Pure Imagination

I'm loving this 2 1/2, almost 3, age with Cole. Granted, he tests us about 100 times a day, but his imagination is running wild these days, and it is thoroughly entertaining.

Example for tonight:
Leaving Giant parking lot.
Cole: Daddy goes that way (points opposite direction from where we turn).
Me: Well, we live this way. Why does Daddy go that way? To see a girl? (Haha.)
Cole: Yes. (Um, okay.)
Me: Is it his girlfriend?
Cole: Yes
Me: What's her name?
Cole: Keisha
Me: What does she look like?
Cole: A princess
Me: What color is her hair?
Cole: Blue. No, orange.
Me: Does she give Daddy kisses?
Cole: Yes. I like her.
Me: Well, that's great, Buddy. (Laughing)

I can't wait to see what that little mind comes up with next.

Home Sweet Home

When I was 8 or 9, I was walking home from school one day and saw a man taking pictures of our house. I went inside to find my mom sitting at the kitchen table, and I asked what he was doing. I remember her words - that man is taking pictures because we are selling our house. I was devastated. Nothing could be worse to me at the time. I wish I knew then what I know now.

Fast forward to April 2011, and my parents told me again that they were selling our house. Only this time, I’m not a little girl. I’m married and a mom, and I don’t even live in that house anymore. So why am I just as upset?

Over the course of the last couple of months, as my parents finally got an offer on their house, had an offer they made on a new house accepted and started the process of packing and moving, they have both said to me something to the effect of “the bricks and mortar don’t make the memories.” I must respectfully disagree. That house that they are leaving holds countless memories in its walls and oh, if those walls could talk.

They would say that for 22 years, a family lived there, loved and fought there, laughed and cried there. We had good times and hard times and a lot of time in between. There were birthdays and celebrations. Parties that our friends still talk about. We welcomed new people into our family and said goodbye to others. Sundays were for watching football and family dinners. My siblings and I moved out and came back and then moved out again, finally leaving my parents with an empty nest. I got ready for my wedding there and my brother was married in the backyard. A whole new generation of our family started. It was a home for not just the six of us, but for so many others who were welcomed there, so many friends who became family.

I have my own home now with my husband and children, but this change still makes me sad. Sad that I’ll never drive down New Castle Lane again and pull into the driveway at 310. Sad that I’ll never again wonder why we only open one side of the garage or why the builder put the light switch so far back in the powder room. Sad that my parents will no longer be residents of Logan Township. Sad that my kids won’t remember the house that I grew up in and that I’ll never be able to show it to them. But if God is closing the door of our old home, I guess I’ll have to peer into the window of the new one to find out what lies ahead.

“There are places I remember 
All my life, though some have changed 
Some forever not for better 
Some have gone and some remain 
All these places have their moments 
With lovers and friends I still can recall 
Some are dead and some are living 
In my life I've loved them all.” 

 

A Baby Story

In the vast list of things that I wanted to accomplish while on maternity leave, blogging was definitely one of the top. I like doing it but never make the time and thought while I'm "off" for this time, I would be posting new blogs all the time. Needless to say, that hasn't happened even once, so I'm going to backtrack a little bit here.

It's been 7 weeks now since Chloe was born, so I'm going to now tell the story of that day. This is as much for me to remember (one of my original intentions behind blogging) as it is for anyone else who might be interested.

On Friday, June 29th, 3 days after my due date, I woke up at 4:30 in the morning with a contraction. These lasted for about 2 hours but were inconsistent, so I decided to go to work in case it wasn't the real thing. (Fast forward many hours, and I would find out it was very real.) I had Kevin and my mom on notice and went to work. My officemate thought that I was crazy when I told her that I thought I was in labor but said to keep it quiet. I didn't want anyone to know in case it wasn't real or in case my boss caught wind of it and tried to send me home. (I didn't want to waste one single day of my leave.) I worked throughout the day having the occasional contraction and causing my officemate panic at my every sound. I got myself caught up on everything I could (just in case) and left about 2:30. I called Kevin on the way home and told him I still wasn't sure but that just in case this baby was coming, I thought I should go get my eyebrows done. (Yes, I may be slightly crazy, but a new mom with 2 young kids doesn't always have time for that type of thing, so I thought I should take my chance to get it done.) The contractions started to get worse by this point, and I almost had to leave with only one eyebrow done.

When you already have a kid at home and you're pregnant, you do your best to plan for that child, but there is no way to really prepare. Sure, we had someone on standby to watch Cole, a bag packed and his Big Brother shirts cleaned. But I never thought about how he would react to Mommy being in labor. At first, it was pretty funny. He copied me as I breathed through contractions and laughed at my odd behavior. Then the contractions got worse, and as my little boy could tell I was in pain, he got really upset. It honestly broke my heart to worry him like that, so I just tried to assure him that I was okay.

With my contractions still irregular, I debated calling the doctor. And something else delayed me, too. Kevin had an important school board vote at 6pm, and I didn't want him to miss it. (Yeah, yeah, I know I'm still sounding crazy.) As the pain was getting more intense, I told Kevin to go to his meeting and that I would call the doctor while he was gone. With my contractions still all over the place, the doctor told me that I could come in or not and that the choice was mine. I told her that I would come in when Kevin got home which would make it another hour or so until I could get there.

The ride to the hospital was not fun as I was in a lot of pain by that point. We got there around 7pm and went up to Labor and Delivery where I was checked. If my irregular contractions cast any doubt on the reality of my labor, when they found me at 6-7 centimeters dilated, all doubt was gone.

The next hour or so was not my best. You know when you watch those movies where the woman yells and pleads for drugs and you think that no real woman ever acts like that? Well, I did. No exaggeration. It was bad. I cried and screamed and begged my mommy to help me. (Meanwhile, my mother didn't really think I was in labor and had shown up dressed to go out to dinner with my dad. Jeez.) Kevin and my mom found my antics quite amusing and found it hard not to laugh in my face. (Nice, guys.) Waiting for the anesthesiologist to arrive, I was checked again and after being at the hospital for only an hour, I was at 9 1/2 centimeters. I couldn't believe how quickly I had progressed and of course I was worried that it was too late for an epidural. This is something else you see in the movies. The reality is that even that far along, I was still able to get the epidural. The doctor tried to tell me that we should just move forward without it, but there was no way. I pushed for 2 hours with Cole and if I had to repeat that, I insisted on doing it with an epidural. I would have liked to be tough about it, but I'm not tough. I don't like pain. I told them to get me the drugs asap. Even if that meant the baby would come a little later. Everything was smooth sailing (besides a very brief drop in the baby's heart rate) after I finally got the epidural and after less than 3 hours at the hospital and a few pushes, our daughter arrived!

Chloe Audrey Tinsley
June 29, 2012
10:06pm
8 lbs, 8 oz
20 inches
Perfectly healthy!

Yup, still pregnant.

It’s been a few years since I was last pregnant, but I feel like I remember most things. The kicking and feeling the baby move. The sensitivity to smell and wanting to eat everything in sight. What I did forget is how being pregnant somehow opens you up to everyone’s opinions, questions, and comments. And I don’t just mean your family and friends who get on you about how much weight you’re gaining or what you’re eating. Or ask what you plan to do about daycare or what you are going to name the baby. For some reason, when people see a pregnant woman, even if she is a complete stranger, they lose any filter that they may have. Here are just a few examples of things that have been said to me.

1-      A male student at my school: “I guess you’re almost ready to take a nice, long vacation, huh?” (As he points to his own stomach). Yes, buddy. Labor, delivery and a newborn are definitely equivalent to sitting on the beach with a cocktail in hand. You got me there.

2-      Several people who are apparently parenting experts: “How are you going to have 2 kids in one room?” This is usually said with a frown or skeptical look on the doubter’s face. Sure, having 2 young kids in the same room isn’t completely ideal, but that is our situation for now, and unless one of these naysayers would like to buy us a house, then I’d prefer these opinions to be kept quiet. A special thanks to a friend who is in a similar situation and made me realize that it can work and even work really well and bring the kids closer!

3-      Someone new everyday- “You got bigger!” Ask any pregnant woman if she wants to be told on a daily basis how big she is. I can pretty much guarantee the answer will be no 100% of the time. Enough said.

4-      A drunk girl at a wedding over the weekend when I told her how far along I am: “Shut the f*** up!” I just didn’t know what to say to that one.

5-      People who ask what we’re naming the baby and are told that we are keeping the name a secret: “What’s the point of that?” When we decided to find out the gender of this baby, I wanted something to still be a secret, so we chose not to share the name. I don’t understand the big deal, but some people actually seem offended. They just have to deal with it. Everyone will know soon enough.

6-      Again, someone new everyday: “You didn’t have that baby yet?” Yes, actually, I did. She is here sitting under my desk. I’m just that good.

Homestretch

As I near the homestretch of my pregnancy (5 weeks left- give or take), I wanted to document a few things, so that I won’t forget when my daughter is older and asks me about this time.

What I’m feeling (physically) - I love feeling my baby girl move and kick all the time. Sometimes it hurts a little bit, but it’s mostly good. I think it’s funny when I can look down at my stomach and actually see my her moving around. I’m definitely tired, but I feel like it could be worse. Even though some things like bending over are harder than normal to do, I feel pretty lucky to not have any major complaints with such little time left.

What I’m feeling (emotionally) - Scared, nervous, excited, unprepared, surreal. I think that about sums it up. The main thing that I constantly think about is that I can’t believe that I’m going to be a mother of 2 in a matter of weeks. I still look at Cole all the time and say “wow, he’s ours” so having a little girl around all the time is a crazy concept to me. I also feel like we haven’t done anything to prepare for this new arrival in our lives and that she is going to show up, and we won’t know what to do with ourselves. Rationally, I know that’s not really the case and that we will get everything done, but the next few weeks seem daunting with thoughts of washing baby clothes, setting up the bassinet and swing, packing our bags, getting car seat bases in place, etc. I’d like to take a week off to get ready… but I’d probably use the time to nap.

Other stuff-

We finally decided on a name for our little girl, but we are keeping it a secret.

Even if he won’t admit it, I think Kevin likes buying baby girl clothes as much as I do (if not more).

Cole is so good about hugging, kissing and talking to his sister… which warms my heart more than words can say.

I’m really trying to soak up all the one-on-one time with Cole that I can right now. One of my biggest concerns is splitting attention and “mommy time” so I’m enjoying not having to worry about that for now.

Most importantly, all 3 of us are excited about our growing family and meeting our newest member!

Sincerest Form of Flattery

If imitation truly is the sincerest form of flattery, then Kevin and I should be feeling beyond flattered these days. Cole has been copying things that we do for awhile now, but it is getting to be even more of a regular occurrence.

One of the first blogs that I ever wrote was about how Kevin and Cole have a morning routine that they go through together- hair, teeth, deodorant, all that. They still do that, and heaven forbid Kevin brushes his teeth without Cole… well, let’s just say my son is not a happy camper. It’s actually come in handy with things like getting Cole to take his vitamin every morning because Daddy is taking his.

But now Cole has taken things to another level. Sometimes when I talk, he repeats everything that I say. Well, not necessarily the entire sentence, but the last word of every sentence. Yeah, that gets annoying pretty fast. And he definitely knows what he is doing, because he laughs and makes faces at me when he does it… like he knows he is up to something bad.

One day as we were leaving for daycare, I said to Cole, “let’s rock and roll.” It isn’t even something that I say very often, but now we are stuck with it. He says it to me all the time. Now he even opens the fridge and sees the bag of rolls and asks to have a “rock and roll.” I’ve tried to explain the difference, but he either doesn’t get it or chooses not to. Another favorite thing to repeat is “knock it off.” When he is acting up, I tell Cole to knock it off, and he says it right back. Hard to maintain any ounce of respect when that happens.

Last weekend, we had the moment that I had been waiting for. As a parent, you do your best to avoid it, but you know that inevitably you will slip up, and it will happen. The three of us were going food shopping, and Kevin was rearranging things in his trunk to make room for the bags. I don’t remember if he hurt his hand or what happened, but he said, “oh, fudge.” Only he didn’t use the word fudge. (Use your imagination.) I looked back at him quickly, as I was getting Cole into his car seat, and just said “language.”  Well, my 2 year old looked right at me and said, “oh, fudge.” (Again, a euphemism here.) I tried my best to do the right thing and correct him, but I started laughing so hard that I had to walk away so he couldn’t see my face. I mean, what do you do in this situation? I composed myself as much as I could, walked back over to him and explained that we don’t use that word. Now let’s just hope that doesn’t happen in the wrong place at the wrong time. Because not everyone would be so flattered by my son’s imitations.

Things We Do

I was thinking today about the things that we do for our kids. Not the run them to soccer practice or cut the crust off the bread types of things. Not the stay up until 2am working on a science fair project or watch the same episode of their favorite cartoon for the 100^th time type of things. But those not-so-often-thought-of, but just as important things. I really experienced that this weekend.

I’m finding more and more that just being able to bring a child into this world is truly a miracle. It’s not what I thought it was when I was younger- you get married, decide to have a baby and 9 months later, out comes your little bundle of joy, no consequences to speak of. It seems that infertility is so common these days (I have a good friend going through it right now), and I can’t say enough about the courage and strength of the women who endure this. Then there are the numerous complications that can occur. I know someone else who is playing the waiting game to find out if there is something wrong with her baby’s heart.... and it breaks mine.

What I went through this weekend wasn’t nearly as bad as what other people endure, but it was still a reminder. I wasn’t feeling well most of the day on Friday, but when I ended up with a fever and chills that night, I decided to call the doctor. Never too cautious when you’re pregnant, they told me to come in. After getting checked out, it was determined that I had a kidney infection. (And later said to possibly be a kidney stone, too.) Not a huge deal, right? Unless you’re pregnant. Well, I was told that I was being admitted for an unknown amount of time. That became 3 days. (I was in the same amount of time as when my son was born.) During this time, I was poked and prodded, tested and re-tested. I had to get IV antibiotics for the injection and IV fluids to keep me hydrated. They monitored me. They monitored the baby. My heart rate was high, so they did an EKG. What wasn’t high? My potassium, my iron, my platelets. All low. Along with my amount of sleep. I was happy if I got 2 hours straight during my entire stay.

The good news is that the baby is okay. She is better than me. But because I am pregnant, I get to be on antibiotics for the next 3 ½ months, with the first 10 days taking it 4 times a day. I’m still wondering when I’m going to catch up on sleep. (I guess I have about 2 months before the answer will be never.) But all of the tests and medicine and lack of sleep in the world are worth it… as long as my baby girl is okay.