week 5 of the Ari



a tad less floppy: building some muscle for the inevitable:
The Sit Alone/The Unassisted Sit




Pretty much his favorite position: On mommy with easy access to breakfast/lunch/dinner/late night snacking.




I apologize for the silly, generic, stereotypical boy onesie. Blech...
but LOOK AT THOSE EYES!




The Mad Family Four on a Ferris Wheel -go 'round and 'round.
(stopping by the county fair)




"Hey guys, look at mama!  SMILE! I SAID LOOK AT MAMA! OVER HERE!"
click...




CLOTH DIAPERS!
It's a bold move, baby!

We have taken la plunge! As each diaper and its accessories (12 diapers, 1wet bag, detergent, inserts) arrived on our front door, the more nervousexcited I became about moving forward in the cloth diaper revolution.  And although, to date, it's only been a couple days I have to say I LOVES IT!  It's really not as hard/disgusting/time consuming as some would say it would be.  For me, what's another load of laundry?



there will always be laundry.
(Look at my cute sleeping baby!!)

  I'm so impressed with how clean they come out of the wash, how easy they are to use, and how much money we're going to save!  Oh, and one less diaper in the landfill...

In full disclosure, I am still using disposables at night.  This might change later...but for now it's just easier not dealing with the bulk and the snaps when you're half conscious...

In the next few weeks, I'm planning on switching over to reusable wipes as well.  Rumor is I can throw them into the laundry along with the cloth diaps.  Super easy, ya'll...

Who knew I'd be the co-sleeping, baby wearing, cloth diapering, breastfeeding mama that I've become?!  I certainly didn't set out to become a card carrying member of "Attachment Parenting" but HERE I AM!  Turns out this babe (and myself) are just a happier, calmer, more well rested (sort of ) unit than otherwise.  Bottom line is it works for our family and as individuals.  And that's how you get through the day.  And the night...so we're going wit-it.

One month old! (what?!)

 If you've been watching/following this blog for awhile, you'll remember that every month for a year, I snapped a pic or twenty of Milo next to his monkey.  It amazed/es me how quick these offspring grow in the first year! 

So here I am again, but this time with a duck, to measure Ari on his growing adventure, the monthly weed-like growth of an adventure:




"It's ok, Ari, mom made me do this, too! Every month for a year!"




It's hard being 3 days old.

 



3 days




1 month






I'm 1 month old!  ROCK ON!  Fist Pump!

 




Grow on with your bad self!
xox

 

36 weeks (9 months!)





30 weeks ago...



 (blink)



today



Still to go:

4 weeks

Which is:

28 days

The babe is as big as:

Large cantaloupe (19 to 20 in, 6lbs) estimated 

With the countdown on for the reuniting and the meeting of the Eason Four, I'm forcing myself to sit.  This isn't always the easiest of tasks when my nature is to moveit-moveit.  But, in order to keep the labor fairies at bay, I must just simply, sit.  And stay hydrated.  A sort of self-prescribed bed-rest.  Though I'm not moving furniture (my favorite past time), it's been enough just running laundry up and down 2 flights of stairs.  Whosever idea it was to put the master bedroom on the top floor and the laundry in the basement was a dingbat.  And an asshole. And, apparently, has never lived with a pregnant woman.

On-line shopping was never really my thing, but I've been enjoying the "window shopping" of amazon and etsy, among other, manymany other, websites that advertise ease, awesomeness and feng shui into my world.

Since we're having a baby boy Dos, I haven't had to invest in much to prepare for his arrival.  However, it's amazing all the new SHIT out there for babys and parents.  And though I'm not tempted by most of it, I have allowed myself a few new items that will -hopefully- make things a tad easier this go-round.   The newborn rock 'n play seems to be a big hit with not only on-line reviewers, but also with a few friends o' mine.  I like how compact it is.  With Milo, the husb would assemble and then disassemble EVERYDAY the pack and play.  Bringing it upstairs to our bedroom at night, and then shlep it downstairs to the living room during the day. 

Total painintheass.

I also purchased the moby wrap.  Though we already have 2 other baby carriers, this one seems perfect for newborns, and, hopefully, more comfortable for marathon wearing.  If this baby is like his older brother, he will be a much happier baby in mama's (or daddy's!) arms.  Milo most certainly knew the difference between being held by human arms and being cradled by a swing or bouncy seat.  He is/was not a fan of "artificial" cuddling.  Plus, I just simply love the style of the moby, very hippy chic.

Though I plan on exclusively breastfeeding, I've purchased some new nipples for the bottles I've saved.  Whether for pumped breast milk, formula, or a combination of the two, it's nice to have a bottle back up.

Something *new* we will be trying this go-round is cloth diapering!  Lately, I've had to prioritize some expeditures (new tires for both cars, new brakes, new clutch, tree removal, yadayada had to come first) so I haven't yet bought my stash of diapers and the cleaning accessories it requires, but I am all-out excited to try them on!  I do, however, have a nice little treasure of disposable diapers on hand just in case baby dos arrives before my CD shipment...

I just said I'm all-out excited to try cloth diapering.

Huh...?!

29 weeks (the storm chaser and the incessant questions)

Lately, I find myself answering the same questions.  So I thought I should design a t-shirt that says the following:

Yes, I'm pregnant.
7 months.
Yes, it's very exciting.
It's my second child.
He's almost 3.
We're having another boy.
No I'm not disapointed that we're having another boy.
Yes, it's a great age difference.
Yes, we planned it that way.
No, we are not going to "try for a girl" next time.
Yes, we have a name.
No, we're keeping it to ourselves.
September 8th
Yes, It's going to be a long, hot summer.

This week has been an interesting one.  Life, again, happening.  The husb has a great respect (read: fear) of thunderstorms.  As soon as he hears rumbling or a flash in the sky, he throws me over his shoulder, scoops up Milo and we head down to our bomb shelter where we have a 2 year stash of all things survival.  Including Tums.  Mama got some real nice heartburn/indigestion.

I joke.  But not about the heartburn/indigestion.

So last Friday we're at our neighborhood Farmer's market where I usually admire the asparagus and muse over the squash and then just head over to the ice cream shoppe.  And then by Sunday I usually regret not buying the 6 ears of corn for $3 as we're grilling out steaks or ribs or whathaveyou.

Sidenote: After 7 years of being with my husband I have *finally* found a way he likes zuchini: GRILLED. See honey?  I knew if I was persistent enough you'd like it!  Hehe...

Anyhoos, big beautiful rolling clouds come into our view, seemingly mere feet from our heads.  The wind picks up and I'm laughing.  The husb is not.  He tries to play cool, tries to humor me, "Yeah, Milo look at those dark, black clouds!  Why don't we head over to the beach!"

I, of course, think that's a grand idea.  Thunderstorm on the beach?  Shit yeah!

But then crazy, close lightening shoots, like, crazy-close by, and even *I* the storm chaser, get a little anxious.

The scene had a very "Wizard of Oz" feel has various debris starts flailing around, parents and their children start hustling back to their cars.  The rain decides to join the party and it quickly becomes an all out hurricane-like situation.

Driving home, we could barely see 2 feet in front of us.  With my 2year old son and my husband and my big 'ol belly, I'm respecting the shit out of this storm.  Trust that.

And then we get home and find half of a tree on our (other) car:




What the hell...?  Yes, there is a car underneath that branch.



 This was also Father's Day weekend.  Guess what daddy got to do on Father's Day?  Break out the electric saw and a 6 pack of beer, daddy got work to do!

 Apparently, a bolt of lightening seared right down the center of the tree in our front yard.  It's like mother nature had heard my flippant, shoulder-shrug attitude regarding thunderstorms and wanted to teach me a little lesson on how dangerous and destructive a storm can be.

"You think thunderstorms are awesome?!  I'll show you how awesome I can be!  BAM!  Right in your front yard SUCKA!!"

You win, mother nature, YOU WIN!

27 weeks (be nice to the preg-lady, the Waddle, and 3 bare belly shots!)



It's the little things, ya'll!



TMI belly shot, for the win! 
OH!  *And* I made the bed.  Yeah, baby!

Here are a couple of short fables on times when people went out of there way to be nice to me even though it wasn't entirely necessary but -oh so appreciated:

While at work, I had to sit with a patient in the ICU one evening.  Here he was, hospitalized, hooked up to all sorts of wires that made beeping and pumping sounds -and yet- he was looking out for my well-being.   "Would you like some water?  Have you eatten dinner yet?" 

His girlfriend and daughter came into the room during visiting hours.  The gf quickly looked at me with confusion and a bit of "Who the hell is this?"  I quickly introduced myself as a staff member and why I was there.   After she shook my hand, smiling, she says, "Thank you for being so welcoming.  I was wondering who the blonde was and if he had too much going on for me to be here"   -as she was glancing at my 7 month prego-belly.  I laughed and said, "Oh no-no-no."  And, because I can't help myself, I showed her my left hand and said "Married, have a 2 year old and pregnant, -I'm not much of a catch."  She laughed, noticeably relieved. 

*   *   *

A man diagnosed with psychotic d/o -on the inpatient psych unit- apologed to me the day after being a total, uh...-not nice person- to me.  He told me, "I see that you have yourself a belly and I don't want to be the man who gives you stress and then the baby becomes schizophrenic.  You see there's energy waves and the baby's brain is still forming and I don't want to stress those waves.  You have to be real careful about these things.  So I hope you're taking care of yourself."

*   *   *

Ladies allowing me to move ahead of them in the bathroom line.  Always a plus!

*   *   *

Fellow prego ladies at the pool -we give each other that "nod" as if to say, "Look at us all pregnant and in a bathing suit chasing after a toddler...high5!"

*   *   *

In other news, the great and amazing achy legs have appeared.  I didn't have these nuisance pains when with child-milo, at least not until the very end (like 34-36 weeks HA!) after I had gained 25 some odd pounds and he was probably at least 5lbs.  Some days I'm doing the classy waddle-sway because my legs feel as though I've run a marathon -or at the very least jogged on the treadmill on an incline of 10 for an hour at 7.0 without a break.  I'm only 27 weeks I shouldn't be this achy!  My guess is that he's positioned in a way that puts added pressure on a vein or something or other.  Needless to say my gym days have been limited lately.  But I'm thinking a yoga class needs to be a-happening soon...or at least a message...

Oh!  And I am sooooo HUNGRY!  Here's to gaining MORE weight! (That's the idea, right?) *clink*



Feed ME!

Today I am: 27 weeks and 2 days

The baby is as big as a:
Cucumber (15in, 2.2 lbs)

Still to go:
12 weeks and 5 days

Which is:
89 days!  (WHAT?!)

you can't make me say "big boy" haircut...

It's Memorial Day weekend, it's hot outside, "mom-cuts" is being investigated for working w/o a license, and well...the timing was good...

So...

2 1/2 months shy of his 3rd birthday, my boy gets his first professional cut!



hair here...




hair gone...
While gripping his super new squirt gun and being fed peanut butter m&m's, little man sat ever so still and quiet!





TaDah!




the boy cleans up well, yes?



"Everybody must get stoned." thanks, Bob

Milo has a new thing.  A new trick, if you will.  He sticks this little stick thing into the passenger seat in front of him, using it as a microphone, and he sings.  Loudly.

Making me rethink the playing of "Rainy Day Women #12 and 35"


Well, they’ll stone ya when you’re trying to be so good

They’ll stone ya just a-like they said they would
They’ll stone ya when you’re tryin’ to go home
Then they’ll stone ya when you’re there all alone
But I would not feel so all alone
Everybody must get stoned

~Bob Dylan

19 weeks: crazy invasion

I'm feeling good.  My skin has cleared up, my hair is super thick, my boobs are huge (for me at least), and I'm feeling many a movement of a tiny, tiny human in my 2nd chakra.  Which, incidentally, is about relationships.

Nudge, sliver, roll...fishtail!

But I'm feeling more emotional this time around.  Or maybe I just don't remember feeling so labile whilst pregnant with Milo.  But I know enough not to buy into the negativity.  The anxiety, the sadness, the anger -they come out of nowhere sometimes.  And, of course, over nothing.  Like the other day, at the grocery store, I'm looking through the mounds of cheese -from the deli to the free-standing -trying to find Gruyere.  And I'm feeling like I lost my home in a hurricane.

 Overwhelmed, devasted, disappointed, lost, helpless. 

You know, totally congruent to the situation.

Once I find the block of cheese I see just how expensive Gruyere is. I feel my eyes watering as I comtemplate how important this quesidilla recipe is.   After a minute of self-to-self conversation about how I waste too much cheese, do I really need a fancy pants dinner for one, I wish Milo would eat cheese, why can't I buy a $12 block of cheese, what if I use it all week. I could make up some other recipes to use it in.  I'd get sick of it, for sure.  $12 really?  Oh, look the smoked Gruyere is cheaper.  Probably for a reason.  I don't even like smoked Gouda.

What the FUCK Gruyere!

I push my cart away rolling my eyes at myself.  I abandon the Gruyere and the fancy recipe that it comes with. My mom's voice comes to me, "You can always put chedder on the quesidilla, for god sake."

I'm angry at all the frozen boxes of food.  I'm angry that I'm even looking at them. I'm disgusted by all the raw meat.  I'm disappointed at the limp produce.  (I'm obviously not in a Whole Foods store).

And then there is a shift.  By throwing an all natural, organic lemongrass and sage deodorant into my cart I receive a renewed sense of power. Of purpose.  Like suddenly I've transitioned my life, butterflied this action into a better ozone.   A better self.

I take out the shampoo, conditioner, hand soap, face wash, astringent and night cream that I had thrown into my cart and I replace them all with organic, all-natural products.
I start contemplating creating a compost heap. I'm going to start cleaning my windows with vinegar and water!  For shame the over-priced toxic cleaning products littering space under my kitchen sink!

And then I buy Borax, baking soda, distilled white vinegar and lemons.

As I'm driving through the base (I shopped at the commisary on an Air Force Base) every car is pulled over to the side.  I turn my music down (playing Joni Mitchell, Court and Spark, of course) and I hear the sounds of The Star Spangled Banner.

The entire base is vibrating with patiotism.

"...from sea to shining sea..."

FUCK YEAH AMERICA!  I'M DOING MY PART!!

On my way home I call my husband and go on about how borax is going to revolutionize how we sanitize, disinfect and beautify this castle of ours.

Later, I call my mom and tell her how I'm going to clean the washing machine. And I'm excited about it.

"Did you know you can make vinegar ice cubes and run through the garbage disposal with cold water for a cleaner disposal!? HOLY SHIT BATMAN!"

I'm sure once they hung up the phone they were rolling, tears streaming...

But you know what? They won't be laughing when they see the sparkle of my floor boards! Or how my toilet shines with a mere baking soda and lemon scrub!

I think I might have entered: nesting.

Crazy, cleaning, green hippy hippy shake shake nesting.

19 weeks,  you're funny.

Ring the Living Bell, ya'll.

Inside the mind of an artist.

This particular piece, done in the medium of crayon on paper plate, forces the viewer to think of the ever growing culture of reality.  Where does yours begin?  Do endings exist?  Recently, Milo has been inspired by performance art.  Perhaps this piece identifies his love of the human figure and it's graceful dance.

Let us take a closer look at the series that he has been working on.  Tentatavely titled, "Muses from Day Care."

Spoon Painting shows how the artist was influenced by the German Expressionists of the early 20th century.  This is a transition piece into post modernism.  Brilliant.

In this piece, Painting with Balls, the artist demonstrates the struggle between the balance of the chaos of the teetering strength of Zen.

 Painting with Craft Sticks is a love story between the rain and the thunder. Does one work without the other? Can thunder function without the fluidity and the softness of rain? Will the rain change it's direction if there is no thunder clap? The artist brings so many unanswered questions with this piece.

Painting with Tractors is one of my favorite pieces.  As the curater of the Milo show, I have struggled with which pieces to showcase.  This particular painting, I've displayed prominately.  The pull of the crossroads.  Do we venture east?  Have I already been north?  What/Whose side are you on?

Milo kept this piece as "Untitled." The artist gives the viewer permission to free associate without prejudice of the artist.  The use of space is paramount.  He purposely leaves the left side blank.  He is always thinking of the claustophobic. I've heard people refer to this classic as "The Bees Knees following it's path."  I tend to agree.

Here Milo taps into the medium of stamping.  It's a classic, yet post modern take on the use of pre-made form.  You can tell by the use of space and the way he went from firm to loose there was a battle.  Perhaps between cowboy and native american.  Perhaps between democracy and capitalism.  The artist leaves it up to you to decide.

16 weeks, is that you?

I've heard -and now believe- that you can feel baby #2 sooner than #1.  I'm definitely more "in tune" to what to expect so when I feel a little something, I'm thinking that must be my little something...

Fish tail is what I'm calling this current feeling in my utero.  There's a fish tail moving in there!!  Feeling the slight and faint movements of a 5 inch (estimated) babe brings me even closer to feeling connected -bonded- to this new being.  For me, early bonding is extremely important.  As each week goes by, attending each appointment, hearing a heartbeat, seeing an ultrasound image, picking a name (still no final answer on that one), and feeling movement -I feel more and more connected to the new life that will enter this family.

When I was prego with Milo I was not as "in the moment."  I just wanted to hurry this little pregnancy inconvenience along so I could return to my life, my body, my jeans, and, most importantly, my sushi and wine.

I may have been 30 years old when I gave birth for the first time, but I was -looking back- hanging on to my selfish, inconsiderate, no good, dirty ways.

I guess I'm a late bloomer.

And, although, there's a part of me that is counting down the weeks, I also know, from experience, that this time really is special.  Really is fleeting.  I'm not taking this for granted. I'm creating someone's husband (hopefully), someone's father (perhaps), someone's friend, someone's cousin, nephew, grandchild... 

His story should begin with a grateful mother who is connected -by more than just a cord and blood- but by authentic spirit and love.

Milo brought me a sense of renewal and gratitude.  This one, #2, is bringing me into process,  the here and now.

Don't be fooled by the calendar. There are only as many days in the year as you make use of. ~Charles Richards

getting our culture on

We're still doing family outings, though not as many in these BRRR! months.  I'm not a fan of winter MUCH at ALL.  No matter how fantastically warm my UGG boots are and the snug fit of my fancy coat and hat, I do not appreciate Le BRRR!  So after the 1,245th viewing of Wall-E and/or Cars and/or Penguins of Madagascar, we made the executive decision to: MISSION: GET OUT OF THE HOUSE.

Row, Row, Row your boat...



whoa.  Jellyfish...



 son of a sailor



1 fish, 2 fish, red fish, blue fish



Oh, Hi Mr. Turtle!  Give us a kiss!



The Megalodon, a prehistoric shark.  Only 2 in the world, one in Southern Maryland and the other in South Africa.  See?  We're cultured and fancy and stuff!!

 Speaking of fancy, it was Burger King for all for lunch!  Not a "date night" but nice to escape the couch and a Pixar showing for a few hours!!