Photo update!

Annie reading her brother a "book".  (Also known as a store ad)

Ducky sweater from Great Grandma.  Not supposed to fit until November but OH that's right.  We are in 9 month clothing at 4 1/2 months.

I love my feet!  Oops... I rolled over!

First bite!  What is this?!

Oh YEAH baby!  This is FOOD!

Hmm... wasn't missing much.

What's next, mom?

Annie's first game.  Pretending to be a bird!

Elliott:  pre-first haircut

Elliott:  post-first haircut

Oh this is fun!

Say, what do you have there?

I can almost reach it...

Hey!  Wait!  Where are you going with that?

Fine.  I'll just pull your hair. 

The many faces of Annie...

I have taken to calling Elliott my squishy ball of sweetness... a title I am sure he will grow to resent.  However, at the present moment, I have never had the privilege of playing with baby chubs like his so I am going to kiss them and squeeze them all I want!  Elliott is currently wearing a pair of 6 to 9 month pants to fit over his well-endowed behind and is a very happy little guy most of the time.  The poor little guy had a lot of stomach problems early on and so far I have cut out dairy, eggs, soy, and nuts from my diet and it seems to have helped, but who can know for sure?  It is definitely worth it but hard to find the time to cook everything required to maintain such a diet and still get nutrition for nursing.  I can already see his sweet personality coming through.  He is really getting into batting at toys.  He squeals with delight while he's sitting under his play gym grabbing for monkeys and elephants that are hanging from it!  This is such a fun stage.  Most of the time, the play gym has to be in the pack n' play for Elliott's own protection.  His mommy-wanna-be-big-sister comes around and loves him nearly to death whenever he's on the floor.  Annie wakes up in the morning asking for Elliott and is ever-eager to wake him up, which I strongly discourage.  Strong discouragement doesn't always work out in my favor however, so we start a lot of mornings in time-out.

We really enjoyed watching the Olympics recently, including Elliott (the picture is of he and his Dad watching the diving!).  His father is convinced that he is going to be an athlete because of his toy-and-hair grabbing abilities.  Maybe so!  While watching the women's gymnastics it came up in conversation that Annie would love that kind of thing.  Generally speaking, anytime someone brings up something that could be dangerous and/or involves my sweet little girl in a leotard I quickly deflate the idea and replace it with hopes of braces, glasses, and acne.  Yes, I am well aware of the trouble I am in.  It's just a matter of time!!  While my thoughts race toward finding a way to keep her away from anything and everything that would steal her innocence or her happiness away from her, the same struggle I have had since motherhood began for me comes to mind.  Annie isn't mine.  She belongs to a God who has good plans for her, plans to prosper her and not to harm her.  Plans that lead her to Him.

So I can jump on board with this pretty well when it comes to what sport (if any) Annie chooses.  I can back her career choice and odds are, she'll also choose a husband.  But what really gets me is how in the world God is going to save her from me.  I often feel short-tempered and too exhausted to play.  I feel like I lose it over the small stuff and neglect to notice the big accomplishments she makes.  Sometimes I feel like there isn't enough of me to go around, and other times I wish there was a way to hide "the me" my sweet little children do see!  I often feel like my frustration in other areas of my life pervades that of my time at home with my beloved babies.  My perfectionistic personality whispers in my ear all day long, "You're really messing up.  She's going to remember that when she's 18.  How's she going to learn patience when you lose your mind over something so innocent as her constant chatter?  Pick up an extra shift today, you've already blown it with the kids."  What is true?  The Bible says that even though it may be true that I sinned all day long, God already paid the price for my sins.  The debt has been paid!  AND God gave me a way out.  He gave me his Holy Spirit to help and guide me.  I often forget to do my devotions but when I do make them a priority, I notice right away the difference it makes.  God is not bound by my lack of sleep or my temperament(in fact He hand-picked it!  On PURPOSE no less!).  He isn't held back from His plans when I'm not getting along with my spouse and He doesn't feel any strain when the money is tight.  And God, the creator of all things, certainly isn't going to budge an inch in His plans for my children because I failed to be perfect.  I think it is good to model "I'm sorry, mommy made a mistake" to your kids.  I think it's ok for them to see you fail. I tend, if I am failing at something, to ditch the situation.  I wasn't good at volleyball... didn't make it the whole season.  I didn't play beautifully at piano and my cousin was a rockstar at it (after HOURS AND HOURS of practice) so I quit because I couldn't be as good as she was.  I am not naturally good at math.  So I picked a career where the math requirements were addition and subtraction, and I refuse to do even that when playing cards with my family if asked to be score-keeper.  Motherhood is so much more intense than a card game and marriage is way more difficult than playing a sport I'm not naturally good at, but God has called me to be here now and my heart was made for this.  I love my children with everything I have and am committed to being married and working on being a better wife and what better example to my kids than to see me struggle with my sin-nature in front of them and yield to God time after time?  Easy to type.  NOT so easy to do! 




I am thinking of working on a devotional for mothers--something that is deep but quick and short and focused on this period of time where the children are very small or the mommies are pregnant.  I feel like there aren't a lot of good devotions out there for that stage and I think its because we are all so tired during it we don't care to pass on any wisdom we have attained along the way and afterwards, we forget all of it because it was so intense!  So pray for me to be diligent in working on it and to rely on God for the words, because I certainly DON'T have it all figured out.  Writing it will probably help me more than anyone else to be honest.  I feel so blessed to have these sweet children in my care for this short time...I am praying for God to help me enjoy every second of it!

The Witching Hour

I am not sure why I call this an "hour" because really what I am about to discuss refers to a series of hours:  beginning about an hour before dinner and ending with blissful bedtime.  Moms of toddlers know this time well.  It is the period of time where your two-year-old is starting to melt down(as does her mother), while simultaneously becoming hyper.  "I'm-hungry-I'm-tired-I'm-bored-I-want-this-I-want-that-NOW-MOMMY-Oops-I-wanna-help(usually referring to the chopping of dinner components with a VERY sharp knife or wanting to be dangerously close to very hot things)" is the song of this so-called hour and it is a loud one.  I am thinking of moving my quiet times to 3:45 just to armor-up for this particularly nerve-busting period of time.  My poor husband walks in the door after a harrowing commute to find his frazzled wife and wired toddler warring over putting extra salt in the recipe and digging vegetable scraps out of the trash.  Around this same time, my poor sweet newborn (Can I still say that?  I guess 5 weeks snuck up on me!) starts his colicky rant, wants to eat, and is begging me to protect him from Annie, who tries to comfort him by giving him the sweetest kisses and hugs.  Unfortunately, she tries to bring his head to her mouth without paying any consideration to the location of the rest of his body and often steadies herself by putting all of her weight on one hand located right in the middle of his mushy tummy, which is probably hurting (hence the colic).  She also has been known to occlude his airways with her long, drawn out kisses.  (Details...)

When I think about this particular period of time, a set of verses comes to mind.

 "Finally, be strong in the Lord and in the strength of His might.  Put on the full armor of God, so that you will be able to stand firm against the schemes of the devil.  For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the powers, against the world forces of this darkness, against the spiritual forces of wickedness in the heavenly places.  Therefore, take up the full armor of God, so that you will be able to resist in the evil day, and having done everything, to stand firm.  Stand firm therefore, having girded your loins with truth, and having put on the breastplate of righteousness, and having shod your feet with the preparation of the gospel of peace, in addition to all, taking up the shield of faith with which you will be able to extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one.  And take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.  With all prayer and petition pray at all times in the Spirit, and with this in view, be on the alert with all perseverance and petition for all the sands..." -Ephesians 5:10-18

Yes, this verse may seem a bit dramatic for the plight of the witching hour, but really, I think it's quite appropriate.  After all, it is so easy to think that since I am not actually fighting in a physical war and I live in a country where I am free to worship as I please and I'm not wondering if my children will have food today that I don't need a verse as strong as this one.  This is where I think we fall into our sin.  When my day consists of just trying to get through with two kids under the age of two, the breastplate is made of nursing pads and as for my loins... well I'm just hoping they don't fall out while I'm trying to get my pre-baby body back.  An actual helmet seems like a good idea as I am dodging a thrown golf-ball and digging macaroni and cheese out of my hair.  In all seriousness though, the small and insignificant things of this life (like too much salt making it into the dinner you've precariously prepared to try and reward your husband for all he's done) can become much larger than they ought to and, in a struggle to control what can't be tamed, we sin to make it happen or we sin when it doesn't happen.  See, it is not excusable to lose my cool with a two-year-old when she is climbing on the table and throwing her food at the dog because I am thirty years old.  Not two.  When I approach this circus-of-a-time with scripture in my mind, how much more patient could I be?  And who knows, maybe I could even make it fun!  Maybe dinner isn't perfectly seasoned, but it makes for a great memory to look back and laugh about having to triple my recipe because 3 tablespoons of basil made it into the sauce while my back was turned.  I need to value quality time spent with my kids as they learn and grow more than I value looking like a good cook, having a clean house and being exactly on time.  Just something to chew on...

PS- thanks to all of you who provided delicious and nutritious meals for me and my family over the last month.  You have really made dinner time a much more pleasant experience for us during this transition and that is priceless!

And another one bites the dust!

Woah I forgot what life was like with a newborn!  Elliott, luckily, is a better sleeper than Annie was, but not by a whole lot.  Last night I felt like I was on the bus-no, driving the bus- to crazytown.  I haven't slept a lot (which is a song I've sung before... oh yes it's all coming back!) in many days in spite of my sweet husband helping as much as a man who is not lactating is able to.  I tried for several hours to get Elliott to sleep but by 10:15 I brought him down to my awesome husband as I ran out of ideas to make him happy and was beginning to feel deliriously tired.  My loving husband took him, crying and inconsolable, to let me sleep for a good hour.  At 11:15 I tried to feed him, but that was not what he wanted.  He ate anyway of course, being the good boy that he is, and then threw it up because it was too much.  I don't remember what time it was when I hit the wall, but there came a point when we were BOTH crying.  Again, my knight in shining armor took him out of the room just as I was trying to reason with my three-week-old, "Elliott!  Stop crying!  Go to sleep!  You can't do this every night!".  (Watch me, mom.)  And finally I got 3 hours of sleep IN A ROW!  YAY!  The next thing I remember is Annie waking up.  At 7 a.m.  AAHHH!

It's funny (or maybe sad) how I never ever remember to call on my God to help me in times like this.  And yet, He takes care of me in my disobedient and ungrateful state.  I prayed and prayed to have children and was soo happy when I discovered I was expecting for both Annie and Elliott's pregnancies.  Then, when God gave me what I so desperately wanted, I was (am)ungrateful and losing my patience.  With a baby!  I don't want to wish this time away...  babies are sooo precious and so impressionable.  I want both of my children to enjoy me and I them.  I want to look back on this time and remember playing silly games in the living room and snuggling with my sweet baby boy while he coos.  I am acutely aware that many many aching women want nothing more than to experience these sleepless nights and temper tantrums with a couple of kids.  Every mother of grown children who tears up when they see my precious kids out with me reminds me that they grow up too fast.  And then I remember it was only two short years ago that Annie was teeny tiny and unable to so much as roll over without my help.

This morning I woke up and decided I should do something about my attitude because I can't do much about my sleep.  I texted my parents and my prayer partner and asked for them to pray for my perspective.  I so quickly write God off as unable/unwilling/uninterested in helping me with the big stuff, let alone meeting my day-to-day needs.  Moments after this text, my dad called and gave me words of comfort.  Then, I received a text from a friend (who I had not shared about my difficulties with recently) asking if she could watch the kids one day next week so I could take a nap.  Is God ignoring me?  No, He is graciously providing in spite of my attitude.  We got our seventh meal last night from a friend in our small group and I have not had to buy a or prepare much at all since having Elliott in the house with us.  Today, my neighbor was outside trying to get her toddler to get in the van so she could run some errands.  Annie and Lucy are the best of friends and they just wanted to play.  I told her to leave Lucy with me so they could play and was able to get laundry done, beds made, and this blog typed all while feeding a newborn!  How good He is to me.   God help me remember this in five minutes when I lose my mind again!

Elliott is here!

He's here!  It felt like I was WAY overdue, but turns out I was only 40 weeks and two days.  Annie came at 38 weeks so I felt like I had reached "term" two weeks earlier.  The last couple of weeks were pretty tough...  I hadn't reached the point with her where I couldn't touch my toes or shave or felt completely spent at the end of the day but I did with Elliott!  This might have something to do with the fact that I am the proud mommy of an especially active two year old...Annie would taunt me almost hourly with, "Go to the hospital?  I wanna see Elliott.  I wanna hold him."  and "Mommy really big.  Annie carry mommy to the baby doctor."  The week he was born I felt I was in a bit of a dilemma.  He was measuring small at about 37 weeks which my OB assured me was normal because he had dropped.  However, OB nurses have seen it all and we worry.  I wasn't comfortable waiting until past 41 weeks for him to come unless I could have an ultrasound to reassure me my fluid levels were still good and he was growing well.  Since my OB doesn't do them until 41 weeks, I decided to schedule an induction.  The induction was to be for Friday May 4th because my doctor wasn't on for the weekend or the monday after that and the next day she was on was my 41 week day and I was too nervous to go that long.  Tuesday night of that week, I was sure I was going into labor when I woke up at about 2 am with a painful contraction, followed 8 minutes later by another.  And another.  And another.  I got up and started moving around, then they got to be about 5 minutes apart.  By 6am I told Michael to stay home from work and had called my parents to tell them I thought maybe this was it.  When my parents arrived around 9, my contractions had spaced back out to 8 to 10 minutes apart and weren't as strong.  Bummed, but sure they would come back, we went shopping and walking and trying to get things moving.  When I figured out it was a no-go, I sent them home and tried to take a nap.  All day, the contractions were anywhere from a half hour to an hour apart.  Never gone, never really there either.  SUPER disappointing!  That night, same time, same place!  Contractions.  8 to 10 minutes apart.  I wouldn't be dummied this time into calling in the backup though... Like Chinese water torture, every time I shut my eyes and was almost asleep, in crept another contraction that woke me up and I had to breathe through, but didn't come close enough together to call my doctor.  My mom came to the house to watch Annie for me and let me try to nap throughout the day and Michael's mom would be headed in to town about noon to watch Annie for the induction the next day. 

Exhausted, I headed in for my regularly scheduled 40 week appointment Thursday morning.  This time I was dilated to 4 and 75% effaced, which is a good start but I was not overly impressed considering how much contracting I had been doing!  I had resigned myself to getting induced the next morning and went home to try and take a nap during my now 30-minute intervals between contractions.  I slept for a good two hours while snuggling with Annie during her nap and got up feeling quite refreshed!  I went downstairs to hang out with the Grandmas and back came those contractions.  8 minutes apart!  I would stop talking with them and breathe through each one and my mom said to me, "Katie those were a lot closer than 8 minutes."  I didn't believe her.  It was about 4pm when she started timing them.  Sure enough, 7 minutes apart.  I was thinking, WOOPIE-DO!  I have been doing that for two days now!  Then the next half hour they were 5 to 6 minutes apart.  And they hurt a little more.  By 5pm (while Michael was stuck in horrible traffic of course) they had become 4 minutes apart and I had to lean over the counter because they were hurting enough to really catch my attention.  My sweet mini-nurse (Annie) came to my aid with a band aid, which she stuck right on my belly where those contractions hurt.  Funny girl!  I thought maybe I should call the doctor, but was still half-expecting them to disappear. I finally called around 5:45 and we headed to the hospital around 6:15 when Michael got home. 

My admit time was 6:43.  I was waiting for the night shift nurse to come on and my contractions spaced out a little, but were quite painful so I didn't worry too much.  I started filling out my consents and my admit computer-work (like the horrible patient that, as a nurse, I admittedly am!).  I was relieved to know that Beth Milbee, an wonderful person and a really good nurse, was going to be caring for me.  I didn't look like I was in bad shape (nor did I feel like I was) so we chatted and took our time, starting an IV and getting Elliott on the monitor.  20 minutes into the monitoring I knew I was ready to try something different.  She checked me and I was dilated to 6!  Most people are excited when they are dilated to six.  I was scared.  I was like, Uh oh.  This might go fast.  I "wanted" to do natural labor (or try it at least) but I had serious reservations.  Yep, I teach the natural class.  The reservations I had have don't have to do with the theory behind all of it, but with the 1% chance kind of things you see when you work at a big hospital delivering babies in high risk situations, one of which I had with my last delivery.  (I will leave it at that because I don't want to scare anyone!)  So I got in the tub after my monitoring was finished, and it felt awesome for about 2 minutes.  Then it felt reeeeally bad.  My contractions were coming so fast and so hard I couldn't really get ahold of myself.  As soon as I would prepare my brain for what one felt like, the next would be much worse and I wasn't sure I wanted to do it anymore. 

My parents showed up and I was kind of a mess at that point.  Beth was super patient with me!  She reminded me that this was what the tub was supposed to do and I was "textbook" for advancing my labor in the warm water.  I felt my water break and that was when I started to lose it.  I thought, "oh no.  It's too late for an epidural now!  This is going to happen!"  I knew even if I got an epidural right then (which was not going to happen as I was sitting in water), it probably wouldn't set up in time anyway, but this didn't stop me from I begging for it.  Turns out the CRNA was in the operating room doing a c-section anyway and couldn't come.  No OB nurse wants to discover that they are a "yeller", but that is what I was.  I was quickly losing my mind and my groans escalated into a scream at the peak of some of my contractions and I would cry, "I can't do this!  I don't want to!  Where's my epidural!  Get me out of this tub!!"  I was praying to pass out.  When I could barely lift my leg over the tub, I knew this was almost over.  I hobbled to the bathroom where I had a contraction that was HORRID.  I didn't know if I should stand up or sit down or lean over or squat.  I tried all of the above and each one made me feel a little pushy, so I would say, "no no no no!" and move again.  I got in the bed and a couple contractions later(I think?  I can't really remember), I really felt like I had to push.  Michael was right there, said all the right things and was truly awesome even though an alien had inhabited his wife's body.  Beth had already called another nurse to get my doctor headed to the hospital, but it was too late.  He was coming!  The doctor around the corner came in and barely got gloves on and out he came, one good push later.  Instantly I felt fine.  Super weird!  Will I do it again should we decide (or should God bless us with a surprise) to have a third?  Nope.  Not on purpose. I am glad I tried it.  One more check on the bucket list.  (PS I will run five more marathons over doing that last thirty minutes again!  That was tough!)  Elliott was born at 8:42 pm weighting 6 lbs 10 oz, one minute shy of two hours after I arrived to the hospital.  Speedy little guy!

In the middle of the night I got the bad news that Elliott was Direct Coombs positive.  This rare interaction occurs when my blood sees his as foreign and attacks it, causing his billirubin levels to rise quickly(you may also know it as jaundice).  By 8am, we had an order to put him in the NICU under lights to help his numbers come down.  I rushed to get Annie to the hospital so she could see him.

Annie was sooo excited to meet him.  She put her face on his and gave him a big hug and kiss saying, "Elliott!  I am so happy to see you!"  (Two going on twenty?)  The next few days were a blurr of every two to three hour feedings in the NICU and brief, heart-wrenching visits from Annie, who didn't get what was going on and would need to be pulled from my arms screaming "mommy!" at the end of visits. 

Elliott was discharged home Sunday afternoon.  It is awesome to have my little family together!  Annie loooves her little brother.  She asks to hold him or help with the diaper constantly.  I play a lot of defense as she kisses him so much sometimes he has a hard time getting a breath in!  I am feeling super blessed!

Just a Mess

I can't believe I am on the verge of my 8th month of pregnancy. And I can't believe Annie is almost two!! I have calculated that if I were to deliver at the same gestation as Annie, I have exactly 6 weekends left to get it together around here. EEK! That, coupled with the spring weather, has put me in nesting mode big time! I am DYING to paint our completely white walls before the inspection where they will repair any drywall damage (from the house shifting and settling through the first year of climate change) but I am trying to hold it together and just let it be. Stop reading now if you are currently pregnant and also have an almost-2-year-old. WHAT WAS I THINKING?! Oh my goodness... yeah I am not sure why I thought it would be a good idea to tackle the terrible two's while I am acting a little like a two-year-old myself. There is just some kind of chemical reaction to that combination that causes spontaneous combustion on a regular basis. Annie throws herself on the floor, in a fantastic display of toddler-ness, screaming in dramatic prose that she only wants to watch "one more barney" and all I want to do is throw myself on the floor right next to her and scream, "can't you see I'm pregnant!?! Come ON! Eat your veggies! Stay in your booster seat at the table! Go pee in the potty not poopy in the bathtub!" And then there are the times when she says, "Mommy snuggle!" and cuddles up under my arm for some love and I tear up (because that is what pregnant women do... cry and throw temper tantrums) and think about how extremely lucky I am. And it is true: I am extremely blessed to have that little spunky and precocious love in my life. I have always been obsessed with newborns and babies and I honestly thought my favorite part would be infancy, but she says the funniest things! It is so wonderful to watch her grow and think for herself. I am so curious what she will be like as a big sister!

These last few months have spiritually been a season of refinement, if I had to label them. I have felt God really putting me to the challenge as close friends have gotten busy or moved away and we have still be unable to get involved with a small group or moms group through our church. It was this reason that has led us to search for a church in our area that has room for us in their small groups and is also in need of people who will serve. One thing I have noticed as my life has transitioned from that of a person who was able to serve in a leading/facilitating capacity to that of a person who is trying to figure out how to do marriage and motherhood in a God-honoring fashion is that when I stop giving to others or teaching others, I get really self-centered and my sin is just out there for everyone to see. When I'm not trying to be there for other people, it's really easy to just get absorbed in all of the things that aren't perfect in my own life. I am not feeling like I am in a position to teach anyone anything about being a Godly mother or wife, but I would love to at least be in a position where I can pray with other women about getting there someday. I am feeling hopeful (for the first time in a while) because I look forward to getting back into other peoples' lives and being used by God for a greater purpose than my own comfort. With small children, I feel like it's easy to get really focused on getting a break from your life rather than making each moment of it useful for learning and growing. Having small children and still being relatively new to marriage is a season in life where things are uncertain and change a lot. I am not a change-embracer(shocking,eh?). However, this does not excuse me from taking those changes gracefully with God's help and being the best I can be in spite of what is going on around me. Shoot, I always say that the most dangerous times in my life have been the times when I thought I was doing great. It seems that when I start to get comfortable, I am also getting self-righteous. I sort of slip into a line of thinking that says, "hey, I'm not too bad at this! Look at me go!" The next thing I know, I have loved myself right into isolation from God and others. So anyway, right now the way things are going, I am fully aware of my need--every single moment--to rely on Someone else for anything good to happen.

Onto a much less deep note, I discovered TJ Maxx today! Annie is in need of a "big-girl bed" and Michael and I are in need of a few more months to plan for these baby expenses! But ready or not, here they come! So, we stumbled upon some GREAT finds today. At Kittles outlet, we found a $400 white twin bed for $160 ish (including tax!) and then at TJ, I found the perfect quilt, sham, sheets...everything for it for around $50 and Annie went NUTS when she saw it! She looooved it! Now my creative juices are going wild and I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to keep myself from painting her room. And maybe 6 framed pictures to hang around it that match the quilt. And perhaps I will also look for a floor rug... Somebody stop me! It's funny... I had these grand plans when we were house-shopping of finding something I could fix up JUST the way I wanted it, hoping it would inspire me to keep it clean because I am a perfectionist and having it just the way I like it inspires me to keep it that way. Almost a year later, the walls aren't painted, I can hardly bend over to tie my shoes, let alone sweep and mop as often as it needs it, and my house is, quite honestly a mess most of the time. But you know what? That's alright. I am learning a valuable lesson (or six!) in the midst of it. Firstly, greed is a thief that wants to steal away your happiness. You get this, then you want that. Never satisfied, you work more, love less, and pine away your most precious commodity (time!) for what? New flooring. A light in the dining room. A picket fence and some beautiful flowers. No, I'm not saying that it's wrong to make your home welcoming and inviting and peaceful. But wow, I am shocked at my own drive that so quickly considers running over what precious little time I have with my (mostly) sweet little girl before she starts to grow up. I hear it over and over again... "I remember when she was in diapers... I don't know what happened! Now she's getting married! I just want that time back." I am trying SO hard to put the brakes on and realize that paint and curtains and wall hangings are very nice things, but I can't take them with me. Secondly, I am learning that I can actually have friends over while I am living in a mess. Yep, my life is messy. And not just in the toys-strewn-around-the-living-room kind of way. Nope, I am a mess in general. Would you know that most of my friends don't care that my living room is a mess? They care that I am genuinely concerned for them; that I care about them; that I love them and their children well. And loving them well does not mean I have to have a floor you can eat off of. I am sure there will be plenty of time for spotless-ness in my future, but right now life's busy and my energy tank gets drained before I finish most of the things I want to do and quite frankly if something has to be cut off the list, the people in my life should be the very last thing I neglect.

Well this worn out mama is ready for bed whether this blog is finished or not. I am hoping to do a quick photo-blog of Annie's birthday before I have Elliott but no promises!

New Year, New Adventures!

I have definitely fallen off the blogger train. I think Annie has changed SO MUCH since I've faithfully blogged last I feel overwhelmed (and too placenta-brained to organize my thoughts well) to the point where I feel like I can't begin to do her little personality justice, let alone have any deep insight or thoughts to provide. But here goes nothin'!

This winter has been weird to say the least... spring-like temperatures and rain totals making our backyard grow more than it did all summer while we carefully watered and nurtured it in record-heat and record-dry weather. However, we have had a couple of snows that stuck around few a day or two and my little snow-bird loved it! Annie got a sled designed just for little tikes her size from Grandma Purse for Christmas and had been dragging it around the house with two or three of her favorite stuffed animals in tow because she didn't know what it was really for. I took her outside for a spin around the block and she giggled and laughed and protested coming in after 45 minutes of pure, frozen-snot-nose goodness and then wanted to go out again as soon as her snowsuit dried.

Annie has also, as two-year-olds tend to do, amazed me with the advances in her ability to be a part of the "big person" world. I love listening to her ramble on... If you aren't paying attention, you might think she is talking on and on about nothing. However, if you ARE paying attention, Annie really has a lot to say. About everything. Annie talks to her chauffeur continually while we are driving. She tells me about trucks and buses and how the wheels on the bus go round and round. Annie loves to break into song randomly during the day. She gets a very serious look on her face and then carefully belts out a tune in the cutest voice you've ever heard. Just try breaking in for a duet though and you will quickly find that she wants to do it "by myself".As far as the pregnancy is going, so far its been smooth sailing. I am starting to get uncomfortable laying down, so sleep is a luxury I'll afford again in a year or two I'm afraid, but other than that, I can't complain! I got a wonderful opportunity to visit my best friend out east (walking distance to Hoboken, NJ) this month. It was so refreshing to spend an entire weekend having adult conversation with another woman. My husband is always amazed that I can go somewhere like that and be happy literally doing nothing. We made ambitious plans to go into the city and see a show, go to fun restaurants and pick up some authentic cheesecake for Michael. However, on the way over, I got really motion-sick (new pilot I think!), threw up all over my winter coat and only pair of preggo jeans I brought, and we ended up changing our plans a little. I ended up not feeling well most of the trip, but we had a blast just walking around Hoboken, popping in and out of shops, coffee/cupcake stores, and just taking her sweet little doggy for a spin around the block. I got to meet a bunch of her friends and saw one of my old friends from high school out at dinner. This was my first time away from Annie, however, so I cried like a baby the entire way out and for the first morning. It oddly made me feel better when I called that morning, against my better judgement (thinking she would panic and starting crying for me when she heard my voice), to find a toddler SO engrossed in her play with Grandma Purse that she didn't even notice I was gone! I watched the superbowl (which was, yes, going on in Indy) while I was miles from NYC. Not only was I relieved not to have to share the same county with a bunch of Patriots fans, but it was also fun to be a part of the excitement around the winning team's celebrations. I have to say, though, that there are no fans like colts fans. I remember the hoopla going on in Indy and even way out in the suburbs and you couldn't even pull into the gas station without seeing something to cheer on our team. I think it is the massive diversity present around NYC, but the signs and sweatshirts were scattered amongst a crowd of people who seemed to have no interest in(and maybe no idea about) the football game. But my favorite part of the whole trip was getting to have heart-to-heart conversations that were raw and real in the way that only two women who trust and love each other can. Thanks for a wonderful weekend Sarah!

*This post was also written mmm... a month ago. Sorry for the late posts!