Growing, Growing, Growing!

Ok, so kids are asleep...at least in their cribs (I think the big one is still playing around in there), and I have no more episodes of Merlin to watch on Netflix (seriously sad about that...but heading over to mopvideo.com from here to find more).

Anyone up for a kiddo update?  Here goes.

Owen is 5 months old today.  He has 3 teeth and another on the way.  As of February 20th he weighed a big ol' 16 pounds.  He is super ticklish.  He loves to grab the sides of my face and violently eat my chin (I love that too).  He is sleeping in his crib.  Has been for maybe 2 or 3 weeks.  It's going pretty good.  Better than I thought.  He has his times (right now actually) when he seems to wake up more than usual.  Usual is once a night.  More than usual is 2 or 3 times with at least one of those times taking a while to settle back down.  I think we may face a problem with him sleeping in the future.  For now I accept that he is still an itty bitty, and that I don't care much for the cry-it-out method anyway.  With the boys sharing a room though, I do whatever it takes to get him quiet and sleeping fastest, whereas with Oliver I would spend longer trying to soothe him without picking him up.  Most nights I don't have much of a problem with getting up with him, but lately I've been so tired.  It helps that he's cute.

Owen is still on a breast milk only diet.  I think I am scared by the experience with Oliver having to stop cereal and use formula to get his weight back up so I am holding off on food for Owen now... even though that had little to do with cereal and more to do with me not having any milk to give.

Oliver was a happy baby, but Owen is SUCH a happy baby!  He seems to be a little more of a goofball too.  But when he's mad...he is loud.  It's kind of funny to compare their personalities- Oliver was easy going and pretty even keel, while Owen is both happier and angrier.

Oliver.  My baby Oliver.  2.  He's 2! I still can't believe it.  He is such a big boy.  So independent, so smart, so handsome and loving and curious.  But I love the moments when I look at him and realize he still a baby himself.

He has so much energy and loves to run and jump and crawl.  We started going to Gymboree right after Christmas, and boy oh boy have we made good use of our membership.  He is so much fun to watch there.  He is so in love with the owner's daughter who is sometimes there in the evenings.  The two of them run and bounce and jump and fall together.  I love it.

Oliver loves trains.  We take a ride past the train yard probably 2 to 3 times a week on our way home from Gymboree.  It is so amazing to him to see the freight cars loaded and unloaded.  I get a kick out of watching him watch them.  His favorite books from the library are Freight Train by Donald Crews, and Chugga-Chugga Choo-Choo by Kevin Lewis.  As long as I can keep renewing them... I don't know if the library will be getting those back!

He is on a Toy Story kick.  It's great.  And he loves Woody.  Which is awesome because I am totally Team Woody...not that Buzz isn't great too.

Oliver is just so full of love.  He can be very affectionate.  And so sweet with his brother! Oh so sweet!  He really knows how to melt me.  I am just a mushy puddle of mom in his hands.

He's never had much of a problem with jealousy of the new baby... but every once in a while he insists that whatever is done to the baby is done to him as well.  And I allow it.  If he wants me tickle him like I tickle the baby, I do it.  Bounce him on my knee too?  No problem.  I always want him to feel loved.  So loved.  Because he is.  That little boy made me who I am.  And I can't believe I am lucky enough to have him in my life, never mind how blessed I am to have spent almost every moment of the past 2 years with him.

Two Reasons I Love My Life

I was in the kitchen buttering some bread for Oliver's grilled cheese when I heard the sound of innocent joy.  It's a beautiful sound.  Magical.  So pure and happy. 

This is what I found going on in the living room.

(and yes...I cried a little watching them)

I love them. 

And I love my life because they are in it.

I'll never let go, Jack....I'll never let go

There's an article all over my FB news feed lately called Don't Carpe Diem.  Seriously.  Everyone and their mom is sharing this thing.  Like it's the best thing ever written.  Like every mother should read this and love it.

Well I couldn't even read it in its entirety until just now.  I clicked on the link a few weeks ago when it was posted for the first of about a thousand times.  I hated it. 

Here's a little back story:

Every now and then I start thinking.  My mind gets away from me and starts contemplating things I don't want to contemplate.  Aging. Dying. Mortality.

It's happened before.  Lying in bed with Nate asleep next to me I listen to the rhythm of his breath, and with my ear to his chest I hear the love song that is his heart beat, and I think:  what a miracle it is to be alive.  How amazing that something as fragile as a heart can be so vital to sustaining our very existence.  How incredible that we rely on the pumping of this delicate organ to keep us here.  And I get scared.  My body goes numb and I have to hum some mindless tune, watch some brainless comedy, read something distracting.  And then I fixate on those thoughts-  which is worse, to outlive Nate or leave him alone?  How could either of us survive without the other.  Eventually these thoughts come less and less often and I can forget about the inevitability of it all. 

On Christmas Nate was talking about a 92 year old woman he met while working and the amazing condition she is in.  Works out every day...wouldn't even guess how old she is.  I thought, wow...that certainly won't be me.  I don't live healthy at all.  How horrible is that?  And eventually her body will give out on her even though she treated it so well...yes it will be at a very old age, and most likely without too much hardship, but it will happen.  And with these thoughts I had to take myself out of the room to call my mother panicking.  I sat on the floor in my bedroom and cried on the phone with my mom. 

I'm going to die.  I'm going to get old and I'm going to die. 

And now that I'm a mother these thoughts revolve around my children.  Leaving them.  Them grieving.  Them growing old and dying.  I think:  I didn't ask for this, I didn't agree to this.  No one asked me if I would like to exist, if I wouldn't mind being created and born... to eventually die.  And I look at my babies and I am almost sorry to do that to them too.  At the height of my panicking (it's been weeks now) I felt overwhelming guilt.  As if I was killing them.  As if by bringing them into the world to begin with, their death is my fault. Even now, the sight of their beautiful smiles catches me off guard and for a second I'm choked by this guilt.

Is that not awful?  It's disgusting right?  And it was around the time that I was feeling the worst of this that I first read the above mentioned article.  I couldn't even read the whole thing because it just made me sad.  Yes it's true every mother (and father) has those moments that are just impossible.  You just CAN'T enjoy every moment.  But, my God, do I want to!

So I decided to disagree with this article.  I WILL carpe diem.  I will carpe and I will carpe tight!  I will hold on to the diem with all I have in me.  And honestly, I feel like I have been happier since.  I feel like things have been going more smoothly. 

Whether it's because I am keeping busier in order to escape my own thoughts (which in turn keeps Oliver active and entertained and thus better behaved), or because I am consciously soaking in every moment (each caress, sight, smell, and sound) that I spend with my boys, or maybe because I am now accepting how little things matter in the long run (so what if Oliver does this, or doesn't do that)... I just feel like life has been a little better around here lately.  I perceive Oliver to be behaving better (Nate would disagree lately).  I am just adoring my baby Owen.  I'm so at peace lately (when I'm not thinking too much, that is).  So I will carpe diem.  And I'll never let go.

I read the article in its entirety tonight.  I now have less of a problem with it because it does wrap up quite nicely (and because I have bombarded myself with considering mortality so much that I'm moving into the acceptance phase of my thought cycle).  There are those moments in each day that take the cake.  The "aha" moment that makes everyday enjoyable.  I agree with that.  But still, I choose to carpe.

Thankful for... cuddles.

I never thought Oliver would be a cuddler.  He gave us lots of big open-mouthed kisses but never a hug. He never layed in bed with us.  Never put his head on our shoulders.  I felt horrible whenever he was hurt or upset because he found no comfort in my embrace... that killed me.

I swore I would "ruin" my next child to make up for Oliver's lack of cuddling. 

Well Oliver has totally become a little love bug.  I don't remember exactly when it happened.  But he turned into such a sweet little boy.  His hugs make your heart sing, and he's very generous with them.  Back in July we went to a birthday party where we knew only 3 people, but he hugged EVERYONE there.  Yeah they all fell in love with him... they didn't stand a chance... his hugs are so genuine and deep you can't help but fall head over heels for the boy.

With his little brother here Oliver has become even more effectionate and loving.  He gives the baby lots of hugs and kisses and rubs his head gently.  I think he even says "I love you" but it's not at all clear.  And when he sees cuddling going on without him, whether it's either Nate or I holding Owen, or even Nate and I hugging each other, he very sweetly joins in. 

And at 5 weeks Owen is totally "ruined" and loves to be cuddled, carried, and to co-sleep.  I love it!

Not the Mama!

Who remembers this?

I do.  Not only do I remember this show, I remember all the words to the baby's song ("I'm the baby gotta love me, big purple eyes, I'm very cuddly...") as well as his catch phrase: "Not the mama!"

I think this is what Oliver would say if he could sometimes.  The only difference is that when the baby dinosaur (did he have a name?) said it, it was because the person he was saying it to was not his mama, and therefor unacceptable. 

In Oliver's case, it would be because he wants anyone but his mama.  Sad.

A few nights ago I gave Oliver his bath before bed.  Usually Nate gives him his bath.  But I thought, "Hey, I'm not pregnant anymore, I can handle bath time.  HEY! I'll put on a bathing suit and get in the tub with him.  How fun! We'll splash and laugh.  HEY!!! I'll make it a bubble bath.  He's going to have a great time."

Well he didn't.  He was so weirded out.  He didn't want me in the tub with him.  And then he wouldn't sit in the water.  He had goosebumps because he was cold but would not get in the warm water.  And when I asked him if he wanted to say bye bye to the water he couldn't drain the tub fast enough!

And then last night Nate gave him a bath... and Oliver DEMANDED he get in the tub with him.  And they laughed.  And laughed and laughed and laughed.  And I was going to go take pictures (because that's what I do) but I guess I was a little to offended to get there in time before the novelty wore off for Oliver.

Sometimes I really think he doesn't like me.  Like when he cried if I came near him on the swing in yard... but anyone else could give him a push.  Or when he freaks out if I make the move to get him out of his car seat.  But since having Owen, I've been getting back to being Oliver's not-pregnant mommy.  I love being able to wrestle with him again, chase him, toss him up, and even clown-roll around the living room floor with him.

So I guess he doesn't always hate me.  I do get plenty of moments like this.... when no one else is around.