La La La..... Not listening.

Today nobody sleeps. I relish in naptime. Whether it's working out, reading or vegging it's about the only "me" time I get all day. So when my boys boycott we all suffer, because as we all know if mommy is not happy, NOBODY is happy.
Aside from my frustrations at this moment, I am very happy in my life. We have more than we need to get by, I enjoy my children (at some point) every day, we are in a place to help Shelle and Aaron out while he's away training (it also gives me a chance to get close to my favorite redhead), Jer and I seem more in touch with each other than ever, baby Miriam is growing like a wee little weed, and summer in AZ is coming to a close. Yes life is pretty good. Oh wait, then there's "the girls". No not Emily and Miriam, but the dynamic duo in the backyard. Lady and Urbn are little by little eating my backyard up. Yesterday Urbn literally ate a piece off the playset. Boredom I assume. And yes, just as the rest of the homes inhabitants' mental health seems to fall on mommy, as does the well being of our four legged fury friends. So she and I will embark on a walk at least once, maybe twice a day. Perhaps as the weather permits we can engage in even more activity that will persuade her to NOT dine on my plants. They can't taste very good so I am left to assume it is a personal attack on me.
So lets tally...... my job duties to date are:
Maid, Chef, Nanny, Teacher, Tailor, Chauffeur, Gardener, Handy Man, Nurse, Personal Assistant (to the hubby), Art director, Mistress (again for the hubby), Plumber, Recreation lead, Psycologist, Dairy cow, and now Dog Trainer. Man am I due for a raise!

The birth of a Miracle!

Miriam Shiloh Elsesser arrived on March 20, 2007. She weighed in a tiny 5 pounds 11 ounces and 18 inches long. She is my little peanut. At just over 37 weeks she's considered a preemie. Her birth was nothing near normal though. I had my regular doctor check-up that morning, Zander woke up ill and I was in a hurry to have my quickie visit/routine checks and be on my way. I never expected my day would turn out as it did. Everything seemed to be fine as the nurse tracked the heartbeat on the doppler and did my weight. I commented to Dr.Villa about less movement, assuming it had to do with the late stage in pregnancy and baby running out of room quickly. He suggested an NST just to check in on things, both of us sure it would just be "routine". I was told it may be a few hours before I could get in for the NST as there were others waiting. I knew that was not an option since I had promised Zander I would be back soon to care for him. I made a quick call to Jer to update him that all was well, they were just being overly cautious. I had this with both of the boys and it turned out both times as normal and I went a few more weeks pregnant with both of them. I even said that I was temped to skip it, and Jer insisted I take the test just to be safe. Fortunately they got me in within 20 minutes.
It all seemed normal as they hooked me up, until the nurse was struggling to get baby's heartbeat. I KNOW what an NST is, I KNOW baby's heartbeat should be loud and proud on this high tech machine. I KNOW this is no doppler, I KNOW what my heartbeat compared to baby's sounds like and I KNOW I am only hearing mine. I KNOW something is not right. I start to feel dizzy as the nurse excuses herself, stating something is wrong with the machine. (I am now trying to remember if I ate this morning. No, pretty sure I skipped it thinking my dr visit would be quick and I could grab something while I was out.) I'm feeling nauseous as the head nurse comes in. She runs the wand over my belly a few times, I hear a racing heartbeat, then it's gone. (Oh good it's there, stupid machine must be screwing up.) She excuses herself after I tell her I'm feeling dizzy and she confirms I look very pale and clammy. She returns with some juice to get my blood sugar up, and Dr.Moratz enters just as I finish chugging it. He runs the wand back and forth and I can't hear anything over the bells ringing in my ears. He pokes his head out the door shouting something, my vision is barely clearing of black spots when he's now in front of me putting my shoes on and getting me to my feet. "We need to see baby on an ultrasound so I'm taking you to Labor and Delivery. We need to go now." I'm too focused on not passing out to ask questions like why are we running out the back door of the office and in through the back door of L&D or why can't we use the ultrasound machine in the office. Nurses are already waiting with the machine in a labor room for us and I'm being moved around so fast I may just pass out now. Someone takes my purse, my shoes are off and I'm on the bed. A nurse is pulling my shirt over my head when I hear the dr saying "I got nothing, tell them we're coming for an emergency c-section now!" Their pulling off my shorts and I'm being checked as a fully suited up surgical team enters and I'm being wheeled down the hall with Dr.Moratz on the bed and my water breaks, I feel the warm gush. He tells me I'm having an emergency c-section, he can't get a heartbeat on the baby, my eyes well up and the lump in my throat is so huge I have to force myself to speak. "Can someone please call my husband?" The lights over my head are blinding. A nurse removes my final piece of clothing, my bra, as they move me to the surgical table and drape me. People are telling me it will be okay, I'm doing a great job (at what? not losing all composure? I don't even really know what's going on!) and to just breath, but I'm pretty sure I'm hyperventilating. A small man, I thing he's an anaesthesiologist, asks me my weight pre-pregnancy as he's strapping down my arms and inserting an IV. I dictate Jer's cell to Dr.Moratz who is calling from the operating room wall, a cold feeling is rushing into my arm and I hear "Hello is this Carrie Elsesser's husband?" as the blackness takes over. No not yet, I want to feel the baby just one more time. I'm not done being pregnant yet!

"Carrie. You're okay, you can wake up now." The unfamiliar voice is so far away. I have to fight to pull my eyes open just a little. I see two masked faces over me. The lights are moving overhead which means I must be moving. "Carrie you're out of surgery and the baby is..." "No, you're not supposed to say anything yet." Okay the haze is pretty thick, but I'm pretty sure this is not a dream and they aren't telling me something about my baby. Oh no, the baby was in distress! What aren't they telling me?!
I can't really assess where I am now, small room with curtains. I have heavy blankets on me, yet I am cold. Nurses are checking IVs and I hear "She's awake, but still groggy. You can see her now." A familiar face pokes around the curtain, it's Jer and although he looks more stressed than I have ever seen him, he smiles. He takes my hand, IV still in. I have to fight to open my eyes and look at him, I fight harder to talk. "How's the baby?" Still not even sure I want the answer. "She's doing fine. We have a girl. " I start to weep uncontrollably and Jer squeezes my hand. The nurse tells him it's normal after surgery to be emotional. Normal? I just had my child ripped from my womb, the last thing I knew was there was no heartbeat, there was nobody there with me going in, I could only hope that they reached Jer otherwise nobody knew what was going on, then a nurse won't tell me about my baby. What about this is "normal"?
While the clouds are clearing for me Jer leaves to get HER. We have a HER, and she has no name. We thought we still had time, guess all those dreams are coming true. A nurse filling in my charts tells me how they had no heartbeat on her going in. Her cord wasn't wrapped, everything looked normal. She was unresponsive at first but after cutting her cord and a bit of oxygen she perked right up. Better out than in I guess. I get her weight and length. Tiny, but healthy. Mom comes in looking, well mom-ish. She's smiling and stroking my shoulder as I tell her all I know about the situation. I must have taken a few years off her life today, I know a few have been taken from mine.
Jer returns with the littlest sweet angel I've ever seen. She has some short, fuzzy brown hair and is sleeping. I want to nurse her, I want to bond. My body hurts so bad, but just holding her, smelling her head makes me forget.
The next few days are a haze. I slept little do to the only real pain I remember, the air trapped in my shoulder joints. I am in awe of my peanut daughter. Nurses repeatedly tell me what a miracle I have. No known reason for her distress, simply luck that her decelerated heartbeat was caught on a NST. A phone call from Dr.Moratz after I returned home, just to tell me what a miracle we have. He admits that he thought it was too late and that he expected her not to make it when we were going in to surgery. It's not known for how long she was in distress, we do know she was breech; turned from the previous dr's appointment.
I have a 4 inch scar above my hairline to forever remind me of that day. It was 18 minutes from me walking through the back door of Labor and Delivery til her birth. I never take for granted the little things. I knew my connection to a daughter would be different, but she is also our miracle. She is known as the miracle baby at my OBGYN. I can hardly bear to leave her, since I came so close to not having her at all. She is loved dearly and I'm sure will be spoiled to the Nth degree. I will never be ashamed or bitter about my scar. It humbles me each time I look at it or run my fingers across it's smooth pink surface. It is a reminder of what I almost lost. It also reminds me why our family is complete with Miriam, I just could not bear 9 months stressing over what "might" or "might not" happen.

What's in a name?

We have gone round and round about names for this baby. Even though we do not yet know the sex, we still feel we should be prepared with names come birthday. We have many option for boys that we like. Little does Jer know that if we have a 3rd boy, I will finally have my Micah. Micah what? Really doesn't matter, Jer pick the middle name, but Micah he shall be. Other names we have tossed about are Mason, O'ren, Eleanor, Shiloh, Gillian, Kia but it's hard not knowing. We try to attach ourselves, but what if we come up with the perfect name and get the opposite sex? With just over a month to go and a new house and puppy the clocks a tickkin'.
I keep having the same dream over and over: The baby has arrived. I pass her off and keep telling each visitor that "It's a girl, but she has no name." I get more and more frustrated each time I have to say it. Do I really KNOW it's a girl. Is that what my body is telling me? Or am I just stressed over not having a name we are totally in love with yet. Both of the boys were named by 6months, yet here I sit on the verge of my 9th month with little more than ideas. A huge part of me is hoping for and would be relieved by another boy; even though the rest of the world seems to think we were "trying" for a girl. I am over prepared for a boy, including the name....Micah. Someone said to name a girl Micah, but I always pictured a little blond-haired boy with big blue eyes named Micah. NOT A GIRL. Perhaps that's why the baby in the dream is female, because I've named a boy. Having a girl would mean all new baby supplies and the dreaded naming conundrum.
let's just hope the sight of her inspires something. Perhaps she will just look like a ...... well it will come to me. Jer named Urbn before we ever got her home. Maybe there will be a nurse with a special name or maybe April, since she will most likely come in April. Or a movie with an outlandish character we just love, gods hopefully something. Then again, perhaps it will come to me in a dream.

ALOT of New.

We move into our new home March 1st. Ours. Not rented, ours. Our new puppy should be coming home about the same time. With all this going on I am happy to go over my due date with this baby. I feel fantastic, best pregnancy ever. I've only gained 14lbs so far and I eat pretty much what I want, including indulging my strongest craving once or twice a week; McDonald's chocolate shake and large fries. Must be all that yummy saturated fat. Aside from wishing I could be more interactive with my boys, my big ol' belly gets in the way of floor play and picking them up is a no-no, I wish this last pregnancy could stretch a little longer. All the house stuff has taken away from the time I would like to be spending basking in my pregnancy glow. With house shopping, paperwork, packing, cleaning, signing, meeting up AND normal day to day I just don't seem to have the time to sit back and reflect. It saddens me that this is my last. The last time for a tiny life to grow in my womb. The last time I feel a tiny kick in the ribs, roll over the bladder, or bump in the night. I have my memories of my childbearing time, but we all know memories are so fleeting. If money and time weren't an issue I'd be happy to have a 4th. I love Jer and I as parents, but we are stretched thin already. A small part of me thinks maybe down the road we could have just one more and is hesitant to make anything final. But I also know that I want to go back to school and invest a little time in me. For me and for my family. I have two, almost 3, children who depend on me. That's plenty. I want to give them things we didn't have, I want to show them so much and they cost plenty. So we will forever be in love and satisfied with the 3 we have in our lives and never wonder about any we didn't decide to have in the future. There is enough new going on right at this moment, let's hope or next new shows up a little late.

Secrets are so hard tp keep.

How do you hide something that is becoming so obvious? You just want to scream "I'm pregnant, not fat!", but technically you aren't allowed to tell. The doctor will see you at nine weeks, with his thumbs up you get to announce your, impending little bundle. Until then you are just getting fatter, going to the gym a couple times a week.
Perhaps I wouldn't be getting much bigger if it weren't for the late night cereal craving that has popped up. I can't complain, this WILL be the last time and I really do want to enjoy it. Don't get me wrong, I don't want to blow up like a Macy's day float, but I want to stop sweating the scale and just try to be healthy. "Nothing Tastes As Good As Being Healthy Feels"
I must admit I did/do have some reservations about this pregnancy, but I know that will all be washed away as our next addition begins to move about in a way that I can feel. How will I manage all 3? Will even more of me be swept under the rug until I can "get around to it"? Am I just asking to be committed? And as much as I can say I will love and adore being a mommy to yet another baby boy, there is this tiny voice inside that is begging for a daughter. For me...yes, but more so for Jer. The joy of being a father to a daughter, having "Daddy's little girl", her seeing him as the biggest and strongest man ever. And I know because he is such a wonderful husband, father and man, he will be the one she compares all men too. Thank goodness she will have that and not suffer for years trying to figure out how she "should" be treated.
Of course I am realistic and I know we could very well be adding another boy to our brood, at least I will remain Queen of my castle and share my crown or jewels with no-one. Not to mention I have all the hand-me-downs a baby boy could ever need.

Zander is 1!

So his first year has past. Man it just flew by. Aside from taking a few steps, he still prefers crawling to get to his desired location. He's on a free-for-all when it comes to food, anything goes..... at least once. But no mac and cheese or hotdogs for this boy. Favorites included chicken, grapes, yogurt (especially mommy's special yogurt/granola/fruit concoction), banana, and potaoes-cooked just about anyway. I guess it could be worse, oh and icecream when he can get it.
Looking at him makes me want another baby, he just grew too fast. He's so anxious to catch up to Tristan, wants to do anything he does and be anywhere he is. But I guess that is the idealation of a big brother. Most often Tristan loves to have Zander play, engages with him and all. Then there are the time he doesn't want to share Daddy jungle gym or Mommy's lap. It's these times we try our hardest to explain sharing and what being a big brother means.
Vocals are still a hit and miss depending where you rank on the Zander-needs-o-meter. Daddy is a big one, Tistan, kack (cat), no, Mommy (when in desperate need or desperately tired), and Woos Woos (Blues Clues). Ahh yes the beloved Blues Clues. Can be my life saver some days.
Yes this year has flown by. My baby is now a toddler and I long for the days of an infant sleeping on my chest. Zander will still catch a nap on me if given the opportuniy, of course he is a lot heavier and less delicate, but my baby he will always be.

Happy Birthday T-man!

This time, 3 years to the day, I was lying in a hospital bed at Chandler regional, Jer snoozing on the couch, listening to the tiny racing heartbeat of my 1st born. I was anxious to meet him and look upon his face. I had envisioned and dreamed of it many times, and now the moment was so close. I was but a few hours from true mommy-hood and could barely contain myself. It was like I was 5 on Christmas morning! Who needed sleep and why on earth wasn't everyone else as wired and ready as me? He would finally arrive just after 11 weighing in at 7lbs 3oz and 21inches long. Quite the bundle and perfect taboot. Head full of dark hard and a glowing olive tone he no doubtedly got from his father. We were the proud parents.
Today Tristan is a racing toddler. We have had little worries, aside form the occasional cracked noggin, scrape or bruise. He is smart as a whip and just as quick. He is a big brother and still my baby. Today he is 3 and as excited as I am to see him grow and change, lost are the days of new motherhood and spending hours with him in the recliner nursing, rocking and napping. Now I am just happy if he'll take a nap, but he's still sleeping in our bed! Why is it that the best things are always so fleeting? Perhaps it's so we will stop and take a longer look knowing that this moment is more special than the bad days. Than all the bad days in one, this moment of happiness, of love, of life is so special and will never be again. We need to breathe it in and take stock of it. As today Tristan turns 3, in fact just a mere 3 hours from now, we will celebrate this day and remember those fleeting moments of new family bliss and think of the years as a family we have to come.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY LITTLE T-MAN! love mommy

That's what Hawaii Girls are made of!

Happy Mommy's Day to me! I got to have the best friends a girl could have, when they will take your ass on a trip to Waikiki, Oahu Hawaii. We had a blast and tore it up like we young again. Drinking, dancing and lots of beach time.
We departed on Thursday, they picked me up before 4am, a bit overly excited. We would have a layover in Oakland, and yes start our trip off right with a morning drink. Then shuffled ourselves around a bit on the plane to have seats together, but we made it work. Could the flight there BE any longer! Arrival we found ourselves a shuttle and off we went. Unfortunately for us the hotel we chose was a bit less extravagant than their webpage promoted. No drink or lea upon arrival. Then we get to our room and instead of the requested 2 double beds we expected, there was 1 full. Are you FREAKING kidding me! Lashelle did her best to complain, she's just not bitchy enough.... insert Carrie here. After insisting they had no other rooms, but would do their best to correct their error on Friday, we accepted free Starbucks for our stay and a rollaway. Don't ask how four grown woman can all sleep on 1 full size bed and a single roll away, just use your imagination and make it work. Or maybe we were just that tired after our trip and then exploring and drinking up Waikiki til late Thursday.
But we were on the move by 7am on Friday to hit the International Market Place, of course Starbucks run first. A shoppers delight. When we finally realized it was lunch time, and only halfway through the market with bags strung from our arms, it was time to break. Drinks it is! So we found a nice little place overlooking the market that had cheap Mia Tai's and yummy nachos and we were set. Drop our bags at the hotel and back to the market, no joke. By afternoon we were done shopping, so we popped into a little bar and had.... you guessed it. More drinks and a few games of pool. A few drinks later we made our way back to the hotel for a quick change of clothes and YES a new room. Complete with 2 beds and a BEAUTIFUL ocean view! We couldn't be more pleased. We dressed and hit a street fair going on right outside our hotel that offered samples of delicious food from Waikiki's finest restaurants, some hot Polynesian dancers, lea making, a live band, and shopping. We managed to find a great poolside bar at a nearby hotel to sit and chat at until we needed to move on. A band at our lunch stop for that day proved to be a good option so we hit it up. A few drinks in a nice and large gentleman made his way over to Lacy, layed a hand on her shoulder and swatted at her long brown locks. (Due to the fantastic weather in Hawaii just about everything is "open air" so all the "natives" can just wander in. No biggie to see a gecko crawling the walls, but a GIGANTIC cockroach nose diving into Lacy's hair was just excessive. Fortunately for her this nice man had her back. We felt the need to buy him and his girl a drink for being such nice citizens. The cockroach was 86ed for annoying other patrons.
So once we were kicked from that venue, they suggested we head over to a place across the way with a dj til 4am. Well why not? Some how my drink was always full when I came off the dance floor (thanks Shelle) and eventually Lacy and I had put enough alcohol into Lashelle and Lynn to get them dancing, err yeah dancing until the lights went up and the music shut down. As Lashelle was paying the tab she decides what the hell, a shot of goldslauger it is, ALL AROUND. So we four put down our shot and began the stagger back to the hotel. Good thing that the sidewalk was empty cause we were all over it. And once outside our hotel we needed to sit and have a break, or Shelle and Lacy needed to wander off with some strange rasta guy. SO I followed across the street to supervise, then decided a 4am swim sounded better, and it felt GREAT! We hung out beachside til the sun came up. As we giggled our way through the front doors of our hotel a nice young Hawaiian lad grabbed us some warm towels, sweet boy, and we made it back to our room. I hit the balcony to get some great sunrise shots to come back in to the others all in the shower, together, and not naked. They were giggling like kiddies. After havingly to strongly decline an invite in, I slipped out to grab some breakfast for everyone and returned to all of them sleeping. Sleeping, at 7am, in Hawaii?! Not me! I ate, showered, dressed and ventured out. I ended up getting some souvenir shopping done and wandered a few local shops on the off street. I talked with some local artists about Hawaiian history and culture. Took pictures of beautiful flowers, trees and architecture. Such a marvelous time, spent alone.
Returned early afternoon and awoke the girls for some beach time, which I retired early from to get some sleep that my body was calling for. How old am I? There was a time not far ago that I could go for an entire weekend without missing a beat. Man am I old. I got away with a few hours before I was woke up to head to dinner. We all were looking far from spring chickens through-out dinner, not even finishing our drinks. Nobody even suggested stopping for a drink or club all the way back to the hotel. By the time we were in our room the consensus was "Well guess since we're here......". I slept so well that night.
Sunday, my final day. Oh sweet bitterness. Oh how I miss my boys, oh how I LOVE Hawaii. We headed out early to hike Diamond Point; an extinct crater that offers a nice little hike to reward you with a superb view of Waikiki and the ocean. Exquisite!
We decided to walk the 3 miles back to our hotel, it was all downhill. The walk provided both a senic view of residential Waikiki, but the time to discuss and decide to get tatoos from Hawaii. Back at the hotel we called to find a tatoo shop open on Sunday and close to the hotel. After lunch we walked probably two miles to get there. (All the walking helped burn off all that good island food and eat more. =) We were tatood by Michelle, a local gal. She looked 22, and was in her late 30's! She said the island air keeps you young. Something about the moisture and salt in the air. I dunno, but her skin was lovely. She had a great laugh and put a just perfectly placed orchid on my right lower leg. Lashelle got a lizard on her foot, and Lacy a sea turtle with the Hawaiin islands within the turtle- the neatest design.
We had to hoof it back to the hotel so I could get packed and changed to catch a late jet plane. I had one last shot with my Hawaii Girls before they put me on a shuttle with a crazy, old polynesian, female driver. She drove like a nutt and told all of us crazy things about the island and local happenings. The drive took longer than anticipated and I was rushed through the line at the airport to run and catch my plane.
I was seated between a rather large gentleman that was passed out beyond his "sacred seat line" and a tall skinny guy who passed out shortly after take off. I was on the red eye and sleep deprived, but the stress of my 1st solo flight combined with my discomfort of touching strangers and I'm huddled in the middle of my chair, headphones in, watching the inflight movies. I actually cried during the end of Elizabethtown, but nobody noticed CAUSE THEY WERE ALL SLEEPING. I did catch the brilliance of day coming up over the large gentleman snoring. I knew I was close to home and my 6am arrival.
What a trip. And I got to come home to my guy. Who not only took care of our boys and made sure I had money to spend, welcomed me home to a clean home and a Mother's Day gift; adorable ruby and diamond earrings. I am so spoiled! Although I don't expect to get this every year, I will always remember that my guys think I am worth it.

Hit the ground running.

It's never good to stay up late, then get up every hour with a teething baby. But when the first sound of your morning is the toddler slamming the nightstand door, and you roll to scold him to not wake the baby and land your hand in a puddle of urine in your own bed, the day is not going to be good. So my feet didn't really touch the floor as I leaped to escort my sopping tot to the comode and strip my bed before my new mattress suffered the consequences. And of course all that grumbling and hustle woke our poor teether. So I have been on the move since, well I never really looked at the clock. They were ready to eat and play, that coupled with the loads of laundry created for me and the toys and dishes needing to be properly put away, and I have been a busy bee. And then it occurred to me I had forgot to put the trash out last night, and yes I was too late this morning. SO that will be two weeks of missing trash day. That and the rising temperature outside and I would strongly suggest you avoid using the side gate at all costs.

Desperate Sleep calls for Desperate measures

So we planned a fun-loving Saturday night out. A party thrown by people we knew, good beats and lots of familiar faces. We dolled ourselves up and had a yummy Buca dinner. Arriving early was necessary to get home at a decent hour, but 9:30 is always dead. We were in South Phoenix, not the nicest nor safest neighborhood, but we found a well lit spot just down the street and parked for a bit. A well intended comment of "I should have caught a nap" from me ended with "let's just catch one now" from Jer. With doors locked, truck and ac running, we reclined our seats back and caught ourselves a quickie, nap that is.
I awoke two hours later to some chattering going on outside. I peered out to see, what to me, looked like a group of teenagers walking quickly to get to the Ice House. I took a long stretch and blink thinking I had simply dozed off moments before, to read the clock at 11:35. "Jer, if we're going in, we should do it now." His eyes popped open and sat forward. A blank stare peering out into the empty street. I didn't really want to drag my still half-sleeping self into the party, but would have gladly followed Jer in for bit. Perhaps a drink would perk me up. None the less I gladly agreed when he suggested driving home instead.
I let my eyelids droop closed my than a few times before we reached Gilbert and it never occurred to me to ask Jer if he was okay. Grandma was surprised to see us so soon and we ushered her out quickly. I hit the pillow fast and hard and picked right back up on my sleep. We snoozed until morning and laughed at ourselves the next day. "Lame old people" is what I called us. We have just moved on from that era in our lives and need to move on. We're day walkers now, with little people who would gladly get you up at 6am, but you may get lucky with 8. They don't care if you had a late night, too many drinks, danced too hard, or are just plain exhausted. It's day light and time to play. Juice please, then breakfast. Oh and my movie, you forgot to take me pee and change the little ones' diaper...........

Natural progression

Day 3 of Potty Training:
Today we've only had 4 accidents. The first day counting accidents instead of triumphs is a welcomed variant. He now seems to understand his urge and most often can make the initiative to get to the potty before the flood gates open. His first solo success was announced by the infamous Dora cry "I did it!". He has since graduated to a simpler "YaaaaY"(arms waving optional). But alas my baby looks even more like a little boy in his Superman tight-y white-ys and less of the tiny babe I gave birth too. He still crawls into my arms to cuddle upon waking, but that is fleeting for sure.
Zander is currently testing the waters for walking by experimenting with standing. What was but a quick 2-3 seconds has evolved into 20-30 with a sudden step. And of course that shook his world and he immediately plopped on his cushy behind to ponder this new.... Walking. Of course crawling is much faster at catching Daddy and big brother. So dabbling with walking will have to be reserved for Tristan's naptime or the random short moments he gets to play with Mommy or Daddy alone.
Lately I have seen Tristan evolve into a loving big brother who occasionally suffers from a bit of sibling rivalry. I can often catch moments of bliss when T-man will pull Zander onto his lap and hug him like a teddy bear. Zander usually looks at him in total puzzlement before squirming like a worm about to be shoved on a hook. Of course Tristan just wants to love his "baby brudder" and can't imagine why Zander is not content to sit as still as he. Then there are times Tristan will haul Zander out of the way by dragging him by a foot away from, oh say the open refrigerator then run past him to slam it shut sending Tiny Z into a fit of rage. He will indeed pay him back later as he sits beneath the entertainment center and cries each time Tristan attempts a sneak scaling of it to switch DVDs when he is told specifically not to. This will attract the Mommy who will be punishing said brother. "That'll teach him to drag me".
I am truly blessed with my boys and although I have some days that I really feel as though I will pull each hair out of my head, I have far more that I am completely sure I could have another. Now convincing Jer that he could is a whole nother entry.

Sensible Shoes.

The perfect top off to a long overdue pedi, is a new spring sandal. How convenient that Payless was two shops down from the salon. And as we tried on shoe after shoe, nothing was quite what I was looking for. I actually uttered the phrase "I need something sensible." Ya know, the kind of shoe that is fashionable and I can catch a racing toddler with baby on hip and run no risk of twisting an ankle. Am I actually picking my clothing based on my children? Later I pointed out the cutest skirt, but that nasal-y little voice came forward again with "I could never get on the floor and change a diaper in that". Who is this tired, obviously fashion retarded, boring motherly type emerging from within? It must be a split personality taking shape. I, Carrie Joy, would never ward off fashion for comfort. There was a time when I would cram my 8.5 into a 7.5 just to have "tinier" feet. Or cut off circulation and "suck it in" all night to wear a size or two smaller jean. Now I find myself grabbing the size up instead of down to accommodate my momma booty and have some wiggle room for floor time. Is this what happens when you have children? Along with your memory goes your sense for style? There are days I make the extra effort, but most days side on the all too convenient, cozy pants and "no bra needed" tanks. No perky boobs here! Just enough support while comfort remains #1.
So I guess all those comfy maternity clothes have ran into my dailey wardrobe. Or maybe I should slip back into those maternity clothes one more time. Then I'll have it out of my system. But I guess to do that and retain my dignity I'd have to produce yet another spawn, and that would for sure yank any chance of wearing something more than "sensible" for another 3 years.

Here's to a New Year

Here's to a New exciting year with my boys! What will this New Year bring? Perhaps the best way to predict what is coming, is to review the past.
Jer and I met nearly 12.5 years ago. That's 4565 days, give or take a leap year. In that time we both moved around, met many people, crossed paths dozens of times, married and managed to bring two new lives into the world. What a funny universe. I can still remember orientation in 7th grade. I picked him out of all the boys, all of the people in the gymnasium that day and can distinctly recall thinking " I must get to know him". And what was thought to be a school days crush has turned into the relationship of my life. He is my bestfriend, companion, lover, and partner. I just could not ever see my life without Jer in it. Appropriate that he is the father to my children. Who could ask for a better life than one with your soulmate.
Tristan is our little defyer of odds. It shows. I was told I would struggle to get pregnant after my episode with cancer. And after 2.5 years with not even a hint of precaution, we figured doctors were right. Goes to show how much doctors really know, especially when they are sure. He continues to defy, us that is. Very A-typical almost 3 year old. I did things to and for our lives that is beyond explanation. He showed us our value in eachother, made us better for eachother. Pretty exceptional, probably why I let him get away with so much.
Baby Zander, exactly what every baby should be. He has a very calm and sweet disposition. Unless of course M Mommy just walked past him instead of picking him up as he so desired. Then he is whaling in agony. But a quick toss in the air will have him chuckling that heartwarming giggle in 2 seconds flat. He is a light that shines brighter than any beacon of the night. A soul of joy and I just adore him.
So if our New Year is any reflection of our past, we are still headed in the right direction. And in this world all you can do is continue to follow your heart and it will guide you. You just have to be willing to be humble, open, honest, and brave. Oh yeah and love, lots of LOVE.

Holy Hummer Batman!

Christmas was quite the time this year. I started out saying I wouldn't buy them much this year and I now have toys from one end of the house to the other. They got several things they have shown little interest in and others that have become favorites for both of them AND the cat. It was a great day. We all congregated at my mother's and spent the day. Aunt Shelle dropped by with sweet Emily and Jack. My grandmother and her new husband came for the lunch feast along with my Aunt Jeanie and her hubby and they all surprisingly stayed for the larger part of the afternoon. And shortly before we called it a day, Judy and her family showed up. We were all shocked. Jer and I were only disappointed that for the 2nd holiday in a row we did not get to play a family game. It seems to be the best way for us all to bond, my brother and sister-in-law included.
But the big hit were the Hummers my parents bought for Bryan and Tristan. Tristan would ride for 10 feet, then jump out, ride for 10 feet then jump out. Not sure what he was doing, but it kept him busy. Aside from Zander having a small fever and his sinuses being plugged, he was an exceptional baby. He had a blast and rarely fussed. He actually spent a good amount of time entertaining others. Tristan took no nap and crashed before we got to the end of the street. Having to wake him when we got home was not fun and he actually stayed awake long enough for Grandma Sue to bring by even more presents. We had two duplicate presents, both came from Uncle Josh and one KIA thanks to Jer. He ran Tristan's new remote control Jeep right behind Bryan's hummer and it snapped the axle. This happened maybe 15min after T-man had opened it. Neil plans on taking it back to Walmart and exchanging it. We shall see.
All in all, a very Merry day.

G.I. Zander

Zander started to push up on all fours then realized there was no need to lift that round belly off the ground to proceed forward. Instead he has taken to a very effective military crawl. He once rolled to achieve his desire, but now can keep his eyes on the prize and propell forward in an increasingly rapid pace to mange his mischief. At first he stayed in the main rooms of the house, primarily near toys and Tristan. But as his spead and stamina has increased, so have his boundaries. I cannot do dishes or laundry without my pint size companion. In the beginning I was able to huridly switch the laundry and intercept him in the hall. Now he is down the hall and in the cat's bowl before I can unload the dryer. Because I shudder at the idea of him discovering the cat's litter box, I have now pulled out of the garage the oh so effective baby gate. Tristan and the cats can both scale it with great ease. But it is very effective at limiting little Z and working Mommy's thighs as I hurdle it repeatidly during the day.
Tristan is very busy at kicking ass at Halo. He is learning so quickly and will repeat just about anything these days. For instance just the other day Mommy said a not so appropriate word and Tristan, in true toddler form, spouted it back out at me. Luckily his pronunciation is not quite up to par so it sounded more like DUCK. Yes yes, we have lots of ducks around here. Ducks that SIT, in case you hear him say that also. I'm working on changing my vocabulary, so if he calls you a poo head, it means you are not a good driver. Better than a ducker I suppose.

One Tooth, Two Tooth...

They have erupted, finally! First one shiny, white point and then another. And now we have to bottom teeth. The sweet gummy baby grins of the past are gone. Now are the days of chunkier food, biter biscuits, and dare we say... Finger foods. I really didn't think he'd get a handle on them so quick. These Gerber fruit stars. Little rice puffs that taste like fruit flavored air. He spent a good twenty minutes learning to rangle the tiny things, but now he's got it down. Granted a few still go MIA into the high chair. But our wee- man is by no means picky. If Mommy is willing to rescue them, he is willing to eat them anyway. Next we try Cheerios.
The teeth have brought biting, particularly of the nipple. Probably good I have been playing with the idea of weaning. He takes formula well enough, I'm just not quite ready. We'll slowly taper it off and play it by ear. I did that with Tristan and he just gave it up one day. Granted he was a few months older, but this will be good. I'm just not myself and I'm a much better mommy when I'm back to myself and can have a bit more space. That and having my body all to myself, at least when I'm not holding, cuddling, swinging, wrestling, bouncing, well you get it. I know this from weaning Tristan and feeling like I hadn't felt in almost two years. Yes it is sad in a way. To be letting go of my baby in that sense. But I do feel close to him when he drinks from a bottle. No less either. We still cuddle. I talk to him and sit in awe of him. He is no less loved and he knows it.
With new teeth come new smiles for mommy to photograph. I have tons of gummy grins and soon billions more of his pearly new whites. My baby is so ever quickly growing into a tiny little man. No longer in constant need of mommy. But this is his body's way of expressing how ready he is to move on to bigger and less mushy foods. He is not my gummy newborn anymore.

The Hostess with the Mostess

I have to admit that I was a bit nervous about hosting Thanksgiving at our home this year. It being my first year to hostess and making the decision to invite both mine and Jer's families was almost too much.
I planned for weeks and wrote list after list. I made phone calls and follow-up phone calls, doing my best to get RSVPs and keep everyone on point. It was potluck style so I wanted to be sure there would be enough to feed everyone and have a variety that complimented each other. As the day approached I had my day planned out and a new outfit and apron even. I cleaned the whole house and kitchen and shopped days in advance to prepare.
Morning of Jer was kind enough to take T-man over to the Peterson's to romp on a giant, inflatable, obstacle course. I managed to get my shower in with Zander in a fairly good mood. Just as I was getting out, Shell and Aaron call, they are on their way. WTF! It was 12 and I told her 2! But since I rarely get her company, I won't hold it against her. No make-up, hair still wet and in my bathrobe. Shell knocks and I pass Zander off to her. (he had lost composure) Since she left Aaron in the car while the kids finished napping, she accompanied me to my room while I did something with my hair. Figuring I'd have plenty of time to get make-up on after they left and before I needed to dive into cooking, I put that off. Jer returned with an exhausted, dirty Tristan.
The next 4 hours were a blur, but these I know for fact:
1. Dinner was only 45 minutes late, perfectly timed with my mother-in-law's arrival. =)
2. I never did put my apron, bought especially for the day, and still can't find it.
3. For the most part everyone enjoyed themselves and we didn't screw it up. Jer played a pretty good host, although I hear he forgot many introductions. He did manage to keep everyone with a drink of some sort.
4. I never did put on any make-up.

So the day was a success. I can say I am proud. The boys were sweet and entertaining. They played and laughed with everyone. By evening we cleared the house and were getting our little turkeys to sleep. Perhaps I will not dread my next turn in the rotation, say in 3-5 years.

This Sucks!

When Tristan stole a drink of soda from my cup at 10 months by grabbing my straw and sucking it up I was very surprised at his ability to observe and mimic. But when Zander slobbered down the cold, bitter-sweet Jamba goodness today I was beside myself. This boy is but 5 months old and is grabbing anything and everything and shoving it into his wee mouth to devour. I figured the rubbery straw on Tristan's cup would be a safe chew toy for the boy. Little did I know he would suck up the Jamba with such furry and fight to have it back once I realized what I had done.
But it's not just the Jamba or a cup for that matter that he fights for. You have to be weary of anything you eat or drink too close to mini-munchkin. His chubby arms wave about frantically with a gentle "Uh Uh" for anything he desires. If it so happens to be close enough to snatch, he grabs on with pudgy fingers of steel and raps it up in arms. Then the ever-flowing drool spout dives full faced into it. Perhaps, just maybe he'll get a bit into his mouth. He is so excited about anything he can get his grubby paws on and mouth. So imagine the squeals of delight emerging when his almost always futile attempts resulted in that fruity smoothie goodness. I had to "cut him off" or else feel the rath of a glucose induced high from my midgit man. So I guess we can safely say he is not allergic to strawberries, pineapple, or yogurt either.
As eating goes, Zander proves to be a pro. I can see my picky eater will be Tristan and I'll have to hide food from Z. It's just a matter of time before I come in to find Zander polishing off half a cheeseburger that Tristan left about. Or perhaps some mini-Oreos and a sippy cup full of chocolate milk. Something tells me this kid will self-wean himself at 9 months once he figures out what's inside that purple cup. I'd trade up too! So unless I start producing choc-nilk or Jamba, I may lose my bitty one shortly after he crawls. In the mean time I'll stop resenting nursing and milk it for all it's worth. hehe

Time flies...

It was 5 months ago today that our sweet Zander joined our family and began enriching our lives. I can still remember waking up 6 days past due thinking I'd never be comfortable again. And by afternoon I was basking in the joy of my newborn 8lb 8oz 22in of boy. As I looked into his steely eyes I actually thought I could do this again, it really is worth it.
Today he rolls across the floor and giggles at his big brother. He eats cereal twice a day in an attempt to quench his healthy appetite. He has to be 17lbs by now! I struggle to not forget how tiny he was. How floppy he looked in his newborn clothes. Now he is spilling into 6-9month clothing with no slowing down in the future. He is on a faster pace than T.
Speaking of my ball of energy. I think 2 year olds were put in our lives to humble us. Anytime one finds themselves trying to explain why we do not squirt chocolate syrup onto the kitchen floor, then lye on our tummies nearly in it as to get a better angle to lick it up, you might start to question your ability as a parent. But when that same culprit, who will remain un-named, emerges from the bathroom in which you had him bubbled to wash off syrup. Soaking. Dripping wet and armed with a sopping loofa to aid in your efforts at cleaning up the mess. You realize that he does hear you when you repeatedly ask to help clean up. Now we have to work on applying skills when applicable; like drying off before you leave the bathroom and AFTER you have left the water and tub. (happened after I finished his bath and ran to check the baby before he shall remain nameless got out.)
It's times like these that make steam come from your ears while you are in the throws of it. But I smile even as I type this and will laugh when I tell the story years down the road. That's the kicker about motherhood; just when you think you've had your fill.... They smile and laugh and you realize they are just children and it's just carpet. You could have not had the night you had, but you wouldn't have that smile and laughter they bring. No more poopy diapers, but no more giggles of glee when you tickle, no more shrieks of joy just for your attention, no more tiny hands reaching for you just so they can be close to you. I would never trade it for the world, not even for a full nights sleep every night of my life. And yes, I could do this again.... Even the pregnancy.

In the still of the night.

It is so funny how when Jer is out of town I can't seem to get to sleep. Both boys are out, and while I should take advantage and catch some ZZZZ's before Zander wakes for his 2am feeding, I sit here with my mind all a-buzz. Perhaps I just feel more safe and settled with Jer here. Not that I get that much quality sleep lately anyway, but I sleep worse when He is not in the house.
My boys keep me so busy and throw in Owen and I barely get the time to pee during the day. Funny how the weight on my ass manages to hang on despite how little I eat and the amount of chasing, bouncing, hopping, dancing and clean-up I do. You can't see it in my legs but I do hundreds of squats a day, although all the lifting is keeping my arms looking pretty lean. But we all know how a good pair of arms looks in tight jeans. (insert sarcasm here)
So as if I have a bounty of energy to spare, we are joining a gym in an attempt to lose our baby weight, yes Jer too, and get healthy. Which in turn, I am told, will reap more energy to be had in the end. Energy I am sure my boys will find something to do with.
If only we had a home gym I could burn some insomnia on. I already did some yoga and meditation, but that always got me refreshed and going in the morning. Not to be done for winding down in my case I suppose. SO late night television, here I come.