Our Very Own Baby Boom

It would appear that everyone around me is pregnant. Either all of my friends are super fertile or pregnancy is catching. Sometimes I think it is me being super sensitive since I was in their shoes not too long ago literally begging for someone to be pregnant so I would know at least one other mom. Then I remember that my friends probably just like to have sex. The first bundle of joy will make his apperance around July 4th to my cousin Emily and her boyfriend Chris. The second around August 20th to my friend Kari and her husband Erik. This will surely be the summer of love.

I am thrilled about these 2 babies for several reasons, mostly selfish. First, despite my best efforts at trying to get Wyatt to interact with other kids most of the time he seems scared out of his mind. This weekend at the playground, he would run up to a kid just to become shell shocked and stare blank faced until the other child ran away. You can clearly see that he wants to play but has no idea how. I am terrified that he is going to be some lonely child that can only relate to adults. I am hoping that having another child in the family will force him to become comfortable interacting with children because they will be delegated to the "Children's Table" and therefore forced to talk to each other. Ingenious, right?!

Second, I am in dire need of some mom friends. Not that I don't love my childless-friends, cause I do. I just need some friends that don't work full time. Somebody who won't cringe when I bite an ice cube to brake it for Wy to suck on. Somebody who will understand when Wyatt starts throwing green beans all over a restaurant while I stare at him loving. Somebody who I can talk about my boobs, or lack thereof, without feeling like I am talking about my boobs all the time. Most of all, somebody who I can have a real conversation with about juggling life/mom-dom/work/relationships without feeling judged or competitive or inferior. Cause that's hard.

The weirdest part is seeing Kari and Emily pregnant makes me miss being pregnant which is something I never thought I would miss. There is something so comforting knowing that you are never alone. Knowing that I was creating this miraculous being. I miss feeling Wyatt's little kicks, having a little nudger, a little bean. It is a time that was so filled with love and anticipation. A time that while its happening goes too slow but when its gone you want it back. Honestly, it takes everything in my power to resist groping the both of them. I want to rub their bellies, all the time. I have to focus to remain seated and to not stare. Now I realize why people did that to me in the grocery store. Knowing there is a baby growing under that thin layer of skin makes you want to give it some of your love and then you can somehow be a part of the love thats growing there.

Sleeping Angel

Romper, Stomper, Do

Get the Smelling Salts, STAT

The continuation of Wyatt's bounding stair story ends happy but is pretty stressful.  Hayley, eager to leave our house, went to work with me on Sunday so she could get on an early train.  Wyatt was doing fine when I left in the morning.  He was a little out of it but that is normal for him.  He wakes up like a bear.  I am already dreading when he is going to school and I have to wake him up in the morning.  I am probably going to have to wake him 12 times before he gets up.  Anyway, I left with my only worry being Hayley.

When I got home, Mom told me that he was clearly not himself. He barely woke up, never even began playing, was unbalanced and totally out of it.  Normally an extremely steady walker, he seemed to regress to his earlier days, walking into walls and stumbling.  It was concerning enough to send me into a tailspin of horrid fantasies of brain hemorrhaging, seizures, his growth staling, tumors, clots, etc.  I called Dr. Greg, who wanted us to go right to the hospital.  He said that it was a precautionary visit which quelled some of my fears but only minimally.

Rebecca was so out of her mind crazy with worry she jump on a train and met Mom, Wyatt, and I.  All the doctors confirmed that he was probably fine but they wanted to run a CAT scan to be on the safe side.  My options where to have Wy sedated, try to get him to sleep, or wrap him up and strap him down.  Sedation seemed over the top and try as I may getting him to sleep was impossible.  He was obsessed with all the tools, hoses, and various shiny objects the littered his hospital room.  Sleep was the farthest thing from his mind.  With only one option remaining, I was overwrought knowing that this experience was going to be exhaustingly awful for both of us.  There were about 8 doctors, technicians, and nurses that wrapped him up like a mummy, taped him together then strapped him to the CAT scan table.  I tried to help, tried to calm him as he began screaming when he didn't understand but nothing helped.  He just kept on looking at me with eyes that begged to know what was going on.  It was heart breaking.

We all had to run out of the room while the machine was working.  I told them to hurry about 12 times.  You could hear his strangled, hysterical sobs through the microphone.  I glanced at the computer screen as the scan of his brain appeared.  I had no idea what I was looking for.  Then I saw a black spot at the very front of his perfect brain.  The room immediately fell icy silent and I forgot to breathe.  I started praying, begging really.  I went perfectly numb, time stopped and it felt like hours.  The technician sighed and said she was going to take another.  Wyatt continued his intermittent wailing as the machine glided him back into place.  I watch as his brain appeared again completely perfect, a web of interlocking pieces.  The technician said, 'He's good.  He moved.  He's fine.'  Someone hit the play button and I ran into the room to untie him.  I took him out of the room, both of us shaking, tears brimming in my eyes, with his legs still bound in sheets.

Relief doesn't even begin to describe what I felt in that scan room.  I have solace in the fact that he will never remember any of this.  I am glad that we got the scan done so I could have peace of mind that he was completely unharmed by his fall but it was still traumatizing.  I have come to the horrifying realization that Wy and I might be in the hospital every 6 months.  Despite my overall clumsiness, I have only been to the ER a handful of times including some stitches and some broken toes.  Already in Wyatt's 13 months we have been to the ER twice.  I know that boys are traditionally more rough and tumble but if this every 6 months pattern continues one of us is not going to make it to puberty.  I'm betting on me.

Hair Raising Experince

The Superman Slide

I have been in need of some adult time and lucky for me, I have a generous group of friends that have come to my rescue.  Last weekend, Hayley came out to check on my mental health and offer some girl time.  However, I think after the weekend adventures she is probably never coming to Long Island ever again.  It all started out rather peaceful but gradually increased in anxiety until poor Hay was having legit panic attacks.  Let me explain:

Hayley, Dad, Wyatt, and I were hanging out in the den.  Wyatt decided to run out of the room, which is pretty normal.  Hay jumped up to chase after him.  About 3 seconds later I heard a definitive thump, bump, rumble, rumble, bump. "He just fell down the stairs."  I knew before I was even there.  My body moved without me telling it to and I found myself at the basement stairs in record time.  Hayley was at the bottom, looking shell shocked and bug eyed, with Wyatt wrapped crying in her arms.  I feared the worst.  The basement stairs are hard wood with concrete blocks all around.  There is no possible way that he made that fall without a scratch.  

Hayley was muttering pretty incoherently about being right behind him, that door is never open and then he was at the bottom.  I swear Hayley was more shaken then Wyatt was.  I calmed Wyatt down with a few ice cubes then stripped him down to check his perfect little body.  Nothing.  He had a slight bruise on his leg and a small cut on his hip but was fine, up and walking in about 3 minutes.  I was astonished, amazed, and thrilled.  Accidents happen and will continue to happen. But even after watch Wyatt laugh, run, eat, and play Hayley was shaken up.  I was seriously considering a sedative.

Then in our families classic style another unexpected event added the icing on the cake.  We were sitting around the dinner table, toasting our good fortune and calming remaining frayed nerves.  Out of the corner of my eye I notices some feathers on the floor.  "Ahh, is there something alive in here?"  Just then Hayley felt something furry glide between her ankles and then began the screaming, standing on chairs, and general mayhem.  Lizzy's crazy cat, Delilah, brought in a bird that was still alive.  The bird started trying to fly, we were all screaming, Wyatt starts crying, the feathers are flying everywhere, and the stupid cat is continuing on the kill.  Dad got the bird out but the damage done to poor Hayley was irreversible.  I think she will have a nervous tick for the rest of her life.

I have analyzed Wyatt's tumble from every angle.  Since no one saw the fall its all speculation but since the only marks he had were on his front we are assuming he slide Superman style.  Or as I like to think of it, he flew like Superman.  I have yet to confront the basement stairs and obsessively check to make sure the door is permanently locked.  I am sure that Hayley will come back eventually once the dust as settled.   Once she has had a good month of detox.  I am just so grateful that after a crazy day everything turned out fine.  (These pictures are from 2 days after Wy's big fall.  No harm, right?!)

Loungin'

Wy's Singing Debut

Every time we sing with Wyatt in our arms he has started trying to sing along.  Well, at least we call it singing.  He is especially fond of "God Bless America".  Please ignore my Dad's singing and try to focus on Wyatt.  I swear he will be destined for Broadway one day.  Although the one career choice that both Terry and I can agree on is Wyatt becoming the next Bob Dylan.  Hey, we can all dream, right?  Enjoy.

.

13 Months

My Little Man, 

These months are flying by.  One morning I am going to wake up and see a 12 year old still sleeping in my bed.  Which might edge on wildly inappropriate.  Hopefully, you won't be sleeping in my bed by then but judging by the last few months you just might.  I have absolutely no will power when it comes to you.  You wake up all lonely in your crib, tears rolling down your cheeks, reaching your arms out for me to rescue you and I will always come to save you.  Then I move over to our glider, intent on rocking you back to sleep and you fling your 25lbs toward my bed.  Eventually, I give in (sometimes it only taking 2 seconds) and you are back sound asleep before your head hits my pillow.  If you wake up again, you roll into me, nuzzling your little head under my arm and we cuddle for the rest of the night.  All is right with the world.  Until I come to my senses and remember I am creating the WORST HABIT and you will undoubtedly become some kind of bed hogging, cougar loving, unable to sleep alone monster.

All sleeping habits aside, life with you has remained perfectly wonderful.  Sometimes I forget how amazingly adaptable you are and will have my doubts about your good mannered behavior.  Then I will bring you somewhere new and am reminded all over again how my doubts are completely unreasonable when met with your charm and mischievous smile.  It doesn't matter where we go.  On our trip to Boston to visit Mia,  I could hardly believe my luck when you slept most of the 4.5 hour drive.   Of course, Kelly's quesadillas, apples, chips and guacamole didn't hurt as a pit stop.  You loved playing with all the new toys at Mias.  Growing especially fond of a baby stroller, some dolls, a play microwave, and the plastic kitchenette.  I am guessing it is because we don't have those kinds of toys at home but I am secretly hoping it is because your inspired inner chef is coming out already.  Oh, to have a cook in the family.  My idea of sheer bliss!  I am going to have to invest in a plastic kitchen set with all the trimmings.

Your personality is shining through more and more each day.  I can see that naked time, once limited to twice a day, will probably become all day over the summer.  You simply hate getting dressed.  The dramatics!!  I let you run around the house after bath time.  It is when you laugh and squeal the most.  When I finally am able to grab you instantaneously you start crying; throwing your little body around trying to get out of my arms.  You squirm on the changing table, never ceasing, until I let you back down.  My reasoning for your torture is the cold weather but when its warm what will stop you?  I will have to be satisfied running around the house with a towel cleaning up after all you pee on. 

You have also started this new little habit that I have yet to catch on film.  When you find something that you know you shouldn't have, such as my glass of water or a candle or a shirt out of the laundry I painstakingly folded, and will begin to run.  You hold the stolen object in one hand while waving your other arm next to you.  I have come to believe it is an attempt at keeping me from grabbing you.  My best description is like a football player running the ball down the field.  Its hysterical.  I start laughing every time you do it.  Surely, not the response you are looking for.  Another habit that I am quite happy about is your love of books.  I feel like I am reading to you all the time and will never forget to throw a book in my diaper bag.  You love The Ten Little Ladybugs and if asked from the den to "Get your Ladybugs" you will march off into our room, all by yourself, to get your book.  Other favorites include I Love You Stinky Face, The Busy Little Train, The Big Green Monster and anything from the Bright Baby series.  I have most of them memorized and I am sure you will too soon.

You never cease to amaze me.  I had thought, by now, some of your novelty would have worn off, like an new gadget or puppy.  But my interest in you has never waned, never faltered.  If anything I have grown more enamored, more intrigued, and more in love something that I never could have dreamed be possible.  Yes, I have my moments where I feel like I need to pull my hair out and I am sure it is reciprocated.  But then you will call your little "Mum" from the other room or bury your head into my pant leg or look at me with pure love on your face and all frustration is erased.  I still cannot believe that I made something as perfect as you.

I love you everyday.

Mum

Sextuplets!?!

It's Not Sausage Casing Day, Today's the Day We Race!

I have been pretty down in the dumps lately. So much so that Mom asked if I was pregnant the other night because I was so emotional. Of course, this sent me into a tailspin of "No!! Wait, I'm not emotional! Why are you calling me emotional? I've been totally normal. You think I'm a failure!" Then I started crying which made me realize maybe I was being emotional. Then beyond all reason because it is physically impossible, I convinced myself that maybe I was pregnant and the only thing that could prove my insanity wrong was a EPT test. I spent $15 on the stupid test, only to see the negative, regain my sanity, shake me head and think "Shit. What just happened? You are going crazy!" All of this over the first real tears I have cried since I can't even remember when.

But I digress. There have been a lot of little things that have been on my mind that have been keeping me stressed out. Couple that with Wyatt not sleeping very well due to the never-ending cold and it keeps me in a pretty fowl mood. Or maybe its just not having a full 6 hours of sleep in over a year. But most of all, I have been feeling overwhelmingly worn out. I can deal with worn out. I have dealt with worn out. But what is different now is there seems to be no end in sight. It is like every week is finals week, with tests, restlessness, late night studying, and caffeine highs for the REST OF MY LIFE. It's the day before a big presentation everyday. It's tech/hell week every week. What makes those times bearable is the light at the end of the tunnel. Eventually, the stress will end and you can get some rest. When there is no light how do you see the end? How do you make yourself not worn out when there is no period of rest? It is totally depressing and makes me a rather snippy, unlikable person.

As soon as drowned my mom with this flood of information she asked if there was anything she could do. She already does so much and here she is offering more. Incredible. Unfortunately, I don't think this feeling is going to go away with a weekend of sleep. Because I know that if I actually did take that time all I would be doing is waiting for when I could come home and be with him. I really hate to complain because I feel like I bring most of this on myself. I am the one the feels guilty if I leave him to do something for myself. Even though I know I am a better mother when I get my required "me" time. I am the one that can't seem to let him cry it out so he will sleep through the night. Hearing him cry and not running to his side goes against every motherly instinct I have. I need to be a 26 year old sometimes but I hate being away from him. How do I prioritize relaxation when everything else seems so much more important?

My make shift solution was to read a book. I haven't made time to pick up a book since I was nursing and it is something I really enjoy. It was our routine, I would cozy up in bed with Wyatt on my chest and a book, reading until he fell asleep. I miss that. So, I thought that a book might help be carve some time for myself. Maybe while Wyatt is watching the Backyardigans trying to unwind and take a nap, I could be quietly thumbing a good book. I could do without waking in the middle of the night humming the horrendously rhymed songs from the Backyardigans (as shown in the title). I picked up the Twilight Series that I have been meaning to read for ages. Well, I am so absorbed that I have been barely able to put it down. Forget eating and emailing, laundry and dishes, I have been caught reading standing in the kitchen, for the entireity of his nap, and waiting for the attendant at the gas station. Literally, I started the book Tuesday night and am already on page 218. Instead of solving my problem, I have added another. However, I am starting regain some of my happiness already. I have to stop forgetting about "me" time. Maybe, sometime in the near future, I will put shaving my legs back on the agenda.

Vitals - Part 4

Wy had his one year check up on Feb 12th.  I have been meaning to write about it for a while but alas time has alluded me.  He weighed in at 24.9 lbs and I totally forget how long.  He was in the 90th percentile for height and 70th for weight.  I guess what that means is he's tall and kinda chubby, which is totally fine by me.  I find it adorable how his belly hangs out over the top of his pants.  There are relatively few times that beer bellies are acceptable.  This just happens to be one of them.

He has 4 top teeth and 3 bottom teeth.   He bit me the other day and I definitely felt something all the way in the back on the top.  I told the doctor and she didn't believe me.  I reiterated that I really thought he has a molar.  Still she didn't believe me.  She actually said "No way."  Then once she checked it out for herself goes "Oh, he does have a molar."  Yeah, I told you.  Evidently, he is very young for molars.  He popped his top molar and similar to his other teeth about a week later popped a bottom molar on the same side.

Lizzy was with us at his appointment because she had an appointment as well.  They took us in together.  Lizzy has often made jokes that Wyatt has giantitis because he happens to be bigger then most kids his age.  I saw a priceless opportunity with Lizzy and Dr. Marie in the same room.  She was giving me his weight update and I said "So, he doesn't have giantitis, right?"  Lizzy shot me her classic stink eye.  Dr. Marie was slightly confused asking why I would think that and of course he doesn't.  I told her that Lizzy thought he had the excessive growth disease.  Thats when she looked right at Lizzy and said "No.  Sorry.  He is perfectly normal."  Take that Lizzy!!  He is perfect and she also added that he has a great disposition.  Practically Perfect in every way is what I always say.