kind is nasty. The nurse managed to squeeze the whole dropper into her in between the writhing, screaming fits, and then she threw it all up. So, she gave her some Motrin instead. That apparently worked well enough for her. Later we tried the antibiotic, and the results were even less successfull than the Loritab. It looked like a Pepto Bismol bottle had exploded all over her and the room when we were finished. Yes, she hates taking medicine. She hasn't always been this way, but she's just had enough of it lately.

Through the whole evening she kept saying "Band-aid, take it." That means take it off, and "band-aid" referred to both the IV taped to her hand and the oxygen monitor. The novelty of those things wore off quickly. They had unhooked her from the IV pump, but the she stayed connected to the oxygen monitor all night - that is when she didn't take it off. That thing nearly drove me out of my mind. We managed to keep it on her most of the night once she was sleeping, except when she rolled over and it popped off her finger and the alarm blared through the relative quiet in the room. Sometime in the middle of the night, she held up her IV hand with the little port hanging off and said, "Take it tag!"

In between begging to "go home" and "take it" she handled everything really well and was quite funny about her hospital experience. Late in the evening we found a wagon and walked around the hospital for a while just to get our of our room. There was a big display of Disney characters that we spent quite a while studying and talking to. She did wake up screaming once in the middle of the night when the Motril wore off, so we tried the Loritab again. It didn't go well and once I got her calmed down, Dave suggested we just wait for the Motrin. The nurse brought it back and hour later and that's all she had until morning.

She slept with me on the chair cot because her room came equipped with a crib. That was a joke. She looked at that thing with disdain when I asked if she wanted to lay there with her pillow. She did sit on it to eat her supper, and we used it for a changing table, but otherwise it was a large bedside table for us. She hasn't slept in a crib in 9 months, so I knew that wasn't going to happen. Squeezing the two of us onto the cot was interesting, but we were both tired enough that we did actually get a little sleep on it. Her more than me, of course. She was still sleeping when the doctor came in at 6:15 the next morning. He said, "Listen, you can't hear anything." I think I teared up when he said that. It's so true. She's so quiet when she sleeps now, and even during a disruptive night in the hospital for kids she got better sleep than she has in months. I'm so very grateful.

The first thing she said when she woke up was "go home" so we got out of there quick. We were on the road by 7:15, equipped with a prescription for Loritab that I didn't even fill and a prescription for antibiotics. She's supposed to take it twice a day for ten days. Yeah right. I'm putting it in her milk. She's drinking less milk. :) Oh well, I'm trying. For pain, we are alternating Motrin with Tylenol because our Motrin doesn't last as long as the hospital's dose.

She's doing really well. I know from her behavior when it's time for more medicine, otherwise she's playing, eating and drinking. She's sleepier than normal, but she's handling this all better than I ever expected. For that, I'm also grateful.

Thanks to everyone for the prayers. I can already see the positive effects of this surgery in her demeanor and her peaceful sleep. The change in 24 hours time is dramatic.

So much to tell..

EGR is currently on her 5th course of antibiotics since November for her 3rd ear infection. Yes, it's been taking two rounds to clear them up. We've already been to the ENT once, prior to the current ear infection, and he said if she got another one in the next few weeks we should just schedule the surgery for tubes. It looks like that's going to happen now - BUT, not until we see the ENT again to look at her tonsils and adenoids. She's been snoring and having difficulty breathing while sleeping, sometimes resulting in apnea episodes during night and nap times. And, this last ear infection resulted from nothing - meaning, she didn't even have the nasty cold first like she did with the other two. That makes me think the adenoids are at work here, too. At any rate, we'll find out on Tuesday when we see the ENT. I'm already preparing myself to talk to Ella about surgery, and at this point I think I might be disappointed if he says we should wait on the tonsils. The apnea is downright scary, and there have been some awful throw up/choking in her sleep incidents that I feel certain are caused by her enlarged tonsils.

**Insert plug here for co-sleeping and responsive parenting; every step of the way with her has reinforced my instinct that responding to her cries is the right thing to do even if I can't figure out why she's crying. I can't imagine ignoring a crying child to find out she is choking on her own vomit.**

While this is a lot to process, I'm fairly calm about it at the moment. I know that if/when she does have surgery, I'll be a complete wreck but right now I'm most worried about preparing her for the experience. She understands so much, and she does so much better with new experiences when she knows what to expect.

The bright spot in all of this is that this time we caught the ear infection much earlier because she told us they were hurting! Yay for the ability to communicate in words what is wrong! Communication is huge right now. As much as her vocabulary has exploded since Christmas, her ability to put together sentences and use adjectives and possessive pronouns has been even more astounding. In little more than a week she went from using one or two word combinations to phrases and simple sentences. It's been unreal. Of course, like any developmental milestone, it disrupts bedtime. She has a hard time turning it off to fall asleep at night, except his time instead of crying at bedtime, she is talking herself (and me) to sleep. Sometimes she jabbers for a solid hour. I'll take it; one day I'll learn a lot from our bedtime chats. Right now she will tell me her favorite part of the day when I ask. One night this week it was cake (she had a cupcake after supper) and another it was Sissy (my mom's little dog that she "played" with that day - I later found out that "played" was more like "terrorized" but in her eyes, I guess it was play).

In the last few weeks she has started to love her Sunday School class at church. Kudos to her teachers, Mrs. Julie and Mrs. Susan, because they do a much better job teaching toddlers than I coud (or did, when I tried). She knows which days we go to church and she talks about her class, Jesus, and the other girls who go to her class. We put her Sunday School paper on the fridge, and I make sure that we talk about her lesson during the week. We have learned that Jesus gave food to people, God made wonderful things, and this week we are talking about God made the animals. When I asked her last night who made the birds, she said, "God!"

Our big news that most people probably know by now is that Ella is going to be a big sister - just ask her, she has a shirt that says so! I'm 17 weeks along now, so we have been talking to her about the new baby. She seems pretty excited; she understands that it's growing in my belly and we talk all the time about who can hold and kiss it when it's born. She knows that Georgia cannot hold it because she doesn't have hands, but she can kiss it. The other day she told me she wants to rock the baby; I told her she could help me rock it. I have a feeling that any issues we have with a new baby in the house are going to veer more on the side of EGR wanting to do more for the baby than she is able. I just ordered a book for her called "What Baby Needs" that talks all about babies and the things they do when they are tiny so that I can help her understand what to expect.

After a rough first trimester, thanks mostly to Ella and I both being sick for most of January on top of the usual exhaustion and my feeling like yakking every evening until I actually did at bedtime, I now feel good. At my last appointment I had them check my iron levels, and after sitting through the standard "faintness in pregnancy is normal" speech they confirmed that I am anemic again. I really didn't need the blood work to tell me that; I felt exactly like I did when I was anemic with Ella - and really, how could I have built up any iron stores after an anemic pregnancy and 19 months of nursing? Three days on iron pills, and I felt great. Now I just need to work on making a habit of exercising regularly again. I foresee that being a problem this time around, given our evening routine, but it might just get pushed back by half an hour or so.

My pregnancy calendar says the baby is about 5 inches long and weighs 5 ounces, and it can now here sounds outside my uterus.

This pregnancy is passing lightening fast given how busy life is with a toddler, but I'll try to update regularly.

Another Milestone

At 19.5 months and with a little gentle encouragement from me, Ella has nearly weaned. She hasn't asked to nurse during the night for a week (and she did still wake up), and tonight was the first time she has fallen asleep at bedtime without nursing. She asked a couple of times, but settled for a sip of milk instead. I expect her to continue asking for a while, but I think within two weeks time she will be fully weaned.

I have a mixture of emotions about it. Mostly I'm proud - proud that we nursed this long and proud that the transistion from nursing to sleep to cuddling to sleep has gone smoothly over all. There have been some rough nights when we had to back up a step, but she has handled it amazingly well. That is more a testament to her readiness than anything I did through the process. I also have a little anxiety because nursing fixed so many things, but when I look back over the last few months I can see we have already started finding alternatives when she doesn't feel good or just needs some one-on-one time. There's a little bit of sadness at the fact that we started weaning when she was finally able to use a word to ask to nurse. There's a little worry that she's no longer receiving my antibodies, and thus extra support for her immune system. And finally, there's satisfaction.

I'm so glad I continued nursing her past a year. Nursing a newborn is intense - intensely emotional, intensely time-consuming, intensely confusing, intensely satisfying, and intensely empowering. But, nursing an older baby into toddlerhood is just fun.

If there is one thing I'm struggling with about this transition to a new phase of our relationship, it's my identity. That sounds crazy, I know, but the first thing I identify with about being a parent is "nursing mother". Now, when that thought pops into my head, I have to remind myself, "Oh yeah, I'm not really anymore." It's a lot like my small identity crisis when I weaned from pumping for her when she started drinking cow's milk. I'll move past it. Weaning doesn't mean she needs me any less; it just means she needs me differently. We are at the start of the next phase of our relationship.

Farewell sweet nursling, hello beautiful, little girl.

Bye Bye January

January was a horrible month for us, so I am happy to see it gone. Ella was sick and working on three new teeth that still aren't in yet, I was sick, and work was ridiculously overwhelming for me and Dave both. We are hoping February will be better. Two days in, and we seem to be on track.

This is the first time in two months that I've had access to my blog from work, so I thought I'd do a quick update while I stuff chicken tacos down my throat and think about something besides the thousand work things swimming in my head.

Ella's vocabulary continues to expand, and now she can finally tell me when things are wrong, such as "teeth hurt" or "eat". It's wonderful. Her memory and ability to understand things still amaze me. She really doesn't forget anything. She's becoming more and more independent, which means she wants to help with things around the house. She takes her laundry to the basket, cleans up her spills with a dishtowel, throws away any trash she makes or finds, and helps load/unload the dishwasher. She is starting to use the potty now, too. Last week, by her choice, she started going bottom-naked around the house so that she can easily use her potty, and she's doing really well with it. She now consistently asks to get out of the tub at night to potty, and even when we are out of the house, she asks to potty before she will go in her diaper. I'm very excited about this development.

Her hair is finally long enough to put it in pig tails and she really doesn't look babyish at all anymore - except maybe when she's sleeping. She's become a little girl right before my eyes. I'm loving every minute of watching her do or say something new every day.

New Year, New Pictures, New Update

EGR's second Christmas was fun-filled and chaotic. I also think it was a bit overwhelming for her at times. She did really well resisting the urge to open the presents up until a few days before Christmas, so once it was actually time, she was fully in the game. We spent Christmas day at our house for the first time since Dave and I got married, and it was wonderful. I really enjoyed taking it easy at home. The pictures above are from Christmas morning.

As life usually happens, the week I returned to work after my vacation is also the week she decided to cut her next tooth. This one happens to be a 2-year molar. I was happy to have it confirmed at her 18-month check up so I could be sure it wasn't her ears causing her not to sleep at night. This time at the doctor's office, she did wonderfully. She sat quietly in my lap and let him check her out. She was mad about the shot, but it was the last one until she turns 4 (Praise God!). The separation anxiety phase she was in leading up to Christmas seems to be nearly over now, and she's back to being her normal, well-adjusted self. This makes me happy because it gives me a much needed break, and because I love to watch her play contentedly by herself for hours at a time. She lives in such a fun little world. We had a great vacation together over Christmas.

Right now her favorite things are taking care of her babies, coloring, having tea, and walking her stuffed dog. She got 5 new babies for Christmas and she spends her time changing them, feeding them, sucking out their noses, taking their temperatures, and helping them play. The babies frequently have tea and color with her. She had her first friend over the other night during our Sunday School After-Christmas party, and since then we have talked repeatedly about all the things her friend played with while she was here. She really enjoyed having company her age, and I was very impressed with how she handled another child in her house, playing with her things.

Her vocabulary continues to expand on a daily basis and we are now in the stage of watching what we say around her because she has become a little parrot. She's starting to consistenly use 2 word sentences, and she's doing a much better job of using her words rather than grunting or whining. I still give plenty of reminders to use words, especially when she's tired, but she's really doing a great job and it is so helpful when she can tell me "eat!" or "hurt" or "nap" instead of me just trying to figure it out. A random, amazing, and possible bizarre coincidence happened yesterday when she was holding a crayon in each hand. She said, "Color." and I said, "Yes, you have colors." She said, "Two." It was the first time I've seen her count in any form or fashion, regardless of the fact that we count everything, all the time. I have to think it wasn't a coincidence, but my immediate thought after the conversation was, "How early DO they learn to count?" I guess it doesn't matter; she'll do it when she does, just like everything else.

Since my recent track record for updating this blog isn't very good, I'll catch up by saying Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, and Roll Tide Roll! Maybe I'll get around to writing again before the month is over.

No! Nonononono!

We have officially entered the world of NO! How does this just happen without warning? It's not as if she hears the word all the time. We try to limit the use of it for things that really matter, like dangerous or completely unacceptable behavior (read: hitting the dog, etc) but here we are in No-ville. Which coincidentally, is just down the road from Mine-town - a place we've also been frequenting lately. Oh well, at least it's the dog that catches most of her grief. She just can't do anything right. This morning she was pre-emptively fussing at Georgia, wagging her finger and telling her "No! Nonono!" lest the silly beast think she might get a bite of MY breakfast, which EGR graciously shares with me. She can also be heard telling her to sit and move, and Heaven help us all if the poor dog acts like she might eat the Goldfish crackers she spills on the floor. It's a full contact scramble between the two of them to recover and eat as many as possible before the other one gets them. The credit goes to Georgia for being an amazingly gentle and patient dog.

Ella's vocabulary has exploded recently. She wakes up in the morning labeling the things in her room ("trash" "baby" "shoes" "Pooh" "dog") and continues labeling all day long. She also repeats things back to us now, so she is trying new words all the time. I think "trash" is her favorite. She looks for trash cans to point out to me, and she creates trash so she can put it in the can. She has taken ownership of the chore of putting dirty diapers in the big can outside - going so far as to wear the tied-up grocery sack, diaper inside, on her arm like a purse. She also likes to put her laundry in her hamper, though I think there may be some confusion about it being "trash".

I fully indoctrinated her into the joys of Christmas shopping Monday while I was on vacation. She rode in the pouch on the front of me all over the Galleria, so she had a front-row seat for all the picking and purchasing, even helped by handing the debit card to the cashier. I made my annual stop into Bath and Body Works, and she immediately recognized all the tubes and bottles. She was insistent on having some lotion, so we stopped by a tester tube on the way out the door. I squirted some onto her upturned hand and watched as she grinned with sheer glee and rubbed that lotion all over her hands. It warms my heart to know I've passed on my love of good hand cream. We shopped and shopped, and by the time we were leaving the mall she was yelling at me to "Pay! Pay!" I had to explain to her that we didn't actually buy anything at Sears, so we didn't have to pay before we left.

We had one blurry week when time stood still while she was sick with a residual ear infection (left from the first one she had in October) and virus that caused her mouth to break out in sores. For two days she had nothing but warm green tea because that was all she could drink without crying. She barely even nursed because it hurt too bad. Talk about a fish out of water, that was me trying to figure out how to comfort her without my secret weapon. She is fully recovered now, and officially got the all-clear on her ears so hopefully we will be free of antibiotics for a while. Getting them into her is feat in itself, and I can say that sitting on and wrestling a toddler into a strangle-hold while squirting medicine down her throat makes me feel less than dignified. Should we really both be breathless and panting after the ordeal? I think I have an easier time poking a pill down my spastic cat's mouth.

Now that she is well and her sleep is back on track, she is generally waking once in the night and has taken to getting out of the bed and going to the kitchen all by her big self to get her milk cup. Generally, I intercept her along the way to assist with opening the fridge, which she can't do yet, but she's getting quieter and quieter about the operation. Last night, I don't even know why I woke up because she was so quiet. Once she has her cup, we pile back into her bed and I stay with her until she falls asleep. She might nurse for a minute, or she might not; sometimes she sings to herself "a-bye Baby", sometimes she chats for a minute, sometimes her eyes roll back in her head like she was never awake, and last night she climbed right on top of me and flopped down with her face in my neck. We definitely seem to be in a transistion that is ultimately resulting in more, easier sleep for both of us, even if it is way inconvenient to go to the kitchen for the milk cup and then make sure it gets back in the fridge. Nursing all this time has spoiled me in that respect and I don't regret a minute of it, but I think we are nearing the end of that phase of our relationship. I think she may nurse for a few more months, and the bed time session will be the last to go but I can see that other things are becoming more important to her, like her bedtime stories and her milk cup in the middle of the night. It makes me very proud to see her growing up this way, even if it does mean she's not a baby anymore.

I Wear My Sunglasses at Night

I think Aunt Becca is EGR’s favorite aunt because she lets her play in her purse. It is one of Ella’s favorite past times. She has good stuff in there. Lipsticks, receipts, credit cards, body spray, and sunglasses. Aunt Becca came to Grandpop’s house Saturday night to see the little Sprout, and this time instead of just emptying and sorting the contents of the purse, EG actually put it to good use. She grabbed the sunglasses first and put them right on the top of her head like she’s been doing it all her (long) life. Then she found the lipstick and pretended to put it on her lips. She pulled out the wallet and found the receipts so she could balance the checkbook. Then she decided it was too bright in Grandpop’s house, so she put those glasses on her face. Of course, the paparazzi was there to capture all of it on film.

We have most definitely entered the world of make believe. There are times when I watch her play and I know that she has created an entire little world around herself. It goes beyond pretending to feed the babies and stuffed animals. She now puts on makeup, gets herself ready with her purses and hat, loads her car and gets in it. She will run back and forth from the cabinet, “filling” one cup from various other cups to create a concoction only she can explain. Sometimes she pretends to throw things away – making trips back and forth to the garbage can holding invisible bits of trash. She also fills plates and bowls in this same manner. Dave tried giving her actual trash to throw away, but she ignored it in favor of her game. I love to watch her play this way and try to figure out what she is thinking.

She recently developed a love for coloring, probably due to the Sunday school lessons she’s been participating in. (Can I get a Hallelujah! about the fact that she’s stayed in Sunday school and Wednesday night Bible study for two weeks in a row without crying?) I set her up in her high chair with some paper and crayons the other night while I sat at the table and wrote thank you notes. She colored all over that paper, then put her crayons back in the box when she was finished (this is another topic entirely). We stuck her picture on the fridge and put the crayons away in the junk drawer. The next night, she scurried into the kitchen when we got home, pulled that picture off the fridge and went to the junk drawer for the crayons. Now we have two pictures on the fridge. I like this new interest; it’s creative and it keeps her busy, though she does get distressed when the crayons don’t go back in the box easily. The walls of my house will soon be papered with her artwork.

The child has developed a rather disturbing 16 month-old behavior. She picks up and straightens things. How will I be able to maintain a modicum of general disarray if both my husband and my child need every thing to have a place and be in its place? I guess I’ll rest easy in the fact that this new habit doesn’t seem to apply to her toys except in special circumstances. They are usually still strewn from one end of the house to the other. Seriously though, she made me do a double take when I saw her put her toys back in the hat box they live in, put the lid on it, and put it back on the stack where it stays at Grandma’s house so we could go home the other night. All with absolutely no prompting from anyone. When I saw her move the dog’s food bowl three feet from where it was to where it was supposed to be in a completely absent-minded gesture, I groaned inside. Then she followed her Da into the bathroom so she could straighten the rug he kicked up, and I later watched her pick up the couch pillows from the floor and put them back on the couch. All of these were sort of casual, absent-minded things she did on her way to whatever she was planning to do. Weird. Yes, she sees me do these things in the same absent-minded manner, but it took years of training and self-discipline to make me that way, and Dave will tell you that I still love a pile of clutter. He told me the other night that I will be in trouble when she starts cleaning up after me and I can’t find a thing. He’s absolutely right. Maybe she’ll at least put my things away instead in the middle of the bed where I’ll be forced to deal with the pile like he does.

Finally, though I believe it is a double-edged sword, I’ve been trying to teach her to dress herself. Mostly I just dress her while she stands or sits instead of on the changing table where she is contained. It makes the chore more interesting when I have to follow her around with her clothing, or trap her in my legs, but at least she’s actively participating now. Last night I wrestled her diaper on her, then thought, “What the heck?” and tossed her Tinkerbell shirt at her with instructions to put it on. When I turned back around from whatever I was doing, she had one arm in. She got distracted at that point, so I helped with the rest of the process, but I did tell her to pull up her pants and she did it for the very first time. This is double-edged because having the ability to dress herself is one step closer to potty readiness, but it will also mean she has the ability to undress herself. Since the child frequently asks to have her clothes removed, I’m thinking nakedness might present an issue in the future. In public of course; I couldn’t care less if she wears clothes in the house.

Crocs with Socks: A Story of a Young Shoe Diva

The Shelby Baptist Association is running a Christmas Gift Shop fundraiser store – think flea market, but cheaper. Retailers in the area donated truck loads of holiday and seasonal items left over from last Christmas and Thanksgiving, so the Shelby Baptist Association is selling it at super low prices to raise money for their Christmas Gift Shop program. Reports say that they have everything in any color you could want. I’ve heard tell that ladies have filled 3 giant bags chock full of Christmas decorations for the bargain basement price of $40.

It is one of Ella’s favorite places to shop, so she and Grandmother go there often. The decided to go yesterday despite the fact that pickings are slim now that the holidays are upon us. Oh, what a fateful day it was for EGR. A day that I can only imagine she’s been patiently waiting on for quite some time. As they entered the door of the store, she spotted them – the long sought-after pink crocs. Oh, yes, I believe she’s been looking everywhere we go for pink crocs like Mama’s as she often tries to wear mine around the house. She was beside herself with glee, trying to climb out of the buggy as Grandmother was putting her into it. Nothing else would do but to search the racks for a pair in her size.

They found a pair in size 5 that seemed to do okay, and a pair of size 7 that were too big for her to wear right now. There were no size 6, but she was adamant, so they purchased the 5s for only $1. She tried and tried to put them on as they browsed through the aisles, but they were tied together. Finally, at checkout, the cashier cut them apart and Grandmother put them on her feet. She proudly wore them all day – only taking them off for nap time with the promise that she could put them back on as soon as she woke up. She did indeed march straight to the crocs and insist on wearing them once the nap was finished. She even pointed to them and said, “Shoes Mama!” I don’t know if that meant she wanted to show them to me, or that she has shoes like Mama’s, but she was ready to show them off when I got home.

She wore them until bath time, and this morning she brought them to me when it was time to put on shoes. Of course, since it’s sock season, she is committing the fashion faux pas of wearing them with socks, but I believe I am powerless in this matter. They are just on the brink of too small, but she doesn’t seem to care right now. I will not be at all surprised if I get home tonight to find a pair of size 7s so that she’ll have some to grow into. They are pink with pink leopard print fabric around the edges and insoles, and she loves them so. She does love shoes.

Fall Festival Pics

I was right; it took the full two months to make the Green Giant and Sprout costumes, but I got them finished. Without further ado, here they are.

They posed on the fire truck and listened to the siren. Ella liked the siren so much that she wanted the fireman to turn it on again. He did. She has been making the fire truck noise when she sees pictures of them since we took her to the Fire Prevention Parade at the beginning of October.
When we all sat down for awards and supper, she entertained herself with a giant bucket of crayons. She did actually color on the cardboard, then she piled and sorted and when there were enough crayons on the floor, she left to find something else to do.

This is my favorite picture. She is "feeding the frogs" at the bean bag toss - which she did over and over again, barely waiting on other kids to take a turn.

She and The Giant went fishing for prizes. She also played the ring toss, bounced in the bounce house, and generally ran all over the place with the rest of the hooligans. There was one boy there with a wolf mask and every time she saw him she said, "Doooog!"

She had a great time, and after the Fall Festival we went to Grandpop's house to trick or treat. She and Grandma gave out candy to the other trick or treaters, and she had so much fun that got upset when the kids stopped coming to the door. Grandma taught her how to put the candy in their pumpkins, and when Grandma said, "Where are the trick or treaters?" she gave a great big "I don't know" shrug. She was convinced to go home with the promise of a bath. She was one tired Sprout tonight.

A 2 for 1 Deal: Roll Tide and Happy Halloween

We carved our "Puh!" Saturday night, and in the spirit of the activity Ella insisted on wearing her Halloween leggings. They are her favorite pants. She needed me to get them out of the bottom of the laundry hamper and put them on her. She didn't care that they clashed badly with the cheerleader outfit she was already wearing. I'll admit that I had a few moments of inner struggle over allowing this to be recorded on film, but the part of me that thinks it cute when she insists on wearing Halloween pants won.
Her favorite part of the pumpkin carving process was stomping around on the garbage bag on the floor. She wanted nothing to do with the pumpkin guts, and seemed a little concerned that we were cutting up her "Puh!" I definitely think she liked it better before we carved it. She was so proud while she rode in the grocery cart with it, and she needed it to sit in the living room floor so she could pat it. Now that we've cut it, she's interested in the candle inside it when it's lit, but otherwise she's indifferent.
This is the whole Halloween outfit, but she really could care less about the shirt. The pants have "ki-kis" on them (that's "kitty kitties" if you don't speak Toddler).

You can't really see it in the picture but there is a huge white stain down the front of her shirt because she spit her antibiotics back at me when I tried to give them to her. She has a double ear infection thanks to the yucky cold she caught from her Da (that's Daddy) last week. He caught it from the Jefferson County Jail. (Thanks so much, County Jail. I was really due the character building exercise of taking care of a husband who was coughing up his spleen and a toddler who couldn't breathe and cut two teeth last week.) Now everyone is feeling better, but we have 15 more doses of antibiotic to get down the little hatch and the diaper rash to deal with. I can't blame her for spitting out the medicine; it is really, really nasty. I even took it back to the pharmacy and got it flavored, but that didn't matter. We reached an unspoken agreement that she would eat it with a teaspoon of yogurt as long as we pretended it wasn't in there, but she knew. I think that trick has expired. Chocolate pudding will be my next approach. I guess that I'll also be exercising my creativity along with building my character.

She now has 8 teeth on bottom and 6 on top. The bottom canines came in this week, so now we are waiting on the top ones. They don't look like they will make an appearance any time soon. I really just wish those and the 2 year molars would come in now so we can get it over with. It's really no wonder that most kids don't sleep through the night until they are three-ish with all these teeth coming through all the time.

This is just a cute picture I found on my camera when I uploaded the new ones. That shimmery thing is her Invisibility Cloak, which she wraps around her fist and gnaws on as she falls asleep.
Here she is in her new tent with a tunnel. We bought the tent to hold the balls. Yes. I wrote that. Are you laughing yet? I laughed quietly to myself all the way home from Target that day because my poor disillusioned husband actually thought the balls would stay in the tent! He moaned and groaned about the basket full of toys and general strewn about mess in the living room, so he "solved" that problem by buying her 150 ball pit balls and a tent. :) She does love it.Aside from recent illness, everything is well with us. EGR is talking about everything, though lay people wouldn't understand most of it. Last night she came into the bathroom while I was cleaning up the tub toys and told me: "Mama! Jabberjabberjabberblahblahblah!" while pointing candidly at her bedroom. I followed her, telling her to show me. Indeed she did. She bent down, pointed under the dresser and said, "Ba!" Her ball was under there, just out of her reach.

The Case of the Missing Phone

"Mischievous and conniving." That's what Dave said about dear, sweet EGR this morning. He was referring to her absolute refusal to let him hold her until she realized there was a pen in his pocket, and then she didn't want him to put her down.

The latest report from Grandmother's House tells a similar story. Apparently the phone was missing all day. Grandmother searched high and searched low for it, but it was nowhere to be found. She even asked EGR if she knew where it was. Oh, she did, but it was stuck so she didn't give it up. The search continued. Grandmother turned off all the other phones and the answering machine, then called the house from her cell phone. She followed the ring to the musical playground, which happens to have a convenient ball hole/tunnel thingy. It was in there, and it was stuck. Grandmother was working hard to dislodge it when she heard a suspicious giggle from behind her. EGR was happily sitting in her highchair, watching the whole scene and laughing. Mischievous? Most definitely.

Everything I've read says that between 15 and 18 months is a weird, difficult age. I'm here to say that it's true. It's weird. It's difficult. It's hilarious. It's oh so sweet. Sleep is weird - fabulous one night and horrible the next. Bedtime is so easy one night, and takes an hour the next. The tantrums have already started - including a nice fake gagging noise whenever she's not getting her way. It's somehow funny and annoying at the same time. If it actually produces vomit one of these days, that will be a different story.

Separation anxiety has reared it's head again. For the first time, the well-baby information from her doctor's office said we should expect it at this age. I should really have considered that a warning. She's had it during every major milestone phase, but this is the worst yet. I'm thinking it's because she's turned into a monkey-child and she now not only cries when I attempt to leave her, but also climbs my body and hangs on for dear life - whether it be around my neck or around my legs while she stands on my feet. Honestly, I think if the child could get into my skin with me, she would do just that. Again, both funny and annoying at times - though I do love the feeling of little arms clamped around my neck.

She's talking more every day, and more and more words are becoming clear. A baby crying on TV woke her up and she pointed and said, "Baby!" I was asking her to come to me so I could put her shoes on, and she pointed to her feet and said, "Shoes." When I was telling Dave about it this morning, she got her shoes and brought them to me to put them on her. She got new shoes last week, and she loves them. She barely took them off all weekend. When she found them sitting next to mine on the floor, she needed to put them on. Then she went outside in tennis shoes and pajamas - straight to a mud hole to get them broken in.

She pays so much attention to conversations going on around her. We've always thought this, but now she demonstrates it by acting on what we are saying - like getting her shoes, or laughing when we say something is funny. Now when we correct her for hitting or throwing or generally acting out in anger/frustration, she leans her head toward us to give us love. I'm finding that I can tell her something privately in her ear, and she is much more receptive. This has worked when asking her to give a toy back to another little girl in the nursery, or asking her to give bye love to Grandma and Grandpop.

Her 15 month check up went well. She weighs 21.5 lbs and is 31 inches long. She did not like the doctor this time, but he says that all kids are like that at this age and it will be better when she's three. He had to pry her mouth open with a tongue depressor to look at her teeth, and that was really only successful because of the screaming.