Four weeks!

I am seriously behind on this update. And the worst part is that I can't even promise you a good long one! Andrew's behind me in the crib, grunting and complaining that I never feed him.

So a couple of very quick thoughts.

First, today Andrew is four weeks old. Amazing, huh? I can't believe he's been here with us for four whole weeks. That's a month! Man, I don't miss being pregnant. I haven't been pregnant for a whole month, and that alone would be enough reason to celebrate. But hey, I also have a sweet little baby!

Second, he's about to outgrow this newborn-sized outfit!





















That was taken well over a week or so ago, I think. He's already bigger. I swear, if you stare at him long enough, you might actually see him grow.

And lastly, here's a quick photo from when Ma and Pa Larson were visiting last week:




















I do have other photos and thoughts, but like I said, angry baby in the background. So I'll have to give you a raincheck....

No sleep til...

Longtime readers of this blog might remember me writing that it's not surprising to me that sleep deprivation is frequently used as a torture technique. I believe I wrote that during the early days and nights of William's life, nearly four years ago. At the time, I think I was desperate for some sleep and nearly delirious from a lack of it.

Well, guess what, folks? It's still true! We had a rough night last night. So far, it's been a pattern of one decent night, one bad night, one okay night, one awful night. Given that Andrew won't even be two weeks old until tomorrow, I think I can understand that it would be silly to expect anything better than what we're experiencing. And that's far more perspective than I had when William was the same age. But it still doesn't make it any easier, physically speaking, to cope with a night of nearly constant wakeups, especially when I have to wincingly haul myself out of bed without aggravating the pain in my right side. Poor David had to go to work today, and I sincerely hope that he had access to some strong coffee to help him make it through the day because I don't think we even logged two cumulative hours of sleep last night.

When Jaclyn called to schedule a lunch and playdate with us today, I gratefully accepted. And I realized that we haven't taken any photos of me with Andrew since I was in the hospital, so I asked her to take a few for me. I had to put on a LOT of makeup to counter the effect of last night's marathon. Andrew, of course, looks exactly the same.






































We still adore him, of course. :)

Home for a week

We've been home from the hospital for a week now. The week went by surprisingly fast, too. David, poor guy, was running errands constantly, which left me free to stay home with Andrew, which was nice, and to rest and try to heal. So far, I think things are going pretty well; that is, we haven't experienced anything really out of the ordinary. I've got some pain in my right lower abdomen, probably from weak muscles trying to recover from a long pregnancy and the trauma of major surgery. And of course, we're trying to adjust to the return of the middle-of-the-night feedings.

We're all in love with Andrew, though. No question about that! He is chubby and pink and sweet and delicious.


















William adores his baby brother; he likes to pull a stool up to the cradle, lean over and sing "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" to him. And should Andrew be crying or fussing, William will croon "It's okay, baby brother" to him until he can't take it anymore. Then he comes running to find me and says urgently, "Mommy, he needs you! He needs you!"
















And last night, William "read" "Goodnight Moon" to his brother, too.















We've also been extremely lucky in that we've had several people from church bring us dinner this week, freeing me from trying to think of something to make and freeing David from actually having to make it! The sheer utter luxury of having someone else make you dinner! A good dinner! Ahhh...

But I also wanted to record a few thoughts and memories from Andrew's birth and the first few days afterward, so that I can both share them with y'all and so that I have a better chance of remembering them myself, too. These may be rather stream-of-consciousness, so bear with me.

My water broke at 5:50 a.m. on Wednesday, Feb. 24. I had crept out of bed, right before David's alarm clock went off, to go to the bathroom. On the way back, I thought, "Wait..." When I was sure, a minute later, I woke David up. A flurry of activity, all pretty controlled, ensued. We got dressed, made sure our already-packed bags had everything we needed in them and then woke up William and got him dressed. We called Diane and asked if we could bring William by on the way to the hospital. When we got there, she was waiting with a travel mug full of hot coffee for David and hugs for all of us. It was cold, with the sun peeking through clouds. David and I were in a good mood, a little anxious but excited, as we arrived at the parking garage for Baptist Hospital.

A couple of hours later, I was ensconced in a labor and delivery room, hooked up to an IV, sitting up in a hospital bed and chatting with David and playing on my iPhone. We could see the city skyline out the window, and I noted that William would have loved being able to see the Batman building from my hospital room. Snow (!) began to swirl down, and I said that I could actually sit back and enjoy watching this snow, now that I was safely at the hospital and not worried about driving through it. Over the next few hours, as the Pitocin kicked in, I watched the snow drift slowly and then fall faster and faster. I posted on Facebook, texted my parents, and emailed friends and enjoyed reading all the responses come in. The CRNA came in to insert the epidural; later I had to have it reinserted. My nurse and David made sure I had plenty of ice chips (the good Sonic ice kind), and my friend Patrice, who works at the hospital, dropped by to chat for a little while.

My doctor came by to check in on me, and give me a progress report. Later that afternoon, we began the pushing process. Unfortunately, a fast-acting anesthetic agent had completely numbed everything below my bust, and my pushing was less than effective. But I tried. They turned off the epidural and let the meds wear off so I could feel again, and the pushing resumed. Only, oh my God, it hurt. And I'm no stranger to that kind of pain. I pushed for 3.5 hours with William, after all. So I kept pushing. At one point, they offered me a popsicle, and I gratefully sucked on a cherry one, then threw it up later. ("It was worth it," I said. It totally was.) After more pushing and then some more, I just didn't know if I could do it. The baby was facing up, and it's much harder to push a baby out when he's in that position, so I was having trouble moving him effectively. The doctor and David and I conferred. After one last bout of pushing, it was time for a c-section.

That's when it gets a little hazier for me. A team of people rushed into my room and began preparing me for surgery. I was moaning in pain, I remember that part pretty vividly though. They gave me an injection--a spinal?--of something in my epidural, and they put a cap on my hair, and they pushed me on a gurney down a hallway to a brightly lit (but somehow small-seeming) operating room. A couple of the people who transported me to the OR showed me the gurney where I'd be operated on, and I said that I didn't think I could get up there all by myself, and they laughed and said they'd take care of that.

I remember being relieved that my arms were not strapped or tied down after they assembled the drapes for the surgical field, and I remember David having on a surgical mask and hat. At some point, I think I asked for more oxygen, too. Then I heard a cry--Andrew! David was taking some pictures, and then they took the baby over to the warmer to check him out. He seemed great, and no one seemed worried at all. A nurse weighed him, and when David saw the weight in grams, he nearly did a double take. They called out to me that Andrew weighed 9 lbs and 4 and a quarter ounces, and all I could think was "Oh my God, I was carrying a baby that big inside me?" I mean, no wonder I felt full to the brim of baby those last few weeks; I was! The next little bit was a little hazy, too. A couple of women took me back to my L&D room, and I sent David off to the nursery with the baby. One of the nurses asked me if I'd had a late ultrasound or anything to indicate that the baby was going to be that big, and I said no, there had been no reason to have one. No one thought I would have been able to push out a baby that size in that position, at least not without some big help, which was somehow validating and reassuring.

In the L&D room, I begged for apple juice, which somehow I had gotten obsessed with at some point during the day. They said I could have a clear drink like Sprite (!) when I was moved up to my regular room, so I had to be content with that. I spent about three hours in recovery. Early on, David brought Andrew to me. It was nice and quiet, and I was still a little drowsy from the anesthesia, so it just seemed so peaceful. We curled up in my bed and I nursed him for a little while, and then we took a nice little cozy nap together, him sighing up against my chest. Eventually I went to my new room. Andrew and David went to the nursery again for a little while, and they met me in the new room. When I got there, I met my nurse and the assistant (they call them techs), and they got me settled in a bed, with my IV pole and all the tubes and stuff in the appropriate places. I asked if I could have something to drink, and they said yes, soon, and I asked about the Sprite. And that's when I got the good news that I could have my apple juice. This was extremely good news. They brought me two small cups and a cup of ice, and asked me to drink it slowly. It was the best thing I think I've ever tasted.

I don't remember much of the rest of the night, except that people checked on me nearly constantly. Blood pressure. Vital signs. Temperature. Incision. Catheter. Blood pressure again. (My blood pressure was very low and stayed low for another day, in the 80/40 range.) Lather, rinse, repeat. The next morning, I perused the room service menu for the clear liquid diet, which was all I was allowed to have. I ordered more apple juice, an Italian ice, and some chicken broth (I think). The Italian ice was tasty, but an ice and chicken broth doesn't make a very exciting breakfast. Needless to say I was delighed when my friend Cindy showed up with a 44 oz cherry limeade from Sonic that morning. She was the first of a steady stream of visitors. Diane brought William to visit, then my dad came over from Brownsville, my pastor Guy arrived, and Mary Clare came to see us. We teased MC that if the nurses got a good look at her, they might not let her leave, since she was just days away from delivering her own baby boy. Later, our friend Kathleen came by, too. The best part was seeing William meet his baby brother. He ran to the bassinette and cried, "He's adorable! Isn't he adorable?"

































Sometime around dinnertime, they finally gave me the okay to order some real food. My daytime nurse wasn't very hot on the idea of me eating yet, but the evening shift nurse thought I was ready but warned me to take it easy. Just to be on the safe side, I ordered more exciting broth, another Italian ice, iced tea, juice...and then a plate of chicken fingers. The chicken fingers were good, but nothing quite measured up to the way that apple juice had tasted the night before. Still solid food at last!

David and I talked about how tired we were, and I encouraged him to go home that night and get a decent night's sleep. Andrew's circumcision was scheduled for the next morning, so I wanted David at least to be in good shape in case it was a rough day. He hemmed and hawed, and I practically had to shove him out the door. He called me when he got home, and I told him that Andrew and I were curled up in the bed, watching the Olympics on TV and snoozing through the figure skating. That night, they took out the catheter, so I could get up and down to go the bathroom. I called the nursery and had them take Andrew for a few hours while I slept. Then they brought him to me for feeding around 2:30 or so. I put on my new pink bathrobe over my groovy hospital gown and walked him back down to the nursery myself afterward (partially because I could and also because I was curious about the nursery itself). They brought him back to me about two hours later to eat again, and then they took him back down to the nursery for rounds. Around 7:30, David burst into the hospital room when I was coming out of the bathroom and shouted, "Jennifer, where are you? Is everything okay?" And I walked out of the bathroom and was like, "I'm right here. I'm fine." And as soon as he saw me up walking around, his face relaxed. He'd been worried about leaving us and feeling guilty, but I thought and still think it was the best thing to do for all of us. Andrew was an angel, but we did have a busy day: photos of Andrew, a discharge session for parents, more visitors (Shab! Jennifer Pearson, with more cherry limeades!), Mark and Jen, the interim pastor Ben from my church). So we did just fine.

So that's the majority of the story. As you may or may not know, we came home last Saturday to a sick William, and Diane stayed with us an extra night to take care of him. But we're doing okay now, and we're just very grateful that everything turned out as well as it did.

Andrew!

Y'all, I promise promise promise to write a huge long post about this soon and tell you all about the experience. But I know I've been remiss in even just posting the big news--and it is Big News--so let me do that, for the record.

He's here! Andrew James Wyckoff made his inaugural appearance at 6:31 p.m. on Wednesday, Feb. 24. He weighed a crazy 9 pounds and 4 (and a quarter) ounces, and he was 20.5 inches long. He cried immediately to let us know he was all good, if perhaps a bit chilly.

He was born via c-section, so we stayed in the hospital a few days. All in all, it was a good experience. He's healthy and lovely, and I'm recovering without any complications.

Seconds after the birth:















Proud Papa!















Me holding Andrew (a day or so later):















Unlike his big brother, he is not a little bitty version of his daddy or his grandaddy. We're not sure yet who he resembles, but we think he's really, really cute nonetheless...















David's taking the week off, so we're spending some time bonding as a family. If you live in town, drop by and say hello!

Techno savvy

I recently read a story that discussed the technological savvy of the children who are a few years younger than the current Millennial Generation. Some researchers are tentatively calling them the iGeneration, since they have literally never known a time in which there was no instant messaging, no email, no Internet, etc.

I think William is a little too young to be considered part of the iGeneration, at least officially. But in spirit, he is right there. We have regular tussles over who gets to use the iPod Touch each morning. I like to check email and the weather after I wake up, but he's right there with his hand out. He wants to check the weather too--and watch a few scenes of either "Monsters Inc" or "Wall-E," both of which are loaded onto the device. Or listen to some music. Or play the Star Wars trench run game that his daddy downloaded for himself to play but which has captivated William.

And of course, I think I've already mentioned that William regularly speaks to his grandparents via Skype on the computer. He knows how to navigate the software, adjust the setting so that the video feed works, and make and end calls.

So it should come as no surprise to any of us, I guess, that today William informed me that he and his friends have a website for their favorite playground game, which they call "Bad Guys." William claims that he created the website. "There are lots of different episodes and videos," he tells me. "There's a game called Capture the Treasure." According to my son, there is a castle on the playground, and that's where the Bad Guys keep their computer, and of course, that's where the Bad Guys website is. Also, there are links to the PBS Kids websites, seeing as how William is a big fan of many of those already and likes to log onto the computer (by himself, natch) and play them. So I think I know where the Bad Guys website idea came from.

Geez. And when I was 3, the most technologically complex thing in our whole house was probably our rotary dial phone.

Reserved for a reason

I hope there is a special place in hell for the middle-aged white guy who flipped me off in the parking lot today at the mall.

He pulled into the vacant Expectant Mothers parking spot--which is very CLEARLY MARKED as being for expectant mothers or mothers of new babies--right as I turned into that row. As he hoppped athletically out of his sedan, I glared at him from inside the minivan and pointed to the sign. He turned around, saw the sign, and to his credit, got back in his car and pulled out of the spot. I looped around and took the spot. As I passed him, I nodded in thanks and he flipped me off. Jerk. One day, he'll have some knee or back injury and he'll want a close parking spot, and hopefully someone will be there to prevent him from getting one.

Grrr. Do NOT take the pregnant lady parking space from the pregnant lady who is a billion weeks pregnant, grouchy and can barely walk. At lunchtime. There are a few kinds of people that you don't want to mess with, and right now, I am one of them. And I weigh as much as a couple of them. Those spots are reserved for a good reason. I don't know why people insist on ignoring them when they are 1) not pregnant and 2) able-bodied. I can't decide which group of people annoys me the most when they take the pregnant lady spot: men in general (and it's never elderly men who might genuinely have trouble walking or might not have seen the reserved sign), teenagers, or well-to-do older women in luxury cars. I've seen all three of them do it. If they're not lugging around at least an extra 20 pounds directly on top of their bladder, then they can't understand why they need to back off.

Okay, rant over. Thank you for listening.

Now, we wait

I think I mentioned...or maybe I didn't...that our friends Jaclyn and Bruce helped us clear out more of the office last weekend and move the crib over from William's room. And just to be clear, people who are willing to help you disassemble and reassemble a crib all in one day? They're real friends.















William has picked out a few things and put them in the crib for his brother. I didn't realize that he'd done that, so I moved the little stuffed giraffe lovey back to his room, where it came from, only to find it in there again a few hours later. He explained that he was giving it to Baby Brother. He also carefully selected a baby blanket with frogs on it from the stash of his old blankets in the crib drawer and tossed it into the crib, too. Like I said, he's nesting.

So even if we have nothing else done, we have the crib set up and ready to go. And Shab and Santi, bless them, brought over their bassinette for us to use, too, so we even have a place for Baby Brother to sleep until we're ready to move him into his own room. Whenever that will be. The rest of the nursery can wait 'til we all have more energy.

Several friends have generously volunteered to take William for a night or two when I do go into labor, and for that, I am deeply, profoundly grateful. We've talked about how he's going to go have a sleepover with one of Mommy and Daddy's friends while we're at the hospital and tried to assuage his anxiety over that. I've notified his preschool that there may be someone else picking him up and dropping him off in the near future. And I've packed his bag, so he should be ready to go. My bag, of course, has been ready for the hospital, so I decided to go ahead and pack a bag for David, too (he said I packed him an awful lot of underpants, but what can I say, I'm used to packing for myself and a three-year-old, and that's the sort of thing you can never really have enough of. Underwear and socks.). The camera is ready, with the battery charged.

So right now, Baby Brother is in the proverbial driver's seat. All the decisions are up to him now. Now we wait. William keeps asking things like, "Is the baby going to come today?" and we keep having to say, "Well...we don't know." Not exactly the most satisfying answer, I know. Since I'm a big believer in Murphy's Law, I fully expect there to be a long wait now because we are, at last, somewhat reasonably prepared. My OB and her nurse aren't so convinced, given that I was still 4 cm dilated at yesterday's appointment but also 80 percent effaced. As the nurse said, that's about as close to being in labor as you can get without actually being in labor. Yikes.

Snow, yes. Baby, no.

NO, I have not had the baby yet.

Just wanted to clear that up right at the start, in case you were wondering. However, I am nervous about it. We keep getting all this crazy snow. Last evening, about two inches fell between 6 p.m. and 8 p.m. Then the rain and sleet arrived. I tell you, I fretted half the night away last night, worrying about getting to the hospital in that kind of weather. I kept thinking, "Please please please let me make it through this night."

I'm sure my mother-in-law, Diane, can relate. When she was pregnant with David's brother, Mark, in 1977, it was one of the snowiest Januarys that Nashville had ever experienced. My father-in-law and David had to keep getting out there and shoveling off the driveway so they'd be ready for a fast getaway to the hospital. Okay, so Aaron really did all the hard work of shoveling. David, who was almost three, used his beach pail and shovel to "help." Hey, every little bit counts, right? (Also, the notion of little toddler David out there, anxiously helping to make the driveway passable so his mommy could go give birth to his eagerly-awaited little brother gets me every time. I always say it's one of the reasons I married him. That might be a little bit of an exaggeration...maybe....) Luckily, I have not had to enlist William to shovel off our driveway. Yet. But perhaps it will stop snowing for awhile, so I won't have to worry about it.

So, yes, we have snow. No, we don't have a baby. That's the news, folks. Keep checking back.

4 cm

Ack!

So I went to the obstetrician this morning, and as it turns out, I'm already 4 cm dilated. 4 cm! Now, I realize that some women walk around for weeks, dilated like that, but last time, it took me hours on a Pitocin drip to get to that point. We may be Four Peas in a Pod sooner than we originally realized.

So. Much. To. Do. I would repeat that, but it might give me heart palpitations. And I don't need any other random health issues, thanks. The carpal tunnel syndrome, reflux, and nausea have given me plenty to deal with.

What have I done so far? Well, I managed to procure a carseat. That was a huge relief. I ordered one weeks ago from Amazon, only to get an email this past weekend, notifying me that it had been back-ordered and wouldn't ship 'til mid-March. Um, no. NO. I cancelled that order and ordered a similar carseat through Target's website. And thank you, Target, you lived up to your billing: the car seat arrived in less than three days.

I also did manage to lay in a few baby supplies: a few diapers, some wipes, some saline drops, some diaper rash cream, a couple of new pacifiers. I have a couple of going-home outfit options. My hospital bag has been (mostly) packed. A friend is bringing me a bassinette to use at the beginning, and another friend has offered us the use of her child's swing and baby bathtub. (Thanks, y'all!)

Now, if we could just get this room in some workable order, I think I would feel a lot more relaxed. The crib is still in William's room, and poor David is dreading the task of first disassembling it, then moving it, then reassembling it in the baby's room. You know how some people buy a treadmill, and then instead of using it, it ends up collecting dust and functioning as a rack to hang clothes on? That's pretty much what our crib is doing right now. It's an ad hoc clothes rack in William's room. But we can't move it into the baby's room until we move more stuff out. William's crib may be a clothes rack, but the baby's room is still a storage room/home office. Hopefully we can do that this weekend. I'm feeling a little bit anxious about it. I guess that's the nesting instinct kicking into high gear. I wonder if I'll suddenly be inspired to clean the grout in the shower with a toothbrush next? Okay, I doubt that. But maybe I will be inspired to figure out what to do with the gazillion books we have lying around, taking up space.

Of course, now that I'm all worked up about things, watch me walk around for the next four weeks without going into labor. The OB said she didn't think I'd make it all the way to 40 weeks. It might be 39 weeks, and it could well be sooner than that. Somehow that really made it seem Real. And a little intimidating. Like I said earlier, So. Much. To. Do.

Snow Daze

Well, we were probably overdue from some Serious Snow, weren't we?

The snow started falling in earnest on Friday morning, and it literally snowed all day long. And then it sleeted a little bit in the evening, and then it snowed again. Amazing.

Here are some photos from Friday...you can see the snow still falling while I took the pictures:






































Not the best snow for making snowballs--it was too powdery--but we did give it the old college try:







































What's a good snow day if you don't have hot chocolate afterward?




















David took William out for a ride on his own old toboggan yesterday afternoon:
















I have to admit, it really did look like fun, William being pulled around on the toboggan. I figured it would be cruel and unusual to ask David to pull me on the toboggan, though...

Getting ready

Don't worry. I haven't gone into preterm labor or anything like that yet. We've just been swamped with other things going on, and sadly, I've neglected my blog here. David and I have been diligently cleaning out the home office/storage pit for the baby's room, and I've had a lot of freelance work that I've been trying to get done. Add to that one busy preschooler and one big fat mama-to-be, and well, the spirit was willing but the body said, "Nah, go lie down. You can write on the blog later. And geez, can you do something about these huge swollen ankles and feet?"

At any rate, we did muster up enough energy to take William to the Big Siblings class at Baptist Hospital a couple weeks ago. William and his buddy Leland were very diligent little students. William informed the whole class that the umbilical cord's purpose is to connect the baby to the mommy inside her belly (the instructor's response: "William, would you like to come teach this class?). And he also revealed that his mommy's belly button has nearly disappeared. He doesn't hold back, does he?

He also learned how to diaper a baby. Well, he got some help:

















And the highlight of the morning was getting to tour the labor and delivery unit and see the new teeny tiny babies in the nursery. Actually, that was probably just as useful to me as it was interesting to William. David held William up to the window so he could get a closer look at the babies, and the nurses in the nursery recognized David and began waving to him and pointing at William. I'd forgotten that they might recognize David! Meanwhile, I was making mental notes on everything I saw. Wow, these civilian hospitals are so plush compared to the military hospitals. I never had any issues with the Navy hospital where I delivered William, but these other hospitals are really so much fancier. I need to ask if they even have wi-fi....

Since our visit to the hospital, I've been trying to get my hospital bag ready, too. I had no idea it would be so hard to find pajamas or a nightshirt that buttons down the front. Really, is that such a strange thing to want to buy? No. But the people who make pajamas and nightshirts apparently have never tried to breastfeed a hungry baby. I'm still packing that bag so it will be ready when I need it, and I should pack a bag for William, too, since he'll be going to stay with his grandparents when the time comes. And yes, it amazes me, too, that the time is now so close. Well, so close and yet so far. When I go over the list of things I still need to do, the time seems very short. But when I'm attempting to roll over in bed without the aid of a forklift, well, let's just say that I'm looking forward to not being pregnant much longer.

Even William is nesting. He's been digging out old baby toys and lining them carefully up in a row, then calling me over to tell me how he will teach the baby how to play with each one. It's very, very cute. (Yes, it's also a little inconvenient, but well, I don't want to stifle his enthusiasm.)

So that's where I am right now. Trying to get the office cleaned out enough to turn it into a nursery. Trying to prepare for an eventual trip to the hospital. Trying to get work done before going into labor. Trying to breathe with this ridiculous head cold that I've come down with. Trying to remember all the stuff that I need to buy.

Actually, that last one is of the hardest ones. You'd think, oh, we've had a baby, so we should have everything. No. No no no. Yes, we do have crib sheets, crib linens, onesies, blankets and toys. And we have a Boppy, a bouncy seat, a Bumbo seat, and plans to borrow a bassinette. But we need to get wipes, diapers, diaper cream, a new changing table cover, changing mats, baby bath wash, a new baby bath tub, some more baby wash cloths, a breast pump and supplies, bottles, nursing pads, some nursing bras for me, socks for the baby (um, I promise that William wore socks, but for the life of me, I don't know which alternate universe they must have vacated to), a warm hat for the baby, new binkies, and God knows what else. I just got our new stroller from the UPS man today, and we have a new carseat en route. I want to get some burp cloths monogrammed for the baby (that is, if we can ever settle on a full name). And I probably should go through everything and make sure we have enough warm sleepers for the little guy, since we only had a few for William, as he was a spring baby. The thing is...right now, we still don't have a good place to store all this stuff, so I keep putting off the purchasing of said stuff. I guess if worst comes to worst, I can send David or Diane out to Target for a few of the most vital necessities and then pick up the rest later myself. Hurray for living close to Target this time around.

Whew. No wonder I'm tired, right? In addition to being the size of an aircraft carrier, I'm carrying around a lot of stuff in my head!

Cold, yes. Snow, well, not so much.

I know. You're probably wondering, "Well, did it snow or not?"

The best answer I can give you is, "Yes, it snowed. Sort of." Here, a visual aid might help.



































In other words, not so much. I fully believe it's because we really were prepared to get a significant amount of snow. We had bread. We had milk. We had toilet paper. We had long johns. That's when Mother Nature says, "Ooops, just kidding!"

William was a little disappointed. He really, really, really wanted to build a snowman and have a snowball fight. He has all these books where they show pictures of kids doing that in the winter, and he had great expectations. I guess I should dig out the book that my mom bought for him last year about what winter is really like in places like Mississippi (and Tennesseee): cold and gray, but not necessarily white.

And it's pretty darned cold here right now, too. The temperature is supposed to continue to dip this weekend, with expected temps in the single digits at night. And some optimistic weather folks are saying we may get some more flurries, but that doesn't go very far in placating small boys who want to build snowmen. It also means that the roads are icing over, which means we have to stick pretty close to home. Although I don't have a surplus of energy these days, I do think it'd be nice to escape the cozy confines of our house occasionally. After all, we had a lot of indoor together time over the holidays, and I'm still recovering from that.

There will be snow. Maybe.

Today is January 6. It's Epiphany, the day traditionally celebrated as the day the Magi found their way to the Baby Jesus. I tried to explain the significance to William, but he was dubious. After all, his nativity set has the three wise men, with their camels and crowns and gold/frankincense/myrrh right there in the stable with everyone else. Why would the nativity set lie?

At any rate, this is my first post of the new year 2010. Is it also the new decade? That's open to debate, of course. I'm having a hard time reconciling the fact that it's been ten whole years since my friends and I celebrated New Year's Eve 1999 in Memphis. There's a good story that I'll tell you some other time about how the water in our apartment got shut off, but I'll leave that alone for now. Somewhere around here, I have a picture of me and David from that night, and I'll have to scan it and post it. We were so young and skinny! Of course, David is still skinny, but there you go.

I just put William to bed a little early because he refused naptime today (sadly, a too-common phenomenon these days). Luckily, as is typical on a no-nap day, he went down with little resistance. He also is hoping to rest up because...drum roll, please...we are expecting to get somewhere between two and six inches of snow in the night tonight. The first big snow of the year! We've had flurries several mornings over the past week, which were pretty but pretty unconsequential. We're having a record cold spell, and for days, all the meteorologists have been forecasting actual snow tonight and tomorrow. I'm a little dubious of that myself. We've been so duly warned, and we've all prepared so well--I put gas in the minivan, bought bread and milk, bought long johns for William--that it just seems unlikely that we really will get snow. When I was a child, it seemed like the only times we got snow where when we were totally UNprepared. I guess that skepticism hasn't worn off yet.

So we'll see. David's got the day off tomorrow, and it would just be so perfect if we did get snow because he could play in the snow with William. William's been eager to build a snowman and have a snowball fight, and well, I'm not exactly in the best shape to do that sort of thing. I can be the Official Photographer, of course, since that does not require any bending or lifting.

What do you think? Is it really going to snow?

Last photo(s) of the year

It's not even 8:30 p.m. on New Year's Eve, and I am already beat. We just got William to bed, and now it's anyone's guess how much longer David and I can keep our eyelids propped open. Yes, I could claim pregnancy and illness as my excuses, but the reality is...we haven't done much partying on NYE in the past half-decade or so. We'll break out our Trader Joe's sparkling cranberry juice in a little while and make our toasts...after all, it may be early here, but it's 2010 in Europe already! I know, I know. We're livin' large, aren't we?

And the last photos of the year...

Appreciate this one because I bet we won't be able to get away with bathtub shots with William much longer. Here he is with the new pirate ship that his Uncle Mark gave to him for Christmas:
















And here's the official last photo of the year. (Gosh, I don't know about you but I looooove it when it's finally bedtime.)




















2009 was kind of a rocky year for our family, so I won't be too sad to see it go. And I'm hoping that 2010 is a much better one. Happy New Year's Eve to any of you who might be reading this! Have a glass of champagne for me!

Merry Christmas, y'all

Just in case you were worried, I did not auction my child off on eBay or anything. He suffered through some serious time out. He apologized. I cooled down (eventually). We're friends again. It's in the past. Like many of you have said, I will someday have a big hearty laugh about his little Christmas Eve caper.

Onward!

It's kind of funny to remember when William still didn't fully understand Christmas. He knew there were lights and sounds and good food and presents, but he didn't really understand the order in which they all arrived...and he didn't understand it enough to get really impatient about it, either. He was just delighted by whatever happened to happen.

This year, however, he knew exactly what was going on. We ate Christmas Eve dinner (also known as Aaron's birthday dinner) at the Wyckoffs' on Thursday night, and by the time I packed William into the car, it was really getting late. I told him that we'd need to go to bed really quickly to make sure he was asleep so that Santa Claus could come to our house.

David, who drove the minivan home after us, got online and looked up the website for NORAD, which "tracks" Santa's magical sleigh ride all over the globe on Christmas Eve. After I dressed William in his jammies, we told him to go check out the map on the computer to see where Santa was.

"Hey, look," David said. "Santa's in Newfoundland. That's north of here."

And as we watched the map, Santa was suddenly in Barbados. I guess he was travelling up and down the eastern seaboard before moving west, which seems to make sense.

"See, William?" David said. "Santa's there..." and he use the mouse to point out the little sleigh icon, and then he moved the mouse to put the cursor an inch or two to the left, over Tennessee. "And there's our house."

William took one look at the screen and took off running for his room. "Mommy, come on! Hurry!" he yelled over his shoulder.

I caught up to him as he was climbing into his bed. Out of breath, I said, "Okay, what story do you want to read tonight?"

William, pulling his covers up, said, "I don't think I need a story tonight."

Just so you know, he's never said anything like that before in his entire life. In fact, it was so unprecedented, that it caught me completely off guard. Let's see that little remark again, so we can absorb the full impact of it: "I don't think I need a story tonight." Nope, it still kills me.

"Well, how about I say a short prayer with you?"

"No, I'll say one when I'm lying down trying to sleep. Night night, Mommy." He shooed me out.

And I said, "Okay" and turned off the light and shut the door, and there was not a single peep out of him the rest of the night. William wasn't willing to take any chance that he'd make Santa Claus skip his house and...the horror...perhaps not bring him the Batman cave that he's been wanting for months now.

Santa, indeed, came through.








































A Christmas Day family photo of the three of us. Probably one of the last ones we'll have of the three of us, since we're practically four now anyway!


















We really did have a nice Christmas Day. I'll try to post some more Christmas photos soon.

Christmas Eve drama before 9 a.m.

So my original intention was to come here and tell you that I've reached the 30-week mark, hooray hooray. And then I wanted to tell you a sweet little anecdote about how William got to hear his baby brother's heartbeat at my OB appointment on Tuesday.

And it really was sweet, too. A slow, broad smile began to appear across William's face, making his cheeks look like apples, as he listened to the doppler's broadcast of the baby's heartbeat. He hadn't been exactly sure what to expect, but he knew this was a Big Deal.

Afterward, I asked him what he thought about that, and he said, "It was nice and a little weird." Why's that, I wanted to know. "Because babies make sounds like 'ga ga'," he explained. He also noted that the gel that my doctor used on my belly looked "just like our hand sanitizer!" Which, well, it did.

But anyway, like I said, I came here to tell that story. But then we had a little Incident this morning that really needs telling even more. I should title it something like "The Evil Genius Strikes Again." Argh. I'm still a little worked up over it, too.

Here's what happened. Last night, David and I wrapped gifts for each other and for his parents and brother. We stacked them way up on top of the (very tall) armoire in the corner of our bedroom, so William couldn't get to them. Heck, we could barely reach up there ourselves. This morning, after David left for work and while I was still asleep downstairs on the sofa (it has much better back support for awkward beached-whale pregnant ladies, what with all the pillows, and on nights when I cannot get comfortable, sometimes I migrate down there for a few hours), that's when William struck.

He took one of his little folding chairs from his table-and-chair set, dragged it up all 17 stairs, and carried it into our room. He moved everything out of the way from in front of the armoire (no small task). Then he found a box with a sturdy lid, stacked that on top of the chair. He climbed on top of all that and got down presents, which he then carried into his room. He shut the door and unwrapped all the gifts. None of which were for him.

I woke up and heard the feet running back and forth, and the bedroom door opening and shutting, and I went upstairs. I found what I just described to you and well, I think I went ballistic. I found a couple of David's presents strewn about, all of mine from David, one for Diane and something else. I yelled. A lot. I threatened permanent time out, I think. William ran out of his room, yelling back. There was a struggle on the stairs while I tried to drag William back to his room--for the record, it is harder to move an angry three-year-old when you're heavily pregnant than it is to move a dead body. (Er, not that I have actually ever moved a dead body. But you know what I mean.) Finally I managed to get him back into his room, slammed that door shut and marched downstairs to rewrap everything. William screamed and yelled from his exile. I fumed while I managed to get tape stuck all over the place, rather than in the right places. Grrrr.

(But hey, I am grateful for the Blu-ray copy of "The Princess Bride." Thanks, honey.)

So now, William's out of time out. He has apologized. I have confiscated the castle and all its accessories and placed them in time out. William has cleaned up the mess from the wrapping paper. He's back in his usual good spirits. I, however, am still feeling grumpy. What a way to start Christmas Eve, huh?

I called David, and he consoled me that one day, this will all be very, very funny. Hmph. All I know is that it's not even 9 a.m. and I feel like I've had a full day already.

Let's go to the movies!

We have marked yet another rite of passage in the life of our young son William. A big one. A monumental one. One that no one should ever forget. That's right: we took him to see his first movie in the movie theater yesterday.

Don't you remember your first real movie? Mine was "Lady and the Tramp." David says that he saw either "Herbie the Love Bug" or "The Rescuers"; he saw both of them around the same time, so he's not completely sure which one came first for him, chronologically speaking. My brother's was "The Fox and the Hound."

William's first movie was "The Princess and the Frog." We took him to the Green Hills movie theater to see a noon matinee. He's been looking forward to it for months. Princesses? Movies? Popcorn? Time with Mommy and Daddy? How could it be anything other than perfect?

And William loved it. I figured that, since he eagerly watches "Sleeping Beauty" when we give in at home, he'd have no trouble sitting through another full-length cartoon. And he didn't. He didn't eat as much popcorn as I had originally predicted, but he seemed to enjoy the overall experience. He behaved nicely, he laughed at the funny characters, and he whispered when he wanted to ask a question.

On the way out of the theater, however, he refused to put his coat back on. Flat out refused. Finally, in exasperation, David said something like, "William! Put your coat on now! It's cold out there! Do you want to get sick?"

And I would almost swear that William, worldly wise young man that he is now, rolled his eyes. "Daddy, you don't get a cold that way. You have to get germs to get sick," he informed us.

Um, yeah, that's right, actually. Why are we ever surprised when he actually remembers things that we've told him?

I asked William later for his review of the movie. He said that the funny alligator was his favorite character. (Louis, for those of you who've seen it.) And he's ready to go see another movie again soon. Hopefully something else rated "G" will be released before too long...

Hello?

Serial posting because this is too good to not blog about...

This morning, I walked out of my bedroom to find William in the office (i.e. the computer room, which will soon be converted into Baby Brother's room, ousting me and my work to a location still to be determined). He told me that he'd been talking to Grandaddy Johnny on the computer, but there wasn't a picture. I asked him when, because we regularly chat with Grandaddy Johnny on the computer via Skype, and I figured, he was just talking about one of our past conversations.

Ah, well, as it turns out, he had JUST been talking to Grandaddy Johnny on the computer. As in, a few minutes earlier. While I was still in my room, he had come into the computer room, turned on the computer, somehow brought up the Skype program, called his grandfather and had a nice little chat. But because he likes to hang up the phone a lot, he had to call back a lot. And apparently he knows how to do all of that. Who knew he'd picked up so much from watching me do it? So the Skype log showed at least a half-dozen short phone calls that the two of them had had this morning.

Good grief. William can't even read yet, and he's already figured out how to do all this stuff? We are in big trouble--Big Trouble--when he does learn how to read.

For the record, Daddy said he was happy to talk with his grandson, but I needed to make sure to teach him how to turn the video system on so that he could see him on the computer screen. Apparently, William just punched the "Call" button, not the "Video Call" button, which was why there was no picture.

No place for guilt at the holidays

So over on my other blog Jennifer Larson, Writer at Large, I recently mentioned that I was feeling a little guilty about not taking William to do tons of Christmas stuff this year.

Being nearly 28 weeks pregnant, I'm just huge and tired, and my energy level is just not what it normally is. And unfortunately, lots of the best Christmas activities require Serious Energy. I just couldn't do the downtown Christmas parade on Friday night, no way, and I managed to miss out on getting tickets to see a local production of a mini version of "The Nutcracker," but there's no way we'd last through a full-length performance.

So I decided to do some more low-key fun things and hope that they will suffice, at least for this year. As several people have told me, William is three. He doesn't know any different. There are plenty of years ahead to do bigger things around the holidays.

And we do still have two big fun things planned, so it's not like I bailed altogether this year. I'm taking him to a local church's Walk Through Bethlehem event on Sunday afternoon, and my mother-in-law is taking him to have breakfast with Santa at Davis-Kidd Booksellers on the 19th. I figure, I'll take him to have his photo taken with Santa at the mall one day after school, and we'll be good. Right?

In the meantime, a few photos from our low-key day on Saturday. I took him to Cheekwood so he could do the kiddie art class, which involved making a candy collage, and then we looked at the Christmas decorations....


























































































Then we came home and decorated a gingerbread house from a kit that I bought at Target. I could have taken him to any of about three different gingerbread house workshops around town that day, but they all cost at least $40, and frankly, I was hesitant to spend that kind of money on that sort of activity for a kid his age. Surprisingly, the kit occupied him for about two hours at home. Well worth the money.

















And we're doing the typical things, like taking him to church each Sunday, lighting the candles on our Advent wreath and doing the Lego Advent calendar each night (I'm sure you can guess whose idea that was, right?).
















And we already plan to attend the children's Christmas Eve service, which he adored last year. So really, we're doing the most important things, I think. I just wish that I DID have the energy to do more. But I'm going to try to feel content with what we're doing and remember that he's enjoying everything that we are doing, and that it's not worth completely wearing myself down.

Notes on Thanksgiving

Well, another Thanksgiving has come and gone, and suddenly we're in the middle of Advent again. We had a nice Thanksgiving weekend, although David was under the weather, which took a little bit of the shine off it.

My parents came to visit, and at the last minute, my brother even managed to get off work, so he drove up to Nashville for 24 hours, which was a wonderful surprise. So we had the whole clan: Mom, Daddy, John, Diane, Aaron, Mark, David, William and me. When William noticed that we were having to pull up extra chairs to the table, I told him that it was a very nice problem to have. And he agreed.

Because I was pregnant and because I ended up making dressing* for the very first time ever, I didn't end up taking many photos. So I apologize for the less-than-ideal photographic record of what was actually a pretty nice holiday. It's still better than William's first Thanksgiving, when I, er, didn't take any pictures at all.

Mom and Daddy decided that a little Thanksgiving-morning run around the yard might help by wearing William out a little:

































In fine Wyckoff/Larson fashion, William put away two big pieces of JellO salad. He had his piece...and the piece that everyone tried to convince me eat. (Y'all. I haven't eaten JellO voluntarily in more than 20 years. It's time to stop trying. Seriously, it leaves more for you to eat! Why object?)
















So anyway, it was really nice to get our family all together for a holiday. We never get to have both sides of the family together on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, so I appreciate the chances that we do have to spend a holiday together. We even watched "A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving" before dessert.

A couple of days after Thanksgiving, William said how much he enjoyed the holiday, too. That made me very happy because for awhile, he kept saying that he was looking forward to Thanskgiving because it meant that Christmas was right afterward. But he said he was glad to have all his grandparents and uncles visit him, and he asked if everyone was coming back for Christmas. I told him that no, Mama Judi and Grandaddy Johnny would probably wouldn't be able to both be here for Christmas--but that we'd invite them to come if they could. And I reassured him that no matter what, we'd have his DeeDee and Grandaddy and Uncle Mark come over for Christmas, and that was something to look forward to.

He brightened and said "Can we have DeeDee over again sometime really soon?"

I said, "Sure." And then I said, "And what about Grandaddy Aaron?"

William thought about that for a second. "Well, I guess he can come, too."

***********************

I am seriously tempted to use this as a Christmas card photo because it just makes me laugh and laugh and laugh. No one needs to see me in all my swollen, pregnant glory on a Christmas card this year anyway!
















* Okay, yes, Diane chopped all the celery and onions for it, which is the hard part. But I, er, mixed it all together! And put it in the oven! And took it out of the oven! Surely that counts for something, right?