tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43467115340278351912024-03-14T04:53:59.077-05:00hey, buddy manJen Lhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15244397920057451416noreply@blogger.comBlogger99125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4346711534027835191.post-1201647698096590702012-11-01T22:10:00.001-05:002012-11-01T23:11:15.493-05:00Halloween recap 2012Halloween with a two-and-a-half year old and a ten month old is more trick than treat.<br /><br />First of all, the costumes. I really enjoy making the kids' Halloween costumes. I spent some time coming up with what I thought was a cute idea. Then, I went to a few stores and my Grandpa's workshop to gather up supplies. Then I spent a couple of nights assembling -- sewing, hot-gluing, swearing when I burnt my fingertips for the 42nd time. There was some time and effort that went into these things.<br /><br />The kids wore them for about thirty seconds.<br /><br />Okay, that's a slight exaggeration, but still. Jack would only wear his because I built his mimi (pacifier) into it as part of the costume. That was my bit of Mommy Genius. Ruby didn't want anything to do with her costume because it had a hood and just the day before, she decided that she no longer wished to have any sort of clothing item anywhere near her head (just in time for freezing cold northern Minnesota winter weather, I might add). *sigh*<br /><br />I did get a few okay-ish photos at our Halloween party, and then at Trunk-or-Treat, and then on Halloween proper. But I may have to dress them both up again this weekend because I didn't get any photos of them together, or any photos of them not trying to rip their costumes off. *double sigh*<br /><br />Secondly, the candy. Oh, the candy. Luckily, Jack doesn't really get it, yet. He only asked for it last night when we were looking at the little bags that G&G and Margo and Katie&Derek put together for the kiddos. He had five M&Ms. Unfortunately, the candy is all I can think about all day long. I may have to toss the candy. Or flush the candy? How exactly does one get rid of candy without eating it? Can it even be done?<br /><br />And on that note, here are a few photos of Scuba Steve and the ultra-rare pink and orange Kermit-fish. Hope you all had a happy and safe Halloween!<br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/11/01/3380.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/11/01/s_3380.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/11/01/3381.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/11/01/s_3381.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/11/01/3382.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/11/01/s_3382.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/11/01/3383.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/11/01/s_3383.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br />Jen Lhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15244397920057451416noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4346711534027835191.post-29382250206555341602012-05-25T20:34:00.000-05:002012-05-25T20:36:38.378-05:00mother's day 2012Yeah. This post is a few weeks late. That's how I roll. I'm just happy it's getting posted at all.<br />
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I gotta be honest. I'm not a huge fan of Mother's Day. It was kind of a tough "holiday" as a child, and I'm sure I still have hard feelings about it. For some reason, the Mother's Days of my youth always seemed to end up with feelings hurt, crying, yelling. Not really good times.<br />
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Now that I'm a Mom, I don't really look forward to Mother's Day. I try not to have expectations around it -- partly because I don't really like the "holiday," and partly because I know that my husband isn't into it either, so there's really no chance of something "special" happening. If I expect it to be just like any other day, then I won't be disappointed.<br />
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Maybe when the kiddos are older, they'll have fun celebrating Mother's Day, and that might help me enjoy it more. And, it's not that I dread it, or hate it, it's just that I don't particularly love it. It's just another day in my book.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVEn84Uu01EzSB9_J7mcq_X6oywIDZInz07tEb7U-iuboDfgVnTZFiOS4wMUNgHVyZ9jdwKQ_6G2ltckkZjKGktD0g_Cy-gPgnfD3Le-JaNBIna4Ww7sXVKwTPP8D6MD3dFX54q6W2wwLD/s1600/MD2012_4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVEn84Uu01EzSB9_J7mcq_X6oywIDZInz07tEb7U-iuboDfgVnTZFiOS4wMUNgHVyZ9jdwKQ_6G2ltckkZjKGktD0g_Cy-gPgnfD3Le-JaNBIna4Ww7sXVKwTPP8D6MD3dFX54q6W2wwLD/s640/MD2012_4.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
That said, I had a lovely Mother's Day this year. The day was spent with family. The sun was shining. The kiddos were happy. It was a nice little Sunday that happened to be Mother's Day.<br />
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My Auntie Margo made a delicious brunch -- a yummy Dutch pancake, fresh berries, bacon, yogurt, granola... I can't even tell you how good it was. My Mom was there, and so were my Grandma and Grandpa. I brought Jack and Ruby. My Cousin Molly and her son Caden came a bit later. It was so lovely!<br />
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After brunch, we headed out to my parents' house to soak up some sunshine. John met us out there. We had a delicious dinner. It was nice.<br />
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The only thing I really wanted for Mother's Day was to get a nice family photo of the four of us. We gave it a whirl, but it was getting late in the day, and both of the boys were being goofy. It was a huge fail. Like, not even blog-worthy they were so bad. Ugh. Maybe next year. Or maybe not. No expectations = no disappointments.<br />
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Even though I didn't get my family photo, I did manage to get a few nice photos from brunch. I love the photo of me and my Mom and Grandma and Ruby. So much love in that photo.<br />
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All in all, it was a fine Mother's Day. But really, it was just another Sunday. And that's okay with me. Really.<br />
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<br />Jen Lhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15244397920057451416noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4346711534027835191.post-76882013726534238792012-05-09T21:07:00.000-05:002012-05-25T20:35:49.800-05:00bloggers for birth kits<span style="font-family: inherit;">According to the <a href="http://www.who.int/mediacentre/factsheets/fs348/en/index.html">World Health Organization</a>, approximately one thousand women die every day from preventable causes related to pregnancy and childbirth. Almost all of these deaths occur in developing countries, and can be prevented.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">That's like two Boeing 747s crashing every day, with no survivors.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">If two commercial planes crashed in the same day, let alone every day, governments would be scrambling for answers. Consumer protection groups would be up in arms. People would demand changes in rules and regulations to ensure that this kind of tragedy would be avoided in the future.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">So why aren't we hearing anything about these mothers? It's time to give them a voice. It's time to change the statistics. It's time to make a difference.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAhOttpkZEFmXbIzOjD4Zadv0nyns48F-5ezpWYXc9EswfDth0o9EUvxKp3Gi_uK7LwV9PNgF5t_Fzb_zWt3QwixBHIDzSTOKbwwbH0zxaTw2FvFupeoy2bIeX_bvdkmpihBZp3dqrtXq4/s1600/bloggers-for-birth-kits-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAhOttpkZEFmXbIzOjD4Zadv0nyns48F-5ezpWYXc9EswfDth0o9EUvxKp3Gi_uK7LwV9PNgF5t_Fzb_zWt3QwixBHIDzSTOKbwwbH0zxaTw2FvFupeoy2bIeX_bvdkmpihBZp3dqrtXq4/s320/bloggers-for-birth-kits-3.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Adriel at the <a href="http://themommyhoodmemos.com/">Mommyhood Memos</a> founded <a href="http://themommyhoodmemos.com/2012/04/bloggers-for-birth-kits-helping-moms-in-developing-nations/">Bloggers for Birth Kits</a> to do just that -- she's making a change, and you can help.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; text-align: left;">Did you know that a simple clean birth kit can help save a mom’s life? Did you know that for around $2-3 you can assemble one? Did you know that everything you need to make one can be found easily and quickly at your local hardware store and pharmacy?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">So, how can you help reduce maternal mortality? It's so easy. You can make some birth kits and mail them to Adriel. You can make a <a href="https://www.ywamships.org.au/payments/">donation online</a> (<span style="text-align: left;">be sure to write “Bloggers for Birth Kits” in the box that says “additional comments” so the funds will be allocated properly).</span> And you can help spread the word. Please visit <a href="http://themommyhoodmemos.com/2012/04/bloggers-for-birth-kits-helping-moms-in-developing-nations/">Adriel's blog</a> for more details. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">My husband and I have been blessed with two happy, healthy babies in the last two years. The <a href="http://www.heybuddyman.com/2010/09/our-birth-story-part-one.html">birth of our first child</a> was long and hard, but we had a great support team and excellent medical care. We all came through it together, and it was an amazing experience.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The birth of our second child in December of last year was incredibly powerful. Again, I had an amazing support team -- my incredible husband, the same doula that attended Jacks' birth, a wonderful resident who placed a high value on natural birth, amazingly supportive OB docs, a group of rockstar nurses. We could not have asked for a better team. <a href="http://www.heybuddyman.com/2012/04/rubys-birth-story-part-one.html">Ruby's birth</a> was beautiful. I got the natural birth I had planned and hoped for. And the hours after her birth were spent in a haze of awesome postpartum hormones and baby kisses.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">And then, I hemorrhaged.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Five hours after Ruby's birth, I had to be rushed to surgery to have an emergency D&C. I was given several units of blood. Had I not been in the hospital with immediate medical attention, the outcome would very likely have been different. It's tough for me to even think about...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I was very lucky that day.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Every Mama deserves the chance to say the same.</span><br />
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<br />Jen Lhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15244397920057451416noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4346711534027835191.post-89280078475780655102012-05-08T22:01:00.001-05:002012-05-08T22:12:59.447-05:00l.o.v.e.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Our two babies.<br />
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Tiny centers of our Universe. Little people, created from parts of me and parts of him. So much love pouring into them every day. So much love radiating out of them.<br />
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Nothing can prepare you for the kind of love one feels as a parent. People will tell you about it, and try to explain it. They'll say it's intense and immediate and overwhelming. They'll tell you there's nothing like it.<br />
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And they're right.<br />
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Except, until you're a parent, you won't be able to understand what they're saying. Not truly. Not fully.<br />
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It's been more than two years since I became a parent, and I am still amazed at the power of the love I feel for our two kiddos. I look at those two and I feel my heart do cartwheels. I know that every parent thinks their kids are the cutest, the smartest, the "fill-in-the-blank"-est; but our kids really are so cute and so smart. They're at least ninety-eighth percentile, I'm sure. And even if they weren't, my heart would still burst with love for them. So much love.<br />
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If you're a parent, you understand this, right? There is just so much love.<br />
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And here's why it's important that we love our kiddos so much... They will drive us crazy. Nutty. Cuckoo's Nest. The people who tell you about parental love don't talk so much about this part of it. The tantrums, the meltdowns, the whining, the hitting, the defiance. This gig ain't easy, y'all.<br />
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Which brings me to this truth: While I always love my kids, I've also discovered that there are times when I don't like them.<br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Before you freak out and call me a terrible mom, let me explain. The dictionary defines the verb "like" as </span>to take pleasure in; to find agreeable or congenial. Can't we all agree that there are times when we don't find our kids agreeable or congenial? Personally, I take zero pleasure in the Boy when he is screaming his head off after being told he can't have fruit snacks and Cheetos for dinner. And while Ruby is still totally in adorable baby mode, it's tough to find it agreeable to wake up hourly every night for the past month -- even with a congenial baby.<br />
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So, yeah. I'm not always "in like" with the kiddos. And I'm totally not afraid to admit it.<br />
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But the thing is, even in the moments when I struggle to retain the last shred of my sanity, when I take the time to step back for a moment, the love comes pouring in. And pretty soon, the tears dry up, hugs are doled out, and the like sneaks back in as well.<br />
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<br />Jen Lhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15244397920057451416noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4346711534027835191.post-80302239173619684742012-04-29T20:57:00.000-05:002012-04-29T20:58:59.360-05:00rookiesI think that somewhere along the line I got it into my head that when your second baby arrives, you are somehow no longer a rookie parent. That somehow all of the first-time parenting jitters and neuroses disappear. I'd like to state for the record that this assumption is false. Well, not just false... Completely and utterly crazy far from the truth.<br />
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With Jack, I read every pregnancy and parenting book on the planet. Dr. Sears, the Baby Whisperer, Weissbluth, What to Expect (Ugh.), the Girlfriend's Guide. Books about Attachment Parenting, breastfeeding, natural birth, baby-led weaning, vaccines, discipline, playful parenting, sleep.<br />
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First of all, how did I have so much time for reading? Seriously.<br />
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But secondly, was I so ignorant in the field of child-rearing that I needed this much coaching? Or was I just that unsure of my own skills and instincts?<br />
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In hindsight, maybe it was a combination of both, but there were so many times that I should have put more stock into my own intuition. The times that I did trust my Mommy-instincts were always spot on, but for some reason that didn't bolster my confidence when the next issue arose.<br />
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This time around, I find myself trusting my instincts more confidently. But, I also find myself questioning why some of the things we did with Jack don't seem to work with Ruby. Sleep is the big one so far. With Jack, we did a few nights of sleep training, and he went from being the world's worst sleeper to being a miracle sleeper. So it stands to reason that a few nights of sleep training with Ruby would solve our current moratorium on sleep, right? Uhh, nope. This girl wants her Mommy. Big time. And I love snuggling up with my baby at night, but I do miss getting some real sleep.<br />
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Maybe it's the lack of sleep, or the constant toddler-tantrums, that are finally getting to me. Several times a day I catch myself doubting my abilities as a parent. When Jack hits his sister on the head for the tenth time that morning, and then looks me in the eye and laughs, I question myself. When I think Ruby is finally asleep and then her little eyes pop open the minute I lay her down, I question myself. When I think about how long it's been since John and I had any semblance of romance in our lives, I question myself.<br />
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The funny thing is that I look at our son and our daughter, and I don't question them. I know how incredible they are. Jack is such a smart and funny little kid. As much as he challenges me on the daily, he also cracks me up with his sense of humor, and amazes me with his knowledge of letters and numbers. And Ruby is the sweetest little girl ever. She smiles with every molecule in her body. And adorable much?<br />
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At the end of the day, I know how lucky I am to be the Mom to these two amazing kiddos. And they don't know how to read parenting books, so chances are, they think my techniques are just fine.<br />
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Maybe we should start saving up for their therapy just in case.Jen Lhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15244397920057451416noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4346711534027835191.post-6322872854897877912012-04-27T22:49:00.000-05:002012-04-27T22:49:31.818-05:00the sink<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Playing in the water is one of Jack's favorite things to do. He would do this for hours if we let him. We got him a special tower to stand in so that he can do it safely. We learned our lesson the hard way on that one. We had been letting him stand on a kitchen chair. I was standing right next to him (on his left side) and his foot slipped off the chair (on his right side). He fell to the floor and got a pretty nasty head bonk. The new set-up is so much better.<br />
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The main problem now is two-fold. First off, this is not the most environmentally-friendly of activities, not to mention the fact that it has the potential to inflate our water bill beyond our means. Unfortunately, for the Boy, this means that it's a special treat rather than a daily occurrence. He's usually okay with this until we come to problem number two...<br />
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Problem number two occurs when water time is over. To say that the Boy has a rough time with this would be like saying that I had a rough time with his labor. Under. Statement.<br />
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There are tears. There is screaming. There is arching of the back and limp noodling of the body. Kicking and flailing. Falling to the floor in despair. It's truly quite a scene. The only thing I can do is wait it out, and help him pick up the pieces when he finally calms down a bit. </div>
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But for the fifteen minutes we play together in the sink, and we share giggles and grins, I'll help him through his meltdown. I'll dry his tears and wipe his nose, and try to explain that we'll play in the sink again, soon. And hopefully, twenty years from now, we'll both just remember the giggles and grins and the time we spent together playing in the sink.</div>
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<br />Jen Lhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15244397920057451416noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4346711534027835191.post-85275990157822120172012-04-25T21:04:00.003-05:002012-04-25T21:14:12.186-05:00name gameThe name Ruby was never on my list. <br />
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Well, to clarify, it was never on my "Barbie list." Or my dolly list. Or my MASH list. Or my "Let's play house" list. <br />
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Those lists contained names like Victoria (Vikki), Lauren, Morgan, Heather, and sometimes C.J. (no idea what the initials stood for - just liked 'em). It was easy to pick names as a child. And I loved poring over baby name books. I'd often check out "Beyond Jennifer and Kevin" from the library. I liked it because it had my name in the title, and it also acknowledged how boring it was. So vanilla, so blah. Why couldn't I have been a Samantha or a Cassandra or a Monique? <br />
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I was convinced that I would name my daughter Victoria. After all, no other name could compare in terms of elegance, beauty, and dignity. Of course, today the name sounds completely dated and weird to me (no offence if you're a Victoria, or if you have a baby named Victoria -- it's just no longer my style). The names I love now are the new classics, I suppose. All of the "old lady" names that are coming back into vogue -- Harriet, Isla, and Pearl were all on my list this time around.<br />
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Naming a second child is tougher than naming the first. The names sort of have to go together but can't be too matchy-matchy. I really love the name Josephine, but another "J" name in our family took us directly in the shadow of the Duggars (they have about 42 kids, all with "J" names). The names have to be of the same "feel," too. It might be strange to have a super trendy name alongside a very traditional name. We considered the fact that we would have a Jack and a Ruby, and wondered if people would immediately think of the guy who shot Lee Harvey Oswald (I guess if you didn't before, you will now, huh?). But we loved both names, and I just introduce my kids as "Ruby and Jack."<br />
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Lately, I've been thinking about what a third child would be named -- or, heaven help me, what a third and fourth would be named. This is COMPLETELY hypothetical at this point. Please do not even begin to think that we're expecting, or trying to be expecting. We haven't slept in four months. There is no trying to be expecting. There is only trying to be sleeping.<br />
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I love visiting name websites like <a href="http://nameberry.com/">Nameberry </a>and <a href="http://www.youcantcallitit.com/">You Can't Call It It</a>. I'm fascinated by what other people name their kids. You-neek spellings and made-up names make me crazy. I'm all for a little creativity, but Zsophya? Really? I saw a show on TLC a while back about a "Pregnancy Concierge" who assembled a panel of experts, along with subsequent focus groups, for a set of parents who wanted the perfect name for their pending arrival. In fact, they talked about the name as a "brand" and spend an inordinate amount of time and money trying to come up with the perfect moniker. I forget what they picked, only that it was the least favorite of both the experts and the focus groups. Guess that was money well spent.<br />
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So far, I haven't come up with anything that I'm totally in love with for our little family. I've heard so many beautiful names lately from Mamas that are expecting, or have recently had babes. We know an Iris and a Hazel, a Vivian and an Opal. I've heard babies-to-be who will be called Ingrid and Solvay. Jack has friends named Eliza and Lucy, Elsie and Lyra. Lovely names all, but spoken for.<br />
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So many beautiful names... Maybe we'll have to get a fish.Jen Lhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15244397920057451416noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4346711534027835191.post-38026731632762837982012-04-24T13:30:00.000-05:002012-04-25T21:05:19.261-05:00Ruby's birth story - part three<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>This was written shortly after Ruby's birth. I'll post it in three parts as it's rather long. </i></span></b>
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<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7710144950542599"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">At just after five in the morning, just when I thought I would break down, I felt an enormous pressure in my bottom. I instinctively got onto the bed on my hands and knees. I told my team that I had to push. Someone -- Sara? the nurse? -- told me to breathe through the contractions. Dr. Barrell checked me and said, “You’re nine and a half with a lip.” She also said she could feel the baby turning and making her way down the birth canal. I was given the go-ahead to try a few practice pushes, but I told them that I had to push for real. I arched my back in a cat pose and then bore down with a strength I didn’t know I had. I made a growling noise and pushed our baby further down. I was promptly told to slow down so things could stretch. But I didn’t really have control at that point. My body was acting on its own, and at its mercy. Another growling push, and I felt our baby’s head crown (ring of fire!) and slip out. Another short push and I felt the rest of her slippery body slip out. The doctor placed her on the bed between my knees, and waited for the cord to stop pulsating before offering the scissors to John.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">After just a minute or two, the doctors had me flip over onto my back so they could deliver the placenta and stitch up a second-degree tear. Baby Ruby was on my chest the entire time, skin-to-skin. I was amazed by how tiny and peacefully alert she was. She was absolutely perfect.</span></b><br />
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<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7710144950542599"><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I felt great after Ruby’s birth, and I was hopeful that we’d get to go home possibly later that day. Because of what happened next, those hopes went out the window.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I had been having pretty intense after-pains, but I had been warned that they would be bad with a second baby, so I was prepared. They were as long or longer than my labor contractions, and just as painful. It sucked, but I didn’t really say anything to the nurses because I thought that it was supposed to be like that. At about noon, my mom helped me get up to use the bathroom. When I pulled down my underwear to use the toilet, a huge clot came out of me. It was about the size of a Nerf football. I thought it was another baby or a placenta. I asked my mom, “Is that supposed to happen?” She kept her cool and called for the nurse. Another clot passed, and another. They got me back into bed and massaged my uterus, each time causing either a gush of blood or another clot to pass.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Before I really knew what was happening, the room began filling with medical staff. Someone gave me a shot of methergine - a drug used to control excessive bleeding - someone else was trying to start an IV. The doctor-on-call (Dr. Johnson) came in to talk to us about what was happening (severe post-partum hemorrhage) and what would happen next (surgery - D&C). The whole thing was very frightening, and I was starting to feel loopy from the blood loss, so a lot of it is a blur to me. I’ve talked to Sara and my mom about it to get their perspectives because I just really remember feeling sleepy. From their accounts, I gather that the situation was life-threatening and very serious. John still isn’t really ready to talk about it -- the whole thing really shook him. I’m just so thankful that we were in the hospital when it happened.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">After the surgery and two units of blood, I recovered really quickly. The doctor didn’t find any retained placenta or other obvious reasons for the bleed, but he did say that it shouldn’t affect any future pregnancies (although, after putting John through all that scary stuff, I’m pretty sure he’s already scheduled his vasectomy!). We are home now, and all of us are healthy. Ruby’s cheeks are already starting to plump up -- she’s a champion nurser. Jack alternates between totally loving on his little sister, and completely denying her existence -- just as it should be, I suppose.</span></b><br />
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<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7710144950542599"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I am so thankful for our natural hospital birth, and for the life-saving medical care I received afterward. And I’m so glad we’re on the other side with a sweet little babe in our arms.</span></b>
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<b><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></b>Jen Lhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15244397920057451416noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4346711534027835191.post-14250366318253924832012-04-23T13:00:00.000-05:002012-04-23T14:47:46.881-05:00Ruby's birth story - part two<b><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>This was written shortly after Ruby's birth. I'll post it in three parts as it's rather long. </i></span></b>
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<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7710144950542599"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When we got to L&D, we were brought to our room, and we settled in. We waited for Sara to arrive, and then we waited to see the doctor. The nurse asked us a million questions, and we talked briefly about our birth wishes. Actually, as soon as we mentioned that we had a written birth plan, she said, “Let me guess, you want this, and this, and this...” And she was right on all counts. It was good to know that we were on the same page. She’d done the “natural birth thing” before. When Sara got there, she did a little “redecorating” -- taking down the clock and the pain-scale drawing. I just love her!</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Dr. Barrell was the family practice doctor on-call for the night. She did a swab to test for amniotic fluid (positive) and looked at the fluid under a microscope (unequivocal) -- she couldn’t say for sure whether my water had broken, or maybe I had a slow leak, or maybe I just peed. But since I was having contractions again at that point, she let us stay under observation with a plan to check for progress in an hour or two. She was totally on board when I told her that I didn’t want to hear “the numbers” with each check, and she said she would just tell Sara.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Now, before all this action started, I would’ve told you that I wanted to labor at home as long as possible and roll into L&D with just enough time to push the baby out into the doctor’s arms and then go home an hour later. Well, when we got to the hospital and I no longer felt like this was a false alarm, I really felt nervous about the possibility of being sent home. I felt safe at the hospital. I was glad that they were letting us stay, even though the protocol is to only admit Mamas in active labor. I was still probably at a 3 or 4. </span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Early labor was lovely, even at the hospital. John and I took one lap down the hallway to the NICU area and back to our room. I had to stop a couple of times and lean on John or the wall. Hula hips helped me through several contractions. Things were getting a little tougher. When we got back to the room, I labored on the ball for a while, swaying my hips with each contraction. I was still able to talk between contractions, but with each wave, I put my head down and concentrated on breathing. At some point (maybe around 10p.m.?) Sara suggested that John and I both try to get some rest. I was able to snooze off and on between contractions for about an hour. The nurses came in every hour to monitor the baby, but they were so good about it that I didn’t even really notice. In fact, it seems like maybe at some point that monitoring stopped, but it’s more likely that I just stopped noticing.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">By about 11:30, things were getting increasingly more intense. I was no longer chatting with Sara and John between contractions, and I was no longer able to sleep. Each wave came on strong with no build up -- just intensity from start to finish. I remember struggling quite a few times to find a position that was comfortable. And if I didn’t find that position before the wave started, I knew it would be a tough one to get through. Being on my hands and knees seemed to work sometimes; other times, I had to hang off the head of the bed which was bent up at a ninety degree angle. Sara tried to get me to labor on the toilet once, and I said, “No way!” For comfort, I alternated between really going into myself for strength and focusing on low “Ohs,” and looking to one of my support team (usually John or Sara) and pleading with them to make it stop! While vocalizing, I repeated the phrase, “go in” in my head. I’m not sure where it came from, but I helped me stay focused on the baby and the reason for all this hard work. </span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We got into the shower sometime in the early morning hours, and that was a miracle. I don’t think I could have made it through without that water. I have no idea how long I was in there. Long enough to get overheated and feel a bit queasy, but it was lovely while it lasted. While I was in the shower, a guy from the lab came to draw my blood. Someone asked if I wanted to get out and get dressed before he came in. I remember thinking that was the craziest thing anyone had ever asked me... Why would I want to get out of this amazing shower? Like I care if this dude sees my boobs -- I’m in labor! Send him in! Later, Sara would tell me that the lab tech seemed to be in awe of the power of a woman laboring so calmly and intently. </span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">After the shower and as we got closer and closer to transition, it seemed like every third or fourth contraction was really difficult. There were a few that seemed like they would never end, or that felt like they would rip me in half before they finished. Those were the ones that had made me beg for an epidural. I started to say things like, “Ladies! This isn’t fun anymore!” and “Why isn’t anyone listening to me?” I remember more than once telling them that I couldn’t do it, and each time Sara would remind me what that meant -- transition. In my heart, I knew that Ruby was so close to meeting us. I knew that each contraction was our hard work together in getting her here. But my mind was playing tricks on me. Our son’s labor was forty hours. We’d only been laboring with Ruby for about ten at that point. My mind was doing math and telling me that we had thirty more hours of this. My body was saying, “no way.” I begged the doctor to make it stop. At one point, I even asked for narcotics, which I absolutely knew going into this that I did not want -- I had a half-dose with Jack, and I hated it. Thankfully, John was able to talk some sense into me at that point, and I agreed that I really didn’t want the drugs.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But by that point, I had convinced my support team that I wanted an epidural. I wanted an epidural right now. What I didn’t know was that I would have to get a full bag of fluids - which takes at least an hour - and then they’d have to hunt down an anesthesiologist. It could be two hours before I got any relief. What my team knew that I didn’t know was that Ruby would be here by then. I insisted they start an IV and then I think I demanded an epidural about every third contraction until it was time to push. Sara asked me if I thought I could do it for one more hour. I wasn’t sure, but I didn’t have a choice. At the end of the hour, either Ruby would be here, or the anesthesiologist would be here. {I found out later that this whole part of labor was a bit of a con-game on the part of my support team. They knew how important it was to me to have a natural birth, and they knew how close we were in getting there. They could have sped things up and gotten the epidural within about 45 minutes. I’m so grateful now that they stalled like they did; but at the time, I was quite frustrated!}</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The crazy thing about this part of the labor was that the contractions that weren’t full of panic and fear really were lovely. I’m not going to lie -- they were intense, and they were hard work, but it was so rewarding. I don’t know how to describe the feeling of those beautiful contractions -- no words seem quite right. It was amazing. I felt powerful and so full of love -- love came from within and from the people surrounding me.</span></b>Jen Lhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15244397920057451416noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4346711534027835191.post-22749630480772948042012-04-22T12:30:00.000-05:002012-04-22T12:48:47.298-05:00Ruby's birth story - part one<b><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>This was written shortly after Ruby's birth. I'll post it in three parts as it's rather long. </i></span></b><br />
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<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7710144950542599"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sitting here, four days after the birth of our daughter, I’m struck by the power of the mind. Just four days ago, I had one of the most powerful experiences of my life, and already the edges are becoming a bit blurry. The details have already become a bit lost in the big picture. But I will never forget the emotions surrounding Ruby’s birth. Here is her story...</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Although throughout the pregnancy, I adamantly proclaimed that I thought Ruby would come early, her December 3rd due date came and went with little fanfare. After that day, I resigned myself to the idea that she would be stubborn like her big brother and come out at the very last minute on her own. The rational part of my brain allowed me to consider the induction process as a possibility, but my heart was telling me to just be patient. Any pregnant Mama who goes past their due date will tell you that those last few days or weeks are the toughest. Well-intentioned friends and family stating the obvious on a daily basis -- “Oh, you still haven’t had that baby, yet?”</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">On Friday, December 9th, we went into the clinic for a biophysical profile. In our OB’s office, it’s pretty standard practice to check on the baby at a week past the EDD, so we weren’t concerned. The test looks for specific behaviors and gives the baby thirty minutes to show us that she’s doing okay. That day, Baby Ruby slept through the test which resulted in a failing grade. The nurse practitioner wasn’t overly concerned -- fluid levels still looked good, I felt great, and all signs pointed to a healthy baby; except for the failed BPP. Per protocol, we were sent over to the hospital’s Birthplace for a follow-up test and to see the doctor-on-call (not our doctor).</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Baby Ruby passed the follow-up non-stress test with flying colors. Again, everything looked great, and I felt fine. All my Mama instincts were telling me that baby was fine... And then the doctor came in to talk with us. She explained that in her opinion, the BPP was telling us that something was wrong, and she was quite certain we should induce labor that day. She kept using the phrase, “sick baby,” which was unsettling and frankly, not fair. It completely ruffled my Mama feathers, and made John nervous.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Now, I understand that hospitals have protocols, and doctors are trained to avoid worst-case scenarios, but nothing about this reaction seemed right to me. I asked to have the BPP repeated in a few hours and assuming that we passed, told the doctor we wouldn’t want to be induced. Baby Ruby passed the second BPP in about 5 minutes with a full 8 out of 8. We went home.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We agreed to come in again the next day to be monitored, and then follow-up with our doctor in the clinic on Monday. We had a third BPP on Monday and everything looked great. Dr. Greenleaf agreed that we were back on track to wait for baby to come on her own. She stripped my membranes and told us that we’d need to come back on Friday if baby wasn’t out, yet, and we’d schedule an induction for Saturday (two weeks post date).</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">John went back to work, and I went home to hang out with Jack. By about 5:00, I was having some uncomfortable contractions, and although they felt different than any I’d had up to that point, they weren’t regular, and they weren’t very intense. Jack and I sat on the living room floor and played with his cars. Suddenly, I felt a gush of fluid and my pants were wet. I got up and went to the bathroom, certain that either my water had just broken, or I had massively peed myself. Either option was completely plausible at that point. My instinct told me that it was the former, so I called John and asked him to skip the bread store and just come straight home from work. I also called our doula, Sara, who told me that since the baby was so high still, we should probably think about heading into the hospital to be checked in case of cord prolapse. I called my mom and told her, “It’s time!” and she hurried over to stay with Jack.</span></b><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ-RCXWh4c4rs9tHIxiso8OBJrStf8Si4zFne659X_YoiBea_wzk72IE2e3jL9THm0bDDwDyiQnR-34HKNSGGCF8wjTbr4cUEcijvsb3UNSwkDrAVx_c2-IYKqbgXA_Hdyk-h47lnii-CA/s1600/IMG_3197-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ-RCXWh4c4rs9tHIxiso8OBJrStf8Si4zFne659X_YoiBea_wzk72IE2e3jL9THm0bDDwDyiQnR-34HKNSGGCF8wjTbr4cUEcijvsb3UNSwkDrAVx_c2-IYKqbgXA_Hdyk-h47lnii-CA/s400/IMG_3197-1.JPG" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the last photo of us as a family of three </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We took our time getting ready to leave for the hospital. John and I ate dinner and fed Jack. I also tried really hard to steal a few snuggles and smooches from him, as I knew the next time we saw him, he would no longer be our “baby.” I did my best to soak in our last few moments as a family of three. It hit me then: I knew our little one was on her way!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">In the car on the way to the hospital, my contractions basically stopped. I didn’t say anything to John, but I was so scared that the whole thing was a false alarm, and that we’d get to the hospital with no contractions and they’d simply tell us that I’d peed my pants...</span>Jen Lhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15244397920057451416noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4346711534027835191.post-54458420018821781622012-04-21T21:35:00.002-05:002012-04-21T21:37:44.639-05:00and, we're back.So.<br />
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My last post was October of last year. That's six months ago. A lot has changed in six months. Our family has grown. We are now a family of four. And that has meant a lot of changes in the last several months, the biggest of which has been the adjustment to a new little person in our lives.<br />
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Meet Ruby Holland Lushbough...<br />
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I'm going to go back and post monthly updates about Ruby, and I'll also post her birth story, but for the time being here's a quick intro to our new Girl.<br />
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She's super smiley and super snuggly. She loves to be held, or carried, or wrapped and worn. She's pretty darn bald, and we're okay with that. She's long, and she's just starting to get some meat on her bones. She loves watching her big brother. She's such a sweetheart.<br />
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Life is starting to settle back into a routine after Ruby's arrival. We've also had our share of illnesses, and we're just starting to come back to health. So, between those two things, life should be returning to {a new} normal in the very near future. For me, I hope this means a few minutes every now and again to edit some photos and write some blog posts. I want to be able to remember so many of the details of our daily lives, and that will only happen if I can record them somewhere. These kiddos are changing so quickly, and I have the world's worst memory. I love having these posts as a reminder of where we've been as a family, and how we're growing.<br />
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Also, I totally need to invent some kind of device that will allow me to blog from the shower as I seem to be able to write amazing blog posts in my head while showering only to have them vanish as soon as I turn off the water.Jen Lhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15244397920057451416noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4346711534027835191.post-39954816424855107892011-10-27T11:23:00.001-05:002011-10-27T11:24:26.621-05:00pumpkin patchWe took Jack to the "Pumpkin Patch" the other day. Really, it's just the front yard of the neighborhood Catholic church, but I'm pretty sure he didn't know the difference.<br />
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The sign on the door explained that pumpkin prices were listed on sample pumpkins, and payment should be made by dropping money into the mail slot. It was totally the honor system. I mean, who is going to steal pumpkins from church, right?<br />
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Jack and Daddy picked out a really good big pumpkin, and I chose two smaller gourd things. One looks like a pumpkin with tiny goiters and the other is a green squash of some kind. I think we're planning on carving the big pumpkin with John's new Dremel tool bits. That should be <strike>manly </strike>fun.<br />
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Maybe next year we'll venture to a "real" pumpkin patch with hayrides and goats and apple cider. But for this year, low key and close-to-home was the way to go.Jen Lhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15244397920057451416noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4346711534027835191.post-88238950392621755522011-10-04T21:32:00.001-05:002011-10-04T21:32:09.567-05:00birthday<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
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I had such a lovely birthday today. The Boy slept until 9:30, which allowed me to wake up on my own and enjoy some coffee and quiet time before it was time to get him up. We took a little trip down to the local fabric store to get the rest of the fabric for the nursery. We had a nice late lunch and a long afternoon nap. John had a gorgeous bouquet of flowers delivered to our house. My parents brought over a pot roast, and my aunt and grandparents joined us for dinner and cake. And the Boy was extra super snuggly before bed.<br />
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It was a much needed day of love, and gratitude. A chance to slow down a bit and reflect on the things in my life that I'm truly grateful for -- the people and the things that make me happy. It's easy to forget about those things when you're in the middle of the fifth diaper change before lunch, or the tenth tantrum before breakfast. It was just lovely to love and be loved, and know that for today, that was enough.Jen Lhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15244397920057451416noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4346711534027835191.post-80201117263795548532011-09-30T21:32:00.000-05:002011-09-30T21:32:29.191-05:00flashback friday<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
These photos are from last September. Jack was six months old. He wasn't crawling, yet. He couldn't escape when I pulled out the camera. He was still relatively easy to photograph.</div>
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His eyes have lightened a bit to a beautiful hazelnut brown. His smile is just as infectious. And he still stares at his toys just as intently as he did a year ago. He has lost the multiple chins in the last year. And his hair is a bit longer.</div>
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Had you asked me a year ago if I thought it was possible to love him more than I did at that point, I would have said absolutely not. Now, I feel like my heart grows every day with love for this kiddo. I'm the first to admit that I'm biased, but this little guy truly is an amazing little human. He's got a funny little sense of humor. His curiosity can't be sated. And he's such a smart little bugger. Everyday, I'm excited to see what he'll come up with next.</div>
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<br />Jen Lhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15244397920057451416noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4346711534027835191.post-67897667628536913432011-09-28T22:40:00.001-05:002011-09-30T21:33:21.369-05:00Wordless Wednesday<br />
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- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhoneJen Lhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15244397920057451416noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4346711534027835191.post-60267145355579526222011-09-22T20:36:00.003-05:002011-09-22T21:01:08.203-05:00milestones - 18 months<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Geneva, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"></span><br />
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According to the NIH, these are a few milestones that the "typical" 18 month old should be hitting:</div>
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<ul style="list-style-image: initial; list-style-position: outside; list-style-type: disc;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrKXgGXQ7sWFoOHOU9fjWKs-8sfyytSAp6wAJsZlj1RjoGFniNCzI4XlzUDn7mfRAIGZxu7KzWgtHD5WwXVgNgurqXkC_YY_7v6wEAugbr3LtuypUC4AfgcLXR46KJYDbhSJ5y_xd4Khw3/s1600/IMG_2622.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; display: inline !important; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrKXgGXQ7sWFoOHOU9fjWKs-8sfyytSAp6wAJsZlj1RjoGFniNCzI4XlzUDn7mfRAIGZxu7KzWgtHD5WwXVgNgurqXkC_YY_7v6wEAugbr3LtuypUC4AfgcLXR46KJYDbhSJ5y_xd4Khw3/s640/IMG_2622.jpg" width="425" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Geneva, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"><b>Is growing at a slower rate and has less of an appetite compared to months before </b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;">- Definitely. The Boy has been in the same size clothes since he was 9 months. Granted, it's 2T, and he's still on the 99th percentile growth curve, but he's definitely slowed his roll in the growth department.</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"></span><b style="color: #351c75;">Is able to control the muscles used to urinate and have bowel movements (sphincter muscles), but may not be ready to use the toilet </b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;">- Uhh, right. We are so not ready for the potty training. Truthfully, I can't even wrap my brain around it, yet. The Boy totally knows when he's having "movements" and he usually thinks it's hilarious. He loves to stand up and pee in the tub, but I don't know if I would call that control of his pee muscles - is the Boy practicing Kegels? I dunno. Oh, and he thinks farts are awesome. Total boy.</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"><b>Runs with a lack of coordination and falls often</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"> - Yes. And might I say, what a funny little milestone. Like, "Completely spastic with no control over his own limbs." Uhh, I think we hit that milestone at week one.</span></li>
<li><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;">Is able to get onto small chairs without help</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"> - Absolutely. This boy is the love child of a monkey and a mountain goat raised by Evil Knievil. He climbs everything and has no fear. Thankfully, he has yet to attempt escaping from his crib. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;">He loves his crib. Why would he want to escape his crib?</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"> I have caught him trying to climb </span><i style="color: #333333;">into </i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;">the crib...</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"><b>Walks up stairs while holding on with one hand</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"> - Yes. He loves stairs. He's getting better at going down stairs, too; although, he's having a tough time deciding on a technique. Sometimes it's the butt slide. Sometimes it's the tummy slide. Sometimes it's the "hold-my-hand-I-can-do-this-like-a-big-boy" technique. They're all adorable, and they all make him giggle. And they all take about three hours to complete.</span></li>
<li><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;">Can build a tower of two to four blocks </span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;">- Yes. Jack loves building towers almost as much as he loves knocking them down.</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"><b>Can use a spoon and cup with help to feed himself</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"> - Yes, "with help" being the key phrase here. He often prefers to eat applesauce and yogurt with his hands. But he loves to drink out of a grown-up glass. On a side note, is it wrong that I can't make myself drink out of the cup after he's gotten to it? Is that part of what you sign up for when you have a kid? Drinking out of goobered up glasses and subsequently having to chew your iced tea before you swallow it? I just can't do it. Sorry, kiddo.</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"><b>Imitates scribbling</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"> - Yup. He's not in love with coloring, yet. Mostly, he just likes to eat the crayons. But he can do a scribble. </span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"><b>Can turn two or three pages of a book at a time</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"> - Yes. He loves books. He'll often bring me books throughout the day, and just sit on my lap and read. I hope this behavior lasts a long, long time.</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"><b>Shows affection</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"> - So much lovin'. When you ask him to give you a hug, he'll stand in front of you, stiff as a board and let you wrap your arms around him, briefly. When you ask him for kisses, he'll gently head butt you. But on his own terms, he'll snuggle up and lay his little head on your shoulder and love on you. I also hope this behavior never ends. Oh, the sweetness.</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"><b>Listens to a story or looks at pictures</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"> - He loves looking at pictures, but he really likes to turn pages and often doesn't have enough time to listen to the story. So, I find myself paraphrasing, or just pointing to the pictures and naming things for him.</span></li>
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<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"><b>Can say 10 or more words when asked </b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;">- This is where the milestones get a little rocky (no pun intended). Jack babbles a lot, but he doesn't have a lot of words. He says this, that, go (which I think means good?), and sometimes mama and dada. He signs please, thank you, and sometimes more and milk. I'm not too worried about it because at this point as he's meeting all of the other language-related milestones. I'm sure one of these days he'll start conversating and just never stop.</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"><b>Identifies one or more parts of the body</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"> - Oh, yeah. He knows head, nose, eyes, mouth, ears, cheeks, chin, belly, knee, leg, foot and toes. I quiz him on it every day. He probably thinks I'm cray-cray, but I'm just amazed at this particular achievement.</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"><b>Understands and is able to point to and identify common objects</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"> - Yes, and he surprises me everyday with something new that I didn't know he knew. </span></li>
<li><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;">Often imitates </span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;">- Yup. When he hears someone crying, he does this weird little fake cry. And he often laughs when someone else is laughing, as if he "gets" the joke. Also, when he sees people applauding on TV, he claps. Yes, the Boy sometimes watches TV. Please don't tell our ECFE teacher.</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"><b>Is able to take off some clothing items, such as gloves, hats, and socks</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"> - Constantly taking off his socks and hat. We're going to have to work on that before the snow flies. By the way, who puts gloves on an eighteen-month old? Really?</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"><b>Begins to feel a sense of ownership, identifying people and objects by saying "my"</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"> - Ehh. Sort of? He identifies people, but he doesn't use the word "my" or really seem to get that concept. Unless this is just fancy talk for "doesn't like to share his stuff with peers." Then, yes. We've hit that milestone.</span></li>
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Aside from the decided lack of soliloquies here at Chez Lushbough, I think the Boy is right on track. Now, how do we slow this train down? He's growing up way too fast!<br />
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</span>Jen Lhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15244397920057451416noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4346711534027835191.post-16302931270365640542011-09-16T12:25:00.002-05:002011-09-16T12:26:42.859-05:00goin' to the zoo, zoo, zoo...Yesterday, we went to the zoo with some friends. I'm not sure if Jack is really into the animals, yet; but he loves hanging out with his buddies. We tried to get a photo of the three kiddos in front of the bear exhibit, and this is what happened:<br />
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First, Kate was not happy about sitting still for a photo. Jack was concerned. Aidan was distracted.<br />
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Then, Angela said, "Hey, Kate!" and that caught everyone's attention.<br />
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Then, Angela said, "High five!" which got both boys up on their feet and ready for some high-fivin' action. Kate was distracted.<br />
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The boys high-fived each other (sort of) and Kate realized she was being left out.<br />
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The boys make a move, and Kate decides she prefers knuckles to high fives. High fives are so 2010.<br />
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Meanwhile, the boys catch on to the knuckles plot, and begin practicing their moves.<br />
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Aidan is definitely the teacher. Jack thinks he's hilarious.</div>
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Aidan gives his pupil a "thumbs up" for a job well done!<br />
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Kate comes over to check out the action, and Jack claps his hands in celebration.</div>
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Jack really wants to hug Aidan to show him how much he appreciates the knuckles lesson...<br />
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But Aidan thinks he would prefer a nice, quiet thank you card, instead.</div>
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I love seeing these little ones interact. They've all known each other since birth, and have seen each other nearly weekly since then. It has been fun seeing how the little personalities have evolved over the last year and a half, and how that changes the group dynamic. I'm so glad that they have fun together, because I absolutely love hanging out with their Mamas. Yay for playdates! I think I'd go cuckoo without them!</div>
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<br />Jen Lhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15244397920057451416noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4346711534027835191.post-46728334854598671152011-09-14T22:13:00.001-05:002011-09-14T22:14:22.757-05:00wordless wednesday<br />
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<center></center>Jen Lhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15244397920057451416noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4346711534027835191.post-51539024720352622332011-09-09T22:04:00.002-05:002011-09-09T22:10:00.206-05:00flashback fridayBelieve it or not, we have about a bajillion little videos of the Boy. Every once in a while, I look through them and marvel at how far we've come. Jack is no longer a helpless newborn. Now he's a sassy toddler with a 'tude. John and I are no longer rookies. I wouldn't go so far as to say we've gone pro, but I think we have a slightly better grasp on the situation than we did way back in those first weeks.<br />
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Case in point: bathtime. We had no clue. (We also had no clue that HD videos don't work well online. Not sure how to remedy that, but you'll have to believe me when I tell you that we were not that wide in real life.)<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="133" src="http://player.vimeo.com/video/28843246?title=0&byline=0&portrait=0&color=ff9933" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="400"></iframe>
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Jack is less than a month old in this one, and I'm telling him, "you gotta sit up a little." Really? He's basically a jellyfish at this point, and I'm asking him to sit up. Also, please note the fancy bucket bath. For some reason I thought this was a must-have. Unfortunately, we had no clue how to use it. Money well spent. And finally, are you pooping or tooting followed by "I need a cup?" What is going on there? Yikes.<br />
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The next video is John giving the Boy a bath. It's taken four days after the bucket movie.
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="300" src="http://player.vimeo.com/video/28842447?title=0&byline=0&portrait=0&color=ff9933" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="400"></iframe>
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I can't believe that a) Jack isn't freaking out and screaming, and b) I'm not freaking out and screaming. The propping up against the back of the sink? The dunking of the head? The getting wet of the ears? Yikes.<br />
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And then there's my shampoo technique for one-month olds. Please do not try this at home...<br />
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Uhh. lady? No wonder "we" don't like this part. You're waterboarding him. Yikes.<br />
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And just so you know it wasn't all terrifying bathing scenarios in those early days, I share with you my all-time favorite... Jack's first laugh:
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="345" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/g8heO3sW9xM" width="560"></iframe>Jen Lhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15244397920057451416noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4346711534027835191.post-59514036637958346652011-09-07T13:36:00.004-05:002011-09-09T22:06:19.147-05:00cousins<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Jack got to hang out with his cousins last weekend. His cousin Dylann is right around 20 months older than him, which happens to be the projected age difference between Jack and Baby Lushbough Two. He totally thinks cousin Dylann hangs the moon. She is about as cool as it gets in his eyes. He watches her, studying every move intently. After he thinks he's got it down in his head, he'll attempt a copycat maneuver. Sometimes he's successful. Often, he's not. But either way, laughter ensues.<br />
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He's not as interested in Dylann's little sister, Lexi -- at least, not yet. He sometimes notices her if I'm holding her and loving on her. He's not really in down with that action. I just consider it Big Brother training. Get used to it now, buddy, and enjoy the fact that Lexi goes home when we're done playing with her.</div>
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Seeing Jack interact with his cousins makes me really excited to add BLT to our family. I have no illusions that our transition will be without speed bumps (or head-on collisions), but I know Jack will be an awesome big brother. He's so gentle and kind to Lexi, and he follows Dylann around like a puppy dog.<br />
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I'm making a list of things he's going to have to teach his little sister:<br />
<ul>
<li>how to be a rockstar sleeper -- starting from day one rather than month six, please.</li>
<li>how to use an iPhone.</li>
<li>how to think burps and farts are hilarious.</li>
<li>when to use an impish grin and a cute little giggle to get out of trouble.</li>
<li>how to be a good eater -- although, we're going to have to really focus on the awesomeness of veggies.</li>
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Some of these things may come naturally for BLT, and I'm banking on the fact that she'll have plenty to teach Jack (patience, sharing, patience, patience...). I try to picture them together and it absolutely blows my mind. When I see the two of them in my mind's eye, I can feel my heart expanding with love. I'm so excited to be on this journey with such an amazing little Buddy Man!</div>
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<br />Jen Lhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15244397920057451416noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4346711534027835191.post-36907382692198955652011-08-28T20:16:00.005-05:002011-09-09T22:06:14.285-05:00tractors rule.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiqdKcmkRYcJJalcKFrL4CAwWvm6QYYpxtDGJuTJ9mJhjWzdizAERghTlM0ZSQhVOwNHHcU5nKRUY1tG0YG_wqGNZAx_qBD1mb8PdF8NmoDYLw2wiZy9sVXzjZRTjl_x1WSdZuaW_qG2cc/s1600/tractor_show2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="636" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiqdKcmkRYcJJalcKFrL4CAwWvm6QYYpxtDGJuTJ9mJhjWzdizAERghTlM0ZSQhVOwNHHcU5nKRUY1tG0YG_wqGNZAx_qBD1mb8PdF8NmoDYLw2wiZy9sVXzjZRTjl_x1WSdZuaW_qG2cc/s640/tractor_show2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">John took us to a <a href="http://www.lakeheadharvest.org/">tractor show</a> today. Jack was loving it. He started his tractor show experience with ice cream from Grandma Mavis, so you knew it was going to be a good day.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiebZqW-7KIqFgh8SvkwfWc-O-OykXVolW80vbG0zXiCEtnfYLsYxzoRoZR3CCgx2peS7BwhKPp1_V_mN_sgSeaVIbwjkCUIk6CIVsCWOsKRp_W901r1yxuDlFs8uRenVmzzYvqt2-SewOz/s1600/tractor_show4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiebZqW-7KIqFgh8SvkwfWc-O-OykXVolW80vbG0zXiCEtnfYLsYxzoRoZR3CCgx2peS7BwhKPp1_V_mN_sgSeaVIbwjkCUIk6CIVsCWOsKRp_W901r1yxuDlFs8uRenVmzzYvqt2-SewOz/s640/tractor_show4.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The website for this tractor show proclaims, "<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">you won't believe your eyes watching some of things we demonstrate at our show." I'm now sure if anything show-related blew my mind, but much of the people watching at the show sure did. Like this dog that rides a four-wheeler? Yeah. That was cool.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMHGj-Q1ktt57NfUZsHTi0XZhoKPlALzL0wc51rfq5AlwET910b0znTnKK4PMVjM_8Adz95ch5qz8ny6Fp6X5DEbb-u5bU_pcmfvy6qLAtulY79vGrJW3nemq4rYkpqVdRRjPbGXQ7iXsL/s1600/tractor_show6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMHGj-Q1ktt57NfUZsHTi0XZhoKPlALzL0wc51rfq5AlwET910b0znTnKK4PMVjM_8Adz95ch5qz8ny6Fp6X5DEbb-u5bU_pcmfvy6qLAtulY79vGrJW3nemq4rYkpqVdRRjPbGXQ7iXsL/s640/tractor_show6.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Jack loved our friend Mike's tractor. Mike really wanted Jack to buy it. Apparently, Mike thinks Jack has money, or really cool parents. Turns out, he has neither. But he still had a blast sitting on it and pretending to drive. I have no idea how kids just know what do do with steering wheels, but it seems to be some reptilian brain skill because it's not something we've ever taught him. He just knows. Steering wheels and iPhones. Instinctual.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghRl05Tx9R3MArCd7VvYt5CXHMfnJzoGOIXgcsrLDLoY7waNg8Bj2BeS631qsRHQRBQCMbBAdoY1EtyL4BupnYkTgyRVfqEXUp9raPAuAE1y1-QzGKjAfLqYJWq7GdWo9oVCW-bRwMkQT7/s1600/tractor_show3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghRl05Tx9R3MArCd7VvYt5CXHMfnJzoGOIXgcsrLDLoY7waNg8Bj2BeS631qsRHQRBQCMbBAdoY1EtyL4BupnYkTgyRVfqEXUp9raPAuAE1y1-QzGKjAfLqYJWq7GdWo9oVCW-bRwMkQT7/s640/tractor_show3.jpg" width="341" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">We did a lot of exploring. There was so much to look at, and most of the time we just let Jack lead the way. It was so fun to watch him lead his Daddy around the tractors. He's got the cutest little arm-swinging walk that he does when he gets excited (Jack, not Daddy), and he had that going full force most of the day. He also pointed at everything saying, "that?" or "this?" It wasn't all fun and games. There were several teachable moments as well. We learned new words like blacksmith, sawmill, mullet, and beer belly.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGp5IdObpJ7SfDy-lNz3merIfP7HAa4gl3mgu1l5tqyzIHM-L5XPd2q9QTelcKNYUUtTXECK742Q0LCJyUygRt990yxI__nVTLOqENbiVlQLhb_ka34IhqNPhno8Q6wbMRDu_7Xcm54QKq/s1600/tractor_show5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGp5IdObpJ7SfDy-lNz3merIfP7HAa4gl3mgu1l5tqyzIHM-L5XPd2q9QTelcKNYUUtTXECK742Q0LCJyUygRt990yxI__nVTLOqENbiVlQLhb_ka34IhqNPhno8Q6wbMRDu_7Xcm54QKq/s640/tractor_show5.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Random mushy aside: Seeing those two together just melts my heart. I had absolutely no reason to doubt John's capacity as a father before we had a child, but I was not fully prepared for the depths of his Daddy-awesomeness. He loves that Boy to the moon and back -- and there's no doubt he'll soon be teaching Jack exactly how far that is, and how long it would take to get there. Watching John with our son makes me so excited to bring this new person into our lives.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Plus, it's a girl which may mean fewer tractor shows and more pedicures. Just sayin'.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFcOaIWrkrpfhXPoSgldHlUqcWH-qx2hX7A1mDxjG2I4f2WVa97TulnP8Lt030svVARQ0Pizvmnpv3ctbaY7XJDZEuVQ9uBeOV4xeOc3a9OiRLj_bNPJB09abEQXKXfhGIE8E4Xlk4Utp6/s1600/tractor_show1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFcOaIWrkrpfhXPoSgldHlUqcWH-qx2hX7A1mDxjG2I4f2WVa97TulnP8Lt030svVARQ0Pizvmnpv3ctbaY7XJDZEuVQ9uBeOV4xeOc3a9OiRLj_bNPJB09abEQXKXfhGIE8E4Xlk4Utp6/s640/tractor_show1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></div>Jen Lhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15244397920057451416noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4346711534027835191.post-32661341131621115172011-08-27T19:57:00.001-05:002011-09-09T22:05:55.757-05:00Seventeen MonthsNo, that's not how long it's been since my last post (although it has been a mighty long time).<br />
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Our Boy is seventeen months today.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXRg7B7tHbeD1rXdMHtn69N__f7gnhxF0Kr71HxsHoh-RldmOAGLC1vNqmoUG6eSXnsDcz0MSXaku_5kMcWTfzjUe4AJ5R_X6EwQ-dBkNJcQu1BzRiNA9-yLhA_B3Kk4MO_bUKBERBhWmx/s1600/IMG_2291.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXRg7B7tHbeD1rXdMHtn69N__f7gnhxF0Kr71HxsHoh-RldmOAGLC1vNqmoUG6eSXnsDcz0MSXaku_5kMcWTfzjUe4AJ5R_X6EwQ-dBkNJcQu1BzRiNA9-yLhA_B3Kk4MO_bUKBERBhWmx/s640/IMG_2291.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
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As I was watching him play with his cars this morning, I was overcome by this strong urge to freeze time. Since, as far as I know, that's an impossibility, I figured that a nice photographic record along with some notes on what we're up to nowadays would be a close second.<br />
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In no particular order, here are some of the things we're noticing lately:<br />
<ul><li>The Boy is (still) learning how to use a fork and a spoon. He does demonstrate some sweet forking skills; however, his spoon technique leaves much to be desired. The spoon is best practiced directly prior to bathtime, or when a complete post-meal hosedown is practical.</li>
<li>He is talking all the time now. He talks with his hands. He talks with his eyebrows. He talks with his body language. With his words? Not so much. He's definitely getting close, but currently the only things I can consistently recognize are mama, dada, this, that, and lights.</li>
</ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzqJROyEga4R60EMpfRdJ-Fsxo9gDjSkncPYBV6BTmptFJBtWPIFYyqZWuozPizsHyOxg4K8nfNblOOGpjDh1zx2-6xexTKfQLg635DzCJDQrTsHhska99Dv0Vy8XC5vib_xVVHizTDiuy/s1600/IMG_2192.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzqJROyEga4R60EMpfRdJ-Fsxo9gDjSkncPYBV6BTmptFJBtWPIFYyqZWuozPizsHyOxg4K8nfNblOOGpjDh1zx2-6xexTKfQLg635DzCJDQrTsHhska99Dv0Vy8XC5vib_xVVHizTDiuy/s640/IMG_2192.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><br />
</div><ul><li>The Boy loves his sleep. He goes to bed like a little angel every night by 7:30. No whining, no crying, no complaints. I feel the need to document this as I'm sure there will come a point where I will absolutely dread bedtime. At seventeen months, I love bedtime.</li>
<li>He wakes up sometime between 7:30 and 8:00 in the morning, although he doesn't make any fuss, and we often don't get out of bed until 8:30. He loves waking up slowly, talking to his blankies, reading a book, and doing a few yoga stretches in his crib. If you try to get him out of his crib too early, he will totally let you know he's not cool with it.</li>
</ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9bSBppVI3AZz6jV2ysM9b4lr2C4lSJVqI1N5YHMAjCkMig0Q-8XHUDDmlUwqcIeP_wMAxfw0rRXDm3ePBmQVH0zDQTk6JFOGuqRamoYyUYwFRL7u8LhyphenhyphentJZapyMW6hv7qyfoQzsik9_sB/s1600/IMG_2337.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9bSBppVI3AZz6jV2ysM9b4lr2C4lSJVqI1N5YHMAjCkMig0Q-8XHUDDmlUwqcIeP_wMAxfw0rRXDm3ePBmQVH0zDQTk6JFOGuqRamoYyUYwFRL7u8LhyphenhyphentJZapyMW6hv7qyfoQzsik9_sB/s640/IMG_2337.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><br />
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<ul><li>He's really enjoying random bouts of independent playtime throughout the day. There was a period where he wouldn't play unless he was sitting on me or near me. It made getting anything else done impossible. Now, he'll entertain himself for up to 30 minutes at a time. Pure bliss.</li>
<li>He is also in a phase where he may or may not cry when I leave him -- even if it's just with Daddy. Apparently, this is normal, but it's still tough to watch him cry in his Daddy's arms. I know that this will change and someday soon he'll be all about Daddy. I'm guessing that change may coincide with the new baby's arrival when there's a good chance he'll be upset with me about bringing this other person into our circle.</li>
</ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUmGrUCQt3E_MiliplvIzzmzRVZjr1RURjtaat-O5UzmPP1kaZKC6FaT982lPP93N9va-Nkbp5gv52OzEkt67aZt9fFBkWqMFwfEBStea4C49Ozdef0_hS9hcWD5iuX5q5mFiwv3cLZWeP/s1600/IMG_2197.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUmGrUCQt3E_MiliplvIzzmzRVZjr1RURjtaat-O5UzmPP1kaZKC6FaT982lPP93N9va-Nkbp5gv52OzEkt67aZt9fFBkWqMFwfEBStea4C49Ozdef0_hS9hcWD5iuX5q5mFiwv3cLZWeP/s640/IMG_2197.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><br />
</div><ul><li>He's quite interested in my belly. Every morning, when I get him out of the crib, he points at my belly and says, "dat?" I then have to lift my shirt and show him my belly button. He pokes around in there, laughs his head off, and then we're free to carry about our morning. I'm thinking that at this point it may just be confusing to mention that there's a baby in there. Maybe we'll bring that up with the next one?</li>
<li>The Boy has become quite the little fish. We took swimming lessons in June, and he barely tolerated them. This surprised me as he's always loved the bathtub. But, it turns out that he loves the lake at Grammy and Grandpa's house. A nice sandy beach and the ability to touch the bottom, and this guy never wants to leave the water. It's very cute, and slightly panic attack-inducing as he seems to have little to no fear of the water. </li>
</ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSAOa365Yg-c6A_iit11d2MTGDPNWP5LvshbFKvgIQUKqrKVOIFiMFmnhKInDOPE5umJlY2QkE1mBAX8EyZepiiqoZuS54fIpf_OrDtJBECIk2r096dwUKF6fcxhoB4_XCjQ03U5UrbU3G/s1600/cars.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="347" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSAOa365Yg-c6A_iit11d2MTGDPNWP5LvshbFKvgIQUKqrKVOIFiMFmnhKInDOPE5umJlY2QkE1mBAX8EyZepiiqoZuS54fIpf_OrDtJBECIk2r096dwUKF6fcxhoB4_XCjQ03U5UrbU3G/s640/cars.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><ul><li>He's a little mountain goat. He loves to climb. The higher and more precarious, the better.</li>
<li>He's learned how to give hugs and kisses, although the former is sometimes more of a head-butt and the latter is more of an "I'll lean towards you and allow you to kiss me" type of motion. Both are adorable.</li>
<li>The Boy knows his body parts. He knows and points to: ears, eyes, mouth, nose, chin, cheeks (sometimes), head, arm, hands, belly, knee, feet. We're working on butt. I guess that's a tricky one.</li>
<li>He loves his blankey and his mimi (pacifier). </li>
<li>He is a dancing machine. If there is music, there is dancing. More precisely, there is epic booty shaking. This Boy has the music down deep in his soul. And he's got some sweet moves.</li>
<li>He's a techno-weenie, already. He knows how to unlock our iPhones. He can also find his folder on my phone and pick which app he wants to play. He knows how to switch apps, turn the iPod on, change the volume. He also knows how to work the TiVo remote and the computer mouse. Smarty pants.</li>
</ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyyn9LMfseeMAPFLPGdvckMsdoITgioriRzx-SGoSPmgeShCiwGDa0nJyLJk2axq2fsRbJjxj-o9Ke3bKsSRt47F1IDeXTiVkjEqA0Yj6Ik0sTyy8XrnKoVNJ_cTbQlCsOaAJcgie31XyZ/s1600/IMG_2289.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyyn9LMfseeMAPFLPGdvckMsdoITgioriRzx-SGoSPmgeShCiwGDa0nJyLJk2axq2fsRbJjxj-o9Ke3bKsSRt47F1IDeXTiVkjEqA0Yj6Ik0sTyy8XrnKoVNJ_cTbQlCsOaAJcgie31XyZ/s640/IMG_2289.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><br />
</div><div>I'm sure I'm missing a million things. This boy is changing daily. So, this is where I recommit to blogging regularly about him. It truly is necessary. I'm only getting older, and more pregnant, and my memory is terrible. If I don't blog about this stuff, I'll never remember it, and that would be terrible. I don't want to feel terrible, so I am back to blogging.</div><div><br />
</div><div>See you around!</div>Jen Lhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15244397920057451416noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4346711534027835191.post-28619620773098057742011-04-24T12:06:00.000-05:002011-09-09T22:06:05.790-05:00Easter - photos<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAh6nAEtcMNNeINr4X8emyKfN1X450pQ8RKxqTtHWm5F2vFcnkPtyIbEvPn5hvgZxskBxZ5EP2UKp-NYAxeETIITA7lDdxJW9kSxxTb_nFNXJaZocr2TsSaoI5jbfDpiblVCnJPE4vWtS4/s1600/easter2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAh6nAEtcMNNeINr4X8emyKfN1X450pQ8RKxqTtHWm5F2vFcnkPtyIbEvPn5hvgZxskBxZ5EP2UKp-NYAxeETIITA7lDdxJW9kSxxTb_nFNXJaZocr2TsSaoI5jbfDpiblVCnJPE4vWtS4/s640/easter2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIQd2GXYiek29K6my4nvNxX3n62fL50l6MbdlGHWoZfY8Xjcn4xBG56YlzFCqTT46zxPEFrsEezx7vyVt7UOibCIKH6NISrOEFb_m4pJLBq3s3lP9fIeTJq69KlwiVxlqrxX3Y8D65kYve/s1600/easter1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIQd2GXYiek29K6my4nvNxX3n62fL50l6MbdlGHWoZfY8Xjcn4xBG56YlzFCqTT46zxPEFrsEezx7vyVt7UOibCIKH6NISrOEFb_m4pJLBq3s3lP9fIeTJq69KlwiVxlqrxX3Y8D65kYve/s640/easter1.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLy6xnkbon5lVQONYBUwxQXbeFAxwo0ExuM7Viml2goTrQsS9kmlr9Jsec3RkiEseULK9IS_EFXVtvB7NQ7WmBhTsGFMHkOL1qPSMFF6fweUOCM4hQzTj2ttnJOwIEnNrR4cbRLXF9wdiB/s1600/easter9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLy6xnkbon5lVQONYBUwxQXbeFAxwo0ExuM7Viml2goTrQsS9kmlr9Jsec3RkiEseULK9IS_EFXVtvB7NQ7WmBhTsGFMHkOL1qPSMFF6fweUOCM4hQzTj2ttnJOwIEnNrR4cbRLXF9wdiB/s640/easter9.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Jen Lhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15244397920057451416noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4346711534027835191.post-21720888734064009272011-04-17T19:57:00.002-05:002011-04-17T20:04:56.730-05:00our journey to parenthoodTo commemorate our first year as parents, we put together this little video. We hope you enjoy it... <br />
<br />
<object classid="clsid:d27cdb6e-ae6d-11cf-96b8-444553540000" height="240" id="vp1HfUlN" width="432"><param name="movie" value="http://static.animoto.com/swf/w.swf?w=swf/vp1&e=1303088662&f=HfUlNU4BWx5TkTCP1B420Q&d=147&m=a&r=240p+480p&volume=100&start_res=480p&i=m&options="></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed id="vp1HfUlN" src="http://static.animoto.com/swf/w.swf?w=swf/vp1&e=1303088662&f=HfUlNU4BWx5TkTCP1B420Q&d=147&m=a&r=240p+480p&volume=100&start_res=480p&i=m&options=" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="432" height="240"></embed></object>Jen Lhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15244397920057451416noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4346711534027835191.post-66361764179067195592011-03-29T19:58:00.000-05:002011-03-29T19:58:05.044-05:00milestonesAccording to <a href="http://www.ivillage.com/baby-milestones-ivillage-pregnancy-amp-parenting/6-a-127191?p=4">ivillage.com</a>, these are some milestones most babies should be hitting by about one year.<br />
<br />
Let's see where Jack is... <br />
<ul><li><b>Says "ma-ma" and "da-da" discriminately</b> - Umm, sort of. He says, "mamamamama" and "dadadadada" to me and to John, respectively. I think that counts, right?</li>
<li><b>Understands "no"</b> - I'm pretty sure he "understands" the word no. He usually chooses to ignore it.</li>
<li><b>Claps hands</b> - Sometimes.</li>
<li><b>Waves bye-bye</b> - Yes, when prompted.</li>
<li><b>May take one to two naps daily</b> - Yup.</li>
<li><b>Triples birth weight and is 29 to 32 inches long</b> - Let's see... he was 9.5 pounds at birth. So, he should be 28.5 now? He hasn't been weighed since his 9 month check. We'll find out on April 5th when he goes in for his one year, but I won't be surprised if he's darn close to that. I have no idea how "tall" he is.</li>
<li><b>Bangs two cubes together</b> - Loves to bang things together, and on the table or floor.</li>
<li><b>Puts objects into containers and then takes them out</b> - Yes.</li>
<li><b>Voluntarily lets objects go</b> - Yes. Especially off his highchair tray when eating.</li>
<li><b>Shakes head "no"</b> - Absolutely. And he also nods "yes."</li>
<li><b>Has fun opening and closing cabinet doors</b> - Yes.</li>
<li><b>Crawls well</b> - Finally, yes. He still army crawls once in a while, but usually crawls or...</li>
<li><b>"Cruises" furniture</b> - All the time. </li>
<li><b>Walks with adult help</b> - Loves to walk. He's also standing on his own for short periods. I think we're close to solo walking.</li>
<li><b>"Dances" to music</b> - This guy is a dancing machine. He is constantly grooving. I'm pretty sure he has a soundtrack playing in his head non-stop.</li>
<li><b>Interested in books and may identify some things</b> - We read together several times a day, including before bed. The Boy loves books. He does point to some things, but it's more of a "what's that?" kind of pointing.</li>
<li><b>May understand some simple commands</b> - This one is hard to gauge. The Boy is so headstrong. It's tough to tell whether he gets it, and is choosing to ignore it, or if he's just oblivious.</li>
<li><b>Fearful of strangers</b> - Eh. Not so much. Maybe this will come? He definitely prefers Mom or Dad or a family member.</li>
<li><b>Shares toys but wants them back</b> - Not big into sharing at this point. Unless you consider taking toys away from others as "sharing."</li>
<li><b>May form attachment to an item</b> - Totally attached to paci and his blankies. Does that count?</li>
<li><b>Pushes away what he doesn't want</b> - Yup.</li>
<li><b>Prefers to push, pull and dump items</b> - Loves to knock over towers, pull things out of cupboards, dump out toys.</li>
<li><b>Pulls off hat and socks</b> - He leaves his socks on, but is into taking hats off.</li>
<li><b>Understands use of certain objects</b> - Yes. He is learning cause and effect. He loves to press buttons on the remote. He knows that the yellow button (pause) makes the TV stop and go. He knows how to press the button on my iPhone to make it light up (he's even unlocked it a few times). </li>
<li><b>Tests parental responses to behavior</b> - Yes. Every. Single. Minute. Of. The. Day.</li>
<li><b>Extends arm or leg when getting dressed</b> - Getting dressed and changing diapers is a wrestling match every time. He does put his arms into sleeves without much struggle, but the rest of it is insane. I contemplate just letting him be naked every time, but then I would have to clean up pee puddles.</li>
<li><b>Identifies self in mirror</b> - If by "identify," you mean admire, flirt, and preen, then yes.</li>
</ul>I think the Boy is on track, and relatively "normal." Whatever that means!<br />
<ul></ul>Jen Lhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15244397920057451416noreply@blogger.com3