Danny & Annie

This video breaks my heart, makes me smile and leaves me speechless all at once. I wish I had more to say or that what I'm typing was at least partially eloquent. Be forewarned that you will cry, even though the image looks like a cartoon, it's far from it. It is however, words of wisdom.

Magic

The night John told me he loved me was only three days after my father had died and two weeks into knowing each other. We were parting ways in the parking lot of my apartment building in Saratoga, he was in his car and I was in mine, as I put the car in drive he swung his car around so that we were facing each other in opposite directions. His car was playing Magic by Ben Folds, and as the words of love and loss hung in the air he said something about not wanting to leave me. Ever. We were crying and laughing at the craziness of what was happening before us and then he said it. Whenever I hear that song it brings me right back to Regent Street in Saratoga Springs.

We went on a hike Saturday and while it was quick it wasn't easy, we were both like, um, what? Really, are we that out of shape? It was steep and rocky but we loved it and the view was unbelievable. There was a little gazebo at the summit and as we gazed at the view I grabbed my iPhone and said, "we should dance up here!"

Magic. It was the first song on the playlist.

You're the magic that holds the sky up from the ground
You're the breath that blows these cool winds 'round

House Warming

When I was applying to colleges I thought for certain I was going to major in Interior Design. I always loved decorating, paint colors, fabrics and rearranging furniture. Somehow along the way I was swayed into graphic design which ended up being my chosen major and I've never looked back but a soft spot remains for that love of interiors. Our house, while small and inefficient for a family of four with 1050 square feet has been a labor of love. We redid the floors before we moved in, painted every room in the house, had a new roof put on, a new front window installed and this summer we had the house painted, added an awning, updated all of the exterior doors, and rebuilt the rotting front porch.

Here are the before and afters, we've come along way baby! (please note that most of these photos are of poor quality, not at all styled, and were taken before we had kids hence the sparse nature of the house. The after picture of the outside of the house does not do it justice at all. It's kind of embarrassing as a graphic designer but it's what I have at my disposal right now.)

Before:

After:

Kitchen with the awesome ivy border, non-working stove and well you get the idea.

I painted the cabinets, we bought a new gas stove and put in all new lighting throughout the house.

The living room before:

After with a fresh coat of paint and refinished floors:

It currently looks like this:

Dining room:

The bathroom before:

After with new paint, cabinet and lighting:

In 2011 we plan to update the kitchen and take the bathroom from a rotting, leaky floor to one that looks like this:

When you hear Tim McGraw

I went with John to a somewhat nerve-wracking doctor's appointment today. Everything turned out fine in the end thank God. However, as I drove there to meet him the song that came on the radio was "Live Like You Were Dying". We will Tim McGraw. We will.

Okay, I'll admit it

There are days where I catch myself thinking that if we didn't have kids we would: be financially secure, not sleep-deprived, have harder bodies, take nicer vacations, own a matching living room set, have swankier wardrobes and the list could go on and on. Then I pinch myself and am thankful for our sleep-deprived life with an eclectically furnished home and Target-inspired wardrobe.



We are a team and our kids are our most valuable possessions.



Sticky, yogurt covered, insanely cute possessions.

March Un-Madness Musings

Call it spring fever or maybe it's just the feeling of finally being back on our feet after the whirlwind of 2 of under 2, but we think we've found our footing after all this time. Ellie sleeps through the night, no one has thrown up in weeks (knocking on wood right now), the ear infections while still on the surface are fading into the distance (again with the knocking on the wood), and things at home and work feel as if everything is right with the world.

Our basement is in a better organized state with a distinct kid-area set up so that they can play while we work out, the car is finally back in the garage after months of it being a catch-all for old and broken appliances, three different strollers and the multiple pile-up of empty diaper boxes. Life feels organized and just as it should be.

The best part is that when we say "I love you" to Luke his response is :"I wuv you too mawm" and sometimes even: "I wuv you too much mawm." And sweet Ellie is full of kisses and laughs as she strolls about the house with her baby.

We are lucky, blessed and realize that even though this past year has been hard, we will only ever remember all the wonderful moments. John rocked Ellie to sleep Friday night (this is almost always my "job") and I think she should know that as he rocked and kissed her forehead he looked at me, choked up and said, "this has been so hard, but in 20 years we'll want nothing more than to have this time back. We're going to miss this so much."

Everyone from veteran parents to those without kids keep telling me that it's going to get easier. Although the parents usually kind of laugh and say it gets easier in some ways but the problems get bigger. So as the tedious/maddening work lessens and the problems grow, we're ready to face this next stage of parenthood and married life.

I think it's perfectly fitting that spring is on the horizon just as we're welcoming a renewal of spirit and life in our home.

The irreverent 'rents are we

His hands were covered in pizza sauce, her face was barely visible through the apples and apricots strewn from ear to ear, and there was me and John between them playing referees.

I had made homemade pizza, Luke's favorite and Ellie was armed with two jars of Earth's Best baby food. Easy night, peaceful meal we thought. Most nights Luke picks at this or that, sometimes he'll lap it up (french toast, spaghetti, couscous, avocado, quesadillas and mac'n cheese are always homeruns), and some nights he takes one look at what I have served before him looks at me like, "are you friggin kidding me?" scrunches up his nose and hands it back. Tonight though he knew it was pizza and couldn't wait for it to be ready.

We had worked all day cooking food for the week, cycling the laundry, and organizing some kitchen cupboards as they took simultaneous 4 hour naps. Of course it felt good to get some much needed work done but once we were ready to take a break they woke up, so onward to dinner it was. John started Ellie off who repeatedly would hit the spoon with her flailing hands sending the strained food in the air, hitting the wall, her face, and all over her lap. The more he tried the more food went everywhere but in her mouth, so we switched, I fed her and he entertained Luke as the pizza cooled.

We cut strips of pizza for Luke, of course, just the way he likes it. Ellie ate and played and we danced between them. Luke decided the pizza was too crusty and was done with it after only a few bites when he started handing his saucy strips back to us, nearly landing them on the floor as Ellie hacked and coughed like a degenerate trucker.

We were tired, our kids were playing us like fiddles and we just wanted 5 minutes to eat in peace. John leaned in with a wink and said, "You know these dinner guests really suck."

We cracked up and couldn't stop laughing. They're lovely, beautiful children but sometimes you just gotta tell it like it is.

A trip to the beach is really no walk in the park

This vacation post deserves it's own space and is too much of a gem to get lost within the all-inclusive vacation recap.

We are done having kids. If you are unsure if your family is complete there is one simple way to figure out your answer. Take the kids you have to the beach. I swear to you it will seal the deal.

Our house was about a tenth of a mile from the beach. An easy walk down a sandy path, from all of the recent rain it was riddle with potholes and the like but for the most part an easy walk to and fro. Right. Our plan was to put Luke in the umbrella stroller which would later offer a space for Ellie to sit/nap (our car was far too small to bring along the Bob Double Stroller which no doubt would have rocked the beach, but I digress) and carry Ellie in the Baby Bjorn. We also had two beach chairs, a beach bag equipped with water, Ellie bottles, snacks, magazines, and a big towel, an umbrella to keep Ellie in the shade, and a bucket of beach toys for Luke. Not too shabby.

Day 1
John's sister and I took the kids while the guys carried all the gear. Ellie was strapped to my chest as I tried to push the stroller in the sand. Not so much. It didn't bugde, so I pulled it. Heaving 38lbs of Luke and carrying Ellie was a struggle, but I managed, no biggie, we were on the beach, whatever. That was day one. I didn't realize how much of a chore it would be on days 2, 3, and 4.

Day 2.
Once again I pulled Luke, but this time John had Ellie. On the handles of the stroller were the bucket of toys and a chair, all dangling within an inch of falling off, the stroller at times tipping on it's side with Luke hanging on for fear of being face planted into the hot sand. John trailed behind wrestling the umbrella and one of the chairs that kept opening up on him, the overstuffed beach bag and Ellie, who dangled like a rag doll.

Day 2. Leaving the beach.
Luke was done. Overtired, it was time to leave. He started throwing sand just as Ellie was screaming for a bottle. The beach was packed. Families were all around us and the great beach mocked us. "Let's see you gracefully escape" it taunted at us.
I had Ellie and Luke, I need to get them home, Luke repeatedly threw his dump truck, Ellie alternated between screaming and smiling. Good times. We got Luke strapped in and Ellie's legs moved like a puppet on a string, I put what I could on the handles of the stroller and prepared for the pulling of the dead-weight. All eyes were on us. I looked back to see John wrestling the umbrella, it was a scene straight from a Chevy Chase Vacation movie. A woman looked at me and said, "oh I remember those days" as her grandchildren danced about her feet. I declared back, "this is great birth control, we've realized today that we're done, no more kids for us!" Everyone laughed. At least I made them laugh and could laugh with them.

We trudged on. I looked back to see John still trying to compose himself, the damn chair opening up on him over and over as the umbrella slid back and forth preventing him from moving quickly. I just kept laughing. The wooden ramp from the parking lot to the beach was just steps away, I was almost to a hard surface, I started counting the seconds, it was so close and yet so far away. 10, 11, 12, 13...16 seconds and were on the ramp. Phew. I took a breather and turned around. John was lagging far behind. Eyes squinting, brow furrowed, totally pissed.

The kids and I moved on, Ellie dancing, Luke muttering, our house just a few moments away. I turned around again, John was closer but still steps behind us. The chair opened up on him again and the umbrella slipped to the ground. I laughed. I couldn't stop, it was pathetically hilarious. He yelled, "Well that's just what I needed. Tomorrow we are bringing a blanket. That's it!"

The next few days we left the umbrella home and used a towel to shade Ellie in the stroller (which also did have a shade cover too, we were extra cautious), Luke held some of his digger trucks and we figured out a better way to put the chairs on the stroller. We still were the variety show leaving the beach, but it was a little better each day, learning a new trick to the game. I am impressed with families of more than 2 kids. I really don't know how we would have done it with 3.

I really think Chevy Chase could have written those 15 minutes of daily hilarious hell. I need to go ask my mom how they did it so seemingly perfect when were kids.

Riding in cars

I opened my email a few days ago and found a little note from my dear friend Tracey. It included a little memory of her parents, a nod to her father on Father's Day and while I read it and thought it was sweet it didn't hit me until later that day how appropriate it is to my life now, one as a mother. Her small personal note about the joy of riding in the car with her parents touched me more than I thought.

I very clearly remember those drives with my parents, whether short or long it was always secure. My dad would goof off to the oldies, pat my mom on the knee and say how lucky he was to have her as his wife and me as his daughter. I would roll my eyes thinking he was dorky but inside I loved it. I never doubted a thing, he put his love all out on the table and my mom twinkled at the sight of him.

This morning as John and I drove the kids to the sitter as we do everyday, he appeased me by turning the radio to the country music station and I started singing. He smiled at me, winked a little and leaned in close. I heard Luke trying to sing along and turned around to see him bopping his head with the music and when our eyes met he smiled so big his eyes squinted. It was in that moment when I realized yet again that I'm a parent. I'm now my mom sitting in the front seat twinkling at my silly, loving husband enjoying the security of my life and cherishing every moment for fear it could be the last.

Confession

I've been spending a lot of time here connecting with old friends. It's a wonderful guilty pleasure. Guilty I say because it's a time suck. John and I share the laptop so if I'm not on it he is and well then it's time for bed and Ellie needs a nightcap and holyshit where did our night go? It's pathetic. Here I am living the life I've always wanted and there I sit staring at the glow of a computer screen.

There isn't much point to this post other than embarrassment. I just had to get that out. I miss blogging, sharing future memories for our kids to cherish. Technology is awesome but sitting on the couch talking in real time to your husband, holding hands, and laughing is so much more.

The family that bathes together...

The nightly ritual of bathtime used to involve just one of us with Luke, but as of late we're all gathering in our tiny bathroom to enjoy the fun. There's no tv beckoning to Luke, no distractions other than soap suds and foamy stick-to-the-tub letters. It's where John and I recap our days and Luke makes us laugh with his soapy beards and use of the letter J as a phone. I can still hear the laughter of tonights shenanigans.

Bro-nating to a good cause

The Bravada, my father's car, or as we call it, The Bro, has officially died. The breaks are gone, it needs to be jumpstarted almost every morning, and most recently the front left tire fell flat. Completely flat. We finally drove it into the ground and decided it was best to donate it to the Kidney Foundation. When I see it sitting in the driveway I feel like my dad is with me, as if he's stopped by for a visit, but like one of the last times I saw him it will be towed away on a cold winter day. I took a few keepsake pictures and ironically it was snowing, just like it was the last time I took a picture of my father, although that day was Christmas night 2002 and a major nor'easter was hitting the north country. I took a picture of him shoveling the sidewalk, in the photo you can see him admist a flurry of snowflakes in the dark night illuminated only by the porch light. Hopefully someone, somewhere will find some use out of the busted up Bro. I find it comforting that the last picture I have of him and of his car are in the same season, the same setting. Irony at its best. And, yesterday was his birthday too.




We've been living as a one car family for a week now and while our current car is really extremely small for a family of four, we're working it. We know we're lucky to work in town, our entire life (work, sitter, home, family) is lived within less than a mile, which makes it all feasible.

Rockin' The Suburbs

Window Shopping

We finally have draft-free, insulated windows in our living room! We've been living with drafty, poorly installed windows for three years, we could practically see the money slipping through the gaping window sills every winter, but finally we're on the mend! Yesterday we had two of the three windows in our living room replaced. Thanks to the delivery guy who dropped the third one and broke it, we're going to look kind of funky for the next week until the replacement comes in.

Out with the old.....(see the condensation and cloudiness!)


and in with the new (don't worry the one on the left will soon be the same as the one on the right!)


In other news our living room looked like this morning...


and my lovely and supportive husband, knowing full well that I've got a huge case of cabin fever and haven't been out of the house in days told me to go. Get out. Go shopping, get yourself a Starbucks coffee, use the credit card, do whatever, just go, have fun, enjoy yourself. So I fed Elle, he made an in-case-of-emergency bottle then put Luke down for a nap, and was picking up the destruction as I dashed out the door.

Sheer bliss.

I wandered through Target, purchased some shoes at Payless, skipped the coffee, dodged crazy-holiday shoppers, felt rejuvinated and headed home to my three blessings.

New windows, new shoes, and a great family. Life is grand.

The antics of two under two

We've been home one week as a full-fledged family of four and the poop has hit the, um, tub.

In one week we've been diagnosed with thrush (Elle and me), croup (Luke), and a sinus/ear infection (me). The doc won't treat my sinus infection with antibiotics as it will make the thrush worse for both of us so I have to use a neti pot to clean my sinuses out. I'm not sure that the neti pot is working yet or not. Tonight we put Luke in the steamy bathroom and then sent him out into the cold air (doctor's suggesting for ridding him of The Croup topped off with a teaspoon of benadryl), he was pissed and confused as to what the hell we were doing to him. After all that John put him in the tub to kick off the nighttime routine of tub/books/bed.

I was doing the dishes and all I heard was, "he pooped in the toilet! Honey! He pooped in the toilet!" Confused by this I went into the bathroom where John was hiking Luke out of the tub and I said, "toilet?? He pooped in the toilet??"

Uh, no. He pooped in the tub. The craziness of it had his father tongue-tied.

Huge poop in the tub. He's never done this before. So as I stared at the poopy tub and thought um, how do we clean this, Ellie starts screaming bloody murder.

Calgon take me away.

Thankfully it's almost 9:30, Luke's been in bed for two hours and no barking seal noises have been heard. Cross your fingers that we've somehow cured him.

The Fabulous Life of Luke

He can sleep like a rock for almost 12 hours straight. I'm lucky if I get 7 solid uninterrupted hours. Maybe I need to wear Depends to bed. Okay maybe not.



He thinks it's fun to tear through all of the clean and folded clothes that never made it farther than the couch or in the laundry basket 'cause that's either already full of clean clothes or he's using it as a fort for his toys. Pretty sweet.




He literally shovels food in his mouth. At least he's being polite and trying to use it as a spoon.




His little sandal shoes have officially mixed in with ours. I glanced over at the shoe pile and noticed this the other day. Once again it is eye opening to see your childs shoes, not booties or Robeez, but his shoes sitting next to yours. On our evening walk tonight John said, "Do you think we're in the stage of our life where everyday is the same as the last but the time speeds by faster than we realize? Like we're going to wake up tomorrow and Luke's going to be asking for the car keys and Ellie's going to want money for the mall." The first year has seemed that way, I feel like it was just yesterday that we were keeping track of how many times he nursed, pooped and peed and then today I walk into the living room to find my son standing in the middle of room, pointing at me and sternly telling me, "no!" Whoosh. It's flying and only going to go faster. We're anticipating bumps and hanging on for all of the new milestones to come.

Vacation Updation

Luke's first beach experience! Life IS good!






So it's been awhile, eh? Vacationing with a busy 1 year old wore me out and well I guess I just needed a blogging break. Maine was fabulous, though rainy and although we've been at this parenting thing for more than a year we didn't realize how different vacation would be too. He was up at 5:30am everyday, and due to the tiny yet cute house, was bunking with grandma. So we had to rush in quickly to save her some extra sleep while we corraled him in the upper living area (yes the kitchen/living/dining room was on the top floor). Somehow she and Joyce slept through his early morning gear up and go action.


We also realized that no longer can we selfishly lolly-gag in beach chairs reading indulgent magazines and when the sun beats too hard, go frolic in the ocean.

My idea of vacation bliss (though actually I did get to do this a bit as John was super-dad!)




He ate sand and seaweed, thankfully he was spared ingesting any seagull pooh.




Daddy tried to keep him contained in what he called, "Luke-A-Traz"



We chased him all over as he met friends, tried to keep him from eating whatever he could find in the sand, and happily sat in the crashing surf regarding the fact that our suits were filling up with wet sand. It is the beach afterall and I'm not complaining. Seriously. It was just kind of funny how we were so excited to have a vacation, thinking it would be like all of our other sans children vacations. A totally relaxing, sleep in, do what you want week off. How naive of us. Obviously parents don't get weeks off and vacations as we knew them are now different. Just another enlightening experience in parenthood.

He totally loved the ocean, no matter the temperature!



He ate his weight in clam chowder and shamelessly flirted with every waitress we met. Grandma and Joyce certainly helped keep him entertained with long walks on the beach and gave us a night off to dine alone. Even though we had lots of rain and even a tornado warning we made the best of it, enjoyed our ocean view and loved falling asleep to the lullabye of crashing waves. On our last day at the beach as we were packing up all the gear I looked around and said to John, "are you sure we've got everything?" He put his arm around me, kissed me on the cheek and said, "honey, the only things we're leaving here are our memories."

Belated Happy Fourth

We've been a tad bored at the Stevens family camp as of late. Most of our friends are in the same boat as us, happily saddled with babies, and young kids who need naps, routine and early bed times, which leaves little to no room for fun times outside of your air conditioned walls. So when July 4th was upon us and everyone else seemed to have plans (woe is us, I know, I know) we threw the nap out the window, loaded "The Bro" with supplies (aka swimmy diapers, regular diapers, wipes, BPA-free water bottles, bananas, and the like) and headed to Shelving Rock.

We "hiked" in from our parking spot and meandered our way along the water, braving the skantily clad party-goers with their red plastic Solo cups of whatever. I gawked at the boaters lazily spending their day bobbing and speeding on the Lake and watched Luke in awe of the water lapping over the rocks. Ah summer.

"We need a boat," I told John. He retorted with, "we need friends with a boat". True, that would be sweet.

Anyone got a boat we can hang out on some weekend?

Moving forward but looking back

Luke turned 1 year old yesterday and we celebrated with family, friends, good food and my first entirely homemade cake. I have realized I am no Martha or Ina, oh well, the cake tasted wonderful but was a tad sad in the "looks" department as you can see in the pic!

Aside from all of the party preparations, cooking, baking and cleaning, I have felt like I've been mourning all week, living my life in the past. Every day I would say to John, "Last year we were doing this or that", waiting for Luke to arrive, hoping to not be induced, laying in bed dreaming of what it would be like to have a little one lying between us kicking, cooing and growing. On the 25th I reminisced all day about how at 7am we left for the hospital, 12 days overdue, excited and defeated by the fact that we were heading in to be induced. Leaving the house just a couple, knowing that the next time we walked through the door we would be carrying a new life, our baby, over that threshold. I thought about that day and how we just watched tv and listened to his heartbeat on the monitor, talked to the nurses, walked the halls and just waited for something to happen.

That night they switched up the induction drugs and I went from no pain to discomfort and contractions throughout the night. At 9am the next day, Dr. Finkowski broke my water and hooked me up to more wires and contraptions than I knew existed, by 12noon I was screaming for an epidural. I started pushing at 3pm and kept pushing and pushing and the epidural ran out and the pain, oh my God. The pain. Thankfully they were able to refill it but then I couldn't feel to push, it was frustrating and the words c-section were whispered to me by the nurse. She didn't want me to be alarmed but thought that it was a very clear possibility and I should be aware. I didn't care, just get it out I thought. The drugs wore off again and when they checked me again and had me push there was all of a sudden a flurry of activity. The fluid was infected, I heard the word meconium. On top of that the baby still was not entirely engaged and was stuck, the heartrate was dropping, I wanted more drugs (the wanting of the drugs surprised me as I was all about natural all the way and working through the contractions. However Pitocin and Cervidil and Cytotec or more powerful and synthetic than I had anticipated), my mom was told to pack up my things and move our stuff to another room. Distractions, pain, confusion. I was left alone in the room for what seemed to be 5 minutes of hell when the anesethiaologist came in and I got out the words "c-section", and "drugs now" somehow between contractions. He told me he couldn't do anything without a doctor's orders. I told him to get the hell out of the room then, don't stand there and not help me asshole. Ouch. But hey I was in survival mode, half of my body was on the bed, half of it was off trying to bet my bearings and control myself, but clearly I wasn't able to do so. Confusion resumed, doctors and nurses, "we're taking you to the OR sweetie, you'll be fine".. the walls whooshed by, the medicine tingled down my back in the most amazing rush of pain relief I have ever felt. John was there in the room wearing scrubs, and I was shaking from head to toe. Shaking, uncontrollable shaking. Unaware that they had begun, I then heard the cries, the yelps of new life. I was so weak I asked if he had hair, all I wanted to know was did he have black hair? Something was wrong . Something about a knot, and how things could have been so much worse if it weren't for the c-section. They told John to follow them with the baby to the special care nursery. I was alone with just the nurses and doctors. No baby, no husband. Just the shakes. Was he okay, what's wrong? He had a true knot in his cord and it was wrapped around his neck, his head had been severely impacted in the birth canal and his blood sugar was low, they had to get him on an IV, but it's okay, he's fine. He's a big healthy boy they said. This kind of "complication" as normal for babies born through traumatic deliveries. I remember thinking but aren't all births traumatic! I digress

It was after 8pm now and I was sent to "recovery" which was essentially a hallway by a desk where Dr. F dictated the labor and delivery. My blood pressure was monitored as it was wacky and all over the place. A young nursing student came to clean me up and I kept apologizing to her that she had to see such a sight. A nurse from the special care nursery came rushing in with digital pictures of Luke to show me, it was the sweetest thing. She was so happy and excited as if he was part of her family, she told me all of the details, how he looked, that he was fine but had an IV in and promised me that on my way back to my room I would get to hold him. She cried with me both tears of happiness and tears of understanding that after all this waiting I still couldn't see him. She had to get back to him though so I let her go. John arrived next. He was so full of pride and joy and love. All I could do was lay there and shake. The shakes are apparently a side-effect of the drugs and I think nerves played a huge part as well. At about 11pm I was finally wheeled to the nursery to see my baby but alas they weren't able to bring him to me, I would have to wait a few more minutes. So we headed to our room where my mom was keeping watch and as I was wheeled through the door all she could say through tearful eyes is, "he's so beautiful, oh my God is he beautiful". The relief that it was over, that we were all okay was about to take its toll. A few moments later he was brought into the room, this beautiful boy with his arm in a splint and an IV bag was finally laid in my arms. I melted. I cried. I breathed and I stopped shaking.

My mom finally left after sitting with us from 9am. John held my head to his chest and the three of us became a family. We had a wonderful experience in the hospital those next three days. I felt special and that Luke wasn't just another baby but was so special too.

I thought about all of these moments non-stop. I was completely distracted at work, unable to concentrate or focus on anything but the fact that all of that anticipation and longing, the wonderment of parenthood is now just old hat (well, semi-old hat, we're still new at this whole thing!). My baby weighs 28lbs, he stands up and says "tickle, tickle, tickle", he doesn't want to drink from a bottle anymore (which is good, he's such a master at self-weaning), and he's loosing some of his babyfat. I am completely saddened by all of this, even though it's all amazing and wonderful and we're entering the next phase of watching him grow and learn which is nothing short of fun and awe-inspiring. I still can't shake this feeling of mourning for his baby-ness. For those nights when he needed me, for that night-time cuddly bottle of warm mom and Luke time, those first smiles and all that came after that. My emotions are hovering at the surface with a new baby on the way and how this new one will change what we are. For the better of course. I hug Luke longer before he goes to bed now, clinging to him and him to me as if he knows we don't have much time left to be so selfish with him. I want to go back to those early days even though they were hard, they were so, so amazingly special. The reality is that I can't go back. I have work to do, meals to cook, games to play on the living room floor, books to read, laundry to fold, and thankfully a few more nights to rock my baby to sleep.

I often seem to think back to the past. About how great life was with my mom and dad, how romantic our honeymoon was, the excitement of painting our house and fixing it just so before we moved in...all of those moments are ingrained in me as I'm sure they are to everyone. These moments, so fleeting, so wonderful, so life-changing are just that. Fleeting. Enjoy them, relish every minute of them, learn from them and remember them. I hope that by getting this all out I won't feel so stuck in the past because right now, this entire week I have felt that way. I want to go back, but I have to go forward.

Home sweet home

We are about 4.5 months away from being a family of 4 in a tiny 2 bedroom, 1050 square foot house. We love our house, we love that a family friend basically gave it to us for a steal as she wanted it to be kept in "the family". We love the backyard, so big and green. We love our hardwood floors, the fireplace, and the coziness of it as a home.

We do however not really enjoy the neighbors and their enormous, rusty camper, ca. 1984. I had to call the cops on them this winter as they left their dog out one un-ending evening after another and I had had enough of the non-stop barking. It was freezing and the dog had been barking for 3+ hours. Then this spring after the snow melted they so lovely raked up all the limbs and clippings of our big oak tree that had fallen in their yard and walked it around to our backyard to dump it. Nice, eh. Great confrontation skills they have. We are also busting at the seams with toys and all things baby. We have no play area save for the living room floor, which renders our house never picked up, and a seemingly unorganized mess. We barely have enough cupboard space for Luke's bottles, how will we store the new baby's bottles and Luke's sippy cups? Yet we do feel a bit of guilt even looking to move on. A nun gave us this house. A nun! We didn't sign a binding contract that we would never sell the house, but there was this unspoken "take good care of it for me" conversation. The guilt. The Catholic guilt. Oh what to do.

Anyway, I found a house. On a street that I love, love, love. A little cul-de-sac, on an out of the way street yet still in our school district. It's lined with the cutest cottagey homes and this particular one has been on the market for some time. We have a call in to the realtor to see it hopefully sometime next week. If we can low-ball and sell ours for relatively reasonable (pipe-dream?) it's do-able. It has that side playroom room, 2 floors, 3 bedrooms and that extra half-bath that we currently are without. The floors are all hardwood too and the paint colors are very similar to ours. The best is there are no campers on the street! It's been updated throughout, so far it seems like we would just have to move in and maybe in the next few years upgrade the kitchen, but that's it.

Our other option is to add another bedroom and bath to our current house. Remodel the kitchen, add a deck/patio, and somehow add a mudroom. Oh, and line our yard with tall hedges to fence us in and block our unsightly views. Let's not forget that we also need to upgrade our drafty windows, replace the ugly doors, get new siding, and do some serious landscaping.

I know I'm jumping the gun a bit here, planning our future before we have all the facts. John's being very cautious, which I think is boring! It's time to take a bit of a risk, it might pay off, but I know I should let my feet touch the ground a tad before my dreams are shattered and our views of the snotty dogs and rusty camper live on far longer than I anticipated.

*sigh* The life of a dreamer.