Back To The Kids

Here are the highlights of my week, and as you can see by "highlights" I mean eventful happenings, some are not so high.

Monday: I wake up at 5:15. Declan is in my bed. Rich is gone. Wyatt wants to nurse. While nursing Wyatt in bed, Declan, mad that he's not included, starts pushing on my breast. "Hont, hont, beep beep beep, hont!" I am still half asleep. Later, after coffee and breakfast, I hurry into my room to get dressed. Wyatt starts screaming. Declan runs in: "Mommy, I bammed Wyatt and now he's crying" (pronounced cwyin) I find Wyatt with purple bruises already forming above his eyebrow and a huge black eye. WTF happened in the 10 seconds I was in my room? I will never know. Poor Wywy.

Tuesday: I don't really remember Tuesday. I'm sure things happened.

Wednesday: Wywy is 8 months old today! Wyatt is fussy all day and wants me to hold him. This is a difficult task because then Declan also wants me to hold him so, in short, both of my boys are attached to me all day long. This makes preparing meals and pretty much everything else extremely difficult. Every time I put down one of the boys, he cries.

Thursday: Wyatt's bruises are fading. Rich takes the early flight home (Win!) and then his plane gets a flat tire and he's three hours delayed (fail).

Friday: Declan comes into my bed at 4:00 a.m.. I spend the rest of the night contorted and wake up with a half stiff neck. At breakfast, I need coffee. This will take some maneuvering. I put in the waffles and start cutting up fruit. Then I start to clean out the coffee filter. Wyatt cries. Declan wants milk. Wyatt gets cheerios, Dec gets milk. I go back to making coffee. This pattern repeats 32 times. An hour later, the boys have eaten and I finally get to my bagel and coffee. Then Dec calls from upstairs. I look up and see him standing naked. He tells me he has poop and pee on himself. GREAT. Rich is gone all day doing community service in KC. I hate community service for the day. I understand this displays extreme selfishness. I'm too selfish to care.

Summer

So, two weeks ago my sister told me I was a loser. I was showing her my iPad apps and happened upon Tap Reef. I told her how it was a virtual reef and how I could breed fish and sell fish, and...buy more fish. And how I had to check it every few hours to make sure my fish were happy. Jess' smile turned to a dull stare. And, in only a way a big sister can, she told me that I was wasting my time and energy and that if I had time to do that BS, surely I had time to blog or learn how to quilt or do something creative and/or soul fulfilling. Now, I should be honest and say that had that been from most other people, including my husband, I would have brushed it off and felt a little stung, but the truth is, I knew she was right. I've often felt lazy and aimless and like I should be doing something more enriching with my "me" time. But somehow with all this time alone, I've resorted to filling it surfing the Internet and playing on my iPad, producing nothing, enriching nothing, and just...biding my time. Until what?

Well, our family has a lot of big changes on the horizon and while right now it's driving me crazy, pretty soon the waiting will be done. We are moving to Dallas. I'm not sure of the exact date, but I know it's Dallas, and I know it's coming. Mostly, I know when that happens I will get to see my husband every day and we can have a "real" existence without these bursts of family time and then long marathon weeks waiting for Rich to come home. There are many steps to go before we can finally be together, but at least we're on the ladder, right?

AND, I deleted Tap Reef. That, my friends, is the power of a big sister kick in the pants.

Spring

So I'm not as doomsdayish as I was the last time I posted, though I don't think I'll ever forget how hard that week was. It wasn't the sleep deprivation or the loneliness, it was wanting to give both of my boys undivided attention and full support. The good news is that we survived and that (at least I think) both boys still feel loved by their mama. Declan's still not napping and I'm still having a hard time directing that sloppy, physical tiredness into something productive or at least something that doesn't involve kicking me in the face or licking my arm repeatedly. Licking doesn't sound invasive, but imagine you are stuck in one place nursing and are fending off a toddler licking your arm over and over again, it's not fun.

And I'm thinking there's got to be some sort of magic transformation sometime soon because little Declan is headed to preschool. Yep, the licker, kicker, nose picker is headed to Raintree. If you are unfamiliar with Raintree, it's a Montessori school in Lawrence, KS. It has an excellent reputation, which is why I decided to send Declan there, but after my tour I'm both in awe of it and apprehensive about how Declan could possibly fit in there. The biggest shock to me was walking into a room of preschoolers and 1. not being noticed at all, 2. the room was completely quiet, and 3. seeing every single child in the room being completely focused on their individual project at that moment. Try and imagine this! Preschoolers quiet, focused, and learning. I'm not exaggerating one bit. And this is why I'm apprehensive.

Declan is my love. I adore how he sings Bob the Builder at the top of his lungs to wake us up in the morning and how he named two of his cars Bing Bong and Shling Shlong. And our new favorite activity is going on a bear hunt in the house which consists of turning on our light sabers, sneaking around corners, and then charging on the"bears" which are any of the pillows we have in the house, and stabbing and hitting them mercilessly. But not one of these things is done even remotely quietly. In fact, every conversation Rich and I have in his presence has a constant, full volume repeating sentence in the background. This child is not quiet. Ever. Except when he's asleep. But then he's snoring. So...ever. How in the world will he fit in this Utopian child learning environment? Um. Let's keep our fingers crossed.

Wyatt, meanwhile, is my little smooshie sunshine. I am continually fascinated by how happy he is. He just loves to smile and giggle. He also has his dad's gift of gas (I knew there'd be at least one who got that trait). He's just started using his hands and is grabbing all his little toys. He rolls over a few times a day from tummy to back and I can see him working on his back to tummy. I think I'll have another early crawler. I was so proud of Declan, but I was hoping for a sitter this time around, especially because big brother toys are strewn everywhere. I'm going to have to quarantine this child or never, never leave him alone. Not to mention his brother's favorite game is "jumping over baby Wyatt". Oh well, all the lunging and screaming has got to burn a few calories, right? See, I'm taking Wyatt's sunshine approach. No shadows, just light.

I'm one lucky lady. I just got to look at the bright side.

Bloodshot Eyes

Why the hell can't I keep up with something I love doing? And I don't mean going out for a glass of wine or talking on the phone or taking showers, though those things don't happen as frequently as I'd like either. Nope, I'm talking about blogging. During Declan's infancy I'd do once a week or once a month at the very least. Poor Wyatt, he's getting the second child shaft.

But let's be real, they're both getting the shaft these days. Trying to be supermom was something that always turned me off. It seems a little peacocky for my taste, and I'm not a perfectionist. I've come to accept that I'll never be perfect, and I wear that discovery like a badge. I may make it out of the house but someone will look like crap (usually me) and I'll forget something vital (usually for one of the boys). But now, I am running myself ragged staying up all night with Wyatt and keeping everyone happy, clean, and fed all day. And doing this alone Monday through Thursday is taking its toll on us.

And Declan loves to pull out his best move when he knows I'm attending to Wyatt. It breaks my heart to see him need so much more than I can give right now. Not that he needs to be coddled or babied, but I want him to feel secure and loved. It's driven me to tears that I have put Wyatt down while scolding Declan for bad behavior. Don't good moms have control in their household? Perfect, no. But I've always been capable and loving. I'm just not sure I can do that these days without my husband. I wish I wasn't so weak. I wish I was better. I wish I didn't have to tell my husband that I can't handle doing this alone. Wine helps though. I love wine. That's something good, right?

Seriously though, thank god Wyatt is such a good baby. He's super mellow and really smiley. Even when I'm having a tough moment, he'll just turn and shine that little dimple at me and I can instantly brighten up and forget all the challenges I'm facing. Who cares if there are dirty dishes in the sink and Declan's climbed on top of the kitchen table and hasn't taken a nap in a week?

And besides being very attention starved, Declan is amazingly still soaking up everything he hears. I taught him my phone number and instructed him to find an adult should he get lost (or accidentally left) and he promptly recited it back to me and went back to playing. He's also loving the movie Cars and Cee-lo Green (yes!). He's learning all the words to Satisfied and I am really loving being able to play music I like and not all that Elmo crap. Though I do have a friend who loves to jam out in the car to some Barney. If only I could be that simple. No, my Kanye and Jay-Z stays in rotation along with Wheels on the Bus. I may be dirty and helpless, but life without music I love would be my breaking point.

And can effing spring come already? It's currently snowing. Hopefully spring will bring sanity and sleep. Sanity and sleep. I'll keep chanting that and maybe it will work.

Oh, and here's a picture of my adorable children whom I adore completely and hope to be good enough for:

The Corcoran Report

Someday when I get the time and motivation, I'll change the name of my blog. Because it's not just Declan anymore. Wyatt made his debut on December 10 at 3:03 am. And so far, knock on wood, he's a truly sweet baby. Rich has been home from work with us, so we're in that new family bubble, but so far, so good.

My last days of pregnancy were spent worrying about Declan: how he'd handle sharing me, sadness over sharing our special bond, and hoping he'd like having a brother. The result? A million Christmas presents. Like I had to ensure his Christmas was abundant because I knew he'd be going through a lot. And, like most big present times, half of them were thrown to the wayside immediately. The only glory going to anything to do with Thomas the train. Thomas has single handedly eased the transition and playing trains with Declan has been an easy way to connect with him one on one. And, really, Declan's doing great.

The other day, Wyatt was crying and Declan ran out of the room. Thinking he was upset, Rich ran after him prepared to console, but Dec quickly informed him that he was on his way upstairs to get Baby Wyatt a stuffed animal because he was upset. Cue parental pride and hearts melting. Yep, I think we're going to be okay.

Another thing that consumed me the days before Wyatt was born was how I'd bond with another child. My attachment to Declan is so deep and we've been a team for so long, I just didn't know how another child would affect that. And I didn't know how I would have enough love for both, especially since it was all given away already. But, the first night I spent in the hospital, the nurses undressed Wyatt so he would wake up to nurse, and I fell in love with him. That's really the only way I can explain it. Not so say there isn't a struggle to make sure I have enough time, attention, and cuddles for both boys, but there's no problem with my supply of love.

Another thing consuming our time is analyzing Wyatt's face to see how much or how little he looks like Declan. I think Rich and I were convinced that we knew how our DNA combined, and seeing this new face is just as intriguing as the first. So, I took a picture of Wyatt yesterday. He'll be one month old on January 10th. Along with it I have a picture of Declan seven days before his one month birthday. I can see it. Yep, definitely brothers.

The final countdown

As of today, I have less than a month until baby Wyatt is due, I have eight days until Rich is working from home, and I only have one day completely alone with Declan with no moms day out, no daddy, and no baby.


I've spent so much time focused on when I'll have this baby that I haven't really taken any time to realize that each day I'm closer to Wyatt, I'm further away from being only Declan's mom.


I did take some time to look at Declan's evolution from newborn to this little boy I know and love. And what's so weird is that I have a hard time imagining him as anything other than what he is today. I lived each of the days in his first, second, and third years and pictures bring memories of course, but since I spend every day with him, he's never in suspended animation.


And Wyatt will be the same way. Right now I can only imagine him as a newborn, but that is such a fleeting, foggy time. If you want to make me really sad, tell me that my boys will someday grow up. Wyatt's not even out of my stomach and that thought will bring me to tears.


There has been a flurry of new babies on facebook too, and I see women I know becoming moms and remember that newborn devotion and the mind blowing reality of new motherhood. And that's exactly how I remember it was to have a newborn...so what will this time be like? What will he look like? What will his personality be? How will the birth experience happen? In a lot of ways, it's the same the second time around. Even though I've "been there", I still haven't met this little guy yet, so there are still so many unknowns.


I will say that one of the best things about having a newborn is seeing how the baby's face changes from newborn to taking on the characteristics that will stick. And in honor of that, and those new moms who are staring at that little angel and wondering how his/her face will change and who he/she will look like, here is the evolution of Declan's face from birth to 1 1/2, around the time when he really starts looking like the boy I see every morning. While I post, I will be wondering about Wyatt and how his evolution will look in two years. It already seems like the past. I've got to make sure I appreciate every moment this time around.

Trick or treat

Rich was my Devil's assistant. His costume was created with every random sparkly thing we had.

My little pirate. I don't know what happened between Wednesday and Sunday, but the only kid at the Halloween party who wasn't in costume on Wednesday somehow decided that not only would he put on his costume, but he wanted the hat and ascot too! It was a true Halloween miracle.

Aside from Halloween, we've had a lot of changes in the house in the last week or two. Declan's officially in his big boy room and baby Wyatt has a room and a crib and is becoming a serious reality instead of a far off idea. We also have a new basement playroom and new tile on our fireplace. Our entryway is filled with baby gear that I can't pick up or move, and one of these days a humongous rug will be delivered to my front porch. It will stay there until someone else can bring it in my house. Oh, and on November 30th, we have to leave our house for two days because we're having some painting done and they have to use oil paint. This is exactly two weeks before my due date. Am I crazy?!? Who does all this at 34 weeks pregnant? I do. Let's hope this guy isn't early.

And Declan, he knows. He knows things are different with me and in the house and he's starting to rebel. Last Monday was one of the hardest days I've ever had with Declan. In a one hour period, Declan took permanent marker to the office walls, smooshed paint into my bedroom carpet, and bit my leg so hard I still have a small bruise. Then I had to take him to the doctor's office.

And if you have a kiddo who is running all around and yelling and you aren't getting up out of your seat quickly, you get some serious judgy looks. And I can't say I don't deserve them. It's like toddlers gone wild in my life all the time right now. Once we got into the doctor's office, Declan took the handheld light and turned it on and while I was desperately looking for something for him to watch on my phone. Then I noticed the examination table was smoking. Yep, D had left that light on and it was now burning a huge black mark into the vinyl chair. Thank God it wasn't on the paper or we might have set the whole office on fire!

Just a reminder that all of the above things happened between 8:45 and 11:45 on the same day. My son needs a strong mom in both body and energy, and I'm just not that right now. I can't even take him to a restaurant anymore. A week after the fiasco morning, I took him to dinner with my friend Angie and her sweet, stationary son Ethan and the craziness just continued. Laps around the restaurant, climbing under and over the table, mooching off her son's fries and at one point he positioned himself behind Angie in the booth and decided to just stay there for a few minutes. She was a great sport, but I doubt I'll get a dinner invite from her anytime soon.

And frankly, I probably don't deserve one. It's hard for me to accept my diminished capacity and it's endlessly frustrating to feel like you are out of control and are allowing your toddler to run the show, but the truth is I just can't physically keep him in line right now. So, we're doing play dates at home and choosing to visit enclosed spaces. He can run laps and I can sit. Perfect.

Sloppy

There's a girl I know from high school and I'm 100% sure she doesn't read this blog so I can be frank. I just saw this girl at the grocery store. And, as always, not only were her two boys quiet and well behaved, she looked great. Great outfit, hair blown dry, make up, the whole nine yards. She drives the car I want and she's skinny. Now, without a doubt every time I see this girl, I am without makeup, have not showered and a little bigger than I was in high school...and that's not pregnant. Today, I have the pregnancy crop top going on where my belly creeps out of every shirt I wear. I was also teetering with a small crop of groceries in my hands and tugging and nagging at Declan, who was wearing his Halloween jammies at noon. Yes, I should have put him in the shopping cart, even for just a few items (that's what she did). And usually I can make some sort of excuse for my hectic presentation. But today...I just felt sloppy.

She is the representation of everything I wish I could be: in control, looking good, and fit. Instead, I can barely stand to take Declan anywhere these days because my energy level is so low. Trust me, there's nothing I would be prouder of than to be one of those women who exercise all pregnancy, gain the minimum amount of weight, and look great all the time. But those things couldn't be more opposite from my pregnancy experiences, especially this one. I'm crampy, uncomfortable, massive, and tired.

I know I'm creating a wonderful life inside me, and I wouldn't give up the gift that Oooh will be for anything, even a perfect body and wardrobe. And I read today that the key to happiness is gratitude. So I know I need to be grateful for this little boy. There are so many women who are struggling with difficult pregnancies or even getting pregnant at all, so I don't want to diminish how lucky I am, I think I'm just getting to that place where I want my body back, my energy back, and to return to "normal".

Wait, what was that you said? Oh yeah, normal isn't even close to happening anytime soon. As soon as Oooh comes there's the sleepless nights, spit up, worrying about SIDS and pacifiers and what foods I eat that could give him gas. Not to mention recovering from birth and adjusting to having two kids to take care of once my husband goes back to work and is gone again every week.

Wasn't I saying something about being grateful? Maybe I'll let myself feel bad today and tomorrow I'll be grateful. Yeah, that sounds good. Now I need another cookie.

Let's Pretend

Awhile ago, I wrote about the difference between being pregnant the first time, and now being pregnant with a 2 1/2 year old. And the floor is officially my sworn enemy. But Declan exists on the floor. We play blocks, in the sandbox, and with his beloved farm all on the effing floor. And my awkward roll-to-the-left-then-on-all-fours way of getting up is becoming embarrassing. But I have no choice because, as I've already said, it's really not about me this time. There's cleaning and cooking and playing to do, and it's not going to happen while I have my feet up on the couch.

On the plus side, the little boy in my tummy is getting bigger and bigger and the day when we get to meet him is coming right up. I'm not sure how Declan's going to take it, especially because when I told him I was going to have to hold the baby a lot, Declan said "no, you are going to hold me". Luckily, Rich will be here for six weeks and that should give us all a chance to adjust.

But once Rich goes back to work, it's going to be just me four days a week. I'm not going to lie and say I'm not terrified. I forget though that Rich started traveling every week Monday through Friday when Declan was five months old and I survived that. And frankly, I have to remember how good I have it. I can stay home with my boys, we live in a safe neighborhood, and if I need to survive through babysitters and take out, I won't be breaking my budget. Life could be worse. In fact it is for about 95% of the world. For me, perspective is the key to being grateful. How easy it is to only compare yourself to people who "have it easier". That, I've discovered is the key to unhappiness.

But enough of the affirmations, this blog is about Declan, and he does not disappoint. I'm sure I've said this thousands of times, but he continually blows my mind. He loves to sing the Caillou theme song, but knows none of the words. The sandbox equals naked time. Seriously, it's like Pavlov's dog. He heads toward the sandbox while stripping and will throw a massive fit if he's required to leave any of his clothes on. And we're in the asking questions phase. Except with Declan, he just repeats the same question about 10 times until you've formulated your answer. This one is not waiting for answers, and he's afraid you'll forget what he asked .5 seconds ago.

And he's finally started to grasp pretend. Usually it will confuse him a little, like when we ask him if he's a frog (or Curious George or a choo choo, etc.) and he'll look at you very seriously and say, "no, I'm not a frog, I'm a boy". But he loves to prepare lunch for Rich and I to eat and this morning he wanted to know what kind of animal each piece of his waffle was. I love two! Aside from the tantrums (which are plentiful), it's just really fun to sit and have a conversation with my son.

We've had a great month so far, Rich had surgery and has been home for a week and a half now. And there's nothing better than seeing how happy Declan is when Rich is home. There's just a sense of contentment that is missing when Daddy is gone. There's nothing that makes me happier than when Declan turns to me and tells me to go away, he just wants to be with Daddy.

Now we're just biding our time until Thanksgiving when Rich will work from home until baby Oooh comes in mid-December. Then, we'll have some family time for six weeks while Rich is home for his paternity leave. This year, we'll have a lot to be thankful for.

T-Rex

See if you can find these lyrics:

T-Rex, I'm a tyrannosaurus

I'm the biggest carnivore in the Cretaceous forest

I like to romp and stomp around.

Two weeks ago, we went on vacation to Hilton Head. We realized that a family vacation probably won't happen until (at the earliest) late next year, so we wanted to take one last three member family vacation (although Oooh was there in my tummy) before new baby comes.

And it was fun! I say this with an exclamation point because it very well could have been a complete disaster, as other trips have been. I'll never forget taking 10 month old Declan to LA and him waking up at 4:30 every morning. We were so exhausted from lack of sleep and trying to keep a screaming child quiet so he wouldn't wake up the rest of the house that I don't exactly remember what else we did.

But this was actually a perfect little family trip. In addition to swimming, we went canoeing, dolphin watching, biking and built sandcastles on the beach. Declan actually started laughing out loud the first time we walked on the beach. If only I could take such joy in little pleasures like that. There were tons of kids, and a clown came down to the pool every day. Declan was both fascinated and terrified of her and would demand to go see the clown only to shyly ask me if I'd go and say hello to her. She was, by the way, a brash jersey grandma with a wig and makeup. Cappy was her name.

We also succeeded in getting Declan to go to sleep with Rich and I in the room, which we were terrified about. Because without sleep, no one is having any fun. But Declan surprised us by accepting "his bed" and snoozing away.

But since we've been home, Declan has been fighting off a virus and after waking up before 5:00am for most of the week (along with mom, who really has no choice) and throwing fits for everything from me using the wrong plate for his waffles (the horror!) to having a meltdown over me walking into his room, we went to the doctor. It's nothing serious, just a mild virus, but it's been big enough to disrupt everything in our little world. No moms day out, no playgroups, just me and my cranky kiddo.

I love you all the time

Little Corcoran will be here in less than four months. And this baby, while he will be as loved and cherished as Declan, hasn't made quite the impact on my psyche as Declan did. There's just nothing like being pregnant for the first time. Everything was about me. I did exactly what I wanted when I wanted. I felt completely entitled to any emotional outburst or demand because I was going through something so profound. We agonized over Declan's name, took all kinds of classes, and I studied up feverishly on all things baby. I made my birth plan and researched cribs. Rich and I planned out how we'd tackle the first weeks. I spent hours and hours picking out baby bedding. The baby was ushering in a whole new world of things we'd decide and every decision was a huge one.

There was nothing as transformative for me as the year after Declan was born. And while I spent the first few months in the new mom perfection bubble trying to do everything I so staunchly believed was all important: breast feeding, sleep training, cuddling, and I'd even try to read my two month old books because I read that if I watched TV with him it could stunt his mental growth. This was my time. These were my decisions, and like when I was pregnant, everything was a do or die decision, everything was of the utmost importance.

And I think that's where the mom superiority thing comes in. You know those moms who spout their convictions like water, thinking their opinions are facts because they read them somewhere. They create hierarchies of good and bad parenting based on what a book tells them, and you only hear about it when they need to inform you of the "right" way. Oh, I think you know who I'm talking about. It's inevitable with such an important task that it becomes a consuming, polarizing experience that for some evolves into lecturing and a laughable haughtiness that can only come from a mother.

And the biggest thing I've learned in the past two years is what kind of mom I am. And, how to adapt to circumstance. My son is a flaming ball of energy, love, and demands. And I think if I'd have clung onto the idea of any kind of perfection, I would be miserable. I just don't do perfection, I don't have a perfect body, or perfect hair or completely groomed nails all the time. Why would I expect myself to completely transform into some idea of what is the "best" way to be?

So, this time around, my newborn will probably be "enriched" less but will have the benefit of a mom who can see the wisdom of imperfection, adaptation, and going with the flow. Yes, Declan was the only naked swimmer (with a life vest) at a play group this week and he did make a firetruck siren sound at the top of his lungs through Dillon's yesterday, but fighting those things takes more than it's worth. At least that's the kind of mom I am. I pick my battles. And, frankly, I lose some of them too. But at least what my kids will get is something genuine and not someone else's idea of perfection.

And just for some giggles, the next Justin Timberlake:

So this is why...

I wanted a girl so badly: I love my sister. She is probably the only person besides Rich and Declan that I can stand to be around 24/7. I don't get to see her or share ice cream or watch Project Runway or shop with her enough. I look forward to her visits for months and afterward, spend hours on the phone with her every week. I'm a sister addict. And this is how I envisioned my relationship with my own daughter. Me, me, me.

But now that I'm a mom, sometimes it's not about me. Ha! It's never about me, come on. And I'm starting to realize that the brother relationship between Oooh and Declan could be as close as mine with Jess. Not that it's always been this way. Back in the late 80's/Debbie Gibson era, Jessica was the absolute coolest and I was her super dork little sister. I'll never forget when she and her friend Jennifer caught me practicing my New Kids moves in the mirror and mocked me mercilessly for hours. Or when she found my secret diary, read it, and then wrote a response letting me know that the boy I secretly loved couldn't possibly love me back because he never called (I was in second grade, I think). Oh the shame! And I think brothers can be worse.


But, if Declan's utter devotion and affection for his cousin Charlie is any indication of what type of brother he'll be, this little kiddo is in major luck. Declan has come a long way in eight months. He can take turns, he shares, overall he's a really sweet friend these days. And you would have thought Declan had found his two year old soul mate in Charlie. Every morning Declan woke up before Charlie (and everyone else in the house, dammit) and I had to hold him off for at least 45 minutes before I'd let him into see Charlie. And then he'd lay right next to Charlie, practically nose to nose. To which Charlie inevitably cracked and then closed his eyes tight, pretending to still be sleeping. Then Dec would lay there and say over and over again,
"wake up Charlie, let's go plaaaaay". Every morning for 10 days. Never did he want to just hang out with me. Never had he had enough of his cousin. And now, even six days after they left, he is still asking where Charlie is and when he's coming back.


There are dozens of funny stories I could tell about the cousins: jumping on the bed naked, giving hugs and kisses, riding in the shopping cart together, that effing firetruck book they both had to have all the time, but I have to say my favorite thing was just watching Declan's enthusiasm for his guest. Now by the end, D was definitely less controlled, more grabby, and exhausted in general, but as far as he's concerned, Charlie is his buddy. Hopefully Char feels the same and Dec isn't his nerdy, New Kid loving little cousin. The good news is that if he is, Declan will just tackle him and pin him down until he agrees to be friends. You can tame the beast, but sometimes nature just takes over.

Oh BOY!

I grew up in a female family. My dad was in my life, but day in day out I lived with my mom and my sister. And we did girly things. We shopped and cried, we took dance and voice lessons, and we thought farts and burps were gross. I even had two step sisters for 10 years, adding to my girly existence. Boys were a mystery to me. So much so that I spent most of my teens with debilitating long distance crushes. I always envied my friends who seemed to be able to relate to boys without any sense of fear. I was terrified. Cut to 15 years later, and I've just found out I'm having my second boy. So I've gone from boys being exotic and unrelatable to them being the only people in my immediate family circle.

When I envisioned myself as a mother, it was always, always with girls. Two girls that would be sisters who I could shop, cry, dance, and sing with. So when I found out Ooooh was a boy, I had my moment. Not only would I not have the two girls I envisioned, I won't have any. All the ways I imagined my motherhood going are now officially off the table.

There is a special kind of mourning that happens when what you believe will be your future becomes impossible. But, that's all it ever was. I was mourning an idea, not a real person, not a real relationship. I'll never get to do pigtails or pick out pink outfits and tutus and barbies. But along with any wistful hope out the window comes a fierce protectiveness for Ooooh and how much I love him already. I would never be upset at anything he is. Part of being a mother is the awe and adoration you feel for your children, and Ooooh is no exception. I won't have pigtails, but I will have him. And beyond a fantasy, I know to the depths of my being that I would never, ever trade the things that he will bring for what a little girl could. I am officially a boy mom, and I couldn't be prouder.

And my husband is a second boy. His parents were going to name him Amanda Lynn if he was a girl and I'm sure they felt the same sadness over their idea of what she was going to be like. But they got Rich instead, and I've never met anyone like him. I can only hope that Ooooh will be half as kind, selfless, smart, and handsome as his second son daddy.

So, what was once a mystery is now my reality. I can't wait to meet you, Ooooh.

Ooooh

Most of the baby books I've read say to wait to tell your child about your pregnancy until the last month. They simply don't understand the concept and will be confused.

But me, well I had to explain to Declan that there was a baby in there so he'd stop pouncing on me. He loves to "bop" and will say "Mommy, I want bop on you?" with a slight swing upward on the word you. He's learning how to ask questions. And sometimes he doesn't ask. He also doesn't ask when he head butts my stomach or drops an elbow on it. My son is not subtle nor does he understand the concept that hitting Mommy isn't a completely normal thing to do once every two minutes.

So, out of necessity, Rich and I explained that there was a baby in there so Declan couldn't hit Mommy's tummy. Then we asked him what he thought the baby's name should be. "Oooh" he said right away. And the baby became "Oooh" (as in Oooh and Aaah). He named two leopards in his book Tub and Dew, so I think Oooh is as good of a choice as we're going to get.

Then, we started to talk about what it will be like when he has a little brother or sister. We talked about how they can throw balls to each other and play together in the playroom. Then we kissed him and said good night with sweet smiles on our faces. Ten minutes later, Declan walked out of his room and called down to us: "we throw balls to each other?". And he spent the next twenty minutes or so in complete mind blowing excitement about having a playmate. Still, a week later at the most random times, he'll turn to me and say "Oooh play in my play room?". And tonight right before bed he said "Oooh gets the little swing". Yep, and Declan gets the big boy swing.

But I wanted to make sure he understood that there would be quite awhile between when Oooh comes (we explain it as when Santa gets here, Oooh will be here too) and when it's big enough to play. And afterward, Dec looked at me and said "I hold Oooh?", "I give Oooh kiss?". I mean...The Notebook tugs no heartstrings like a two year old's earnest heart.

Sometimes mommyhood is simply divine. We'll go ahead and skip my sleepless, cranky days this week and focus on what a sweetheart Declan is. I'm excited for my ultrasound next Friday. Not only will we hopefully find out the sex, but Declan will get to see Oooh. I can't wait.