Boy, boy, BOY!

A couple days ago, I called my mom for a "mommy fix". Basically, I was having a really crappy, depressed type of day (not that I haven't had these days for most of my pregnancy) and I needed someone to listen while I complained. She suggested to me that I go in and get an ultrasound to find out the sex of our baby. It would give me a little bit of excitement, and I could start planning names and layette...and all that other baby stuff! I had been very determined to go without an ultrasound this pregnancy. But I really did need something to cheer me up for the next 8-ish weeks. So, I decided I would make arrangements for an appointment.

The next morning, I called our family doctor's office. Now, none of us have actually gone to this family doctor, except the Hubs (for a work physical). But she came recommended as a doctor who is friendly toward natural parenting, and we were told she would be willing to take on our whole family. The receptionist on the line was rude. I asked if the office had ultrasound capabilities. She was skeptical about why I would even need an ultrasound. I briefly explained that my care provider is not licensed in the state, and could not order an ultrasound, but I would like one as proof of pregnancy in order to acquire a birth certificate. She then said they did not have ultrasound, but another office location from the practice did. (So all that asking about why I would even need one was needlessly nosy.) I got the number for the other location.

Then I called the other office. The receptionist on the line was rude. This receptionist had a list of problems with me asking about an ultrasound:

1. I was not yet a patient. (Why ever the heck can I not be!?!? I was told that the doctor at the first location was willing to take me on as a patient!)
2. Even if I -was- a patient, you can't hop around to the different locations (Why ever the heck not!?!? Isn't that part of what you do when you are in a practice!?!?)
3. I would have to have an appointment with the doctor first, and then have another appointment for the ultrasound. (Why ever the heck can I not just have the ultrasound as my first appointment, as long as I fill out all the required paperwork for becoming a patient in the first place!?!?!?!)
4. Rude receptionist doesn't even know if the doctor -would- order an ultrasound. (WHY ever the heck not!?!?! I am the one trying to -hire- the doctor, if I am asking for an ultrasound, there is really no reason for the doc to refuse to give me one!!!!)

I was pretty short right back with this rude receptionist. And I kind of, might have hung up on her after a -very- curt "thank you". And, no, I did not schedule an appointment. I did, however, promptly start crying after the connection was cut. Rude receptionists. (Later, talking to my dad, an RN, he said he was pretty sure "rude" was a work requirement for medical receptionists. I am inclined to believe him.)

So, I called the Hubby, in tears, to complain about having a really crappy, depressed type of day. I told him all about the rude receptionist, and all my worries about going into get a medical ultrasound anyway. (They are going to force me to get prenatal care, they are going to bombard me with fear tactics about home birth, they are going to call CPS on me......yeah...I think I have a problem with doctors!)

And here I was, trying to alleviate my depression by scheduling an ultrasound. And things were only getting worse.

After about half an hour, Hubs called me back and told me that we had an appointment for an ultrasound that night at 9pm, with a private company for an "elective ultrasound". I was hesitant (do I -really- want an ultrasound? what if they find some weird abnormality and I have to seek obstetrical care anyway? why do they make appointments so late at night?) but grateful that I didn't have to worry about it anymore.

So that night, we got the kids dressed in their pj's and drove to the ultrasound office. And drove around. And drove around. It was late, dark, and there were business offices everywhere, but we could not find where we were supposed to be!!! Finally, after carefully scrutinizing the GPS on Hubby's phone, we were able to locate the office. And we were still early!

We finally got into the ultrasound room. Belly exposed. Goo squirted on belly. Ultrasound wand applied and BAM!!!! First image very clearly, very unmistakably, very directly revealed the sex of our baby.

We are having a BOY! A BOY! ANOTHER BOY!

Cue shock, denial, excitement, sadness, joy....

I couldn't stop laughing. And then the ultrasound technician started making fun of baby boy's penis wiggling around (from my laughing). Awkward.

A boy! He has a beautiful heartbeat, big feet, a nice well-placed placenta. (I have a nice, well-placed placenta? We have a nice, well-placed placenta?) And no obvious defects or malformations....but it wasn't a diagnostic test, so, you know, take that with a grain of salt.

A boy! Poor Bug walked right out of the ultrasound room when we told him he was going to have another baby brother. (Drama much, 4 year old??) Gizmo doesn't get it yet. But Bug was setting his highest hopes of having a baby girl. He even picked out his favorite girl name (that we had approved of, prior) and he thinks we still need to name the baby this name. Uhm....no. But, if I can get over the fact that we are having a boy, then he can, too.

Speaking of me getting over it: I admit that I'm a little sad. This is where I start wondering if I'll -ever- have a girl. We want a big family, but what if we have 6 boys...7, 8 boys!? Can I do that?? I just have to remind myself that there is still time. And even if I never get a girl, I will still love all my boys.

I actually had a dream a couple weeks ago that I gave birth to a boy. He was beautiful, and squishy. And I was completely and utterly in love with him! I woke up with a strong realization that even if I had another boy, I would still love him. That dream was a tender mercy, for sure!

So, these last weeks will fly by, and we will welcome into our family ANOTHER little boy!

Breakthrough!

Every day I run through recent family events in my head that would be perfect fodder for blog posts. Every day I click on the "new post" button, and then I stare at my computer screen until one of the kids starts screaming for attention. For some reason, I haven't been able to actually get the stories down. Like, my most recent laundry mishap....that definitely needs to be forever immortalized as a Mother's Lament. But I don't even have a draft of it in my folders. (Unless you are counting my brain folders...but these days, those are getting pretty fickle.) Or I could write about when Bug and his second cousin decided they were going to run away. Or I could write about the death of my family's cat. Or I could write about my birthday and how I discovered creme brulee. How about I write about totally spacing the Relief Society meeting that I -really- wanted to go to last night (that I actually only remembered while I was writing the last sentence) and instead wasted my time shopping at Joann Fabrics? Or I could write about all the other crazy things that have happened within the two weeks since my last post.

But, for now, I will write about Gizmo.

Gizmo, my sweet, perfect, laid-back, easy-going baby has been getting less-sweet, less-perfect, less-laid-back and less-easy-going. Even more so within these past several weeks. And, there is only one thing to blame when your baby turns sour (and I'm not referring to the smell of the old drool starching his collar). Teething. Blast that wicked teething!

Now, the unfortunate thing about teething is that is lasts from about two minutes after they're born until you finally cut out those perpetually impacted wisdom teeth when they are sixteen. (That should tell you why kids can been such twits when they are teenagers...they're just teething!)

But, we are also blessed with some sweet relief...even if it is brief. And that is when those pretty, pearly whites break through (or when your kid is giggling under the influence of post-surgery anesthesia).

So, someone please tell me that my temporary relief from a fussy baby is nigh at hand, because...Ladies and Gentlemen (er...Gentleman. Hi, Honey!) Gizmo has his first tooth!

The Bib

I am officially one of THOSE mothers. You know, the one whose kid is always wearing a bib. Always. To catch the drool.

I don't know how I ended up with such a drooly baby. Bug wasn't very drooly. I mean, of course he did drool some. But, Gizmo. Oh, Gizmo. He is like the never ending faucet of saliva. A bubbling (literally) brook of slobber (which Bug finds hilarious, "Bubbles!")

My sister reminded me that Bug was a summer baby, and therefore, it didn't matter as much for his shirt to be perpetually full of spit. But, Gizmo, as a winter baby, needs to keep dry to keep warm. It's true. And the bib is actually AMAZING for keeping him dry and warm. I guess that's why moms do it. Whenever I saw a baby with a bib on (and no food being fed to him), I used to think, "Poor kid...being stuck in a bib all the time. That can't be fun." Now I think, :"Look at my super cute and stylin' baby and his rockin' bib that's keeping him dry!"

Gizmo is about 31/2 months old, and I can already see little white spots on his bottom gums, indicating that those first teeth aren't too far off. When did he decide to grow up so quickly?

Oh, and just a related note: Gizmo's teething has, along with the increase in drool, increased all other mucous. Which means his nose is stuffy. Which means he isn't nursing as well. Which means Mommy gets engorged (and leaks all over the bed at night). Which means Mommy pumps 10oz. in 20mins. in the morning (while still leaving milk to satisfy the little guy's hunger). Amazing!

Gizmo's First Hickey

I know babies are often referred to as being "cute enough to eat" or "delicious" or "yummy" or some other good-food analogy. But, it is extremely important that these things aren't taken literally.

Many parents, also, like to play games with their young children by giving them "munchy" kisses and saying that they will "eat you up!" and the like. But, it is extremely important that these things aren't taken literally.

And toddlers shouldn't attempt to play these games with babies.

Bug has recently been "tasting" Gizmo by taking huge, sucking "bites" out of his arm (followed by some dramatic lip smacking and "mmm"-ing.) It started out as just little "bites" and licks. Then, all the sudden, I noticed that Gizmo has THREE hickies on his arm!!!

I've informed Bug that this kind of play is inappropriate. I hope he understands. But, I know it will be hard, because babies really are so tasty!

International Babywearing Week 2010

I'm so happy that I haven't missed this. (Like I missed World Breastfeeding Week this year, and like I missed International Babywearing Week -last- year. Can't I just remember them both in one year!?!? I think it would help if during those weeks I had a baby that was breastfeeding and being worn!)

International Babywearing Week is basically a week where everyone around the world celebrates, appreciates, encourages, teaches, models and loves wearing their babies! Of course, you don't have to wait until Babywearing week to do all of that. (Check out the link to find a lot of wonderful information and resources for babywearing.)

Thanks to having a brand new baby, I have been slinging a kiddo lots and lots! Every time I go out, I make sure to have my ring sling. Just yesterday alone, I got TWO comments on my sling, and how they knew "So-and-so" who had one and they wished they had one of their own/had known about them/weren't so expensive to buy from well-known providers, etc. Then, I proudly announce that I made mine, and it cost me less than $20 (I think...I can't remember exactly how much the fabric was, but I'm sure it was pretty cheap!)

Once Gizmo gets a little heavier, I will move him strictly to my homemade stretchy wrap. And, hopefully, when he gets even bigger, I can move him to a woven wrap...or my homemade mai tai.

(Dear husband, I think I want a woven wrap for Christmas. Love, Mally)

Brothers

I have to admit...I really hoped that our second child would be a girl. But when my hubby announced that we had another boy, all that hoping didn't matter any more. I was in love. Totally outnumbered. But in love! I immediately thought how wonderful it is that we don't have to buy a bunch of new clothes. And then I thought how wonderful it is that our boys can be best buds growing up. Not that a daughter couldn't be best buds with Bug...but I think the bond will be different as brothers.

I'm already seeing some brotherly bonding going on in our home. Bug LOVES to give Gizmo kisses. Especially on his nose. Bug loves to hold Gizmo's hand. And he loves to tell him it's "uh-day" (aka, "OK") when Gizmo is crying.

Last week, while I was doing the dishes, Bug was picking out a movie to watch (which, he does all by himself all the time...Mr. Independent). He decided on a DVD and marched right over to Gizmo, who was lying on the couch. Bug then held the DVD right in front of Gizmo's face and said, "Day? Yeah!" ("Ok? Yeah!") Then, he put the movie in and watched it.

I couldn't stop smiling thinking about how awesome it would be if they always get along so well!

Reptile Baby

Gizmo is shedding all of his skin like a little lizard! I don't remember Bug being quite so peel-y. I've pulled out the all-natural calendula baby lotion to rub all over Gizmo's little body. (Well, mostly his ankles, which seem to be more dry and peel-y than just peel-y.)

Really, it's amazing how much skin there is on such a little body.

Also, Gizmo makes dinosaur noises. Especially right before he starts crying, he gives me a warning squawk, and I swear he sounds like a little baby pterodactyl!

Like I said, reptile baby!

Birth Story: Gizmo

Tuesday, August 24^th, 2010. Around 5:30am: I woke up with a full bladder. But getting out of bed when you are hugely pregnant is hard…so I laid there for a few minutes, debating how full my bladder –really- was, and whether or not I could just try to sleep until there was actually daylight outside. Then, I had a contraction. 5:37am. It didn’t feel any different than the contractions that I had been having for a couple weeks already. In fact, I had even had worse contractions just a few nights before! But, there was something –spiritually- different. There was a little, hinted whisper that this was “it”. Although, I was very, very hesitant to declare that.

I did get up to relieve myself, and have another contraction on the toilet. Then I tried to go back to sleep. The contractions kept coming, 5-8 minutes apart. Pretty easy to handle. At 6:20am, Scotty’s [aka "hubby"] alarm went off, and he crawled out of bed to get ready for work. I told him that I was having contractions, and that I thought maybe this was for real, but I wasn’t sure. I told him to go ahead and get ready for work. While he was in the shower, I prayed to my Heavenly Father, asking Him to give me a confirmation of whether or not to send Scotty to work before it was actually time to send him out the door!

Once Scotty was dressed and ready, I got out of bed and we ate breakfast together. The contractions were much more comfortable to take when I was standing up and leaning on something. I had to stop and stand three times while trying to eat my cereal. Scotty kept looking at me like, “you are totally in labor”. All I could do was giggle at him between contractions and tell him to stop looking at me like that! It was between 7 and 7:30am that Scotty decided to stay home. I think –he- was the one who received the confirmation to stay, more than I did!

After breakfast, I brushed my teeth and got in the shower. I thought I was just taking a normal shower (stopping every now and then to lean my head against the cool tile and sway through a contraction)…but apparently it was a lot longer than I usually take. Scotty came in to check on me, and asked how many contractions I had been having. Enough. They did seem to be coming closer together, as well. I immediately decided that I wanted my mom to come and braid my hair. And then I had another contraction that made me want to vocalize a little. I told Scotty to call my mom and tell her to come. I got out of the shower at about 8:30am. Scotty also called his mother, who was invited to be there. I remember Scotty saying, while on the phone with her, “You should probably come now. [pause]. Yes, I’m serious.”

When I got out of the shower, I decided that I didn’t really want to get dressed, but I didn’t want my mom to show up to find me in all my naked glory! So, I put my robe on. I put my towel on the floor right next to the bed, and knelt on top of it. I leaned onto the bed while kneeling or standing and rocking while I had contractions. Every now and then, I would get up and walk around the room, but I kept going back to leaning forward. The contractions were getting to the point where I really wanted to vocalize through them. I was also starting to move into Laborland, although I stayed fairly well aware of my surroundings pretty much the whole time.

Scotty was starting to run around the house, getting things cleaned up and ready. I kept worrying about where my comb was between contractions (I could have sworn it was behind the couch), because I still wanted my mom to braid my hair when she arrived. And I was beginning to wonder what was taking her so long! (She apparently thought she had plenty of time!) Soon, I decided that I wanted a snack. Scotty got me some grapes to eat, and I had a cup of water that always seemed to be out of reach. And I was feeling hot…so I needed that water! When I was down on the floor, my cup was on the headboard. When I was up leaning on the bed, my cup was on the floor. It was around this time that I took my robe off…even though nobody had shown up yet, so it was pointless for me to have put it on in the first place. And I wanted a cool washcloth for my face and neck.

I started to moan through my contractions, and I would mentally tell myself to keep it low and loose. Near the end of the contraction, I would blow my lips like a horse, as a final relaxation technique, so I could rest more easily between the contractions. And I decided that I really did need to rest between contractions. I had been staying down, leaning on my arms, and I was beginning to feel tired. The pinky finger on my right hand was going numb…and it stayed numb for a couple hours after the birth, even! I tried to lie on the bed, but every time I had a contraction, I had to hop onto the floor and lean on the bed. Finally, just a little before 10am, my mom arrived. But it was too late for her to braid my hair. And my mother-in-law arrived just shortly after.

I had a prenatal scheduled with my midwife and her assistant for that day at 10am. My midwife scheduled it for that day, the day –she- predicted the baby would be born, due to the full moon. It made things convenient for them, for me to be in labor then! The assistant, Deann, arrived just shortly after 10am. When she came in, I’m pretty sure the first words she said to me were, “You look beautiful!” It was so sweet to hear, and when I think of those words now, I think about my divine nature. God gave me this beautiful body and the ability to birth babies! Deann started quietly pulling things out of our “birth basket” (all the supplies needed had been gathered together in a laundry basket).

Scotty kept running around to take care of things, and I had to keep calling him to me, to be my support. I would have him rub my back. But if he did it even slightly wrong, I would say “no!” and have him try something different. My midwife, Marlene, showed up around 10:30am. Marlene lives two hours away, so Scotty had called her around 8:30am (when she should have been on her way anyway) to let her know that she would be staying a little longer than for just a prenatal, and she still hadn’t left yet. Apparently, she left pretty quickly after that! I was only slightly aware of her arrival. I remember hearing her talking in the other room, and being introduced to my mom and mother-in-law. (Honestly, I don’t remember actually seeing her until right before the baby was born!)

Soon, the contractions were getting pretty hard to handle. I kept analyzing myself throughout the whole labor, wondering what stage I was in, whether it was taking the appropriate amount of time, yadda yadda; consequences of being a birth geek, I guess. I remember at this point beginning to feel like I might not be able to handle things. I thought to myself, this better be transition…or else I don’t think I can do this! (Classic “transition”!)  

I really had to pee, and an empty bladder is better for birthing. But, from my experiences earlier in labor, I knew that the toilet brought on much stronger contractions. I really wasn’t interested in –that- happening at that point. I decided that I was ok with getting in the shower, just to pee. I had Scotty keep the water on my lower back. Then, I had a contraction that had me on my hands and knees. And I started feeling pushy. I told Scotty that I was feeling pushy, and I wanted to get out.  

Right after I got out of the shower, I tried to lie down on the bed. I was able to handle two contractions lying down; then I just –HAD- to get up on my hands and knees. We piled a ton of pillows up for me to lean on, while kneeling on the bed. I kept announcing that I was feeling pushy. (Of course, from my sounds and actions, everyone else already knew that!) Marlene then told me she wanted to check the baby’s heartbeat in between contractions. I knew I was right in between one, so I quickly leaned back so she could get to my belly. She used a Doppler, and it was the first time we had used one (we normally used a fetascope), so that was the first time I heard my baby’s heartbeat….and I was so far into labor that it didn’t even register! 

I was pushing, involuntarily, with every contraction now. It was such a strong and uncontrollable urge. My vocalizations were turning more grunty and animalistic, with a touch of “loss of control”. Deann kept gently reminding me to keep it low and relax. I had another contraction that came with a flow of what I thought was urine. I announced, “I think I peed!” To which everyone chuckled and Marlene responded, “Or your water broke.”  

With every urge to push, I told everyone I was “pushy! pushy!” And soon, I was feeling a lot of pressure in my crotch, which led me to tell everyone it felt “burn-y! burn-y!” I knew labor felt a lot like a huge bowel movement, and I know women often think they have to poop, when it is really just the baby coming down. Still, I had to ask, “Am I pooping? Or is that the baby?” It was a little of both. Marlene had baby wipes for my butt, and a nice, warm, ginger and almond oil compress for my perineum. I remembered my labor with Bug, and now nice pushing was. It hurt more this time (probably because my hemorrhoids), but it was still so nice knowing that I was being so productive!  

Then, I –knew- my water had really broken. I felt it gushing with my pushes, and I felt the baby moving down more quickly. I wanted to ask what kind of progress I was making. It was burning so badly, but I wasn’t even sure if the baby was visible yet! But, then I was told that I could touch the baby’s head. I reached down to feel the squishy, wrinkled mound of head coming. It felt so good to have my hand down there. I wanted to keep my hand down to apply counter pressure to my labia, but I couldn’t support both my crotch and my body at the same time.  

Around this time, truly just minutes before the birth, my mother-in-law, my mother, and Bug were all in to watch the baby be born. I pushed with more vigor when I knew the baby’s head was so nearly out. Then, the head was out, followed quickly by the body. I love that wonderful feeling of release when the baby comes out! Scotty caught the baby, and announced, “It’s a boy!” I thought, for just a split second, that he had to be joking. I honestly thought I was having a girl! Bug was fascinated while watching the birth. And when the baby was born, he announced to the room, “Bobby!” Which is Bug-speak for “baby”. [We have chosen a nickname for the blog, thanks to my little sister. Boy number two will be known as “Gizmo”.] 

I was still on my hands and knees, and I hadn’t seen the baby yet. I was so overwhelmed with those wonderful birthing hormones, that I was a little bit confused about how to go about turning around to hold my baby! I eventually got it (while trying not to kick anyone in the head) and Scotty placed our little boy in my arms. I was overjoyed! I had given birth! At home! In such a short amount of time! It all felt so surreal. 

I eventually mustered up enough energy and interest in pushing out the placenta. We waited about an hour before cutting the cord and taking stats. I tried to get Gizmo to nurse. He wasn’t all that interested, he just licked and nuzzled. I was checked over, in the meantime, and found I just had one small skidmark (I found later that I had another itty bitty one, higher up) but no major tears. 

The boy names that we had picked out during the pregnancy didn’t seem right to us. It took nearly an hour, but eventually we did give our little boy a name. Soon, we started passing Gizmo around to everyone who was there (and everyone who was showing up), while I went to take a soak in a nice, herbal postpartum bath. It was very nice to relax. I felt wonderful! 

We are so pleased to announce our second son, Gizmo. Born at 11:26am. 8lbs 2oz, 19 ¾” long.  

Born at home. Born in peace. Born in love.

While you're waiting....

I know everyone is anxious to read the birth story, but I haven't gotten around to it quite yet! In the meantime, here are some pictures for your viewing pleasure.

A Thrilling Week and more

Never fear, blog world. I am still here and still alive. After a week and a half of having my sister and her husband in town, I am finally getting back to a basic routine. (And, hopefully, Bug will be getting to bed earlier than 11pm.)

My sister, Megan, and brother-in-law, Chet, are some of the most fun people I know. They don't have any children yet, which means that they spend all of their time having adventurous fun...well, all of their time outside of full-time jobs and medical school. So, Bug and I (and the hubs, after work hours) had our fill of adventures while they were gracing us with their presence.

Our family (ever since Megan married Chet) has started a tradition of making family videos whenever we are together. Last year, we rode bicycles all over Cincinnati (the video was put to Queen's song Bicycle, which we all hated with a passion by the time the video was finished!) Over New Year's, the rest of the family went to NYC (where Megan and Chet live) and made a video of us all being typical tourists...and getting food poisoning. This week was no exception. And we pulled together a Mockumentary about X-Men rejects. I haven't seen the finished video, but once it is posted on YouTube, I may share it....maybe.

And, speaking of videos...Saturday night, while all of our men were at the Priesthood Session of General Conference, Megan taught the rest of us how to dance the Thriller. We learned it (as best as we could) in an hour and a half. Then we dressed up as zombies and danced for the guys when they got home. And there was a video made. The video is more than embarrassing, but I may share it too. (But you have to promise not to make fun of us!) The Thriller is a HARD dance!!! Megan said it took her about 4 hours to learn it, and she still feels like she could be better. When...or If I put the video up, you will have to keep that in mind as you see us messing up and doing everything a beat behind. However, Bug had a lot of fun dancing to the music, too. And when we would line up at the back of the room to begin the dance, Bug would stand with us and wait for the music to start.

Megan, Chet, my dad, Bug and I went hiking at the Cincinnati Nature Center, too this past week. Our hike was a little bit less than two miles. It was gorgeous and Bug walked for about a whole mile all by himself! He also did a face plant after trying to walk down a hill by himself. He couldn't maintain a walk and ended up running full speed down the hill before he biffed it. But he barely cried and was ready to walk again shortly after.

It has been nice to get some outside exercise. I'm afraid I don't exercise often enough. And I'm feeling it in weight gain and inflexibility. I won't tell you how much I weigh, but it is about 50 pounds more that what I want to weigh. Megan brought (and accidentally left) a Pilates video and I have been doing it for the past couple of days. It is a work out and makes me feel good. I have also started cutting my portions in half. I use a small plate to help remind me to eat less. The more often I eat less, the less I feel like I need to eat. I guess there is nothing wrong with having a "mom" body: wider hips, saggy breasts, belly pooch, and stretchmarks. But, I definitely want to be fit and active and healthy. Plus, I want to be happy with myself.

We also got family pictures taken at Robert Glutz Photography. Bob is a friend of the family and I must say, he has quite the talent for getting toddlers to take great pictures! He danced and ran around with a stuffed animal to get Bug to laugh for the camera, and it totally worked! Bug is probably the most photogenic in the whole family!

Sunday afternoon we had some friends (and new neighbors) over for Conference. They have a daughter who is one month older than Bug. They had so much fun playing together. And they shared a banana (Bug's little friend giving him a bite, and then taking one herself). The whole time Bug was being a perfect little friend (a bit more rambunctious that a girl, but not being a bully) until he decided to bite her arm. As a mother, I can tell you, I was completely mortified!!! I apologized over and over again, told Bug that he had done something very bad, and made him apologize by giving her a kiss. Bug has never bitten another child before, and it terrifies me to think that he is starting now!

Also this past week, a good friend of mine had a baby! I got to go to the hospital and hold her sweet little boy. It made me want another one so badly, I can hardly stand it!!! Hopefully, it won't be too long until that happens.

Now that I've filled you in with all that has been going on this past week, I will be able to get back into the perfect blogging rhythm. Well...that's the plan, at least!

"How old is he?"

I get asked this question ALL THE TIME. I probably get asked this question almost as often (but not quite) as this blog gets hit by searching Google for "banana poop". (I'm glad my blog has that kind of fame!)

Anyway, back to the question that everyone is dying to know. I'm going to answer it for you today-as long as you promise not to ask me again next week! And the answer is...

ONE YEAR OLD!!!

Holy Mackerel!!! When did that happen!? Well...today! I could go on and on all about Bug today, but that's what this whole blog is about, so you might as well search the archives and stay tuned for future stories. (Yeah, click that button on the right that says "Follow"!)

I will tell you some things though. For starters, my son's name isn't really Bug. Duh! I just refer to him as Bug on here to protect us. Although, any fraud or psychopath could probably figure out who we are anyway. Also, "Bug" is a term of endearment on my husband's side of the family. I almost never call the little guy Bug. Mostly I call him Beaner Wiener...or by his real name, of course.

Bug is my first born (and so far, only) child. He has those stereotypical first born traits already...like being totally independent. He is also 100% boy. But that may be a product of societal norms, fatherly expectations, etc. Actually, he does like to cuddle quite a bit, so maybe he is only 98% boy. Then again, he also like to eat dirt...hmmm...he's 100% boy (or at least 99.99%).

He's such a smart kid, and a total joy (except when he's not). He keeps me laughing every day. The tender emotions I feel when I think about my son give me teary eyes. Nothing could have prepared me for being a mother. It is such a powerful and mighty responsibility. I'm so glad I'm a mom to this fabulous child. And I look forward, with eager anticipation, to the many adventures and laments to come.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BEANER!

Hey, leave me alone! I'm allowed to put up a couple of pictures and brag on his birthday!

I love being a mother!

I love being a mother. Here are some reasons why:

Random Snuggles. Sometimes Bug takes a break from playing to come give me a snuggle. He lays his little head on whatever part of me he gets to first (I often lay on my stomach and read while Bug plays. The snuggles usually end up directed to the softest part of me. In this circumstance, my rear end!), sighs or babbles a few things, then gets back up and on his way. The snuggles are only a couple of seconds long, but they can restore hours of lost sleep and frustration for me!

All the Firsts. First smile, first roll-over, first crawl, first step and on and on. There is little more exciting than a baby's firsts! When I see Bug beginning something new, my heart gets full and fluttery. I may blame my whacked out hormones, but I almost come to tears when I see my baby learning and mastering skills.

Sleeping Baby. The sleep smiles, the twitches, the coo's, the peace. A sleeping baby is so precious. It is a relief for moms when the baby finally goes down for a nap or the night, but I also think babies probably dream of Heaven. If that is so, how could you NOT love baby sleep?

The Responsibility. I love being responsible for Bug. It's great to be able to learn new things (check out my "Please Research" posts for some things I've studied). I do become more and more "crunchy" with all the studying. But, it is very rewarding to study and continue educating myself for the benefit of my family.

Waking Up Happy. It's no fun when Bug wakes up cranky, but when he wakes up happy the whole family enjoys it! His eyes are bright and he shows great love to everyone. When Bug wakes up in our bed (I need to do a "Please Research" post on co-sleeping!), he sits up, snuggles and babbles energetically. It is so refreshing. I cherish those moments immensely!

And, of course, The Funnies. This blog is dedicated to sharing the funnies of a mother's daily life. They truly make me smile; even the things that may be annoying (even the never ending poop stories). It is so much better to just laugh, grab the camera, and blog about it! Life is so much funnier as a mother!

Oh, I love being a mother. Is it hard? Yes. Is it a challenge? Yes. Is it frustrating? Yes. Can it be sweet? Yes. Is it the best calling on earth? YES!

I'm back...yet away

Ponder that title just for a little bit. It's amazing how TRUE that statement is. First off, I hope nobody missed me too much while I packed, moved and waited impatiently for my Internet to be up and running again. My husband must really understand how important the Internet is to me, because he made sure that it got hooked up ASAP. We were fully moved into the new apartment on Saturday, and Monday night we had Internet. That man loves me! Oh, and for the record, I LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE MY NEW APARTMENT. IT TOTALLY ROCKS AND YOU PROBABLY WISHED YOU LIVED HERE, TOO!

So, I'm back [online, to blogging, to wasting time on the Internet]. And yet, I am AWAY! I no longer live in the same town as my parents and in-laws. (Oh yeah, you probably didn't know, but my parents' house practically shares a backyard with my in-laws' house. Really, we would walk between them all the time.) Of course, I still live really close. But I AM farther away. And that puts us in a different ward at church. And it might make us plan our visits a little bit more. It is actually quite a relief.

Let me tell you what: having the only grandkid on my side of the family, and the only one close to home on my husband's side of the family, means that Bug is S-P-O-I-L-E-D. He isn't really spoiled with things, but with attention. Of course, I really don't think you can spoil a baby with attention. But, with two grandma's living really close, it gets pretty ridiculous. And once you add in the aunts and uncle and, I guess, the grandpas that love to love on Bug...Seriously. It is too much. Honestly, I don't mind having free sitters that are almost always available. Really, I should use them more often. BUT....the "fighting" and "arguing" that goes on drives me batty! "You guys are always at their house." or "Weren't you over at their house last week?" or "I want to hold him today at church!" or this grandma is the favorite or that grandma is the favorite or that aunt is the favorite, blah blah blah.

GAH!!!!

I can't handle that! There is just so much competition to win Bug's heart. Let me tell you all something--HE'S A BABY AND WILL LOVE ANYONE THAT HE SEES MORE THAN TWICE A MONTH!!! Heck, he will probably love you as long as you aren't a brand spankin' new stranger. And even then, he may still love you.

So, I am grateful to be just a little bit farther away from all the familial craziness. We'll see how well it takes care of the problem. Or, we may have to move to Brazil.



PS-Check out the button I made on the right hand side. And, if you like, grab it for yourself!