Loss

When I updated my blog last week, for the first time in a year, I mentioned that it had been a long and trying year.  It was.  It has been.  It's been like just like I said that elevator ride looks like, up and down and sideways.  There have been so many things going on that it's hard to know where to start and how to discuss them with people.

In truth, I'm a very private person.  Which makes the fact that I enjoy writing a blog an interesting thing.  Although not too many people read it, and even fewer people comment on it, so that gives me a certain level of anonymity.  But I think there are times for privacy and times for commentary and times to just get something down so that it can help you heal.  And I think, for me, today is one of those days.  I don't know if writing this will help me heal, but that's what I'm hoping.

You see, over 2 years ago, Josh and I decided that we would start trying for baby number 2.  We didn't think that it would take that long to accomplish or be too difficult, after all, it wasn't that hard the first time around.  Of course, that first time around was a completely different thing.  We were younger, healthier, more energetic. This time we were older, I was scarred (unbeknownst to me), and definitely more tired.  I don't know if Josh was more tired, but I was more tired.  So, our quick turn around turned into month after month of waiting and watching and hoping and praying.

Every morning before work I would get up early, go out and walk the dog and use it as my prayer time.  I would thank God for the wonderful life that He has given me, be thankful for my blessings because there are many and ask him for what I wanted the most in the world.  Another child.  I would try and be accepting that if it didn't happen it wasn't supposed to happen.  I have a beautiful, healthy, loving, and so smart little girl.  I was trying to remember that just because I wanted another baby that I was blessed with having a child and that's something that not everyone gets.  No matter how long it was taking, I had that consolation.  I was already a mother.

This past summer I had two surgical procedures.  It seems that there may or may not have been scar tissue formed following the complications I had with Lexy's delivery.  Nothing that was done was to help me get pregnant or make me pregnant, it was more to make sure everything was working the way it was supposed to.  As I said, I've gotten older and with all those complications there was a theory that things just might not be working in the right way.

In September I had my prayers answered.  I had a positive (or three positive) pregnancy tests.  It was 3 days before my birthday.  My early birthday gift.  I know.  You're doing the math.  I'm 25 weeks pregnant now and I was pregnant in September.  The math doesn't work.  The math doesn't work because the morning of my 35th birthday I got up a tad early, settled in for a cup of coffee and had my life turn upside down.  I lost my child before I even had a chance to get to know her.  Josh sat with me and held my hand while I cried my heart out in the downstairs bathroom.  When my mother called to wish me a happy birthday and wanted to know why I sounded so down, I told her I was having a miscarriage.  She replied "I didn't even know you were pregnant".  It was so soon.  And so fast.

But it was my person.  My gift from God, my baby, my little life to grow and care for and nourish.  And somewhere in those first few days something went wrong and I lost her.  I don't know why people use that word.  Lost.  I know what happened.  She's not lost.  She went back home to heaven to be where she belongs.  After all, I know that she was just being loaned to me.  But there is that sense of loss.  That you don't know where to go or what to do or where to get support.  I told 3 or 4 of my closest friends.  Some understood, some called to check on me and some just checked out.  I don't blame anyone for not knowing what to say or do.  It wasn't as if I had a child I was able to hold in my hands drift away from me.  I didn't get to see her eye color or know if she was going to be left or right handed.  In some ways I know that it's difficult for people to understand the feelings around a miscarriage because for a lot of people those little bits of cells and DNA are just that.  Those people are not mothers.  They have never had a person grow inside them.  Never felt a baby stretch and kick.  Never had the joy of knowing that you have helped bring a new soul into the world and that God has put this soul into your hands and your hearts and has given you a level of trust that so many of us fight to return. 

It took me 2 weeks to recover physically from losing my little one.  I'm still recovering in my heart.  Some days I feel good and I know that I wouldn't have this little one that I'm working with right now if I hadn't gone through what I did.  But there are many more days that I wonder what she would have looked like.  Would she have loved to read the way her big sister does, or would she have been her daddy's tennis star.  I wonder what happened to cause it?  Was there something I could have done differently, could I have prepared my body in a better way.  I know that they're not logical but it's what I think.

And for this reason I will never as another couple when they are planning on having children.  Or if there are going to be any other children.  You never know if they want a bigger family.  If they're trying to have the first one.  If they've already had and lost someone that is precious to them in ways that it's hard for someone who has never gone through it to understand.  And if you ask them or question them about it, it causes more of a wound.  

I learned so much from my little person.  I just wish that I could know what color her eyes were going to be.  And I wish that I could let her know how much she was wanted and loved and that she will always be my second child.    

Growing My Human

*clarification*  This is not my human.

I am 24 weeks in this journey of growing a person.  I don't think of this as having a baby.  I truly think of it as growing a human.  It may sound strange, but that is after all what we mothers do.  We grow humans.  It sounds a little more complex than "having a baby".  Anyone can "have a baby".  It takes a real woman to "grow a human".  Obviously, I think that growing a human is more than getting pregnant, waiting 9 months (which is really 10, but I'll get into that later) and then heading off to the hospital for drugs and surgery and wham-o, there's a baby.  Growing a human is about taking your vitamins, exercising, getting enough sleep, using lotion to prevent stretch marks (seriously, that's an important one), going to your doctors appointments, getting your testing done... it seems to go on and on.  Therefore, I say, it takes a woman to grow a human.

Yesterday was my 24 week appointment.  I'm still in that stage where you go in for your checkups every 4 weeks.  Although, with this pregnancy there have been so many extra visits and blood tests and phone calls in between these 4 week checkups that I feel like the ob office should have me on speed dial.  You see, I'm old.  I'll admit it.  I am no longer a spring chicken.  (Do people say spring chicken in relation to age because spring chickens lay more eggs and older women have a harder time growing their humans just like older chickens don't lay as many or any eggs?  Hmmm, I never really thought about that before.)  I am 35 (yipes) and have reached that magic number where everything that revolves around age and pregnancy flips me automatically into "high risk pregnancy" category.  Strike 1.  I don't feel old.  In fact, there are quite a few days where I don't feel like I have much more than the mental capacity of a 14 year old.  (I pick 14 because my mother likes to tell me that when I was 14 I was the world's worst person... and she was right.  Hormones, high school, new friends, just having parents.  It was not pretty.  Sorry, Mom).  

While I have the mental capacity of a 14 year old and sometimes feel like the comprehension skills of a 14 year old, it should be known that because Lexy was born prematurely that I am, again, automatically flipped over into that "high risk pregnancy" category again.  Strike 2.  The doctors told me that her delivery and the complications surrounding it were a one in a million type of deal.  But, when I became pregnant this go round, they were nice enough to tell me that what happened before could happen again (in 10% of the cases).  And that because I have had one premature child that there is a good chance that every child I have will be born prematurely.  Gee, thanks for telling me that before people.  I mean, if I hit the 1 in a million lottery, maybe I'll fall neatly into the 10%.

And, the kicker.  There's that whole rH negative fiasco.  I'm not sure as to all the medical interactions and terminology, but basically I have a negative blood type, Josh has a positive blood type and when the two mix, if there is any blood crossing over to the baby my body could possibly reject the baby thinking that it's a foreign entity.  Strike 3.  I have plenty of rH antigens floating around in my blood stream to make more go from high risk to, as my doctor put it, even HIGHER risk.  I had a lot of spotting early on and for about 3 months with this kid.  Blood potentially crossing over to the baby.  And there were other complications.  I mean, geez.  If this kid wasn't trying to break severely of my ribs on the right side of my body on a regular basis, I'm not sure I would be thinking that this was an actual pregnancy and not just some figment of my imagination.

So, fast forward to 24 weeks.  6 months along (which is really 5 months because you don't really count those first 4 weeks or something).  Counting the months is confusing for me.  I'm not sure how they get 9 months from a 40 week pregnancy.  This appointment seems a bit silly.  Listen for the heartbeat, see how much weight mommy has gained, chat with the doctor.  Only this time my doctor measured my growing soccer ball of a stomach.  And I'm small.  Who knew that carrying small could be a problem?  Apparently, my doctor does, which is a good thing.  But, I don't feel small.  I mean, I feel like I'm walking around with that soccer ball with that feisty Barbie stuffed into it.  But, I guess that I am actually small.  And that could mean that on top of everything else that this little person has been through, it could be underweight.  After all my exercise, watching my diet to eat healthy food and fish and not limiting my chocolate intake, resting and all the other things I'm supposed to do, my little person, the one I feel like I'm working very hard at doing a good job to grow, may be a tinier than normal tiny person.  

Tomorrow is my 9 year anniversary.  I'm off to have more tests.  An ultrasound this time, just to make sure the weight is on track and that this little soul is growing in all the right ways.  I suppose that's a good anniversary gift, getting to see your baby.  I think I'll look at it that way.  My anniversary gift is getting to see my growing human.

But, geez, can't a person get a break.   

My Soccer Ball

I mentioned in my last post that Josh, Lexy and I are expecting the next addition to our family come summer.  When I was pregnant with Lexy I found a website that sends a weekly email describing the babies development and growth and how the mother's body has changed in the past week.  I've signed up again for that email with this baby, mainly because I think it's kind of neat to hear that my baby is blinking, or her toenails have grown in, or she has hair all over her body and looks like a Wookie.

This past week I read that at 24 weeks pregnant my uterus is the size of a soccer ball.  A soccer ball.  Now, I played soccer for 10 plus years growing up.  I know the size of a soccer ball.  I also know that the older and larger the person playing, the larger the ball gets... so, what I'm wondering is, which size soccer ball am I supposedly carrying a human being around in?  I actually considered finding an old soccer ball, asking Josh to cut it in half and stuffing a Barbie doll into it, just so I could have a better visual on this whole thing.  In fact, I may just do that... it does sound like an interesting way to spend an hour.  And then there would be photographic evidence of this size to body ratio.  I could talk a neighbor into stuffing it under their shirt and getting even more proof of this soccer ball phenomenon.  What would be even more interesting would be if I could get Josh to model it.

The soccer ball comparison is sort of fitting in my case.  This child likes to punch and kick.  Hard.  In fact it kicked the nurse 3 times on my last appointment while she was trying to find the heartbeat.  If anything, it's cemented the idea that this child is treating my insides as if in preparation for the upcoming summer Olympics. I have no problem with the child being a soccer player.  Josh would prefer volleyball or tennis, but for me there is no way any child of mine will be wearing the uniforms that come with that volleyball thing, and according to Lexy there is no real way to get a tennis racket inside my tummy.  Although, she does seem to think that getting books in there to entertain the kid is doable, even if she can't quite figure out how to make it happen.  Oh, and a blanket.  She thinks the baby needs a blanket just in case it's cold in there.  After all, the baby is naked and there's no way to get pajamas on it right now, either.

The funny thing is that this same email that told me about the soccer ball said that my baby is approximately the size of an ear of corn.  I will never look at corn again in the same way.  In fact, this baby has been compared to an apple, an orange, a grapefruit, and other various fruits and vegetables over the last few months.  I don't know if this is supposed to motivate me to eat healthier or to avoid these vitamin and mineral packed health foods because they remind me of a growing human.  I get that most people won't think, oh that's half a ruler or, okay, that's the size of my shoe... but really?  A grapefruit?  There's no way that a fetus is round and pockmarked.  At least I hope not.  That would be a good deterrent to unwanted pregnancy.  "Miss, did you know that at 15 weeks your child looks like a hopeless pockmarked grapefruit with enough downy hair on it to pass for a baby Wookie?"  On second thought, maybe they should stick to the food references.  

Well, my soccer ball, ear of corn and I are going to head off for some much needed rest.  We have a big day tomorrow of rearranging our attic to try and sort out some things to sell at an upcoming yard sale.  The life of a stay-at-home mom is getting more entertaining by the day.  I'll keep you posted.

Summer Wanderings

In the last 2 weeks I have had 4 of my readers ask me where the heck I've been. I didn't know you cared. Okay. Since most of you are my friends or new friends, yes, I knew that you cared. I just haven't been around to sit down and write anything. It's been one of those summers that on the days I'm not working outside the home I've been working inside the home, having guests, traveling to the grandparents respective homes and just cleaning my house and getting the errands done. It seems like there have been more and more things to do, but it probably just seems that way because I haven't been here on many of my days off recently to keep up with everything. But. I think things are settling. We'll see. We have a vacation planned in September and that will probably throw things off again.

So, to update you a little on a few of the things that we've been doing this summer, enjoy the following:





This is our neighbor, Thomas. Lexy is somewhat in like with him. She is always beyond excited to see him, and he always hugs her and gives her the best toys. I'm still more than a little concerned.






I had completely forgotten how much fun puddle walks can be. We've had a few rainy days where if I didn't get the kid outside to burn off some of that energy I may have run out in the middle of a hurricane to escape the amount of toys on the floor. Hence, the puddle walks and the cleaning of mud off of clothes, shoes, legs, and from up the shorts (mine not hers) after particularly well aimed and monster stomped splashes.



This pool is one of the most awesome gifts that we've received. The whale is a sprinkler, which I would think most kids would love but Lexy hates. But, as you can see, she loves the whale. Oh. And the pool is more than big enough for me to get in with her. Which I have. On many occassions.



I'm not sure what to say about this one. Evenings have become creative in our household.







And Lexy's first carousel ride. She held on so tight with both hands I could see white knuckles. She had a stone face the whole way around the entire ride. She was busy watching the other kids to see what they would do. And when it was done? She came racing over to me, slammed into my legs and proceeded to tell me how much she loved it. Who knew white knuckles and no smiles translated into pure enjoyment.

I'll try and update a little more in the next couple of days. But my house is clean. And mostly organized. It still amazes me, too. And I plan on keeping it that way even if it means being more OCD than I thought I could get. So, forgive me if I'm not back to the everyday posting.

Thanks for missing me.

C-

Molars

Hi, Friend-lies.

It appears that my sleepless night last week wasn't due to the cold that I thought Lexy was getting, but in fact those nasty 2 year old molars. I broke down after 6 days of low grade fever, runny nose and cough and took the kid to the doctor on Memorial Day. God bless my doctors office for being open on a holiday. Seeing as I work on the next day it made me feel so much better to take her in myself and not send her with my mom. Lexy was great with the doctor, other than she wouldn't open her mouth to get anything more than a glance at those evil teeth making their way in. Needless to say, runny nose and cough are all allergy related (yea Lexy for inheriting my allergies and not Josh's stong immune system) and the fever and general blah-ness around her nap time and all evening = large pointy things shoving their way into my babies mouth. Bad teeth. Bad bad teeth.

But. When lovingly medicated with Tylenol Generic or Motrin Generic, the kid is 100% normal. And even without it she is still pretty darn great. I've got a good one and I know it. So. There was a slight hiatus from posting and hardly any time spent of Facebook for the last few days and it was really nice. I finished 2 books, lovely light summer reads and have moved on to the third. Read Karen White for free, fun, enjoyment, and some easy reading to move yourself aside for a little bit. And enjoy these. This is my light, ease, fun, and enjoyment.



(yes, this one is a little older, but I just uploaded it and it is flippin' cute, okay?)











By the way, we did that about 30 times. After running in a big circle around the front yard (through the sprinkler). Why is it I don't have a better waistline and better looking arms?

Love to you all. Splash!

C-

The Big Event

Dear Friends,

The shower to end all showers. 32 invitations. 35 shower favors in the shape of adorable teapots all individaully wrapped (they came that way, okay?). The most beautiful cake made for 90. Amazing flower arrangements. More food than is decent for one event. 15 people actually showing up. 5 having the decency to RSVP = Priceless.

That's right. I had 17 people NOT rsvp to the event. I planned on and ordered for 28 - 30 based on the lack of rsvp-ing. We had 15 guests. Not that the people who came didn't have fun, a ton of food, amazing drinks, great games to play and prizes to win, cute and keepable favors to take home... but, really. 15 people? Whatever happened to people rsvp-ing to a formal event? I know that these ladies weren't all raised by those without any lessons from Miss Manners. In fact, I know some of them and they all seem like the kind that would have the courtesy to respond to an event that would cost the hostess a few hundred dollars to pull off.

But I digress. Shower photos. Proof that the event occured and for those in attendence, a raving success (at least in my mind). Visual evidence. Here we go.

The Bride. Tall Willowy Blonde, aka Lindsay. Gorgeous and amazing as always!



The flowers. I have to admit, these were even prettier in person and I am SO glad that I had this idea. They were the perfect added touch to the event. So special!



The table. With food for 90. I'm not kidding. I'm still eating leftovers for lunch. This isnt even a quarter of the food. This was only the second wave of food arriving on the table. There was more cold hors deourves and plenty of hot apps coming in the next surge.



Ah. Speaking of food. The cake. Amazing, isn't it. Yes, I photographed it in the box, just in case it got dropped on the way to the table. And just in case it got fingerprints on it after it came out of the box. I almost cried when they cut it. It was stellar.



The favors. Hopefully they will be ones that people keep and don't toss immediately upon arriving home.



And this one.
This one I just love.

Celebration

April 26, 2003. Tonight we celebrate. What was the happiest day of my life to that point. The beauty of being with our family and our loved ones. Pledging to each other that we were a new family, together. Before each other and before God. And, gosh, I love that dress.

I *Heart* Dyson

Dear Friends,

I would like to introduce you to Finnian Hickey. Better known as Finn. Or Finny. Or, to Lexy, Inny. Finn is my fur-baby, the test run, the guinea pig, the company for me when Josh works and travels, and the most hyperactive bouncy dog you have ever met in your entire life. About 4 years ago after a few years of marriage, since I hadn't killed Josh with my housekeeping or cooking, I decided it was time for the dog. Josh agreed, we decided on a beagle and I was starting the search for the perfect pet for our little family. And then. The bombshell. Josh changed his mind and decided that he did NOT want a pet. One of his friends had told him that beagles were noisy and he figured that would be a bad thing in the long run. I'm not sure if there was any other thinking behind it, but that was his final say.

My final say revolved around being crushed for about 2 days and then taking a trip to the local shelter. There was Finn. Available for adoption the following day. I called Josh at work and told him that I found a dog I wanted and it was only part-beagle so the noise factor wouldn't be a problem. I told him the dog was small, tri-color, and about a year old. I told him that the dog went up for adoption the following day and I was going to head back to the shelter and adopt the dog. Final say. We got a dog.

Finn has been an adventure. He hates Golden Retrievers, he's always hungry, he sheds like nobodys business, he loves to run outside and can walk for miles without slowing down. He also likes to sit on the back of my expensive and beautiful living room sofa so he can be in the sun and see out the window at the same time. But most of all, he sheds. I can brush him everyday and still pull fist fulls of fur off of him, no exaggeration. It is seriously annoying. There is fur on EVERYTHING.

But, we love the silly dog and Lexy thinks he's great so it's all forgiven. And, as it turns out, Finn is a purebred American Rat Terrior. We ended up getting a purebred dog from the shelter. Gotta love it.

A few months ago I was given one of the best gifts anyone obsessive about dog fur could get. A Dyson Animal. It's BEAUTIFUL. It's purple and light, it has crazy attachments that I actually use, it sucks up everything and then some off the floor. It is the most amazing house cleaning piece of equipment ever made. I want to marry my Dyson. Or, at the very least, I want to make out with it. It makes vacuuming fun. I know, you think I'm crazy. I am crazy. About my Dyson. It changed my life. Not that there was anything wrong with the 30 pound 10 year old Hoover that I had before. In fact, instead of getting rid of it Josh actually decided to keep it for his personal use in the garage. What you vacuum in a garage I don't really know, but he has his space and I have mine. So, we kept the 50 pound Hoover.

2 days ago, I came home from work to find Josh already home. He was lucky enough to have a half day and got off early to come home to watch the Orioles game. Had a half day, took a half day. Who knows. I told you he LOVES baseball. And there was my Dyson, my gorgeous, life changing Dyson, sitting outside on the screened in porch. The screened in porch that was previously covered with cobwebs, dead bugs, pollen lots and lots of pollen and lots and lots of fur. See, when I groom the pooch, I take him onto the porch. So the birds (and the outdoor carpeting) can have the fur. It was a tad messy from the winter and hadn't been cleaned for the spring yet. Until 2 days ago. When Josh took my Dyson (not the 85 pound Hoover that he kept to use OUTDOORS) and cleaned the porch. I spent the evening taking apart the Dyson to make sure that all the pollen it sucked up, and man did it suck up pollen, was cleaned out of it and that it had clean filters and looked brand new like it did before it was stolen out of my loving hands.

The porch is covered with pollen again.

Co-Parenting

Dear Friends,

Yesterday was a "Nana Day". These are the days that I pack up Lexy, her favorite softies Giraffe and Puppy (creative names, aren't they. Would it be better if I told you the Giraffe was named Puppy and the Puppy was named Giraffe? Not true, but better?), and anything else that she feels is necessary to bring with her and we make the .4 mile drive to my parents house. Nana Days are the days I pack up my handbag, my lunch and water and head off to my part-time 3 day a week job where I try to do full-time work. Sometimes I'm successful, sometimes I'm not. But for each of those work days there is a Nana Day for Lexy.

I call them Nana Days because there are a lot of these days where I feel like I'm co-parenting with my mother and not my husband. I separate the Mommy Days when I get to stay home and be a Stay At Home Mom from the days that I drop Lexy off and wave from the car on my way to the office via Starbucks. Lexy knows the Nana Days from the Mommy Days when I wake her up in the morning. She knows that when I wear scrubs she visits her grandmother. She knows when I have to wake her up in the morning she visits her grandmother. And she absolutely LOVES her Nana Days. I can't say I love them as much as she does, but I love that she has such an amazing relationship with her grandmother.

My mother has more toys at her house than I do. I think she has more toys than the Target or the local Toys-R-Us. And she has more children's books than Borders or Amazon.com. I'm not exactly sure where she's picked all these things up, but her house is like a nursery school mixed with a library combined with the local playground. Lexy gets to have tea parties, draw on her easel, read any book she can get her hands on, play on a slide or swing, or get sandy in her sand/water table. It's like heaven for little children.

My mom does an amazing job with Lexy. She makes her say "please" and "thank you". She has to wash her hands before she eats. There are no tantrums without time-outs, and for Lexy the threat of a time-out usually prevents any tantrum. She has to put away one toy before she can play with another. She can only watch Elmo if she eats most of her lunch and then she can watch a video while she finishes her food. It's a little like watching her raise me, which is a little surreal. I have to admit that it's strange seeing your mother parent your child without your being ill or incapacitated in some way.

I had completely different ideas of how my life was going to be when I had kids, but one of our "readers" and my new friend Kathie commented on a previous post saying that as a mother she's learned that she eats her nevers all the time. Thanks for the lesson, Kathie. It is so true! I am getting that one everyday. I always thought that I'd be a full-time say at home mom and here I am working part-time, I never expected it. I always knew I would be the primary care-giver for my daughter in every sense of the term. Now I feel like I share a bulk of that role and it's difficult on some days.

I know how lucky I am to be able to work part-time and that I don't have to work full-time in an economy like the one we have. I know how blessed I am that I can have my daughter stay with family instead of being dropped off at a day-care where the teachers and kids rotate in and out (no offense to anyone that works at a day-care. I worked day-care for years when I was in school and I loved my kids. I have hundreds of pictures of my kids from those summers, but they were summers and there was a high turn over of staff). I understand that I obtained my values from my parents and I am attempting to share those values with Lexy and it's amazing that she can also learn them directly from my parents. I know the value of my mother caring for Lexy in a financial sense as well. It makes living where we do and having the neighborhood and community that we do possible.

I also know that 3 days of the week are 3 of the hardest days that I have. I don't know how full-time working mom's do it. All I can say is that I have SO much respect for any mother that wants to work full-time/has to work full-time and can somehow manage to parent their children as well. I know how hard it is to combine caring for a child, caring for a home, and caring for your relationships with others and yourself all at the same time. I'm not sure how we women can have SO many balls in the air, but we do it. I have so many days where I have to choose which of my 35 balls falls to the floor so I can have a few minutes to sit and breathe. I often have days where I forget the breathing part all together. Yesterday was one of those days. One of the staff, and a friend of my families for 30 years was missing from our office because her husband is in the hospital having had another heart attack. I'm not sure of how he's doing at this moment, but I am praying for a return to health. I worked late yesterday. I spent 3 hours of the whole day with Lexy before her bedtime. She cried when I told her it was time to get ready for bed and told me that she wanted to "play with mommy some more", which I have to say almost made me cry, too. It's so difficult managing the aspect of working and being with her.

Lexy is sleeping. I have a little bit of time to be Carin before I become Mommy. Then I have to pack everything up and make today a Nana Day. I am trying to learn to love MY Nana Days. It takes village, right? Nana's village is one of a big heart, lots of books, Elmo, and a really fun playroom. Thanks, Nana.

Updates and updates and updates

Dear Friends,

Yesterday was, for me, a deep post. I don't mean to get all philosophical on you... or maybe I do. I loved my comments and my virtual hugs. It means a lot and made me smile which helped me get through an "Eeyore" day. I thought that today I would let you know some of the updates that have been going on around the household. Just to lighten things up a bit.

I am officially a baseball widow. MLB has started back with a vengeance and Josh is glued to the TV. Orioles are the only team... but he's happy to watch anything when it's on if there's no Orioles game. I love baseball. For our first, third, and fourth anniversaries we splurged on AWESOME seats to Baltimore Orioles games, booked great hotel rooms and spent long weekends in Baltimore. It was awesome. I love going to games. I read the sports page religiously. I follow my team. I CANNOT watch 162 baseball games a season. Not counting postseason, but the O's haven't been there in forever so I haven't had to worry about that part. And then there's all-star break. AAHHHHH!!!!! I am happy for my DVR so I can record my DWTS (Dancing with the Stars), Private Practice (Okay, guilty pleasure) or House Hunters and go and hide in the bedroom and watch something that I want to watch. Of course, I am the supportive wife and I totally will watch some of the games. Some of them. For about 15 minutes at a time. When I'm not writing. Or reading. Or surfing the web. Or breathing.

I am going to be the Aunt to a bouncing baby boy. That's right. The decision has been made. Little Ian Daniel is going to become a bigger part of the family come September (hopefully, all prayers gratefully accepted). Carol is doing well and I love the name. Daniel is the Josh and Matt's fathers name. love love love. I can't wait to buy some decorations for the baby's room. I hope they don't mind but I rock at decorating boy's rooms. Not doing so great with Lexy's, but maybe that's because she's mine and nothing is good enough for my daughter? But that makes it sound like anything would be okay for my nephew, and that's not right. hhmmm.... Yea! A nephew!!!

The invitations have arrived for Tall Willowy Blonde's bridal shower. Oh my goodness, they are SO SO SO cute!!! I love them. I'm trying to plan a color theme around them and am planning on heading out to the stores Thursday to check on cake, balloons, flowers... Now, if I only had games and shower gifts nailed down. I'm pondering, people, pondering. Anyone have a great game they want to share? Email me, please. Personal creative block aside, my MIL suggests that we play the "toilet paper bride" game. NO NO NO!!!

Lovely Jennifer is doing well with the 2 babes at home. Although her last FB status update was a little scary so some attention from me maybe in order. She sounds a little stressed and I can't imagine how hard it is to have 2 children to take care of. But, she's an amazing trooper and I know she's doing better than she thinks she is. I keep thinking I'm giving her space and time to settle in, but I'm headed down that way in the next 2 weeks. Jennifer, I hope you're reading this. Make preparations for my mother, myself, and Lexy to head down to you. We bring time for a shower, laundry, and a nap with us. Take full advantage of us, please.

The reader count is up to 9, which is one of the most thrilling things that has happened to me in a really long time. I was hoping to get to 10, so we'll see. I am so happy to see my friends on here and to have their love and support in my little venture into the world wide web. If anyone wants to guest post, let me know. I have NO idea how to actually do that, but would love to read what my friends have to say about their lives and the world in general. Shelley, this means you. And Chimmy, if you want? I drafted the post last night. What a wonderful surprise when I woke up this morning and found my number at 10! Thank you thank you. Now that I met that goal where do I go from here. 10 is after all my favorite number. Should I aim for 15 or 20? Do I even know that many people interested in reading my thoughts? Share with your friends and lets try and get to 15!

Lexy is still talking about Easter. She had one of the best days ever, at least she thinks so. I'm hearing about her Easter egg hunt, her friend she got to play with, and lasagna (which is pronounced "Anya" for those of you out of the 2 year old loop). Oh, and CANDY. Candy is a big one. She'd never had candy until Sunday and I think she's addicted. I'm not sure what to do about it, although I'm thinking it maybe a positive thing for taking away the pacifier and teaching the potty-training thing. Give a little bribe in the form of candy. No, I am SO not above bribing my daughter. Oh, speaking of the pacifier. Anyone have ANY suggestions on that one? She only gets it for nap and night time and I'm ready to take it away, she's getting way too attached and I want to nip it in the bud. It's been too long, but she gets such relaxation from it. Should I just take it and tell her it went "bye bye" or do it at bed time and then add in nap time later? Clean break I'm thinking. And just deal with the tears and the talking and no napping for a few days. Ugh, the joys of parenting.

On that note, my lovelies, I am off. I love you all and I hope you have a beautiful day full of blessings (and comments. I love love love my comments).

C-

Auntie Carin

Dear Friends,

I feel comfortable letting the world know "I am going to be an AUNTIE!!!" I am thrilled to announce that my brother-in-law Matt and his lovely and beautiful wife Carol are expecting their first child. I am beyond excited. I have never been an auntie before, and as much as I like to claim Jennifer's boys as my own, they aren't technically related until Adam marries Lexy... or Todd marries Lexy (after all, the heir and the spare, right? Now she gets a choice... sorry, Adam), so, now I get to be an AUNTIE. I also feel comfortable letting everyone know that I was pregnant in this picture and the dress that was supposed to have been altered when I bought it totally didn't need to be and my face is totally "pregnant pudgy". But, enough about me and my self-concious weight issues.

I have one Aunt. She lives in Michigan and I don't really know her very well. Due to the distance I can't say that I'm very close with my family there, but I love her and my family and it's more than some can say to say that I have an aunt and an uncle. But, Matt and Carol and little baby matt/carol live in North Carolina and I plan on being as active as I possibly can considering we are approximately 10 hours by car. I'm hoping that we can bridge that gap with letters and emails and calls. I am hoping that this will bring Carol and myself closer together as sisters.

Carol is going to be an amazing mother. She is a kind and gentle soul and so intelligent, not to mention a true Southern Belle. I mean, the girl was in the Peace Corps for goodness sakes. In Africa. She's awesome. Totally needs to write a book. She's had life experiences that most people only dream about. I remember a bridal shower that was thrown in her honor where she asked me "am I doing okay, am I talking enough?". The sweetie didn't want to be the center of attention and was SO nervous and was checking with me, Mrs. Stage Fright, to see how she was "doing". Of course, she was doing outstanding and I told her so. Carol, you rock. I can't wait to see you as a Mommy. No offense to Matt, but Carol is growing a human and from now on she officially wins any arguements and gets full credit for anything she does.

I have no idea how to be an Auntie, so if anyone has any advice please let me know. I know that there are grandmothers and aunts reading this, so I expect more than 1 suggestion. I want to be the kind of Aunt that gets phone calls for advice and that the kids want to run away from home to see. I cannot wait!!!

Oh, and the due date? 3 days before my birthday. Sorry, Carol, but I would love to share my birthday with my little niece/nephew... so aim for the 10th. It's the best day in the world other than Jesus' birthday. And yes, that is a "Carin-ism".