I am so old. 

Also, congratulations Bay. 

And good job on being the saludaclassvicepresidahonorsocietarian!

                                               

In an ongoing effort to get out of the house and keep Little H and myself from going stir crazy, we planned a picnic at the nearby duck pond.  I'm telling you, for those who don't know it, being a stay at home mom is difficult.  It requires a lot of creativity and a lot, lot, lot of patience.  I can tell Little H misses her playmates from the babysitter's home, where she is the constant center of attention and spoiled rotten.  Jr. demands a lot of my time, so Little H gets neglected more than she's used to.  I've been trying to get us out of the house a little every day...even if it's just a trip to the grocery store.  Everything needs to be carefully planned around Jr.'s schedule so we don't end up with a screaming hungry baby in a public place.  I'm still not adept nor am I comfortable with the whole nursing in public concept.

The duck park was fun, but I didn't plan on the millions of bugs, the aggressive territorial goose, or my bipolar daughter who was suddenly so angry with having her picture taken that she almost flung herself into the pond.  Oh well, that's why I have a digital camera.  The bad pictures get deleted, and suddenly my only memories of that day are the cute baby ducks, my sweet curious daughter, and my sleeping baby boy.  Gotta love it.

            

Dan blessed Jr. the last Sunday of May.  I had asked Dan ahead of time to listen very carefully to the Spirit in case the impression was given to bless Jr. with a great desire to become rich and take care of his parents, but apparently that's not the way it works.  

We were so happy to have so many friends and family out to celebrate.  Of course Jr. is smack dab in the middle of his awkward baby acne phase, which is why the pictures are black and white.

                                  

John, Kelsi, Jake and Georgia were nice enough to make the trip and spend a few days with us.  While they were here, we were able to check out the airplane museum and the new bowling alley along with Papa and Grandma Meldrum.  It was all fun, but I think Little H enjoyed just hanging out with her cousins most of all.  And please no comments about the pacifier.  If you don't like it, I'll hand her over to you through the detox process.

   

                           

It looks like we've officially survived the first three weeks.  At Jr.'s two week appointment he weighed 8 lbs. 9 oz. and measured 22 inches.  We are well on our way to making him "chubby" by the time I go back to work.  We've all been adjusting to the sleepless nights that go hand-in-hand with a newborn.  Dan doesn't have to get up with him, but he does stay up late to help out and get up early to go to work.  I'm still mastering the art of changing a boy's diaper.  Completely different from Little H, I must say.  I've gotten better, though, and Jr. hasn't peed in his mouth since the first week.  (Yay for small victories!)  I can't say that I've become any more fond of nursing since Little H, though it is getting better.  (For pictures of me overcoming that challenge, you can check out my Facebook Page...not really).

Little H seems to be more accepting of our new addition.  This week was definitely better than the last.  One great milestone on how well she's doing became evident when I was reading one of her books to her before bedtime.  She has a habit of assigning family members to the characters in her books as we read them and thus far had not included Jr.  However, she informed me the other night that Jr. could be the mushroom in this particular story.  Funny that Casey the Dog has still not been bumped.  Oh, well.  It's progress.

       

I know this post is overdue, but I haven't been able to get up the motivation to sit down and get it out there.  I'm tired.

                                  

Jr. (not his real name) was born a week and a half ago, and boy has he been different from what I expected.  Little H came into this world with a bang, screaming her lungs out, and she hasn't really calmed down since.  Jr. had the sweetest little cry, and I was honestly worried that he was so much quieter.  He's pretty much been sleeping since we brought him home, but I have managed to capture a few odd moments of lucidity.  When he does wake up, it is mainly just to eat himself back into a coma.

                                        

When H first saw him in the hospital room all bundled up, her first question was, "Doesn't he have any arms?"

Anyway, it's great to have him, and I feel like a brand new parent all over again.  It's amazing how much one can forget in just a couple years, like how gross and smelly the umbilical cord can be, and how almost eight pounds of baby can feel massive in your stomach but weightless in your arms, and how it's impossible to sleep because even if the baby is out you still have to wake up every half hour and poke him to make sure he's breathing.

Also, check out these monkey toes.  He could be swinging from the trees already if we let him...

                                     

Dan and I have made it eight years so far.  Who'd have thought?  I honestly can't imagine living with and getting along with any one person that long, yet here we are.  In the words of my father, "He's a patient, patient man."

Anyone who reads this blog with regularity knows that I ruined our 3 year-old camera just recently by dropping it in the snow and then running it over with the Highlander...not on purpose, by the way.  When I told Dan about it, I was upset and expected him to react the same way.  His only comment, though, was, "Well, it's probably outdated by now anyway.  We should get a new one."  I know he could care less about how trendy our camera is, but he knew the how to calm me down and make me feel better.

That's only a small example of what a great husband he's been.  It's nice to have been with someone so long and still want to be with that same person.  In great blog tradition, I'm going to end this with an engagement picture of us looking young and stress-free, aka the pre-Little H period.  I also like this picture because Dan is making a sexy face so rarely caught on camera.

                        

My two favorite people have been gone all week.  Dan had to work in Portland this week and thought it would be fun to bring H, hang out with his parents, and give me a week off.  It's always hard to play single mom when he's on his trips, and I imagine it would be much worse being eight months pregnant, so I agreed.  Plus one of my friends, who is a grandmother herself, told me it's much more fun to have the grandkids over when the parents aren't around.

It has been a quiet week, but I've had a hard time sleeping.  I feel so jittery all the time, like I'm just waiting for something.  I thought I'd get a lot done this week, but I move at the pace of a weighted down snail.  A snail who can't stay in one place for too long because if she does, something will start to ache.  Sitting hurts my back, standing hurts my feet, and lying down cuts my air supply or weighs down my hips—and kick starts the obligatory indigestion.  (Remind me again why women do this more than once...)

There was one very important thing that I did get done this week.  Casey got his teeth cleaned!  Well I'm pretty sure he did.  I had to drop him off at the vet this morning, and he hasn't let me look at them since we got home this afternoon, but I think they're clean.  Casey is still pretty mad at me and won't even let me take the bandage from the IV off his leg.  He's also really drugged up.  If he stands in one place for too long, he starts swaying.  It's all pretty funny.  While he was under, they removed a growth from the top of his head so he has this little shaved patch with a sore now.  It looks like he got shot in the head.  I want to take a picture, but I think my camera really is broken, per the last post when I ran it over.  I'm going to let it rest overnight and see if it feels better in the morning.

Here are some pictures of what H has been up to.  You can really see how heartbroken she is from missing her mother.

          
    

They get home tomorrow, though, and I'm so excited to see them.

Random Thought:  Right now, I'm just looking at a pen I dropped on the floor and wondering if I should pick it up right now or wait until I drop something else so I can pick both things up at the same time, which would be more efficient.

                                        

Dan had to travel out of town on business last weekend.  That's right last weekend.  He flew out Friday to San Jose for some supposed training that just couldn't be done during the course of a normal business week in a place like Fargo, ND.  I must have appeared skeptical because he forwarded me his itinerary when the trip was first booked a month ago.  I am still not totally convinced, though, that he doesn't take a secret pleasure in these little get-aways.  Nor am I convinced that electronic itineraries cannot be faked.

Needless to say, it was a pretty much uneventful weekend.  I just really miss having someone to complain to about my muscle soreness, insomnia, giant belly, small bladder, shrinking maternity clothes, and baby movements that feel like he's trying to tear himself out.  (Come to think of it, maybe Dan really does deserve to get away.)

And have I mentioned that I'm particularly moody with this pregnancy?  I keep looking for challenges.  Like the other day when I was at the department store buying a baby shower gift, and some nineteen year-old came up behind me and asked if I was in line.  Yeah, I'm standing right next to the "Line Starts Here" sign with a baby outfit and my purse out—I think you should be able to figure it out without me putting it into words.  (I really just said "yes".)  Then she has the nerve to say, "Oh, well I just have one thing to buy."  Really?  I only have three things to buy, I'm at maximum pregnant capacity, and I'm trying to keep my two year-old from knocking a display table over and crawling around on the dirty floor like a puppy, but really, why don't you go on ahead of me because I really want to delay getting out of the store as long as possible.  Come on!  You're young, suck it up!  (What I really did though was look her up and down and just said "Oh").  Then I stood there and fumed, just hoping she would say one more thing so I could unleash.  Unfortunately she didn't , and I think I missed out on my last chance to lash out on a total stranger and still have the pregnancy excuse.  However, I still have my eyes open looking for the next possible opportunity.  Keep your fingers crossed for me.

Anyway, I digress.  Last weekend was really not too bad, and H was pretty well behaved most the time.  There were a few incidents, like when she was so proud of herself for using all the toilet paper, and then we spent the next half hour plunging the toilet.  Then there was the time I had gotten the kitchen garbage ready to go out and went upstairs to get clean out the rest of the garbages.  Suddenly I hear, "Watch out Casey.  I'm going to slide it all the way down."  I ran (or waddled quickly) to the top of the stairs and see H had tipped the garbage bag on its side and was straddling it like a pony, ready to slide on it down the stairs.  That was at least one disaster that was avoided.  Oh, I also ran over my camera, and cried about it before I learned it had somehow survived, but now looks a little demented and something inside it rattles.

Throughout the weekend, Dan and I talked on the phone when we could.  At one point, he called to tell me about his evening.  He and his coworkers had just gotten back from the beach where it was 75 degrees and beautiful.  As I listened, I looked dejectedly out the window at the falling snow and heavy winds.  They'd had dinner at a restaurant right on beach.  "What did you have?" I asked, not really wanting to know.  "Oh, some kind of fish, but I think I swallowed a bone." 

I was glad he couldn't see me smiling to myself, but somehow it seemed to even things up a little.  Thank goodness for that fish bone.  (I love you, Dan.  Thanks for putting up with me.)

As a generally awkward person to begin with, I reached new heights of clumsiness and potentially embarrassing situations when it came to nursing my first born.  (Thank goodness for locks on doors and breast pumps.) 

Kelsi must have noticed the green jealousy in my eyes when I saw her nursing cover for baby Georgia.  Little H doesn't quite get what it's for, but she was just as ecstatic as me when I let her try on my new "pretty dress."  Thanks, again, Kelsi.  You're the best!

                                  

Two months to go, and I don't feel any more ready than I did seven months ago.  I am ready to no longer be pregnant, however.  I don't trust those mothers-to-be who seem to glow through the whole experience and gush about how great they feel.  And they just love to feel every kick and motion the baby makes.  Don't get me wrong.  I appreciate the occasional movement letting me know the baby's alright, but Little H insisted on linking her fingers and toes through my rib cage, and this little one likes to make long, slow, sharp sweeping motions across my entire stomach as if he's trying cut himself out with his bony little elbow.

My biggest problem, though, right now is that Little H seems to be having a hard time with the pending change.  She's been really clingy, she wants to be with me all the time, and she says silly things like, "Hold me like a baby, Mommy."  She's been freaking out lately when I leave for work without waking her up to say goodbye.  It's like she thinks I'm leaving her.  She doesn't really like talking about our baby, but she has been asking where her crib is and started wanting bottles.  She's been acting out a lot more and fighting with us for no reason.

It breaks my heart that she feels like she's being replaced.  How can we explain to a two year-old that we are having this baby just as much for her as we are for us?  She is so special that we were convinced we should have another one.  (Not only that, but she needs a little brother to wail on so we can get a break once and a while.)  I'm getting all weepy right now just trying to imagine what might be going through her mind.  But really, what doesn't make me weepy these days?  Anyway, I just wanted to get that out because it's been bothering me so much lately.  Welcome to my pity party.

                                   

P.S. Anyone who knows me must realize that I wouldn't buy my daughter a princess dress because I am so anti-princess anything.  This one is a hand-me-down from my babysitter's daughter, but seriously, how cute is that?