for my pearl

My dearest Pearl Agnes,

Today is your first birthday ... 

Can it really be that a whole year has passed us already?

It seems like, just yesterday, I was waddling around the house, lamenting that none of my clothes fit, and dreaming of the second son I'd soon get to meet.

Yes, it is true.

I was nearly one hundred percent confident that you were going to be a little boy from the moment I knew you were in there.  Everything about your pregnancy was identical to my pregnancy with Malcolm (from the way I was "carrying" right down to the exact same salty cravings) ... So it made sense I'd be getting a little boy at the end.

Oh boy (pun intended), what a surprise it was to have you placed on my chest with the jubilant announcement "it's a little girl!"

And, in all honesty, looking back on our first year together, I've never been happier to be wrong in all my life.

Despite my (intial and unwarranted) negative feelings about having a daughter, you have blown my expectations out of the water. 

You are definitely different from your brother (and not just because you have girl parts) in the most amazing ways ...

You are so spunky.  You get into more than he ever did at this age, and you do so with such determination and sneakiness.  One minute, you are quietly playing with something on the floor and, the next (as soon as I turn away), you are happily destroying a shelf full of books and knocking them, one by one, to the ground.

You are loud.  You are so much more vocal than Malcolm ever was at this age.  You mimic our sounds, and constantly make your presence known.  You shriek and coo and laugh and you seem so close to uttering real words in your sweet and tiny voice.

You are smart.  (Not that Malcolm wasn't, but) you already know how to get what you want ... Whether it is with crocodile tears or by acting adorable!

We are in so much trouble.

But we are so in love!

This past year has been a fun ride already, and I can't wait to watch you grow and change over the coming years ... 

You are the daughter that I wasn't expecting, but you are exactly what I wanted.

I love you so much, my little gem.

Love always,
Mama

the apple (part two)

I posted something very similar for Malcolm the week that he turned one, so I thought it might be fun to try it again for my little girl ...

(Is she turning one already?!)

The old saying "the apple doesn't fall far from the tree" has always rang true to me, yet I never realized just how true it was until I had children of my own.

All day long, I see myself and my husband reflected back in our daughter ...

In her many goofy expressions (especially her "stinker face").

In her crooked (yet still mostly-toothless) smile.

In so many of her little mannerisms.

In the sound of her laughter and tiny voice.

In her love of naptime and a good night's sleep.

In her inquisitive personality and tendency to be mischivous when no one's looking.

In her hearty appetite for foods of all kinds (and the ability to pack them away in the blink of an eye).

And, not to mention, all the various physical features!

Yes, Pearl is definitely our (second) little apple ... 

We are two for two in the fruit-producing department!

maybe it's not so bad

My husband and I have discussed it many times, and I have been quick to tell family and friends that having a three-year-old is exhausting.

Even if Pearl was not a part of our family ...  On his own, Malcolm would still be a force to be reckoned with.

His energy is off the charts.

His mood is all over the place.

His stubbornness in the face of toilet training is ridiculous.

Yet, through all of these challenging attitudes and behaviors that make me want to pull my hair out, there are the moments where he is just so sweet.

I can't keep track of the number of times he has just come up to me while I am working during the day, rested his head against me, and asked, "Mom?  Do you love me?"

To which I stop whatever I'm doing and tell him, complete with a big squeeze, "of course I love you!  I love you so much!"

Every day, without fail, it goes the same way.

Sometimes, I even hear him talking to himself in the other room.

"I'm so lucky!"  He'll say.  "My mom loves me!"

Yes, she does, Kiddo.

Even in the midst of all your craziness, she certainly does.

my heart

In light of the tragic events of last week (and even in spite of them), words can not describe how much this little boy means to me.

 

I am so truly lucky to be his mother.

censorship

Lately, whenever I tell Malcolm to do something that he doesn't want to do (or say something that he doesn't want to hear), I'm greeted with the following statement:

"Mom, don't say that word!"

(It's like the new and improved version of "me don't like!")

That word.

I have to chuckle whenever he does it.

"What word, Malcolm?"  I want to ask.

Although I know the answer.

That word refers to many words.  Many words that seem to be in my vocabulary a lot lately ...

No, you may not jump on the couch.

Let's take a quick trip to the potty.

Stop taking those toys away from Pearl.

You need to wait for lunchtime.

We'll play with your trains later.

It's still nighttime, you need to go back to your bed.

We're going to get dressed now.

It's time to turn off the TV.

Truthfully, that word could stand in for just about anything, given Malcolm's yo-yoing emotions and changing attitudes these days ... But, nonetheless, it cracks me up.

All of the minor fits and three-year-old stand-offs are totally worth it as long as he keeps chiding me for the use of "that word."

The things he continues to come up with ...

a little perspective

This week is a busy one ... 

It's OGT (Ohio Graduation Test) time!

To all of you non-educator types, this means that I am responsible for meeting with students at a physical testing location and administering the test to them (a different subject for each day of the week), during two separate sessions each day (as a virtual school, we have to be flexible to our students' needs and meet them when they are available).

So, not only does this make for a hectic day, it makes for a long day as well.

A day where I feel like I am always go-go-going ... 

Five days in a row.

Even though this full week of testing only happens twice a year (once in the fall, and once in the spring), it's weeks like these where I can I see just how lucky I am.

Where I am so thankful that I (usually) have the luxury of rolling out of bed, occupying my kids, and working from home. 

Sure, there are many days where I'm overwhelmed and wishing for a vacation (a teacher's job is never done, no matter where their classroom is!), but it is a lot less stressful when you don't have someplace to be ...  Or when you don't have other teachers and students waiting on you so that a test can begin!

I know I've said it before, but I don't know how "normal" working moms do it!

How they get themselves ready in the morning ...

How they get the kids dressed, fed, and ready to go, too ...

How they get the kids' stuff together ...  Food for the baby, changes of clothes, extra diapers ...

How they make it out the door without forgetting something ...  Food for the baby, changes of clothes, extra diapers ...

Mostly, how they get anywhere on time ...

(Please tell me your secret!)

I'm only one full day in and I'm already exhausted.

And, like I said, thankful.

So incredibly thankful that, most weeks, I don't have to worry about any of this ...

Sure, there are different deadlines and expectations there, too, but they can all be met from the comfort of my own home ... 

While I'm in my pajamas, and my kids are laughing in the next room.

It's hard to think of anything better than that ...

another year, another letter

My dear, sweet Malcolm,

Yesterday (at 11:54 pm), you turned three.

Three years old!

Yet, when I kissed you on the forehead and left you in your darkened bedroom after saying "good night," I couldn't help but recall the very first time I kissed that same forehead ...

Your head was much smaller then ...  Squishy, and pink. 

Your eyes were a dark blue-gray, bewildered, but alert, trying to adjust to the bright hospital lights and take in your brand new surroundings.  Trying to make sense of the craziness that had just occurred.

Just this evening, your Dad recalled how you "just stared at him" when you were examined under the warming lights that hung above the newborn bassinet. 

When he locked eyes with you, I'm sure he felt the same way that I did ...  Completely and utterly in love.

And that feeling hasn't wavered.

Not once in these past three years.

Not even a tiny bit.

If it's possible, I think I grow to love you more with each year that passes.

You are such a personality now.  Full of life, and humor, and curiosity.  You are goofy like your Dad, and full of the same kinetic (and boundless) energy ... But you are also reflective like I am, quietly learning and scheming while the world moves around you. Comfortable with silence and just listening, thumb happily in your mouth ... 

At least until you feel like talking ...

Your voice (the voice that, it seemed, took so long in coming) is the soundtrack to my days.  Questions, comments, observations, exclamations, and even songs ...  All flying through the air with such speed and enthusiasm.  Almost all of your signs are gone (unless you want some extra emphasis), now replaced by words ...  And more words ...  And more words! 

The things you say astound me.

You are smart (and that's not the mother in me talking).  You seriously amaze me with your ability to take things in (like during your very first moments) and remember them ...  Events that happened long ago, exchanges and conversations that you heard, dialogue from your favorite DVDs, details that I'm positive you didn't notice.  Somehow you piece it all together, like the many puzzles that you have deemed "easy."

You are caring and sweet ...  You love everyone.  Your grandparents, your aunts and uncles, your cousins, adults you see at church or the grocery store, and Pearl.  You love your sister.  Your complete dismissal of her presence during her early days has been replaced by a growing interest.  You like when Pearl touches, looks, or "growls" at you, and you are quick to share Spot (if only for a second or two) when you notice her being fussy.  You always want to snuggle with her on her ocean activity mat and make her laugh when he's hanging in her doorway bouncer.

"Pearl like Malcolm!"  You exclaim, a grin crossing your face.

Of course she does. 

How could she not?

You are truly everything I could have asked for in a first child and so much more ...  You have set the bar so, so high and have made me so proud to be your mom. 

So proud that you are my little boy.

It's been three years since you came into my world ...  Three years since you made me a mother and changed everything.

I can't wait to see what the next three (and beyond!) will hold.

Love Always,

Mama

on having a daughter

I always saw myself as the mother that would end up with all boys.

Coming from a house of all girls, it just seemed like it would be a better "fit" for me ...  Something that I'd be able to keep up with and wholly enjoy.

I guess it all stems from the fact that I've never been very girly ...

Ponytails were my hairstyle of choice. 

Powdering my face with dust from the softball field was more appealing than powdering it with actual make-up.

Skirts and dresses were for funerals.

Batman was way cooler than My Little Pony.

Boys were better left as friends ... And nothing more (a stance I held until I was seventeen).

So, being a mother to all boys just made sense.  It was something that would be comfortable ...  Maybe even easy.

Yet, now that I have a daughter, I am seeing myself in a whole different light.  I may have been a tomboy for most of my life, but I have a lot to offer a girl of my own ...

There is strength in "being your own person" and never really following the crowd (even if the crowd consists of a bunch of teenage girls).

A brain and some confidence are sexier than a trendy outfit.

It is possible to fulfill multiple obligations (to be mother, wife, friend, sister, daughter, working woman) ...  And to fulfill them well!

The longer I am greeted by Pearl's smiling face each morning, the more I realize how silly I was to think raising a girl would be inherently harder than raising a boy. 

While I am well aware that the challenges are spread out before me, the most important things remain the same. 

Any child of mine will need to have esteem and self-worth, to know that they are valuable exactly as they are. 

Any child of mine will know unconditional love, no matter what trouble (or lack of trouble) they find themselves in.

Boy or girl, I will be the best mother I can be.

So, although I didn't expect this life (I fully expected Pearl to be a boy), I am so happy that it is mine.

When Pearl arrived, my entire universe changed.  Our family changed, and with it, so did my attitude about "daughters being difficult."

We may only be three months in, but I can honestly say that I am proud to be the mother of a daughter.

I am excited to see where this journey will take us!

unfair

After a full (and tiring) day, with both kids down for the count by 8:30, I plopped down on the couch and looked over at my husband.

"It's unfair how amazing our kids are," I said.

And it really is.

I totally mean it.

After a full week of playing in and out of the house, and taking some trips to various local destinations (like nature centers, museums, and outdoor pools), I saw it with such clarity ...

I am so lucky.

My kids are amazing.

Malcolm, at two-and-a-half, is always ready to explore and get into something new.  He is full of energy, sometimes literally bouncing off the walls, yet he can dial it back and quietly focus on reading a book or playing with his cars.  He is talking up a storm (music to my ears!) and is quite the little comedian without even trying.  Sure, he can throw tantrums and shout "no!" with the best of them,  but, overall, he is extremely agreeable and eager to please.  To steal a phrase from my mother, he is "the perfect first child."

And Pearl.

My little portable Pearl is a ball of sunshine and smiles.  She's not as clingy as her first six weeks would suggest, but she does like a good snuggle.  She's a great sleeper (even Malcolm's incessant ruckus doesn't disturb her during the day), and is so patient ...  Although she prefers to eat every two hours like clockwork, she is flexible when she needs to be (already, she understands how to "take one for the team").  She's got a determined little personality, and, sometimes when she's kicking around on the floor, she looks like she's trying figure out how the rest of us are walking ...  I have a feeling that she is going to be trouble one day in the not-too-distant future!

As I sit here and think back on our fun-filled week, I find it hard to believe that things were ever any different ...  That Pearl is still somewhat "new" to us, and that she wasn't even here only four months ago.

It's funny how my family can change and grow, yet still feel so completely comfortable.

My kids are amazing ...

And if this past week is any indication, the rest of our summer is going to be amazing, too!

It really is unfair.

If only everyone could be so lucky.

no ifs, ands, or butts

When Malcolm was born, I had a good eight months to get "back in shape" (also known as, "back to my pre-pregnancy weight") before it was bathing suit season in Ohio.

This particular arrangement was perfect, because I could literally hide all of my problem areas under layers (and layers) of clothing until things just sort of went away on their own, little by little ...

Winter (and, I suppose, my metabolism) was very kind to me in that regard.

With Pearl, things are quite a bit different in the "back in shape" arena.

For one thing, time is much, much shorter.

In fact, we are nearing the end of May, giving me only two months to get my act together (four since her birth) if I want to look halfway decent in my summer clothes.

Summer, unlike winter, isn't as kind.

Even with my modest fashions (tee-shirts and tank tops and shorts of a reasonable length are the norm), clothing options are just smaller.

Let's face it.  Less skin is covered no matter who you are.

And there are fewer layers to hide the post-partum curves that I'd rather not flaunt.

To make matters worse, although I didn't gain more weight while gestating Pearl (I actually packed on five pounds less), I somehow got bigger than I did when I was carrying Malcolm.

As in, there's a bit more of me to love ...  Especially in the butt and thigh area.

Certainly not ideal for bathing suit season in Ohio.

So, this Mother's Day (at my request after seeing an infomercial and feeling really pathetic about myself and my post-partum body), my husband purchased me some exercise DVDs.

The Brazil Butt Lift to be exact.

An exercise regimen guaranteed to "reduce, shape, and lift" my behind using proven Tri-angle training ...

And Latin dance moves.

Latin dance moves that my uncoordinated self can barely manage (I must look absolutely ridiculous as I flounce around the living room) and leave me feeling all sore and achy when I am finished ...  So sore and achy that I have trouble sitting up in bed ...  Or bending down to tie my shoes ...  Or walking up the stairs ...

Hey!  It's like being big and pregnant all over again (but without the baby in there)!

But ... 

But!

If all goes according to plan (and I don't break an ankle or tear something important in the process), I should have the backside of my dreams ... Or, more realistically, a decently-sized butt that will actually fit into my shorts and bathing suits again.

And that won't be so flabby.

All I have to do is stick to the schedule that comes with the DVDs ...

And maybe cut back on my sweet tooth tendencies (at least for now).

We'll see how long I can keep it up.

snuggly cuddler

At six weeks old, this is how she prefers to spend her time ...

Attached to me.

And, although I talked a big game about "clingy babies" and how I wouldn't accommodate them all the time,  I have to say that I don't mind one bit.

milking it

About a month ago, Lauren posed some questions about breastfeeding on her blog.

Being caught up in the hustle and bustle of having a new baby around (and doing a lot of breastfeeding myself!), I didn't find the time to respond via comments, so I thought I'd describe my own experiences in a post.

This is a mommyblog, afterall!

First, I should preface by saying that choosing to breastfeed my children was an easy choice for me. Not only would it be cheap (no formula to buy!), but it would also eliminate any middle-of-the-night, half asleep, bottle preparations ... And, it would be good for my baby.

What's better than that, really?

I also had a lot of support from many of the women in my family ...  Cousins, mothers, aunts, sisters-in-law ... Some may have been a little too supportive, to the point of giving me (outdated?) "exercises" that I could do to make my breasts feeding-ready when my baby arrived, but, overall, every little bit of information I could glean from their experiences (with the exception of those "exercises") was helpful.

Next, I should add that, in addition to being an easy choice, breastfeeding is also a very easy practice for me.  I am a human milk machine.  Without doing anything special, I produce more than enough for my babies ... And then some!  In the first week alone, I end up with a freezer-full of pumped milk (just to alleviate some of the pain and discomfort of the ridiculous engorgement that results from my milk coming in) ...  And, even when the engorgement period is over and things have scaled back a bit, I still make too much milk (often causing coughing and near-choking once it really starts letting down).  I guess it's a good problem to have ...

When Malcolm was an infant, and as a breastfeeding beginner, I tried my best to be discreet and careful about how I fed him.  I got a cute little "modesty cover" at my baby shower and often used it, even when I was at home ...  But as soon as he hit about three months old and became aware of his surroundings, all bets were off.  It didn't help that Malcolm was a bit of an over-enthusiastic latcher ...  He'd root around spastically, barely grabbing on before my milk would let down, then sometimes letting go and then having to root some more.  A flurry of breast pads and receiving blankets helped to keep things under control (most of the time), but did not aid in my hopes of being discreet ...  And, even if he had a quick and successful latch, Malcolm could easily be overwhelmed by the sheer quantity of milk that would flow out as he was nursing.

In the full year that he nursed, I think I found a pretty happy medium of feeding him comfortably, and remaining somewhat covered up (although I didn't use anything more than the shirt I was wearing, and, of course, had access to a receiving blanket that was there to mop up any mess).  I never nursed in overly-crowded, public places (restaurants, shopping centers etc.), but I felt just fine feeding him in the living room at a friend's house, or even at the beach while on vacation.  And, having such a plentiful supply, I could easily pump a bottle to bring along whenever we left the house (a much less-stressful and less messy alternative).

With Pearl, it's more of the same.  She is equally, if not more over-enthusiastic, when it comes to latching on, so there are many moments where milk is flowing everywhere.  That means that everything is pretty much "out there" when she is eating, so that I can get her back in place more easily should the need arise.

Overall, while I feel like I'm much more well-versed (today) in the whole breastfeeding experience that I was three years ago, I'd have to say that I'm no more likely to go out and nurse in public. 

I guess, like Lauren in her post, I don't want to make other people feel uncomfortable, and I certainly don't want to make a spectacle of myself when my baby inadvertently or intentionally lets go and milk starts flying everywhere (which is not an exaggeration) ...  Seriously. 

Nothing screams "look at me and my exposed boob!" more than a woman scrambling to help her choking baby and reduce the flow of milk (which caused said choking) at the same time. So, until I get a bit of control over my milk supply and things tone themselves down a bit (around the six month old mark), it is just easier for me to nurse in the comfort of my own home and to bring a bottle along for any feedings that may pop up when I'm out in public. 

As natural and normal as I think breastfeeding is, I don't feel the need to be the "face" of breastfeeding when I am out of my house ...  Especially since things can go so comically wrong sometimes!

testing the waters

Malcolm's been showing a tiny bit more interest in Pearl lately ...


To say I'm overwhelmed by the cuteness would be an understatement!

small resemblance

Most of the time, when I look at her, I can't tell who she looks like.

(A little like Malcolm, maybe?)


Other times, though, I see a little bit myself in her tiny features ...

And I wonder if this is what having a daughter is all about.

just the two of us

It was another unseasonably warm late winter (early spring?) day in Cleveland. So, after my 37-week doctor's appointment, Malcolm and I took a little side trip to the park.

Just the two of us.

We parked the car and headed out through the soggy, muddy ground.

Just the two of us.

We took a moment to decide what playground to try out first.

Just the two of us.

Long-sleeved tee shirt: Old Navy (thrifted for $1.00)
Tee-shirt: The Children's Place (thrifted for $0.50)
Jeans: Genuine Kids (thrifted for $1.50)
Socks: Circo ($1.00)
Shoes: Cherokee (thrifted for $1.50)

Decision made (after careful consideration), we played.

Just the two of us.



And played some more.

Just the two of us.


It is hard to believe that these types of days are numbered ...

That, soon, it won't be just the two of us.

baby books and new beginnings

I ordered and received a keepsake baby book for Baby #2 over the weekend. It is the same one I have for Malcolm (which is almost full now, and subsequently blows my mind!), so filling out its pages a second time has been a bit surreal.

As I write with my silver jelly pen, I am immediately transported back to the days when I was anticipating (and then just getting to know) my first child.

Would we have a boy or a girl?

When would he/she decide to join our family?

How would that whole experience go?

How would our day-to-day lives change once we were back home?

Would I be a good mother?

These same questions are finding their way back into my mind today, although now they are revolving around this new reality of having a second child ...

A newborn baby in addition to a toddler.

A pair of kids.

Two.

In the past couple of years, I've grown so accustomed to life as a mother of one that it is hard to wrap my mind around the changes that are nearly upon me ...

The routines that Malcolm and I employ each day are safe and comfortable. I am (usually) pretty in-tune with what Malcolm needs at any given moment ... There is very little guessing required (especially with all of his words and signs to guide me).

We even get to enjoy separate moments of down time every day!

Things have really fallen into place and settled there quite nicely, so I wonder if I'm ready to shake things up again.

(I better be!)

Although I am really and truly excited to meet the new little human that has been hitching a ride with me since the beginning of July, I find that a different part of me is sad that this life as I know it is coming to an end.

My time as a mother of one is dwindling.

The everyday moments with just myself and my firstborn are almost over.

A chapter of our lives is closing.

Yet, when I go to that new baby book, its pages crisp and clean and empty (and ready for my silver jelly pen), my sadness dissipates.

I can imagine all the possibilities ...

Soon, the pages will be filled with pictures.

There will be new memories and favorite moments to record!

New milestones to reach!

A chance to start fresh again ... A new beginning for our entire family!

All the questions and concerns from before will, again, be answered.

And while the baby book may look exactly the same on the outside, the contents will be different. They will continue the story, the next chapter ... And two years from now I'll wonder how things ever felt normal before.

(soon-to-be) big brother

I know I say it all the time, but there are days when I can't believe how big he has gotten ...


And I haven't even seen him next to his newborn sibling yet.

Four weeks (give or take) to go!

too little to be big

"Come on, Malcolm! Let's go play in your big boy room," I say.

(More for me than for him.)

Long-sleeved tee shirt: Circo (thrifted for $0.50)
Jean overalls: Faded Glory (thrifted for $1.00)
Socks: Circo ($1.00)
Shoes: Cherokee (thrifted for $1.50)
Trusty blanket: Circo (gift)

Some days, I feel like I need the reminder ...

He may be moving into a big boy room.

And eventually sleep in a big boy bed.

He might (one of these days) attempt to use the big boy potty.

And eat dinner at the table like a big boy.

And (so soon!) he will be the big brother around these parts.

Yet, somehow, despite all the learning and growing, there are times when he still seems so small to me.


There's no denying that he will always be my baby.

phases (of the moon)

Malcolm is completely enthralled by the moon right now.

He loves to look at the real thing, read books containing its picture, point out objects shaped like it ...

If something has even the slightest connection or similarity to the moon, Malcolm is all over it.

Not only does this have the science nerd in me giddy with excitement (maybe my little boy will grow up to be a bit of a nerd, too!), it also has worked to my advantage many times over.

For one, getting him to eat good foods has been a breeze, now that I've harnessed the power of the moon:

Banana slices ... Moons!

Kiwi slices, sliced in half ... (Half) moons!

Baked sandwich pockets ... Moons!

Beans in our taco soup ... Moons!

I even busted out my crescent moon cookie cutter to turn peanut butter sandwiches and pita bread into edible moons, much to Malcolm's delight.

I know I've said this before, but I find it absolutely fascinating how Malcolm has formed preferences like this all on his own ... He knows what he likes and he makes the decisions.

He is his own little independent person.

Although I could push my own agenda on him, try to get him to like something that I like (or that I liked as a child), it's so much more fun to watch his little brain in action ...

Seeing the excitement on his face when he can see the moon through the window at night ...

Hearing him happily shout "moon!" when he identifies yet another object that resembles it ...

Watching him just be Malcolm.

I absolutely love the little person he is so quickly becoming (with or without his science-related preferences).

I am so lucky that he is mine.

e is for enamored

I could literally just sit and watch him for hours on end ...