I’ve never minded having tiny feet. I actually liked saying I wear 6.5 and was quite proud of myself when I found little girl shoes that fit when I frantically searched for patent leather Mary Jane’s one Halloween. However, baby Moses must not like my shoe size because he/she is hell bent on making me at least at 7.5 until arrival.
The fact that the swelling alone fits that size is enough for me to go barefoot for the next two months than try to squeeze them into my already established shoe collection.
Don’t even get me started on the previous body part I used to call my ankles. We’ll see how big those get in the coming weeks.
I want to thank you for giving me the greatest job I’ll ever have. Being your mom.
This past mother’s day I stepped back from the numerous Facebook posts from friends who had elaborate breakfasts in bed to spa days and just watched my little baby, who isn’t a little baby anymore. I watched him play with his tool bench, I watched him read his books, I watched him run around the park and climb up and down stairs. i just watched in amazement of how much he’s become a little boy.
You have grown up so much in your short 20 months and each day I can see more and more of your personality peaking through. Your stubborn streak when you refuse to listen or eat dinner without throwing a fit. I hate to say but I think some of that stubbornness comes from me. Or your sneakiness when you think we aren’t looking and grab another cookie. You think we can’t see you if you turn your head but we can. Or my favorite trait of all, your sweet and lovingness towards your daddy and me. You are so so excited when we pick you up from daycare and you give the tightest goodnight hugs and sweetest kisses before snuggling with your Elmo stuffed animal. Even if you don’t say ‘love you’ on a regular basis, just hearing it once in awhile is worth it.
You are an amazing little boy and I can’t wait for you to be an amazing big brother. You will always be my first and I know we have such a special bond. Thank you, thank you, thank you for letting me be your mom.
I love you so much P-Pod! I’ll take your popsicle stick picture frame any day over a heart shaped pancake.
Thank you for making my adorable 20-month-old a little less messy and rough around the edges. Peyton was in definite need of another haircut and me trying to get around his ears wasn’t happening. I cut the back during a Little Einsteins episode but that was as close as I was getting to his head with a sharp, pointy object. I’m sure he appreciated that.
From the front, my little boy now looks like a little boy. A little too old for a mother who’s not ready to accept that I can’t call him a baby anymore but should say toddler, but it still looks good.
However, after further inspecting his hair when I got home, I noticed the side and back didn’t look quite right. ‘Don’t cut it too short,” I said. It didn’t resonate with the stylist because I’m pretty sure the hair should at least reach down to the bottom of the ears. But she’s the professional, right?
Thanks again pigtails and crewcuts. Peyton loves your train table but you probably won’t be getting our business again. We’ll just bring one of his trains to the next salon.
I miss you! I know our love affair doesn’t have the same shelf life as say my love affair for Neutrogena chapstick but it doesn’t mean it isn’t strong. I know we didn’t start out as friends, as evident by a spitting incident in Miami during spring break circa 2003, but we’ve come a long way. Hubs helped me discover that rice wrapped in seaweed can taste good. Who would have thought? Then I even got brave and order said rice with crab, shrimp, etc. Nothing too fancy though. I’m a simple girl when it comes to my dinner from the sea. So long story short. July 11 can’t come soon enough. I will take that epidural shot with a California and shrimp roll on the side please!
I should have known after waking up every hour the night before, the day wasn’t going to be in my favor. Some days are harder than others as a parent, who works full time and is six months pregnant with number two but today seemed to be against me from 4:30 a.m. Hubs is out of town for work so anytime I’m flying solo it’s more of a challenge. These days always remind me how blessed I am to parent with a partner. Single parents are my heroes. I would like to give each of them a hug. I don’t know how they do it all.
From having to pin Peyton down to get him dressed this morning, to screaming in my ear getting in the car seat, to having my debit card declined buying breakfast, to fraudulent charges on hubs debit card, to angry emails from clients, to a six hour process palooza at work, to many arguments among co-workers during that six hours, to a number of round ligament pains that felt like someone was punching me in the stomach, to Peyton breaking a lamp in his room, to a leaking humidifier, to a puddle of water on the bathroom floor that Peyton slipped on and to more screaming in my ear while trying to put a diaper on. I’m sure I’m missing some other elements that made today an epic fail but I’m exhausted.
Instead of job searching tonight, I’m headed to bed early and hoping 4:30 a.m. doesn’t rear its ugly head on Wednesday. But if it does hubs will be home by midnight so maybe the screaming will be in his ear instead of mine.
I’ve written to you countless times in my head and then deleted every last word over the last two years. I felt from the beginning in 2011 that I should express what is going on with my growing belly in word format both to get my fill of writing and also to keep family and friends up-to-date on the newest member of my little family. But I never pulled the trigger, I never put those words on paper, or online.
Here I sit, two years later thinking the same thing, but this time I’m actually typing my thoughts instead of replaying this first entry in my head over and over again. I’m sitting here with an expanding belly again and it seems like I have a lot more to say. There’s a little person running around my four-bedroom suburban house who provides days of stories that can be written.
Then I have another little one bursting at the seams, my maternity seams, that is. In just a few months my happy family of three will be expanding again and I can’t wait. Are you ready for two? Hell no. But I am ready for the unexpected journey that is to come and if I can love another little one as much as I do his/her brother and my hubs I can’t wait.
So here it is. The first entry. There’s no turning back now. I’ve been staring at this blog with no post for weeks and decided it was time for a change.
Are you ready for this? Probably not. But at least I can fill it up with pictures of the sweetest little 19-month-old if I run out of things to say, which my hubs would agree is highly unlikely.