That time I thought Sally was a month older than she really is ...

Yesterday I proudly announced on facebook that Sally was 22 months old, the same age that Walter was when she was born.  Pretty wild/crazy/neat, except that she's actually 21 months old.  Whew.

Still my baby!

I've been anticipating that milestone, of course. As it approaches, I can't help but draw comparisons, and wonder and feel wistful about how little Walter was, really, when Sally joined our family. I don't think many people say this out loud, unless they are saying it to their pastor, but while there are benefits to spacing babies close together, there are some things worth feeling sad about, too.  Walter lost a little bit of babyhood, no doubt about it.  And my relationship with Walter changed, too ... we started having, as he would put it, "some troubles."  We're still sorting these troubles out, Walter and I.  I anticipate ... going out on a limb, here ... that there may still be more troubles to come.

My sweet boy, with pink flowers

But I'm not sure "totally conflict free" was ever a good goal for me to have in terms of relating to my children, especially Walter who is so much like me. I might need to let that goal go, and go for "mostly appropriate, healthy response to conflict" instead.  To that end, Walter and I have been practicing our calming breaths and our "I" statements.  He's really, really good at "I" statements.

Walter's coming out of a rough time of acting out at school, we think due to transitions (older kids moving up into a different classroom.) We helped him with strategies for staying calm, alternatives to hitting and biting, and incentives for good days and good choices.  But, mostly, I think he came through it and out of it on his own.  He was ready to start listening and self-regulating again.  After more than a week of co-sleeping, he's back to spending most of the night in his own bed, just joining us in our bed in the morning when he wakes up.  He's smiling more, laughing more, brightening all around.

Little kids have big feelings. I remember feeling like my emotions were much larger and more powerful than I was when I was a kid. I truly, truly enjoyed growing up and leaving each stage behind (life got easier as I got older.)  I wonder if Walter will feel the same way?

We'll see ... in the meantime, I'll do my best not to rush him, or Sally, months or years ahead of where they actually should be!

A celebration of Walter, exactly as he is now (3 and half-ish ... I'm not counting months anymore ... I'm clearly not very good at it ... )

She seems like a good role model

• Walter has a new favorite color: green.  Pink and purple are also still favorites. He is excited to start gardening soon. 
• Walter is excited for outdoor farmer's market season to begin, and enjoys reading the latest (summery) issue of Everyday with Rachel Ray. He enjoys watching cooking shows in Create, too. 
• He loves shrimp, all kinds.
• He got to choose new bedding for his room, and chose Doc McStuffins. which I don't think he's ever seen, but we were pleased with the choice. 
• He is tremendously sweet and snuggly.  I love going on walks with him, holding his hand. 
• With Walter, you can really relax and enjoy the good things in life: a nice walk, a snuggle in the morning,

  

  Walter, with blocks

  eating popcorn and watching a movie, a beautiful bluegrass song. Our favorite thing to do  continues to be breakfast together once a week ... a very simple time apart from the rest of the world that we both really enjoy.
• On our family walks, Walter likes to get out of the stroller and run (though never too far, and never so I'm too nervous about it.) He also likes to pick dandelions. He was horrified when I told him that, once he'd picked a yellow dandelion, it would never continue on to the white stage. He's a pretty sensitive kid, and interrupting the dandelion life cycle was a serious issue for him, no matter how hard I tried to reassure him. Now he only picks white dandelions, and always blows the seeds and scatters them, to help them. Sometimes he plants the seeds in Sally's hair because, in addition to being a sensitive soul, Walter is also a sibling. 
• He is brilliant and HILARIOUS. His word play is really getting very good.  The other night, Sean made mu shu pork.  Suddenly, in the middle of enjoying his dinner Walter stopped and said, "This is no good ... IT COMES FROM COWS." As he waited for the pun to sink in, he realized there was another pun to be had. "It comes from the FEET of cows!!" He added, to our great delight. 
• Walter loves books of all kinds. He loves Fraggle Rock and Curious George.  He's not into anything right now (not like the Frozen or Peter Pan hey days) ... lately he wants to be outside, or he wants to rediscover his inside toys, like his blocks or his workbench. 
• His greatest sources of delight: visits from Umma and Baba, outings or other time outside school spent with Henry and family, sweets, especially chocolate (he got my sweet tooth,) breakfast or other dates with Mama, reading to us (counting books and others he has memorized or can figure out from pictures,) and snuggles especially with Daddy. 

A celebration of Sally, 21 months old (NOT 22!)

• While she occasionally tests our limits/patience/the laws of physics, Sally is almost entirely a delight. I was listening to her talk over the monitor, before she fell asleep, which is one of my favorite things, and I asked Sean, "Is she always going to be this delightful?" "No," he said, "Definitely not."  It's not that we think she'll be less delightful as she gets older, it's just that there's nothing in the world as delightful as listening to a toddler sing a medley of "itsy bitsy spider," "twinkle twinkle little star," and "my purple balloon goes sailing," to the dolls in her crib.  That's pretty delightful.

  

  Playing/working hard. Gave me a smile when she saw the camera.

• What we're mostly listening for over the monitor these days is bad coughing/asthma-like symptoms (we haven't gotten an official diagnosis, or anything, but Dr. L. is treating her like she's got allergy-induced asthma, and that seems to be the case.) What I'm celebrating about that is that she's really good at taking her medicine, including her albuterol inhaler. Walter helps her with her medicine, too, which is wonderful (and he recently learned how to swallow pills, which is amazing. Sean and I, allergy-having kids though we were, didn't learn to do that until we were seven or so.)
• Sally loves her lullabies, including the one I wrote for her, but she insists that I insert the names of other people into it. Tonight we sang to "Jaysa bug," "Jackson dear," "Chelsea girl," and "Emily boo," all at her request. Other favorites include Mommy, Daddy, Walter, Jesus and Matt (Henry's dad.) I think it's her way of praying for other people, kind of a "God bless..." prayer. It's an odd experience for me, sometimes, to sing something so personal and tender to classmates of hers I barely know.  She's taking that "your family is the whole wide world" stuff to heart, that girl. 
• Sally loves all food.  Sometimes she'll try something and not like it.  No big deal ... she'll just move on with the meal and not eat that thing, but usually she'll try it again later and like it.  She's been dairy-free for a few weeks to help with some GI issues, and has managed that quite well.  She's the eating champ of the world.  She prefers salty things to sweet ... she and I polished off a bag of black olives the other night and I was pretty proud. 
• Sally can count, reliably, to five.  She loves counting, especially because it's something Walter teaches her to do. 
• It goes without saying, I think, that Sally is a brilliant communicator (that's kind of a funny sentence, when you think about it.)  She has a huge vocabulary and puts together sentences very well.  Two favorites: "Read the book, Mama." "_____ right there" (informing us of something that is happening and the fact that it is happening ... right there. 
• Sally calls me "Mommy." I'm not sure why ... we usually use "Mama" in this house. Maybe they taught it to her at school? Regardless, Sally is pretty clear on her use of "Mommy" and "Daddy."  It's nice ... it feels like being named. 

A celebration of the two of them, Walter and Sally

• The way they love Dr. Suess books that feature Sally and her big brother (who we assume is Walter.)
• The way they love to brush their teeth and read books.
• The way Walter always wants to read books in Sally's room, and Sally always wants to read book in Walter's room. 
• The way they are in this picture (the one I took just before the one posted above, before Sally realized I was taking pictures and gave me that big smile.)  They went to the living room after dinner and immediately got to work.  Sally brought the stool over to the easel, got herself a marker, put her drink in one of the paint cup holders and set to work.  Walter went over to his work bench, got out a board and various screws, nuts and bolts and a screw driver, and set to work.  I came in and sat down behind them, and they were just so beautiful, so industrious, so focused, so at peace with themselves and the world. Some people would probably look at this photo and see the opposite of peace... they'd see the clutter, the mess, the chaos. But truly truly I tell you, it is a picture of peace. And it is, and they are, beautiful. 

Snapshot of Walter, 21 months

Tonight's bedtime exchange involving a dustpan was so representative of what Walter is like at 21 months ... it must be recorded, verbatim-style.

SEAN:  Aggggghhh, so much sand in your clothes.  I've got to get a dustpan.
WALTER: (Following Sean, wearing just a diaper, crying a little and rubbing his eyes.)
SEAN: You OK, buddy?  Do you want to watch me use this dustpan?
WALTER: JA!! (totally over-the-top delighted.) (pause.) MY dustpan. (getting petulant, threatening to meltdown.)
(Sean cleans up the sand on the changing table, showing Walter all the steps and including him in the process. Walter periodically interjects:)
WALTER: MY dustpan.  My dustPAN. My DUSTpan!!!
SEAN: Would you like to use the dustpan?
WALTER: JA!!! (totally delighted again.) (begins to sweep his bed with the very sandy brush.)
SEAN: Not the bed, please. How about the floor?
WALTER: How 'bout floor? (Sits down on the floor, happily sweeps for awhile.) Garbage! (Gets up and takes the pan and brush out to the kitchen, opens the garbage can and empties the pan into the garbage.
SEAN: Now let's put it away in the closet.
WALTER: Put it away! (On encountering Hank lying down in his path to the closet. Very politely:) 'Scuz me, Hankee.

That's the snapshot!  Walter is always just right on the edge of a meltdown at any moment, and it doesn't take much to push him over that edge.  But he's also capable of a great deal of spontaneous wonderfulness, too. And he's very polite to his dog.

21

Two separate posts, loosely connected by the number 21 and the celebration birthdays:

August 21, 2013
This date is very likely to be Sally's birthday.  It's strange to know that, and also to know that we don't really know it for sure, because she could certainly be born before then.  If I'd had some say in it (I did not) I might have chosen the 22nd, for symmetry's sake, or the 24th, because the number 8/24 is kind of mathematically neat and easy to remember. 21 is a number I was relieved to avoid when Walter was born, because having 21 for a golden birthday seems to be asking for trouble. However, remembering how Sean and I spent our 21st birthdays, I have hope.  In both cases, we celebrated together, and both occurred during the excruciating pre-courtship phase of our courtship when we were very much in love and very much trying not to be.  Neither birthday involved drinking to excess and both involved a lot of frustrated longing.  Sally (and Walter, for that matter) all I wish for your 21st birthday is that you be similarly sober and chaste.  It's really not too much to ask.

Mama and Dada at 21 years old. Gaze upon our wholesomeness*, children, and take notes. *I would invite any friends from college or thereafter who have a different recollection of the wholesomeness of Sean and myself to refrain from comment at this time.  

Having a date on the calendar that could very well be Sally's birthdate makes me giddy and anxious.  Some of the anxiety is not particularly peculiar to the planned c-section situation ... I know I was worried at this point with Walter about being so close to my due date and not being ready for his arrival.  I do wonder how the surgery part is going to go, this time ... will they have trouble getting the IV in, like last time (5 tries and then a terrible placement in my forearm.)  Will the catheter cause trouble and lead to another infection?  With Walter, the epidural went so well ... will the spinal block go as smoothly?  Will I throw up again on the operating table, will my mom be allowed to come in and hold my hand when Sean goes to be with Sally, will my blood pressure drop and my kidney start to fail, will Sally and I do well with our first attempt at nursing ... lots of questions.  And that's not even getting into the dark-night-of-the-soul questions, and all the worries that keep me up and keep me holding my breath between every discernible baby movement.

The possibility of Sally arriving early is more worrisome this time because my last day at work is scheduled to be August 18.  Taking off three weeks before Walter's due date (and then waiting around for another week after that because he was late) was good in some ways: I really wasn't healthy enough to work and needed to rest with my feet up.  Also, I signed up for a free month's subscription to Amazon Prime and watched the entire run of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine.  Time well spent.  But I couldn't help but feel that precious maternity leave time could have been better spent actually with my newborn baby.  By working right up until her arrival, I get a full nine weeks at home with Sally; with Walter, it was only five weeks. And I am healthier this time, and able to work, and working takes my mind off my heartburn and my various other aches and pains.

I am starting to feel, though, very much like a turtle stuck on her back in the middle of a busy highway: my stubby, useless legs flailing with effort and totally helpless.  This afternoon Sean very gently reminded me that, if I want/need help, it's best to ask for it directly.  That's usually my policy, and I'm usually quite good at it.  But I need help with everything these days.  And I think everyone in a position of overwhelming need reaches a point where it's like, OK, maybe I'll just lie here on my back for a little while.  It's not so bad.

I was lying around feeling like a martyred turtle today when Alan and Mindi from Sunflower Studio posted some pictures on facebook from our recent baby-bump-centric family photo shoot.  Like we did for Walter, we plan on taking Sally in to have professional photos taken at regular intervals throughout her first year, and collect the best of these in a beautiful book for her. Each photoshoot will include silhouettes, like the one I've posted here, except in the rest of them Sally will be on the outside of my belly.

I needed to see this picture today.  I think I look incredibly proud and strong. My funny Jeffersonian facial profile even looks rather beautiful, and the profile of my body, and the way I'm carrying Sally, looks very beautiful to me indeed.

I'm at odds with my body these days, there's no denying it.  My body is tired and achey and does not want to move, lie down, stand up or sit still.  My body is a big, contrary mess.  And it is beautiful.

Being a woman and having a body is interesting, whether you're pregnant or not.  I hope my delight in my body, and my delight in being a woman, helps both my children as they figure out what it means to be embodied.

The 21st of August seems like tomorrow and like it's ages and ages away.  I can't wait to meet my Sally (but as I wait, I'll do my best to wait in good spirits, with the persistence and fortitude of a mama turtle on a mission, on her feet.)
 
   
21 Months Old
Walter turned 21 months old this week. I remember learning Sally's due date and doing the math and thinking, "Wow, Walter will be 22 months old when his sister is born. Almost two!" and I couldn't imagine it. At 21 months old, Walter is demanding and delightful.  Last night we told him it was 5 minutes to jammie time, and he said, "No! 10 minutes, jammie time." Being so smart is key to successful negotiations with one's parents. Last time we went to a restaurant, the waitress came and he ordered pancakes for himself. It's just ridiculous how grown up he is, how much he understands about the world, and how well he's able to communicate with us.

Occasionally he launches into a wordless whine, and sometimes he does use his words but we have no idea what he's saying, but most of the time he's quite verbal and adept.  He's quite gentle and very affectionate.  He's not great about eating fruits and vegetables but is a pretty good eater on the whole.  His favorite foods are hot dogs and pizza, which is an easy preference to relate to. At day care they're putting him on the potty when they change his diapers to start introducing him to the idea, but we haven't done any training yet at home.  Walter loves brightly colored socks and his bright orange hat.  He's pretty good at brushing his teeth. He is healthy and, other than two ear infections before the tube surgery, has been healthy all summer.  Walter is risk averse: he loves playing outside at the park, and wants to go down the slides, but usually decides not to once he's up there. He loves playing in water and in sand.  He loves playing dress up.  He loves trains, trucks and farm animals.  He loves watching Sesame Street and Muppet videos on YouTube and gets really, really upset when we eventually put an end to the video watching.  We try to give him lots of warning anytime there's going to be a transition from one activity to another, and try to keep to a routine, and that seems to help with a lot of the toddler-ness.

Sleep is still hit or miss with Walter.  Last night he had a bad case of baby insomnia starting around 2:30 am.  I wasn't sleeping well, either, so I crawled into bed with him.  He rested quietly next to me for a long time, occasionally lifting his head and opening his eyes and saying "Hi, Mama!"  When he got more and more awake and chatty, I knew I had to leave him and let him make his way back to sleep on his own.  But I love and treasure that kind of time with Walter ... listening to his little voice and following the sleepy train of his thoughts from "Where's Dada?" to "Can I have my Burt and Ernie finger puppets?" to "I like taking communion. 'Dip it in!' *giggle giggle*"

Here's to 21 months, Walter Paul!  Daddy and I are so proud of you.