A nice night

A few nights ago, Nate and I were on our own. I was busy decorating for Halloween while he puttered around, and I found a little craft kit I'd put aside for us to do this year.

We plunked down on the living room "rug" and got to work. He worked really hard to take all the pieces apart, and was even able to help string them onto the garland with me.



Then we walked down to the corner Chinese restaurant and got some take-out. Walked home, and had ourselves a little picnic on the living room floor. Watched Survivor together.

It was a very nice evening. These were the kind of nights I hoped for when I became a Mom.

My favorite days

It's rare in life when something very selfish collides with something selfless and works together. Daycare is that for us.

I can't explain how much joy it brings me to watch Nate and Stewart playing their silly games and getting on the bike to go to "school." Nate yells "Bye bye Mama!" all the way down the street, looking back at me and smiling. Teachers says he's doing great at school - having fun, camping it up, being himself.

As soon as he leaves, I come inside and get myself set. Today I took a longer-than-normal shower that actually involved a razor. I get my task list together, and start plugging slowly away. I make un-interrupted phone calls.

And when The Turkey arrives, I'll be able to sit on the couch and sing to him, like I got to do with Nate.

Everyone wins. Very rare. Very grateful.

Just a general update

Sorry to be so scarce!

Picked Nate up from daycare today, and every one of this three teachers said that he's officially adjusted. No crying, no whining, lots of participation and glee. Ms. Roz told me that he reported "cooking with Mama" as his weekend activity. I'm so glad to find out I'm involving him in my mythical cooking sessions! Who knew that hauling Chipotle home from the store counted not only as cooking, but as a quality mother/son activity! I rock this Mom thing.

One benefit of moving him to the room next to ours is that I can hear him talking to himself before he goes to sleep. I've gotta install a camera so I can see what he's doing in there! Right now he's alternating between singing the ABC song (he hits all the important letters - A B C D G L P W and X) and just randomly babbling about Ball and Throw and Mama and No. He'll ask himself a question: "Ball?" and then say "Nooooo" and then "Mama?" and then "Nooooo" and so on. I have no idea what he's talking about.

I talk to him about the baby and I'm convinced he has no idea what I'm talking about. He has suggested Nate as the baby's name, and he likes to show me the baby in his belly. Rather, he likes to show me his belly, which I believe he now thinks is called a baby.

We have 99% picked a name for the Turkey, and that's good. Nate can pronounce it, and that's adorable. T minus 4.5 weeks!

Favorite words

Oopie! (oopsie)
Hoe! (hello)
Fuh cool! (fun at school)
Nit (Nate)
Buhtuh (Buster)
Mato (Tomato, aka: Veggie Tales)

Nate's big boy room!

These photos stink, but they're the best I could do with the low light. As soon as I get some better ones, I'll take these down and put up new ones.

We call this room "Ode to Ikea". First four photos are taken from the doorway, left to right.



The frames here are mostly empty. My intention is to fill them up with his artwork as he creates his work of genius. Since I took the photo, I've filled up 4 more with beautiful watercolors!







Here's a shot from inside the room, back towards the doorway, of his desk and photo array:

Stupid genetics

I've been feeling really small with this pregnancy, to the point of worrying a bit. I told my OB at my last appointment, and he said "I think you're the first woman EVER who thought their second pregnancy was smaller than their first." Usually the first pregnancy stretches you out so much that you just balloon right up with the second.

So he reassured me, and measured me, and said I was even slightly big. No worries.

Went in for my 33 week check today, and had no complaints. Got measured, got reassured, and she shared that I'm actually measuring 37 weeks. 37 weeks. At 33 weeks. Another crazy-big baby is on their way! I guess I get to have my c-section for sure, now, at least.

Stupid genetics. Stupid husband who was a big baby. Stupid mutant genes.

Monthly Newsletter, Two Years One Month

Hello sweet boy,

This is one of the hardest newsletters to write, because you have been many things besides sweet this past month. Up until a few days ago, if someone asked how old you were, you sweetly said "tree" while holding up one finger. Yesterday, you answered "two" every time. You know it now, and you're damn sure going to make sure everyone else knows you're two.

The whining. The crying. The weeping, and scrabbling to be picked up. The "MY!" and the "NO!" and the other good, fun times. It's all permanently etched into my brain. This morning you cried for 35 minutes because Daddy insisted you say "please" when you asked for something. Goodness gracious.

Don't let the sweet face fool you:



Your language is doing great - lots of two and three word phrases. Lots of demands, requests, refusals...yep, I'm thrilled that you're speaking now. It is really fun to hear you singing - that's probably the best part. Our repertoire now includes ABC, Twinkle Twinkle, You are my Sunshine, and Oh Susannah. I started singing Oh Susannah a few weeks ago, and now you request it most of all - and each time I sing it, you learn one new word each time. I think you purposely request it because you're trying to memorize it!

Preschool is going really well. Reports home say how well you're adjusting and bonding with your teacher, Ms. Roz.

Despite all of the crappy times, and there are a lot of them these days, I love and adore you. I'm prouder than heck of you. We went to Richmond yesterday, and you wowwed all of your cousins - Aunt Susan and Uncle John were totally impressed with your stamina and good cheer, despite a lack of nap. Uncle John and Peepa took you to the state fair, and reported that you were in good spirits and enthusiastic all day.

I love you,
Mama

Thinking of Fredi

Almost every time I see Stewart and Nate together, I think about Fredi and wish she could be seeing what I'm seeing. I think she would get a great deal of joy out of watching her son be the amazing father that he is.

Stewart married late; he was 43. After we announced our engagement, she sent Stewart a letter congratulating him. She wrote that she knew that marrying me meant BABIES, that she knew he'd be a great father, and that occasional grumpiness would be forgiven.

But Stewart is never grumpy with Nate. He's never short with him, or impatient, or bored, or frustrated. He's always warm and interested and supportive. I just wish Fredi was here to see it.