A long life full of memories

After a couple of days of thinking he had the flu, then passing out multiple times at work and at home, my grandpa found himself in the hospital, undergoing open heart surgery.

My spunky grandpa, who at 85 years old, is still a full-time dentist (my grandma begs him to retire) and will be a farmer until the day he dies (I don't think farmers ever retire).

One of my biggest parental worries is of a life cut short by disease or accident or whatever. I always wonder if there is ever a point of releasing that worry, or being able to breathe a sigh of relief and say, woo hoo!  He did it!  My kids avoided tragedy and lived a long life!

As we visited with my grandpa the morning before his surgery, I watched my grandma sit by his bedside. She adores him and he adores her. They have built a life together over the past 60+ years. How can you not be affected by witnessing a pair with that longevity be faced with the potential of losing each other?

Before I let too much sadness creep in, I have to remind myself: they did it! Their lives have not been cut short. They have decades of memories: of finding love, making a home, starting a family, building careers, meeting grandchildren, and all the random ups and downs along the way.  Ultimately, isn't that what we all strive for? A long life full of memories.

While babbling on and on about this situation, I told Mike I wish there was a way I could tell my grandpa's mom that he has lived a long life. That she shouldn't worry anymore - he avoided tragedy and lived a long, prosperous life. Mike said to me, "You don't think she knows?"  I just love that man and his brain.

So while death is never easy, I do find a small bit of comfort in knowing that of all of the possible end-of-life scenarios, this is one of the best.

No one has died yet, but I guess I'm preparing myself for when the time comes.

From Addy: "Grandpa, this is a note from Addy." I love her!

Something happened...

My very first "bumpie"! I slapped myself
for using that term, so you don't have to.

The Atkinson Enterprise is expanding!  Baby #2 is due March 24, 2015!

Minus the 2 months of expected nausea and distaste for all things delicious, it's been smooth sailing!  We did have a twist to the plot, when the results of our first trimester scan prompted my midwife to order a MaterniT21 advanced screening to verify our true risk for Down Syndrome.  Processing the idea of potentially having a baby with special needs was quite a rollercoaster, but one that left me feeling empowered.  I felt like if we were being trusted with such a great challenge, we could do it. And though it would be hard/really hard/really freaking hard, isn't that what makes a life story so great? Science is so incredibly sophisticated these days that we would also learn the gender of our baby through this advanced screening, a whole 6 weeks early!  So, I focused on that during the week it took to get our results.

This baby, my friends, is a sweet little boy, and we are 99.4% sure his chromosomes are a-ok.  I say this like it guarantees him clemency from a childhood of bumps and bruises and broken bones (what I really want to say is cancer/car accident but I feel like that is too scary so I'll put the scary words in parentheses). I guess what I continue to learn is that we can never be free from tragedy so, (cue camp song) Trust in the Lord and he will direct your path!

Through my incessant blog reading, I'm well aware that second pregnancies are much different than the first (no doy!) For instance, at this time in my pregnancy with Max, I hadn't told my co-workers, and was interviewing for jobs while wearing very dark, loose clothes.  This time around, I can't even zip one of the skirts I would wear for job interviews and co-workers are already helping us brainstorm potential names.

I'm also already experiencing some ligament pain and if I try to roll out of bed the wrong way, I'll get what can only be described as a charlie horse in my stomach.  It's much too early for this kind of nonsense!!

But on the flipside, I hear recovery from 2nd birth is a breeze(ish) compared to the 1st time around. Please oh please let that be true.  If I'm dealing with a newborn, a mischievous toddler, AND the aftermath of a forcep birth all at once, I will have a real bone to pick with God.

Much to my dismay, I am not one of those people who is good at being pregnant. I feel good right now, but I know my good days are numbered.  I get side cramps from leisurely walks with Max, so I can't understand those gals who are doing Tae Bo the day before they deliver!!  I did buy a Groupon for prenatal yoga, in hopes that it will help keep my body loose and limber and turn me into a glowing goddess by week 40.  Stay tuned!

But, no matter how itchy my skin gets, and how hard it is for me to get in and out of bed, I know what's waiting for us come March.  A new laugh to add to the mix as we chase each other around the house. A best buddy and karaoke partner for Max.

18 weeks and counting!
xo

If only we knew then what we know now

This week I've been enjoying a great group text with some mom friends about our latest parenting woes. We all have little ones around the same age and we're all working moms (working moms unite!!!) Thank goodness we have each other to vent to, because most days I can go to work without incident, but on the days when I am angry and sad that I spend my weekdays in an office, I take comfort in knowing I'm not the only one.  (My misery loves company - so sue me!) It's hard to watch our sweet children cry when they have to leave their dear babysitters.  It's hard to know that someone else is getting their "good" hours, while we are getting their "cranky, it's-almost-bedtime" hours. It's hard, it's hard, it's hard.

As you go through life, you hear people say that parenting is hard, and you believe them - no doubt.  But you don't quite know the specifics until you're crying at work about someone else raising your child, or you're wondering if you should wake them up to brush their teeth because how many missed brushings equals a cavity?  It's kind of like childbirth.  Sure, it's going to hurt - but specifically, HOW will it hurt?

One of the funniest things to realize is that what troubles us now will be a scalp massage compared to the riff-raff that lies ahead in the tween years.  Yes, it's been hard to teach Maxwell to not throw his food at me.  But I assume it will be harder to teach him that life isn't fair and sometimes the kid who promises to install new pop machines will win the job of Student Body President (true story).

But one of the saddest things to realize is that it takes way too long to understand how much your own parents love you.  Maybe that's not the case for everyone, but I think its safe to assume that many new parents have a guilty stomachache every now and then when they think about how many "thank yous" and "i love yous" they owe their parents.  My entire Christmas gift to my dad last year was a letter about how thankful I was for his sacrifices and I totally get it now but still, I AM JUST NOW GETTING IT.  Luckily my dad is an emotional fella so I don't think he felt all that jipped that his present was just a piece of paper.

If only we knew THEN what we know NOW!

The potato slicer

I knew we were in trouble the second I heard you cry, and I looked up to see that blood was all over both of your hands.  Some weird object that you found in the cupboard had been keeping you occupied, and I was in such a hurry to get dinner made that I didn't think twice about what it was. It was the freaking potato slicer. I swept you up and took you into the bathroom to rinse your hands and find out where the cuts were. I had a feeling it wasn't just one. I mean come on, a potato slicer!!! In my head, I figured there was no way that you hadn't cut each and every one of your fingers.

"Luckily", it was really just your thumb that got it the worst.  A few nicks on 3 other fingers were easy to ignore when we had a thumb that just wouldn't stop bleeding.  As I held you on my lap and pressed a washcloth to your thumb, I wondered how long I would let you bleed until I panicked and called someone.  It's amazing how calm I have been in situations where you've gotten hurt - I guess when you can't look away and let someone else deal with it, it's a little easier to keep a level head.

A few weeks ago, I had bought a package of band-aids "just in case".  The Sater girls were with me and wanted me to buy the "girl" band-aids, but I instead chose the "boy" band-aids - you know, basketballs and robots.  I got one of the robot band-aids out and tried to wrap it around your poor thumb but I think this made you even more aware of your injury and made you even more sad.

Dinner was hard - you would forget about your injury, use your thumb, and then cry in pain. It's so hard to not be able to reason with you and explain what's happening. A soapy bath was out of the question!

All throughout the night I kept having flashbacks to seeing you sitting on the floor with blood on your hands.  I felt so bad.  I know this is just the beginning of bumps and bruises and cuts, and they only help you learn what not to touch and what can hurt you, but STILL!  I know you'll never remember this.  Which is why I'm writing this down now. My sweet little boy - stick with me as I try to find the balance of not being a helicopter mom but still protecting you from injury. It's gonna take me a while to figure this out.

Its getting harder

Those days of just keeping Max alive...those days are coming to an end.  Now, I am harshly feeling the phase of "real" parenting move in, when we need to help him form his knowledge of right from wrong.  How in the WORLD do you do that correctly, while still feeling like you're giving them enough love?!  It's getting hard.

Max loves to be outside.  Loves to squish bugs (that's my fault), throw rocks (that's not my fault), throw anything, take anything apart (who knew there was a vent that blew hot air from the laundry out the side of our house...and who knew the vent flaps came off??)  He likes to walk up and down the street and pick up pine cones and eat them.  He loves to go for walks in his stroller (his throne) and he MUST HAVE SNACKS at all times.  All in all, his little personality is shining and developing and it really is hilarious!

But then he bites me on the shoulder.

I start to say, "Don't you know I was the one who gave birth to you??" But I stop myself.  I don't want to be that mom who is constantly reminding her children of how much they owe her.  I can totally see how that happens though.

He bit me on the shoulder as I was carrying him home from down the street where he loves to pick up and throw giant rocks.  I'm thinking to myself...okay: Take him in his room and tell him that biting people is wrong and leave him in his crib for 1 minute.  But as I'm building myself up for this, his favorite neighborhood dog "Georgie" has finally emerged and is whining for us to meet him at his fence and throw his toy for him.  Max and Georgie are practically best friends.  Mike fostered this friendship - all the nights I wondered where they were, they were down the street playing with Georgie.  It's pretty cute.  So anyway, I figure playing with Georgie will get Max back on track (screw the 1 minute crib time-out!!)

We have finally worked up our dinner appetite so I prepare a gourmet meal for him with chicken, beans, corn, a little sweet potato...I mean come on!  The kid eats like a king!  It's all fun and games at dinner until he throws his food.  He winds up his arm....looks right at me...and then chucks a bean as far as it can go.  This is our nightly struggle.  Is he not hungry?  How can he tell the difference between what you can throw (balls) to what you can't throw (everything else)? Our pediatrician has recommended to take his food away and tell him sternly, "NO."  I do that, but 5 seconds later he's winding up again.  Do I need to be more stern? How do I get his attention without being the wicked witch of the west?

We get through that and have a lovely bath.  I'm doing our usual routine of chasing him around his room to lotion him up, and he loves to crawl back behind his chair and play with his nightlight and the electric outlet.  Because this is a matter of safety, I feel the need to be more stern here.  I tell him that we don't play with that, and I try to pull him out of his den.

But then he bites me on the thumb.

I want to cry and say, Maxwell!  Remember me? Your mother?  I hobbled around for the last 3 months of my pregnancy because my body was at capacity and then I could barely walk for a month after I gave birth to you and then I fed you from my body for the first year of your life!  You should be rubbing my back and writing me love poems!  (Ashley, no. Guilt is not an appropriate motivator.)

Instead, I tell him no and sit in the chair with my arms bear-hugging him (a gentle restraint).  He screams and cries so he must know this is my attempt to communicate that biting is wrong?  Who freaking knows.

But you know what the worst part is...these little "challenges" I'm dealing with now?  This will be easy compared to what's ahead!  Life only gets weirder and moral situations only get deeper and how am I equipped to know off the top of my head what the answer is??  If only parenting duties were cleanly divided where Mike would handle all moral issues (and math homework) and I could just handle bath/kisses/Halloween costumes.  Wouldn't that be a dream!  I feel like I am constantly evaluating how I handled each situation: was that good? was that bad? don't do that...next time do this!

The days of just snuggling the baby are over.  Now, each day I am a contestant in a very real game of Life.

Take me to Georgie!!!

Don't ever leave us, summer!

"The Fork" - a dangerous attempt to
distract from food-throwing.

Will walk for puffs

Max has had a big week - he started walking!!!

For whatever reason, I was convinced he would be walking by his 1st birthday.  But, that day passed without him even showing an ounce of interest in moving past his aardvark crawl.  I knew he would walk when he was ready, and I didn't give it much thought after that.  Except when I saw that the Royal Baby was already walking, I had to do some quick calculations: he is HOW old??  Great job, George.

Last week, Max took a ministep as he was trying to pick up his basketball.  I got pretty pumped.

Then, when I picked him up from Nana's on Tuesday, she casually said - oh yeah he's been walking all over today.  She is Bosnian and sometimes she says things that don't quite mean what she thinks they do, so I didn't believe her.  But then, off he went!  He walked from one side of the rug to the other!  I couldn't believe it!  I was so happy and so proud, I was tearing up and smothering him with kisses!

Luckily, Mike would be home early that night, so I told him we had a surprise for him.  As he walked into the kitchen, Max was already standing up, and he just walked right over to Mike.  It was so freaking cute - not to mention, impeccable timing!  We got a few videos where Mike would entice Max to walk by offering him puffs.  If you don't know what puffs are, they are Max's best friend.  He would do anything for a puff.  When he sees the puffs come out, he literally squeals with delight.  The first thing he does in the morning is point to the kitchen and signal for more.  More puffs.

I handled this milestone way better than when he started crawling and I was at work.  I was just so happy about this new phase and what a big boy it made him look like.  I went through my usual thought process:  he is his own person.  He is going to experience so many milestones and chances are, you won't be there for a lot of them.  I mean, will I be hiding in the bushes as he picks up his first date?  Probably.  But the point is, he is progressing and he is learning new things and it's all good in the hood.

Ole!

Endorphins are real

Something about the summer weather makes me want to work out.  Naturally, I spend the first month debating how I should satisfy this craving.  Gym?  No...too expensive and what would I do with Max? Crazy BeachBody DVD?  No...I want to be outside.  Then I always end up at the same conclusion: I want to RUN! By run, I mean walk/jog.  Then I debate the logistics.  Morning or evening?  Does Max come?  Where do I go? What do I wear?  Do I wash my hair afterwards?  Will my current yoga pants let me do this activity comfortably or will I be tugging at them the whole time?

Finally, yesterday night - also known as last night - I had it all figured out.  I would look up a beginners running plan and run in the morning before Mike left for work at 6:30.  It's already light out, and chances are, the level of my walk/jog would not leave me too sweaty, so I wouldn't have to deviate from my twice/week hair washing schedule.

I popped out of bed, slipped into my clothes that I had carefully laid out, and was turning on my Lady GaGa Pandora station by 5:57.  In the words of Borat, GREAT SUCCESS!  The morning air was cool and the sun was shining.  My route was a perfect 2 mile square, on main roads where the risk of getting abducted are low.  With my beginners running plan, I was only running for one minute and then walking for two (hey I'm a beginner...don't judge!) but the side cramp I experienced felt like I was running for a million minutes, walking for 10 seconds.

I had some time to ponder things.  How did I find this perfect route?  Do they plan the blocks this way? Why do they turn park sprinklers on in the morning, when people are more likely to be out walking/running/etc?  Why not turn them on in the middle of the night, which would also keep the juvenile delinquents from drinking 40's in the park late at night.

When I got home, I remembered an article I had read where a woman swore by "oiling" her insides by putting coconut oil in her coffee.  I was already done with Step 1 of living healthy, so why not keep it going?!?  I brewed a delicious cup of coffee with a teaspoon of coconut oil in the mug.  Can you believe it, another GREAT SUCCESS!  My morning was off to a fabulous start.

After getting ready, with the help of my friend Maxwell, I made my usual smoothie.  But then, I had a moment of genius.  I had extra smoothie but not a lot of time to spoon it to Maxer, so I put it in a to-go container, put it in his "lunch bag" that goes with him to Nana's and took out the yobaby yogurt I normally send.  Hey now...if I'm already making this smoothie, and I know exactly whats going in it, why not always make a little extra and have that be his "yogurt", instead of buying an additional pack of yogurts for him that probably have too much sugar anyway??  This idea made me really excited.  Streamlining!

On the way to work, I'm thinking about the many homeless people I see on my way to work.  I have a quick daydream about if I ever sat down for a chat with one, I would probably realize he is just a human.  I start thinking....we are all JUST HUMANS.  Anything negative that comes after that is just Satan's work.  Not to be an evangelist, but isn't it true?  We are all just people with a good core, but things happen to give us weird quirks or harden our hearts...but at the base of it all, we are just people with feelings!

At this point, I come to the realization: endorphins are real.  All because I burned about 12 calories this morning, I want to start pow-wowing with the homeless.

Why don't I exercise more?  Because I want to "sleep"?  I spend the last 20 minutes in bed each morning hitting my snooze button and wondering what the weather will be like.  If I just got out of bed and moved my body around for a bit, my day is naturally off to a good start.  I owe that to myself and to my family.  I need increased energy when I get home from work and Max wants to play but I want to pour a vodka drink and lay on the couch.

Who knows how long this inspiration will last, but I want to ride this wave while it's here.  Happy holiday weekend, friends!