Belated Thanks

Admist the chaos of hosting Thanksgiving, of sick babies and a home that weathered the storm of many house guests and an enormous feast, there has seemingly been little time to really reflect - like really, really reflect - on all that I am thankful for. My life is so unbelievably blessed, it is so much better than I ever pictured, and there is much, much to be thankful for.

For beautiful baby boys whose eyes and smiles and babbles I am wholly addicted to. Like seriously addicted to.

For a husband whose patience never runs dry and who at the drop of a hat will run out and buy me a Blizzard just because he loves me.

For a sister and a brother who hold all my stories - the good, the bad, and the ugly - and who despite the stories, or maybe because of them, still love me and support me fiercely.

For my nearest and dearest friends who do things like talk me gently through labor, bring me Chai at work, spend Fridays off with me and my babies, bring me and my family dinner (especially plates of sinful brownies), and remind me everyday that "this too shall pass."

And perhaps most poignantly of all, for my mother, who exactly 50 years ago today boarded a plane at the age of 15, leaving behind her parents, her home, her school and friends, her language, her food, her pet bunny, and her childhood beaches, all for a chance at education and free thought; who never looked back at what could have been and instead always looked forward at what could be; who despite loss that would paralyze most of us, forged ahead and modeled resliency, optimism and passion; whose love of teaching lives on in her daughters, and whose love for her children and grandchildren knows no bounds...I am so, so thankful.

This is for you, mom, to remind you of what you started exactly 50 years ago today by stepping on that plane, by taking a chance, and by believing in the GOOD in EVERYONE. Your GOOD lives on in your babies and your grandbabies. Don't ever forget it.

Poetry

Yesterday afternoon I realized I was stuck - stuck in between units at school and no idea what to do with a day and half of time before sending my students out the door for Thanksgiving Break.

Instead of jumping head first into teaching the ins and outs of satire, which happens to be right up my ally, I decided to create an activity based on those word magnets people often keep on their fridges. You know, the ones you can move around to say stuff like "She likes it in her ear" or "Big daddy loves fish" or "Want to jump me?"

So I sat down at my computer and came up with a list of words (all appropriate, although I was tempted by the dark side) for students to cut out and then arrange into a poem - a Thanksgiving poem. I was so excited because I just knew my students were going to LOVE it. They were going to be enthralled from the beginning of class to the end. They were going to ask to do it again and again and again...

...and then I hand out the assignment and the snarky girl in the back (who is the perfect example of why I am paid lots and lots of money) says, "Is this supposed to be fun?"

"No, butthole," I say (inside, of course). "It isn't."

"Yes," I say, for reals. "It is supposed to rock your world."

After all, it rocked mine. See...



And as I looked across the room at my other students, it appeared to rock theirs.

So kiss it, snarky girl. Kiss it. Mrs. Smith is a genius.

Where's my award?

Inspired

I am feeling sentimental. And tired and overwhelmed and a little bit nostalgic. And in the midst of all that, I am also feeling a bit inspired. Admist this exhaustion that comes from a baby who will not sleep for longer than two hours at a time, I am feeling a sense of appreciation for all those who have done this before me and I have been inspired to just say this...

There lies deep within every woman the instinct to nurture, to raise, and to protect.

I am inspired by MOTHERHOOD, literally and figuratively.

…by my grandmother, who placed her children on a plane to escape the terrors of communism on her little Caribbean Island, not knowing if she would ever see them again, but knowing their freedom was worth dying for.

…by my mother, who was my father as well, who raised her three children with the core belief that wealth exists in experiences not materials, whose love continues to guide, carry, and inspire me today.

…by my sister, nine years my elder, who was always more than she ever had to be, and whose unwavering love, commitment and resilience now shines in the blue eyes and golden hair of her daughter.

…by my best friend, who shared her babies with me when I was so desperate to have my own, who models selflessness and patience and has proven family has never been about DNA.

…by my students, who made me a mother before my sons were born, who taught me the power of innocence, curiosity, and laughter.

…and most importantly, by my boys - one who I carried in my heart, the other who I carried in my belly - who despite the different paths were always meant to be mine, and who remind me to be better, to do more, and to live with purpose because everybody is somebody’s baby.

I am inspired by MOTHERHOOD in every sense of the word. For the mother that lies within us all, and for the children who so desperately need our care and praise, I am INSPIRED.

Nico's new favorite word...

...and how he really feels about his mama.

I'm "Falling"...

...and I can't get back up.

Fall is indeed here.

The leaves are changing.

I am back to working.

My babies are growing, growing, growing.

I am still not sleeping.

And most days I find myself crying.

What is a woman to do???

Fall is a perfect reminder that everything does change. My three and a half months at home with the boys is done and I am not quite sure what to do with myself. Nico is a little boy full of opinions that are usually expressed by pointing and screaming. He takes after me. He is obsessed with birds, planes, choo-choos, dancing, reading books, and being outside. His vocabulary grows everyday and it melts my heart into tiny, tiny pieces when he walks around saying "Noah, Noah." I should probably not mention that slapping Noah on the head tends to be one of his favorite pasttimes, but we are working on acquiring the meaning of "gentle."

Noah is our rolly, polly ball of fuss. Again, he takes after me. The boy has our number and screams,well, most of the day...and night. And yet the moments when he is kicking those legs and flapping those arms and flashing that smile make the sleeplessness seem trivial. Despite the occasional pinch and bite from his older brother, he is mesmerized by him and watches and watches and watches everything he does. He is our Lunch Box, our Cheeks, our sweet baby boy.

Fall is here. The leaves are changing. My babies are growing.

Could it all just slow down a little, little bit?

Week in Review

My sister left today and I can't stop crying.

I am completely cracked out on pregnancy hormones and I seriously can't stop crying. I had my sister and my niece here for a whole week, and while they just live in Seattle, I cannot remember the last time we have had a whole week together.

It was HEAVEN. Complete and total heaven. And let me be clear - this week was not easy.

First there was the projectile vomiting brought especially to us by our two-week-old. It started last Monday and ended with a four-hour stint at the hospital that included a very nice but really stupid blood lady trying to take blood from my infant son's arm and an ultrasound of his belly that thank goodness confirmed everything is okay with Mr. Noah anatomy-wise. Apparently we have another case of acid reflux, and as I stated with Nico not so long ago, I HATE acid reflux. I loathe it. I want it to go far, far away from here. The good news is that with a little medicine and some smaller feedings closer together, Noah has not projectile vomited in almost 72 hours. He is thankful and every crevice of my body that has now been officially covered in vomit is also thankful.

But that's not all. There was also the 4 a.m. change of Noah's diaper in which I accidentally knocked off the plastic ring placed on his hoo-hoo after his circumcision. Can you say "Kill me now"? Apparently I have not caused any permanent damage and I am happy to report that his hoo-hoo is currently looking mighty fine, but at 4 in the morning, I was a wreck.

For the record, feeling like your son is starving and his manly parts may forever be damaged and it is clearly all your fault is not real fun. Nope, not fun at all.

And then the Mister (a.k.a. Nico) officially threw his first full-blown temper tantrum, and Trevor and I just sat there and stared at him and at each other because we had not idea what to do. We are pretty sure it was a fit meant to express his displeasure at yet again gaining a couple more teeth (I loathe teething almost as much as I loathe acid reflux) and also his displeasure at having to share the limelight with his baby brother.

Here is some math I actually understand:

Projectile Vomit + Possible Deformed Hoo Hoo + First Temper Tantrum = GUILT

Just so I don't leave anything out, some neighborhood teenagers with clearly too much time on their hands and no imagination exploded firecrackers on our front doorstep on Thursday night and then egged our house on Friday night. With sleeping babies, I wanted to KILL PEOPLE. No joke. KILL. PEOPLE. Do not mess with women who have recently given birth.

In short, the events of the week were a bit hellish but having my sister here to process with and laugh with was pure heaven. This week reminded me that if Nico and Noah find in each other what I have found in my brother and sister, then I will know I have done my job well.

To my Noah...

Dear Noah,

It has taken me ten days to gather my thoughts about the day you entered the world and my heart doubled its size. Ten days ago, I held you in my arms for the very first time and I haven't wanted to put you down since. Just like your brother, you have me captivated. I am addicted already to you - to all of you.

You came into this world surrounded by immense love. Your papa was on one side, your aunt on the other, cheering both you and me on. Your grandma, in true fashion, held my head high, and your Melanie captured every single moment while yet again providing a calm that both you and I will forever fall back on. This is your starting line-up, my love, the ones who will always love you fiercely, completely, and unconditionally.

Your brother is in awe of you. At only 12 months old, he greets you every morning with an enormous smile and a "hi," and every time you cry (which is not very often)he looks for you and will not stop until he can see you are okay. He loves you so much he wants to eat you, which can be a bit of an issue. You made it very well known that you didn't appreciate him biting your foot. I cannot wait to see your relationship grow, and my hope is you always take care of each other and that you are more than just brothers - that you are each other's very best friends.

I also hope that your current peace and calm stay with you always, that you never doubt how deeply we love you, and that you never tire of me staring at you endlessly. You and your brother are our everything - you are our living and breathing dreams come true. I cannot wait to see all that you become.

I love you immensely...

Your mama

One

To my baby boy...

Today you turned one. ONE. And as I watched you marching around the house, carrying your enormous mylar balloons and waving hi to everything in sight, I couldn't help but think to myself, "This year has gone by way too fast." Cliché, but true. You are such a little man now and the center of our world. The joy you have brought into my life and your papa’s is immeasurable. You are everything we dreamed of and more.

It is amazing how since day one, you have innately been YOU. Your curiosity about everything around you is incredible. You take everything and everyone in no matter where we go, which is a trait I hope you never lose. Your energy and intensity never cease to amaze me – you go, go, go, go, and that is not an exaggeration. Your love of music and kitties warms my heart and your hugs and kisses are the highlight of my day. I just have loved watching you be you, and hope you know that every minute of every day, all I ever want for you is to be exactly who you are.

The day you were placed in our arms was a day we have to admit that we had waited not so patiently for. All I have to do now is look into your enormous brown eyes and I know, with every fiber of my being, that life is exactly as it should be, and it is better than I could have ever imagined. You remind me every day that good things come to those who wait, that sometimes life is fair, and that throwing your arms up into the air with the high-pitched squeal of a pterodactyl is sometimes the only way to say how you really feel.

Happy 1st Birthday, Nico. I love you bigger than all the mountains and deeper than all the seas.

Mama

Reality Check

Okay, so it's for real. I am really having a baby. Like, really, really having a baby.

I haven't been in denial or anything, and I certainly have understood that this ever growing bulge that rotates and jabs and rolls inside me is indeed a baby. But for some reason, it hasn't felt real until yesterday when I went in for my 36 week check, which I knew was going to be the first time they did any "real" sort of checking, if you know what I mean. And can I just say for the record that this checking freakin' hurts??? Holy Mary, women of America!!! I realize that what is about to come is going to be 1000 times worse but my lady parts are currently a bit tender and checking HURTS! Okay, I digress...

Here is what made this whole "I am having a baby" thing real:

Doctor (with hands placed firmly inside me): Oh! You are already 2 to 3 centimeters dialated and 80% effaced!

Me: I am????

Doctor (whose hands are now on the outside): Yes! Look, you're even spotting (showing me his rubber gloves)!

Me (thinking "Get that out of my face."): Oh.

Doctor: You need to go home and pack a bag - just to be safe.

So I know it could be two days or it could be two weeks or it could be never, but for some reason, hearing the words "dialated" and "effaced" have made this very, very real.

I am having a baby! I would prefer to have this baby after this weekend so I can celebrate my first's first and my second's impending arrival, but nonetheless, I am having a BABY!!!

Somebody pinch me now!

Flips and Philosophy

Okay, so I am going to do it. I am going to take a picture of my belly and post it for the world to see.

Drum roll please...

This is what 33 weeks pregnant looks like - at least on me - and I am trying to embrace it.

I feel huge. Enormous. Kind of like a beluga whale. And as excited as I am about creating and carrying this life, pregnancy has been HARD. Really, really hard.

I have puked. I have experienced some pretty decent flowing bloody noses. Now I have mucus coming out of all sorts of body parts. I used to walk - like a human. Now I waddle - like a duck. I used to run up our stairs in 2 seconds flat. Now I heave myself up them by gripping our stair rail with all my might. My boobs ache. My back hurts. My hips throb. I have peed my pants - a lot. Glowing is the farthest thing from what I have done the last seven and a half months.

And so I haven't wanted pictures, for me, for you, or for anyone else to see.

Until today.

Because today I recieved the news that a dear friend passed away yesterday after a very long and unfair battle with cancer. I knew this day wasn't far off after visiting her in the hospital on Mother's Day, but I nonetheless am so, so sad that my friend is gone. This friend taught me that age is not a predictor of connection or friendship, and that joy can always be found in really good food, really good stories, and in the idiosyncracies of marriage. This friend always rejuvinated my teaching spirit and opened her home to all of us without expectations or conditions. I love her deeply and I will miss her dearly.

So today I celebrate life, particularly the one growing inside me. Because as hard as pregnancy has been and as huge as I feel, life is fleeting and fragile and often times unfair.

Today, my belly is a sign of all that is good in the world. As my little one flips and kicks and thrives within me, I celebrate LIFE and I am so, so thankful for that.

Mother's Day Surprises

My husband made my heart sing yesterday, and in fact, I am pretty sure my heart is still rocking out today.

Here's the thing - when I met Trevor, I knew immediately I loved him and I knew immediately I would marry him. Leaving out the sordid details nobody wants to hear anyway, let's just say that on about day 11 of our dating relationship I told him I loved him (there may have been some innebriation involved), and instead of making him run far, far away from me, he reciprocated my sentiments shortly thereafter. I would like to tell you that it has all been a fairytale story from then on out, but the truth is, there have been moments where I am pretty sure that running far, far away from me has been on his mind. Perhaps I will delve into this topic later, but let's just say that infertility can take its toll on a marriage, and in the end, we both have often been left to feel unheard by the other.

But yesterday, my husband showed me that his love for me has never wavered. Yesterday, my husband showed me he has been listening the whole time.

I was told I needed to be out of our house for six hours. I was told I was going to a movie with my mother, and so I did. While I watched Robert Pattinson petting an elephant and making out with Reese Witherspoon, I ate a crap load of nachos smothered with a crap load of nacho cheese. It was HEAVEN.

The truth is, the movie would have been more than enough, but apparently not for Trevor.

By the time I got home many hours later, I arrived to a home with freshly cleaned carpets... including the stairs. The same stairs that I have complained about literally WEEKLY for the last 6 months. The same stairs that have become more and more covered with pet hair, reminding me every day that I simply cannot keep up with my home. In short, and perhaps most importantly, the same stairs that have represented my feelings of inadequacy as a mother and a wife.

And my husband cleaned them.

He cleaned the carpets and he cleaned the stairs and I wanted to cry because he HEARD ME. My husband heard me and responded in kind. But it didn't stop there.

On the kitchen counter was our laptop with this waiting for me:

Because you cannot see it, here is what he wrote:

"The last eleven months have been an amazing time. I can look back with wonder and joy not only at how we have gotten to watch little man grow but also how we have grown as parents. You are an amazing mother to Nicolas, the amount of love that you have for him is amazing and the joy and wonder that you show as his world expands is a lesson for us all. You really have made him the center of your world. Just as we are fortunate that Nicolas is in our life and that he will be joined by a baby brother in the near future, they are lucky that they have been delivered to you. I know that the future will be full of life, laughter, and love."

Let's ignore the fact that he forgot the "h" in our son's name, because as I stood there in my kitchen reading these words, I cried and cried and cried...in front of my in-laws and my mother and my baby and I didn't care because my husband HEARD me.

A movie, clean carpets, clean stairs, and words just for me.

God, I love that man.

He heard me and my heart is singing.

A Fresh Start...

I am ready to give this a go again.

It has been more than six months since I have blogged about, well, anything. I have thought about coming back here often, but then sleeping sounded much, much better than blogging about, well, anything.

The thing is, there has just been too much.

Too much good, that is.

First there was this - a home purchased that needed much tender, loving care. A home I was ready to sand and paint alongside my husband. A home that literally tripled our living space and was placed perfectly next to a community pool and across the street from a playground and an elementary school. A home to raise our baby boy in, and I was pumped.

And then we found out about this - literally the day after we signed the papers on the above. This was not planned and this meant weeks of worry that perhaps we would have to relive the grief of two prior "this-es." But this time was different. Immediately. This time there was a dot at 5 weeks, a bean at 6 weeks, a very tiny human at 12 weeks, and a bouncing, baby boy at 17 weeks who was very pleased to show us his parts multiple times. This time I puked for 20 weeks straight and therefore I wasn't able to help with the sanding and the painting of the home bought for our baby boy - now our baby boys. And now at 31 weeks today, I look forward to seeing this little man face to face, to introduce him to his brother, and to have his father carry him for a little while. It is amazing how with a little bit of faith and a whole lot of surrendering, the family you always dreamed of can come to fruition before your very eyes.

Which brings me to him - the very BEST thing that has ever happened to his mama and papa. He has sprouted a couple teeth, a bit more hair, and a few more inches. He has taken his first couple of wobbly steps all on his own and he LOVES to get down to some good music. Best of all, he sleeps through the night with an occassional display of displeasure at not being able to find his binky in the dark. Our Nico continues to show his unbelievably strong will and has proven that you can communicate exactly what you want and need without uttering a single word. He waves goodbye in the morning now, meows back at the kitties, and gives the hugest most slobbery-est kisses ever known to humankind. In just a month and half our baby will be one and will shortly thereafter become a very little older brother...

... so here I am, friends, starting over with a new background, a new title, and a new appreciation for letting go and letting what will be, BE.

Here is to a fresh start...and a clean one at that.