Surprise, Surprise!

The Ghost of Post-Partum Future

Have you any idea how depressing it is to stare at a closet full of clothes and know that nothing fits? This weekend I had to do the rubber band trick on a pair of fat jeans. I am this close (squeezing my fat index finger and my fat thumb together) to pulling my maternity clothes back out of the basement where they are waiting to be sold or donated. At least I know they will fit, and the jeans were super cute too.

I have lost exactly 15 pounds since giving birth. Fifteen. Bun weighed 7 at birth: see how unfair life is? I have been stuck at this weight since he was 6 weeks old. There are another 20 pounds to lose. I think back to my 9-month-pregnant self buying three new pairs of great jeans in my pre-pregnancy size and I laugh haughtily. Silly girl, so naive and blissfully optimistic. I should visit her as a ghost from her post-partum future...

"K, I have come to you to give you a glimpse into your life after Bun is born," I would chant in a spooky sing-song voice.

She wouldn't even flinch since her dreams during that last trimester were wacky and intense.

"You were a silly girl to buy all those jeans in a size 8," I would continue singing. "Take them back now while you still have the receipt!"

"But why?" she might ask, bewildered and confused at the mere thought that she would not get her pre-preggo body back instantly.

That's when I would just laugh my evil laugh and raise my shirt up to my neck, giving her an eyeful of her new, stretched and marked pooch.

She would wake up screaming in horror, covered in sweat and heart racing. And I, in the here and now, would help myself to another piece of chocolate cake for a job well done.

Thunder

Eight hundred thousand people gathered downtown this past Saturday to witness the largest fireworks display in the nation. We were 4 adults and 3 children adding to that number. The show was absolutely amazing and Bean truly enjoyed himself the entire day. He was in awe of the fireworks, and although he was very leery of the sudden loud noises at first, he quickly warmed up and forgot all about his discomfort.

But I didn't.

In a nutshell, I had a horrible time. For starters, my brother invited us to a special event downtown that was hosted by the Realtor company he works for. The flyers announcing this event promised us prime viewing location for the fireworks, face painting and a Grilled Dinner Buffet among other activities. Realtors should be extra careful about that kind of false advertisement. The "prime" location was a tiny fenced area just large enough to hold a few Port-A-Pottys, some picnic tables and chairs, a food booth and maybe 30 yards of free space (of which every inch was filled with people on lawn chairs and blankets). I saw one child with paint on her face but nowhere in our reserved lot was the artist. And that "Grilled Dinner Buffet"? Hamburgers and hot dogs. Poor event management showed. There was not an inch of wiggle room. We waited in line for over an hour and never did get our share of the "buffet". I tried so hard not to put a damper on anyone else in our little group, but I was ready to leave almost as soon as we got there.

Bun could care less where we are or what is going on -- when he is ready to eat, the boy is ready to eat. I do not mind nursing my son anywhere, anytime he gets hungry, in front of anyone who cares to look. Still, finding somewhere comfortable and clean to nurse your infant son, outside, amongst 800,000 people is an exercise in futility. When you are just outside.....trying to change diapers, feed babies, and keep them safe while still making sure they have fun is hard. Plain and simple. The first time Bun loudly demanded a meal I couldn't help but think about how I would have much rather been in the comfort of my own home, with my Boppy, my water, my spot on the couch, and my reality show.

By the end of the night, I was so tired of pretending that I could tolerate this uncomfortable madness. We had the double stroller but I still ended up wearing Bun in the sling because I felt better with him being next to me. When 9:00pm (finally) rolled around I was feeling filthy, squished, irritated, and my back was killing me. I became one-track-minded: obsessed with the idea of all this being over so that I could just get home. I was prepared for many things that becoming a mother would do to me, but I am still shocked at how much of a Dud I have morphed into.

Despite it all though, I forgot most of that when the fireworks started. It really was beautiful. The look on Bean's face as he looked up, enraptured, pointing to the lights in the sky.... it was priceless. So much so, that it made the whole entire day worthwhile. But I won't soon forget how miserable I was during the time leading up to the fireworks. And there is a good-sized part of me that wonders why we didn't just watch the whole thing on our tv. At home.

Surprise Me

Bun is three months old today, which meant that we went to the portrait studio for photos. Rather than asking anyone to watch Bean for me while Bun was baby-model for a day, I decided to take him with us. I was prepared for a rambunctious toddler who would be getting into everything and ripping through that place like a tornado. You know, sort of like how he acts at home (or at church, or at the mall...). I figured that I would have my hands full and that it would most likely be a disaster. If nothing else, I guessed I would have a story to blog about at the end of the day.

He surprised me. I sat  Bean down in a wooden chair by the doorway and asked him to be still while his brother got pictures done. He remained in that very chair the entire time. When it was obvious we were done, he got up and calmly walked over to where I was getting Bun prepared to go. He gave his brother a kiss and sat down quietly beside us to wait. When it was time for us to leave, he came along with no (repeat, zero) objections or tantrums. Who is this kid? I thought to myself a couple of times. "You are doing so good, baby," I said to him instead. It was like he was 3 or 4 years old instead of (terrible) 2. After today, I feel like I don't even need to be afraid of taking both boys anywhere together anymore.

Oh, and Bun's pictures turned out fantastic! I cannot wait to get them back. Today was a very good day.

The Running Man

I am addicted to reality television. My DVR record list has five entries and every single one of them is for a reality tv show. While I do believe that a large deal of what is classified as "reality tv" these days is actually planned and/or scripted, I still find it highly entertaining and I enjoy the shock value. It is my guilty pleasure.

It's just so strange to me, the premise of some of these programs. Fifteen years ago if you would have told someone that the future holds shows in which real people are stranded on a remote island or swapping wives with each other all for television ratings... they would have surely thought you were nuts. It's too reminiscent of the bleak and frightening future depicted in The Running Man. And while those particular shows are not on my watch list, the ones that I do enjoy are equally as outlandish. Yet, I'm not even ashamed to admit that I love them. I wonder if that makes me nuts too.

Feeling Guilty

There is just no way that Bun is getting all the attention he needs. At so many times during the day, I have to slap him in his swing and leave him there, rocking, while I go do something for Bean. I know that he is safe, and I also know that he is occupied. Yet that does not assuage my guilt. Under no circumstances was Bean left "alone" so much during his infancy. If Bun weren't nursing, he would probably never get held at all. I could see myself guiltily setting him up with one of those hands-free bottles they've got out now.

I just can't shake the feeling that I should be stimulating him more. Making tummy time fun, or showing him large black & white photos like I did for Bean. Every day it becomes more apparent how bright my firstborn is, and I like to think that my efforts to enrich him have at least a little something to do with that. It stands to reason that since I am not affording Bun the same opportunities at this stage, that he just might lag behind. The early foundation is so important, and his is passing by in a blur of multi-tasking and General Foods International Coffee.

These feelings do not stop with Bun. Alas, they extend to Bean as well. Every time I have to take an extended period to nurse Bun, I worry that Bean is missing valuable interaction time with me. I have all the best intentions - I try to read to him or do flashcards with him while I nurse the infant. However, in all reality, that time is most likely spent telling Bean to stop jumping on the couch, to be careful around the baby's head, the stop throwing his toys, or to ease up on the kisses that are suffocating his brother. When I have a chance to read to them both, do I choose a book "for" Bean or a book "for" Bun? Or two books, one of each, and hope that we can get through them both before another diaper needs changing or another mouth needs food.

When Bun was first born I thought I was a pro at this Mommy stuff. I even thought that now may be the time to change the title of my blog (since I am not a rookie anymore). Who am I kidding? I still have so very much to learn.

The Sincerest Form

Bean is at the age now where he imitates everything you do or say. He goes around fanning himself because he sees his grandmother do it all the time. He tries to burp everyone because he watches me burping Bun. He pulls soda cans out of the cabinet and puts them up to his lips as if he is drinking them. He tries to brush his own hair and his own teeth because he observes it being done every day by someone else. Anything you say, he tries to say it too. Testing it out, noticing how it feels on his tongue. It's humorous and endearing. For this reason I watch all my actions and every single thing that I speak, because a little person is watching. And doing as I do.

My Little Man

It Wasn't About The Eggs Anyway

Uncle Z took Bean on an Easter Egg Hunt today. It was hosted by a place that has gymnastics classes and swim lessons. They had two separate hunts, one for toddlers (4 and under) and another one for the older kids. Uncle Z said that he tried to help Bean find more eggs, but the other children were bigger and faster than Bean and always beat my son to it. After the hunt, kiddos were free to play in the gym and tumble on the mats. Bean had a wonderful time and I was very proud of him. In the end he came home with a large pail that had four little eggs rattling around inside. They were full of candy so he didn't need them anyway. The main point of today's activity was uncle/nephew bonding time. And they got plenty of that!

It Happened

Just the other day I was writing about baby smiles and looking forward to the day that Bun would laugh. I naively thought that day would be pretty far away still. I was wrong. My baby laughed at me. The cutest guffaw straight from his gut. I was just doing what I always do... in his face smiling and acting silly. This time I was rewarded with a laugh.

Being amazed at how quickly your kids are growing  up does not stop with child #1.