Our First Conversation

Last weekend I took the kids home to meet their newest baby cousin.  On Saturday night Chloe wanted my Dad to take her up to bed.  Of course, he obliged.  He is wrapped so tightly around Chloe's finger that there was no other choice. 

After reading her about five more books than I ever would have he nearly had her asleep when all of a sudden there was a loud BOOM outside.  It scared Chloe, and she jumped into my Dad's arms.  He brought her downstairs to see what made the noise.  It turns out that a car had backfired and broke down outside of our house.  We explained to her that it was just a car making noise. 

Later that night she woke up, wandered into the bathroom, and started crying.  I was feeding Abram, so I couldn't immediately come to her rescue.  My Dad heard her crying, came upstairs, helped her go to the bathroom, and then took her back to bed.  He slept with her the rest of the night.  Fast forward to last night.

I sat on the couch in the basement and Chloe sat on the end table.  She was kicking her legs, alternating from left to right.  She had helped herself to an Izze sparkling juice just moments before having a seat.  I sat there watching her slurp on her "pop," put it down, slurp, down, slurp, down, when she started telling me a story. 

Chloe: I was crying in Papa's bathroom.  Slurp.

Me: Why were you crying?

Chloe: I was crying in Papa's bathroom.  I said "Waaaaah!"  Slurp.

Me: I remember.  Why were you crying?  Were you scared?

Chloe: Yeah.  I was scared.  Car made a loud noise.  Went BOOM!  Slurp.

Me: That's right.  Then Papa came upstairs.

Chloe:  Papa slept with Chloe.  All better.  I want to see Papa! 

Slurp, down, slurp, down, slurp, down.

I just sat there staring at her.  I couldn't believe my eyes.  I couldn't believe my ears.  I didn't know why she was crying in the middle of the night.  She didn't tell us.  But here she was a few days later just telling me all about it.  Like we were old friends.   

I wanted to dive across the couch and scoop her up, but I didn't want our conversation to end.  I know it was just a conversation about a loud noise that made her cry.  It was hardly a conversation at all.  But it was our first real conversation.  One that I didn't have to initiate.  One that wasn't about Dora or Knuffle Bunny.  It was about something that actually happened to her - a few days ago, even - that made a lasting impression on her memory.  Not only did it make an impression, but she was able to communicate her thoughts to me.  Is it just my post-pregnancy hormones, or is that just so cool?

Fredrick Meijer Gardens

We went to the Fredrick Meijer Gardens for the first time ever last weekend if you can believe it.  The butterfly exhibit is still going on through the end of the month, and since Chloe is totally obsessed with bugs right now we thought it would be right up her alley.  The butterflies did not disappoint.  Chloe was thrilled to see them flying around everywhere.  I, however, had a hard time fighting my human urge to swat at the insects swarming my head.  Chloe found a bench next to a little girl her age, and the two of them just sat there staring at the vegetation for about fifteen minutes.   

Chloe loved this waterfall sculpture at the entrance of the gardens.  She loved every single sculpture we came across now that I think about it.  It was nearly impossible to get her past the first 30 feet of the gardens.  At one point we came across a gang of pigeons.  I said, "Chloe, look at those birdies," to which she replied, "Mommy, those are pigeons."  Next year she will correct my classification of a "gang" of pigeons.  "Mommy, it is called a flock, flight or kit."  Duh.

Chloe loved the mini gate entrance to the children's garden.

Chloe playing in the "Great Lakes."

Abram & Dada

Here we are under the giant horse of which you can really see only the giant hooves and giant *ahem* balls.

Chloe loved rolling down the big hill with Daddy!

Guess Whose Kid

A popular game I like to play is Guess Whose Kid.  At a minimum it requires me, Chloe, another adult, and another kid, but there is no maximum number of players, and the results are always the same.  The rules are simple.  All of the players enter the same room, and I, the playee if you will, must sit in the next room over.  Every time I hear a child being corrected I have to guess which child is up to no good.  In the Guess Whose Kid game I typically score a point on behalf of Chloe every time I hear the following phrases:

Stop eating the sand!

This is an old photo, obviously, but at 27 months of age - you guys - this is still happening.

We don't eat playdough.

How did you get up there?

Stop biting Griffin!

No drinking the bubbles!

There are bubbles on her lips in this picture.  And also she just got done exclaiming "I drink bubbles!"

Don't pick your nose.

Don't eat your boogers!

Put your underwear back on.

What is in your mouth?

Don't color the walls/your hands/on Griffin.

Blue washable marker that has been smeared by tears.

Abram's Baptism

Abram was baptised on April 15, 2012 at St. Michael Catholic Church.  We asked Kendra and Chad to be his Godparents.  They were gracious enough to accept and host the celebration lunch following the baptism.  Since we held the baptism so close to our hometown we had a great turnout.  I think there must have been 50 friends and family members there to witness Abram's big day!  Since St. Michael's typically only allows baptisms on the first Sunday of the month during mass, we had to have the baptism after mass.  Things started off a little rocky since we had to rush the ceremony to accommodate choir practice.  I didn't have the camera or video camera ready so I spent the first two minutes of the baptism frantically looking around at my relatives making crazy charade-like movements in an effort to get someone to pick up a camera!  Finally, my Aunt Lisa caught on and told my Dad and Paul's Dad to get on camera duty.

Uncle Chad lighting Abram's candle.

Even my chill baby cried during his baptism.

Kendra, Me, Fr. TJ & Abram, Paul, & Chad

Chloe, Paul, Mom, Dad, Fr. TJ & Abram, & Me

Doug, Bobby Kay, Fr. TJ & Abram, Me, Chloe, & Paul

Family Pic.  Abram has had ENOUGH!

My Grandma Sally made this BEAUTIFUL cake.  She said she was going to "make a cake," but I didn't expect such a magnificent, giant cake.

This is the cake I had made at Frank's.  It wasn't supposed to have those giant flowers on it, but you win some, you lose some.

Doug, Paul's Grandma T (Mildred), & Paul

Paul, Dad, Mom, Grandma Sally & Abram, Me, & Grandpa Frank

Chloe had such a fun day.  Papa had to work really hard to keep up with her.  Both of them took a little nap during the party.

Abram - 3 Months

Wow!  Abram is three months old, and let me just say he is a perfect angel.  These days Abram sleeps through the night - usually in 8 to 10 hour stretches.  He typically takes one long 2-3+ hour nap in the afternoon, and takes multiple mini naps throughout the day.  He sleeps in his crib and rarely ever cries when we put him to bed. 

Abram loves having a clean diaper, and actually really loves having his diaper changed.  He loves to be spoken to, and he really loves cooing back at you.  He coos so much now that sometimes we have to ask him to pipe down a bit.  I really love his sweet voice, and I forgot how sweet it is to hear a baby coo.  He has a really high-pitched squeak that I am partial to.  Abram thinks that Chloe is hilarious (because she is), and whenever she sticks her face in his face he gives her a grin from ear to ear.  Chloe loves giving Abram big hugs.  I have even caught her trying to pick him up from time to time.  Stinker.  He doesn't mind at all!

My little man is growing so fast.  He is wearing size 6-9 (or bigger) clothing these days.  He is in Size 2 diapers, but I'm pretty sure that Size 3 would be fine, too.  Most of his baby hair fell out this month, but it is starting to grow back.  It is pretty light, but I would say it is darker than Chloe's was at this age.  Abram's baby acne is completely gone, but he does have some serious eczema on his legs and elbows.  His eye still boogers every now and then, but the plugged duct seems less serious as he gets older. 

For the most part Abram doesn't cry unless he gets really startled or hurt (by big sis mostly).  He is also likely to have a fit when he is really hungry.  When he has a poopy diaper sometimes he will complain a little, but he never cries about it.  Abram really prefers his milk in a bottle.  I joke that he will have a preference for bottled beer over draft beer.  I'm not sure if it is because he takes a bottle all day, but he just doesn't love breastfeeding as much as he did when he was newborn.  And I'm not sure what it is about me, but I'm not devastated about it like I would have been with Chloe.  I really don't mind pumping him bottles, though I'm grateful that he still breastfeeds at night like a champ in the event that he does wake up for a feeding.  I would really hate to have to get up and make him a bottle.  I've never been a big fan of breastfeeding in public, so I just bring him a bottle when we go out.  I don't know why I never did that with Chloe. 

Abram isn't really trying to roll over, but then maybe that is my fault.  I don't really work with him on tummy time, and I haven't been teaching him to roll over.  Call me crazy, but I just want him to stay little for as long as possible.  He is already so big, and I'm just not ready for my little baby to be rolling over and attempting to crawl. 

Abram still doesn't really love his bath, but he doesn't cry about it anymore either.  He still loves his pacifier, and I get the distinct feeling that bottles and pacifiers are going to be hard habits to break, whereas Chloe couldn't have cared less. 

Here is a pic from the beginning of the month when he really hated his bath.

Abram isn't super cuddly.  He really likes to just chill in his bouncy seat and watch us.  It is funny, because we bought Chloe a pink bouncy seat, but she HATED it.  Abram LOVES the bouncy seat.  Poor guy... stuck in pink everything.  Overall, Abram is doing well.  When he isn't sleeping he is smiling and cooing.  He is my sweet boy!  I took his three month photos a couple weeks late.  Oops!

OMG! I'm My Mother...

Me:  I really want to get Abram this little outfit from Babies R Us for Easter, but it is $40.  I have a coupon for 25% off, though.

Paul:  So, $30?

Me:  Well, 10% of $40 is $4.  And 4+4+4+2 is $14... er, wait, that is 35%.  Umm... okay, so 4+4+2 is $10.  So, $30!

Paul:  Yes, like I said.

Me:  Oh.  Right.  Because you just did $40 divided by 4.  Yes... well, once you run the numbers, ahem... so anyway, $30 still seems like a lot.

Somehow I graduated with highest honors with a degree in finance, but that is not the point.  You want to know where I get that 10% of X crap?  Where else?  My MOM.  I expect to make the complete transformation into my mother over the next two years here.  Another great example...

Me:  How old is my Dad?

Paul:  I'm not sure.  He was turning 50 at our wedding... no, at your brother's wedding.

Me:  Right.  We got married in 2007.  Right?

Paul:  I think so.  So Drew and Shantel were married in 2008.  That was three years ago.  So he is 53.

Me:  Oh. My. God.  Do you realize how old we are?  My parents used to do this shit all of the time, and we would get so mad.  I would say something like, 'Mom, how old is my cat?'  Simple enough question, right?  But no.  This started a whirlwind of dialogue between my Mom and herself.  'Well... let's see.  Tim and Lisa were married in '78.  Two years later the barn burned down.  Your cousin was born in '82.  Eight years later we bought the cabin.  We had the cat for two years before we bought the cabin.  So, that makes the cat 6 years old.'  'Oh, thanks for that, Mom.  There's two minutes of my life I'm never going to get back.'

Work Out!

I realize I made a very public promise to myself that I wouldn't start working out until late summer, but recently I decided to modify the promise a little.  Looking back I realize that after I had Chloe I was in no condition physically or emotionally to be working out.  It was just so hard for me to go back to work.  It's not like it isn't hard for me this time around.  It is just that this time around I'm used to it.  It is what I have been doing for two years, and, if I'm being honest with myself, it is a heck of a lot easier for me than staying home. 

I think the real problem is that after I had Chloe I thought that working out for a few weeks was going to transform my body right back to its old self.  I whipped out my old wardrobe and tried on every pair of pants on a daily basis.  It was just so damn depressing.  What I didn't realize is that it is difficult to lose weight when you are breastfeeding since your body needs to hold onto extra fat.  I know they say you lose weight when you breastfeed, but that isn't entirely true; you just burn more calories.  The downside is that you also eat more calories, because you are ravenously hungry.  Always.

I realize, though, that I need to start working out if I'm going to have the energy to keep up with my kids.  This time I'm not working out to lose weight.  That would be a great side effect, sure, but my main goal here is to just get to a healthy place both physically and emotionally.  I don't want to feel as though I don't have any energy in the evenings even though I have been sitting in a chair all day.  Also, I don't want to mope around complaining about how fat I am while I sit and eat my third piece of pizza.  Cookies anyone?

So a few weeks ago I decided I would train to run the 5/3 River Bank Run 5K.  After running a few days I decided to ask my great friend and fellow mopey mother, Mo, if she'd like to do the same.  To keep things fun we decided to meet once per week for a TRX class at Allegro Coaching.  The class is great for strength-training, and we leave feeling so sore that it is the perfect motivation to keep working out all week.  I can't wait to see the muscles lying under those layers of fat.  I can feel them after every work out!  It is really fun, and I can already feel a change in my attitude.  I'm still wearing my trusty maternity pants, and I don't even care.  I'll get there, and I'm not worried about when.