news

80 days ... and counting

as the day of my womb retirement grows closer i'm feeling a wierd mixture of relief, swiftly followed by a hefty dose of anxiety.

funny thing: when i was pregnant with levi i wasn't "nervous" at all -- no anxiety whatsoever. and i feel like i skipped over all the stereotypical first-time-mom characteristics. i was just so happy to have him here.

finally.

we just immediately fell into a happy, easy-going, co-existance.  granted, it didn't hurt that he was such a content and happy little baby and has continued to grace me with his good nature. but either way, i felt prepared to have him in my life.

so what is this pit of worry in the center of my bulging belly everytime i think about the impending arrival of our newest family member?  80 days, for sure, is not exactly a short time period. but considering the fact that levi snuck out of his comfy, gravity-free home 45 days early, i have to be open to meeting my daughter much sooner than my "your pregnancy, week by week" book tells me i'm going to.

i've pondered this source of discontent for many moons, and my best guess is this: i'm feeling oldest child guilt for my oldest child.  i'm about to displace him as the sole-heir to the center of my world. the one claimant to all my  personal time. the lone-occupier of my thoughts. my only child.

i had these feelings when i first got pregnant. i was SO happy to get the "2-pink-lines-pass-go", AND overcome with a feeling of guilt at the same time -- because my "free time" i used all up on him was already so limited. how could i cut it in half?

but then i got busy and distracted with the task of building a human. putting little pieces together here and there, day by day, and all the sordid side effects that go with constructing a new life. for months i've gotten a star on my chore chart just for waking up. 2 stars if i also walk around. survival is the goal. leaving no room at the inn for any other thoughts or feelings...for awhile. 

but now, every morning at 6:30 when those chubby feet pound running across wood floors from his room to mine, it creeps in.  we have a requsite tradition of staying in my bed until at least 7am. we cuddle, we sing, we count, we talk about potential "policemen" or "motorcyles" that may be driving by and where they are going -- or whatever other current affair we feel like discussing.  all the while the empty baby crib sits in my eye's view, and makes me wonder how long these precious mornings can last. i mean, what if she's the type that wants to start eating and living the moment her eyes are open? what if she feels like lounging on pillows and comforters acknowledging every plane that flys overhead is a waste of one's life? 

and then the worry pit widens. and i can barely make it through "popcorn popping" without letting out the lump in my throat.

i know, i know.  it all sounds so selfish and whiney for someone who so desperately and ardiously worked to become pregnant.  and the "dis" of sorts to my unborn baby is not lost on me. i can only explain it by saying that what dr. christine herman from my pregnancy book said, "pregnancy is one of the three periods in a woman's life when there seems to be a lowering of the ability to cope with the emotional experiences of life..."

see? it's totally out of my doing.

thousands and thousands of people do it every day. have additional children i mean. and they seem to really LIKE it. even, LOVE it. and i'm pretty sure i'll join that club sometime over the next 80 days. pretty positive. until then i'll just keep riding the waves of anxiety, understanding all along that it's probably just my "lowering ability to cope."

and, of course, i'll anxiously await every 6:30am we have left. innocent and unsuspecting as he is, he continues to charm me, like no little man ever has.

thank you note

dear mr. mcdonald,

i just wanted to write and say thank you for the hello kitty watches you've been supplying me with.  apparently, i can't get enough of them. 

just for your records, i once wore one three days straight -- even in the bathtub! they are just really the best. thanks again!

sincerely,
levi c. stewart

p.s. may i call you "ronald"?

princesses and knights

upon recovering, our first trip out of the house was to a birthday party for levi's friend olivia. the theme of the party was "princesses & knights" -- which was a double score for levi. 

thanks to gracie levi loves everything "princess" (we've already had the good fortune of princess gracie forgetting some of her princess necklaces at our house, and we've worn them to threads, but we're still on the verge of having to get our own "castle" playhouse.)

and thanks to backyardagains levi is infatuated with "knights". (many, many, can i say many enough times?,  times a day we sing, "we're knights that right!" and give eachother knuckles.)

so to be invited to an event that featured BOTH??  how many times does that happen in one's lifetime?!

we also had a "first" that day -- cotton candy.  at first he was a bit trepidatious about the fluffy goodness, but after lightly touching it with his tongue a few times he realized it's magical effects.

fortunately for levi and unfortunately for us there was a table with cone after cone of cotton candy just lined up, ready for the taking. i lost count of the number of cotton candys i saw him with.

he kept going out back to "jump in the blow-up castle" or "ride around the yard in the barbie car" but...i'd see him run through the back door, hands stuffed with pink cotton, mouth surrounded by dripping, sticky sugar.  some may say i should have put a stop to it. but...1. it was a party. 2. it was his first cotton candy mania. 3. i avoid public melt-downs like i wish i would have avoided the "plague of 09".

i tried to get my camera to show how his hives of cotton looked because it was so funny.  all over it were little holes the size of his tongue. once he figured out it would melt on his tongue, i don't think he ever put any significant amount in his mouth at once. just kept sticking his tongue in and letting it melt, and once it was covered with tongue holes, trading it in for a new one!

90 days!!

becoming victim of the "09 plague" caused us to miss our 100-day countdown milestone. i've taken it upon myself to rename the usual respitory infection/flu to the dazzling nomiker of "09 plague" (hey, we name hurricanes, right?) because EVERYONE has it.  i mean everyone. 

and on the off-off-super-off-chance that this is the first time you're hearing about the plague, then, 1. you're a freak of nature and should turn yourself into the CDC to be studied. and, 2. barricade yourself in your house until further notice. because this germ of all germs can't be beat.

but, just as our irish ancestors before us, we have survived the plague.  we are now on the "other side" of it.  or so it seems. or at least i hope.  as my sweaty, heavy head began to lift from the pillows i realized it had been 9 day, NINE days, since i had set even a toenail outside of my house. that has never happened before.  that's how serious this plague is.

and in case there is any wondering, having the plague is one thing, but being pregnant with the plague, well....that is entirely another scenario. 

as you see your friends and family and child recover a little more each day as they guzzle their medicinal soothers, and feel the joy of a z-pack on the back of their throats, while you, alone, drink water and take 2,000,000 burning baths. you can't help but feel...happy for them.  i'll just have to find my joy in entering the double-digits.