Young Man

The other night I was walking up the sidewalk and noticed my son peeking out at my from the window of his bedroom. It was dark, about 9pm and he was supposed to be asleep.

"Young man, you get down from there and get in bed RIGHT NOW!" I said in my best stern mother voice.

He laughed at me.

"I mean it. It is past your bedtime, you go inside right now and get in bed." I was now standing in front of the window by at an angle and he was giggling maniacally.

"I mean it. If I have to come in there and put you bed myself I will."

More laughter.

"Fine I'm coming in there but you are not getting another bottle!"

As I turned around to go in the house I heard to my left, "Are you talking to me?"

Apparently my neighbor's 18 year old son was standing on his front stoop, I have no idea why. He thought I was telling HIM to go to bed. Of course he couldn't see the baby on the other side of the window or hear the laughter, he just heard the crazy neighbor lady scolding him and telling him to go to bed. At 9 o'clock at night.

Perhaps that explains why those neighbors choose to mow their backyard at 7am on Saturdays.

They hate me.

When Kylie was a year and a half, she loved to watch Quasimodo on TV which was a VHS copy we had of "The Hunchback of Notre Dame". The Disney version.

When Lizzie was a year and a half old she knew some colors and could sing some nursery songs.

Will is a year and a half. The following photos should explain why he knows no songs, watches almost no TV and has no interest in reciting colors for me.

Trying to climb the penny horse at the grocery store. Half of his shirt is under his armpit because he struggled to get away from me so hard.

This image is from the video camera we have set up in his room. We have it as a safety precaution, I think you can see why. This first image shows that Will has throw his favorite blanket on the roof of his toddler bed "fort" and is now attempting to climb up after it.

This image shows that he got up there, the canopy was strong enough to hold him and he sat up there. For almost 20 minutes.

Not shown: Pictures of Will climbing into his high chair while my back was turned cooking dinner. Also not shown: Pictures of him scaling the dinner table, patio table and various other household furniture.

Anyone taking bets on how many bones he'll break before he gets to Kindergarten?

Does anyone know how many near heart attacks a mother can have because in 20 months I'm pretty sure I've reached the 3 digit mark.

Lucky

Alternatively title : Animals really are a boys best friend

When I was pregnant Micah and I were concerned about how the animals would adapt to the new baby. He would be loud and grabby and sticky and loud. Our dogs are good dogs with the older two girls but, well, babies are different.

We figured the cat wouldn't care either way. He's a cat.

Fast forward to about 3 months ago. Will was just learning how to walk and he was walking with what we refer to as a "drunk zombie" gait. That is, he stumbles everywhere and doesn't bend his knees much. The dogs were constantly running in fear of his little body hurdling toward them. When he would get close to them initially they would look fearful.

After a little praise of them being "good dogs" when the boy was around Tasha realized it was her job to keep him safe. Ever since Molly arrived Tasha has been the big sister and her attitude and demeanor are certainly that of a protective, sometimes scolding big sister to Molly's devil-may-care lifestyle.

2 months ago when the boy would stumble/fall towards Molly Tasha would immediately stand up and put her head toward Molly's head as a reminder not to scamper off or snap (not that Molly has). She would also stand between the boy and Molly to corral him and protect Molly.

This month has brought unexpected patience from both dogs. Molly likes to lay directly next to the couch when Micah or I are sitting on it. The boy also likes to be on the couch in between riding his dinosaur toy and pretending to be a bulldozer with his head. So Molly is often used by Will as a step in order to crawl onto the couch. Now she doesn't even move or life her head as he steps on her. Tasha rarely has to even remind her to be polite.

Tasha also is the victim of the boys love and this weekend patiently allowed him to POKE HER EYES while he was sitting in his Grandma's lap. She sat there with her mouth literally 2 inches from his face and just let him poke. Grandma was so focused on the mouth that she initially missed the eye poking. Yet Tasha still loves him and has been known to share kisses with him from time to time.

It's the cat though that has garnered the most surprise from me regarding his love for Will. When the baby was new the cat was known to cuddle up with him and initiate his own petting from a few month old, still close fisted baby. Still, it comes as a surprise when I see Will laying against the cat and grabbing his tail while the cat contentedly lays there and doesn't nothing. He's never scratched or hissed at the baby.

This weekend though, he took his love to a whole new level. He thought the baby might be hungry given Will's demonstrated desire to place everything in his mouth and/or consume anything placed on his high chair. So he brought him a dead bird.

Dead.Bird.

Micah was horrified.

After a thorough shower with generous amounts of shampoo and soap I voiced that I believe it was very loving and noble of the cat.

After all, those flying things are hard to catch.

Rough Night

So I'm standing at the second post office I've visited today, waiting to pick up a package for Kylie.

In the car I realized I hadn't brushed my hair or teeth today. Or showered.

While I'm standing there I realize I'm not wearing any socks.

Then I realize, I'm also not wearing a shirt. Only my bra and my jacket.

Luckily it was zipped up.

I have GOT to get more sleep though.

Welcome to our house....

William Raul Gonzales

I will post a birth story soon, I promise, but as you can imagine, I'm tired and we are trying to get ourselves together and get nursing handled and that's a bigger priority than telling you about begging my midwife not to make me push the baby out. As he was crowning.

Yes, I really did. I also told everyone in the room I changed my mind. As he was crowning.

We are a breastfeeding baby. Hence the hat.

Literally a couple of hours old or so. Massive amounts of hair

Moms and stuff

Still no baby. Sorry all. I promise he will be here by Friday though, one way or the other. Unless he's stubborn and insists on being born Saturday but he's COMING and I'm starting the process 7:30am Friday morning. Eviction time buddy, sorry.

Truthfully I'm a little disappointed, I had hoped to go into labor naturally and labor most of the time at home with my husband and mother in law but alas, appears not meant to be. And I'm a little scared because I know what's coming next and it's the hurty party. I'm excited to meet this little guy, I feel like I know him but not fully yet but the part where he makes his grand exit? Not my favorite part. Sorry.

ANYWAYS, with these thoughts swirling around in my head I've been thinking a lot about my own mother. I miss her of course and I hope she's in heaven and has been getting to know my little guys spirit up there but of course I'm sad that she wont get to be here for his first bath. Or first diaper change. Or to cook for me. (Yes, I am selfish, what do you what, I'm an only child.)

I don't have a whole lot of pictures of my mom on this computer and almost none of her with Lulu since she passed when Lu was only 8 months old but I thought I would share a few of her that I have.

She was truly a wonderful Grandma and while my children have amazing family and fantastic Grandparents in Nana and Grandma Leslie and Grandpa Rex and Grandma Linda and Grandpa Jerry I'm a little saddened that Lulu and this new one wont know my own mother like Kylie did. I'm especially sad that I wont hear my mother singing her new Grandson a silly made up song like she did for Ky and Lulu or telling stories about how I ate pork chop at 6 weeks old and if it was good enough for me its good enough for .

Back of my Mom's gravestone. Long story about this gravestone but short story is, this quote was perfect. Thank you Nana for finding it.

My mom and Kylie (she's 2 in that picture) watching a movie. Both appear, well, puzzled.

I'm fairly certainly my mom is singing a song to Kylie in this picture. Kylie was captivated.

Me, my Mom, Kylie and Lulu when she was a little over a week old. Why yes, I am still wearing my pajamas. Why do you ask?

Adventures in Castor Oil

This blog post will be short because I actually have a better one in my head. I actually have 2 better ones. The first involves a political lesson I gave my 14 year old recently. Knowing what I do about my readership (hello family!) I have to be careful how I word that so you people don't call CPS on me. (I'm kidding of course. It's just a long post that many of your might want to ignore altogether.) The other blog post will include a birth announcement. But, well, that birth hasn't happened yet. So I can't even begin to write that one. *sigh*

But I did want to share a semi-funny story with you all involving me and my pregnancy induced crazy and Castor oil.

So last Wednesday I went home early from work with contractions that SEEMED like they might be getting closer together. But not fast enough. It was also the day before my due date.

Up until that day I had been the biggest opponent of Castor Oil as an induction method. I knew exactly one person who had used in and gone into labor and her story was so horrific (involved a very fast labor and multiple bowel movements) that I couldn't remotely stomach the idea.

Until last Wednesday. Last Wednesday I was so desperate to make the contractions stop and just get it over with I stopped by the grocery store on the way home to find some of the "magic" oil. I had done my research and one website suggested there might be Castor oil pills. I couldn't find them. But it also suggested that 58% of women who had taken 2 oz of Castor oil had gone into labor within 4-6 hours.

Those seemed like frankly good odds last Wednesday.

I could not find the Castor oil however. So I called my husband and told him if he loved me he would bring me some. And he loves me. So he brought some home and then immediately said he couldn't be a part of it. He felt like it wasn't going to be pretty and darnit, we're still newlyweds.

I decided to go easy on myself and I took 1 oz of the Castor oil in orange juice. Let it sit an hour or so and nothing. So I took the other oz.

Let me stop here and say, taking that second ounce was rough. I knew the texture by that point and while it didn't taste particularly bad it does strange things to juice. Basically it sits on top of it and gets all over your mouth and no amount of orange juice will really help that.

And so I sat. And waited. And I knew what SHOULD come next. The exiting of anything I may have consumed for the last 3 years in a horrible method. But if it brought on labor I was ready for it.

Except.

Except NOTHING happened. NOTHING. No gut wrenching bathroom trips. No nausea. No regrets. No contractions. NOTHING HAPPENED.

In fact, my contractions stopped altogether for the evening.

Disappointment, thy name is Castor Oil.

Which is why I sit here, 4 days past my due date, still at my office job and still not delivered. Not even Castor Oil can save me.

The gift I still need

I am 40 weeks +1 day pregnant. I am still working outside the home. I am tired. I have 2 daughters at home who want my attention. Plus a husband who is anxious to meet his first baby. And two dogs, one of which (Tasha) can not stop checking on me every 2.9 seconds. And a cat that thinks my belly is his personal elevated bed. Even when I'm sleeping.

We are also dealing with some pretty serious issues with Micah's lovely grandmother Jenny. I wont go too much into it here but I will say that this week has seen some aggressiveness and confusion on her part that are escalating and it's hard for us to know what the right course of action is.

People keep asking me what we still need. Do we have everything? What else could we use?

My answer is always "A baby".

(For the record we do have some larger items we still need but I have the money for those items. I just don't have the desire to go by the swing or bouncy seat right now.)

But what I really need right now is patience. This baby will come on his own time. Or by the 20th, whichever comes first. (I have a schedule induction date because no one wants me to be in the hospital over Thanksgiving which is what we will be up against if I go 2 weeks overdue)

Grandma will be okay. She needs to adjust to her new environment and she is struggling with the confusion of dementia. She is now in a closed unit and it's hard for her to accept. Additionally, she wants to sit and eat with "friends" and it's hard to make friends in the closed dementia unit since, well, everyone has some level of Alzheimer's or dementia. We need to be patient and fight for her best interests.

My daughters always need and deserve my attention. I need to be able to explain to them what I need and what I can give. This is the last week that Lulu will be the youngest child in our house. This will be the last week that Kylie wont be "on call" to watch a small infant so Mommy can take a shower for a year or so.

Tasha and Molly and Jason are lovely, sensitive animals that love me. They can tell things are changing in the house and they aren't entirely sure how to deal with them. They need some love as well.

So I just need some more patience. Okay, I need a lot of it. Everything will be okay. Deep breath. It will all be alright. I just need some time. And patience.

And guacamole.

That baby.......

As I round the corner into my 39th week of pregnancy I'm starting to field a lot of questions about "When are you going to have that baby?".

Mostly from Micah.

But co-workers are also kind enough to ask, as well as strangers and even Lulu. Lulu is exceedingly worked up about when the baby is coming.

You see, way back when, we explained a timeline that made sense to her. First there would be her birthday (Sept. 26th), then Halloween (Oct. 31st) and then the baby would come after that but before Thanksgiving.

Well, we've had a birthday, we've had Halloween and she's starting to see Turkey decorations all over the place. It's time for the baby. So where is he?

He's still inside me, that's where. And I think it's beginning to frustrate her just slightly because she has taken to asking "How many more days until the baby?" about every 1.8 seconds.

Kylie, on the other hand, has no issues about when the baby is coming. She's old hat at this frankly, becoming a big sister at the ripe old age of 9 for the first time, and so she knows that the baby will come when he comes. Besides, she has more important things to worry about, such as, where is her black eyeliner, will I buy her more books and does she get to skip school when the baby is born. Priorities for a 14 year old.

Yesterday, I started having Braxton Hicks contractions about 9:30ish in the morning. I knew they were fakey's, as I call them, so I stayed at work and was able to work through them for the most part but it's kinda nice to know my body is finally DOING something towards getting the baby here. Because lately? It's been kinda lazy on the contraction front.

I don't think Micah can clean anything else in the house, his nesting instinct is so pronounced and if I change my budget one more time it's going to result in a Wall-Street collapse, I'm sure. (I nest in dollars, he nests in household stuff. That's why we make a great team.)

So any day now William, any day now......

30 weeks down....

So Thursday marked the beginning of my 30th week of this pregnancy. Here is a belly picture for you.

I don't like having belly pictures taken of me. I'm already a big girl and while I know people can TELL that I'm pregnant I still feel very self conscious. Especially now that I seem to keep bumping my belly into things like doors, walls and people.

I still feel generally very good. I occurred to me though that we have a little over 2 months left to get ready for this baby. And uh, yeah, I got nothing. Well, that's not true. I have a silly amount of clothing for this baby. Few sleepers but a lot of very cute outfits. But I don't have a car seat, diapers or even a wipe in this house.

I'd like to tell you that I'm always this relaxed and cool when it comes to getting ready for a baby but, well, I'm not. I'm just busy. Hazard of being the third child I guess. I have a teenager I have to worry about, I have an almost 5 year old who is starting to feel a little left out and a new husband to navigate marriage with. I have an full time job outside the home and what should be a full time job INSIDE my home (But certainly isn't getting the attention it deserves). I have PTO, friends and family to play with and that severely limits the amount of time I spend preparing for this baby. Poor little guy.

I have been informed that I will be having a baby shower. I certainly hope those people have the good sense to know what I need because honestly, at this point? This baby may have to come home with a t-shirt tied around his waist in a loaner car seat from the hospital but in a very cute Gymboree outfit.

Hello. My name is.....

Hi, my name is William Raul. I'm not due for a few more months still but my Mommy and Daddy (and big sister and Grandma and Great Grandma) decided to take a look on Saturday to check me out. With the magic of technology they got to see what I look like.

Yes, I am making a frowny face. Attila the Hun was beating me up with her wand. I was very, very sleepy.

That is my foot in my eye. I am essentially folded in half and I like my toes in my face apparently.

This is pretty much a portrait of me. I look like my Daddy when he was a baby.

10 weeks 3 days until my due date, according to my Mommy. Which she also says means probably 12 weeks until I make an appearance. Can't wait to meet you all.

What a difference a Dad makes

I'm not sure why but I seem to have, in my previous life, attracted a lot of men who were pretty oogied out by the pregnancy process. Yes, that's the scientific description, oogied. As in to oogy. Of course.

Tom probably felt Kylie move around once or twice. He was more fascinated with WATCHING her move inside me. She was a very strong kicker and he would get hours of entertainment watching her kick things off my belly while I was laying down. Things like remote controls, glasses of water, plates, furry animals and a VW Bug. She was, as I said, very strong.

Brian, on the other hand, was completely grossed out by all things pregnancy. He would not hesitate to "moo" at me while I was pregnant, despite gaining only 25lbs that pregnancy. I don't believe he ever felt the baby move on purpose. He might have accidentally brushed up against my belly once and the baby moved but I can't be sure. He told me he pretty much thought that was gross. Luckily, Lulu was not such an involved kicker. She was much more mellow and generally lazy when it came to kicking. She would just rather not. We had to go to the hospital once because she apparently fell asleep for 2 days while in utereo and moved not once. No orange juice, no sugar, no nothing would wake that child up.

Last night I was laying on the bed feeling my belly. As with my last pregnancy, this child seems concentrated on my left side which is where I feel more movement but also there is a discernible bump. Micah came in and I told him to feel my belly. He very gently started touching it, pushing a little bit at my urging to feel the difference between baby and no baby.

All of the sudden his eyes got big. Big like a child in a candy story. Which is not to say that my belly is a candy store. While the two may occasionally be in the same place at the same thing there is certainly a big difference. Lack of licorice is one of them.

He looks at me and says, "I felt that!"

Indeed, the baby had just expressed some displeasure at being pushed on and had kicked right where Micah's hand was. While I had felt it I had assumed he would not because, well, just because. Micah felt around a little more and then felt another couple of kicks and was hooked. Like a 3 yr old on chocolate, he could not get enough.

I asked him if he was grossed out. He looked at me like I was crazy. He said, "That's my baby in there. That's my son." But with the tone of "Duh" behind it.

I'm not saying I cried. Because I didn't. But I can't help but think, what a difference a man makes. Not only for me, but for the baby too.

Now maybe I should work on getting some licorice in there.

A revelation - of sorts

Sorry that I didn't post on Friday. I'm sure all 2 of my readers were devastated that I took a day off from my prolific posting. :)

The truth is that I was simply too emotional to post on Friday, even though I wanted to. But every time I sat down to write I ended up crying. When I'm crying it's hard to focus and I either need to give into my sadness or suck it up and stop the crying. 99 times out of 100 I suck it up. But when it comes to grief over my mother I try not to do that and just let the grief do it's thing.

Every morning after my shower I turn on the Discovery Health Channel (I think) and watch Bringing Home Baby. It's a show that chronicles the first 36 hours of a new baby's life and more importantly how the parents/siblings/pets handle the newest addition. I like the new baby part but hate the birth part of most of those kinds of shows (A baby story for example) and this show deals with POST birth so I'm a happy camper.

Except that Friday it dawned on me that my mother wont come to help me this time. In the past I always knew my mother was going to help me with my babies. I knew she would come and make my favorite foods and make sure I ate and slept and showered and she would make up these ridiculous songs for the new baby that she would sing as she changed their diapers or clothes or whatever. (I still know ALL the songs by the way. I have video of me singing one of my mothers silly songs to Lulu when she was 3 months old)

I guess that logically I knew I wouldn't have my mother to help this time but emotionally I kind of blocked it out. Until Friday. When I, in a very panicked way, asked Micah if he was really going to be home with me when I had the baby. Because I've never done a baby alone before. I mean, I've generally done it without a MAN around, but I've always had at least my mother and occasionally more women to assist me post baby. My 3 Aunts came to visit when Kylie was a week or so old and my mother in law and grandmother in law came to visit along with my Mother and Dora when Lulu was born.

For the record, Micah assured me he will take his week of paternity leave AND another week of vacation so I wont be all alone.

This thought though, it led to more thoughts. More revelations. When my mother came down when Lulu was born I specifically requested Meat Gravy and Mashed potatoes. I have tried to explain this meal to Micah with limited success, mostly because of the gravy consistency. She didn't get a chance to make it since her visit and my in-laws visit overlapped and she didn't have time.

So she promised she would make it when they came down for Thanksgiving. Except we never had time. She swore she would make it for me at Christmastime when they came down. Time escaped us then too. She was unsure if she would make it down for Easter because she was having surgery on her foot and would be using a lot of time off for that in January.

Except in February we found out she had Stage 4 lung cancer.

I went down in March to visit for Easter but she had no appetite. I don't even know that we had an actual Easter meal that year.

I asked her if she would tell me how to make it when we came down for Christmas. She said she would.

She never made it to Christmas.

It's a stupidly simple meal that I can't make right. I've tried. It's freaking hamburger, flour, water and mashed potatoes for crying out loud. I just can't seem to get it right.

My mother will never come see my new baby. She'll never make me that meat gravy and mashed potatoes. She wont make up silly songs or talk about her first grandson and threaten to dress him up in pink dresses.

And it's like I didn't know that until Friday.

Naming Baby

I love having a large extended family. I have fond memories of all of my cousins and enjoy seeing them whenever we can.



It can, however, make naming baby, a tough thing.



Micah and I agree on some principals of selecting this child's name. It must be classic, spelled in the "normal" format and not in the top 10 list for baby names. Seems easy right?



Just a few weeks ago though, as we were going through names I had to start elminiating ones he would throw out because they've 1)been used already by children in my family or 2)are my cousins names.



When you consider that my Aunts and Uncles must have had the same guidelines as Micah and I do for naming children and they have far more children than my mother did, well, it can get interesting.



Names that I can't use for boys: Ethan, Justin, Nathan, John, Mark, Ryan, Eric, Michael, Jonathan, Aaron, Gregory, Larry, Clint, Luke, Malachi, Justus, Joshua, Isaiah, Elijah and Timothy.



Names that I can't use for girls: Jennifer, Jody (Jodi), Megan, Sofia, Mariella, Michelle, Elisa, Heidi, Janene, Nadene, and Serephina.



Now that's ONLY on from my mothers family. Add to that names from my fathers family and from Micah's family and our list is becoming a very short list without any additional input from us.



Other names for boys we can't use: Phillip, Clayton, Christopher, Michael (again), Andrew, Matthew, Myles and Harvey.



For girls: Rebecca, Jasmine, Michaela, Heather, Susan, Amy, Sara, Nancy, Leslie, Leslie, Karen, Paloma, Melanie, Donna and Judy.



Don't even get me started on names of friends of their children because then we're completely out of names essentially.



The naming of a child is one of the greatest gifts we as parents can give a child and it has to be meaningful. A name can shape a future and give impressions without that child ever opening it's mouth. It is something that (hopefully) the child will carry with them the rest of their lives. We want it to be special. We want it to have meaning. And we don't want everyone else to have it too.



We have what we think are some tentative names. I'm not up to sharing them JUST yet. But I will, hopefully once we find out what we are having.