It's that time again

It wasn't until I had a few quiet seconds alone in my bathroom that the tears came. I've been tearing up on and off for a couple of days but this was the "real" cry. It's time for me to go back to work tomorrow. I can't even believe it. There have been good days and bad days. Great moments and moments I've struggled like never before. Two kids is no joke. There have been so many changes, "new normals" and new  responsibilities.  At times I found myself longing for the familiarity of work and the schedule my life had. Now, I want to turn back the clock. I want to go back and have one more day, one more week alone with this precious boy. Jake is sleeping now making his adorable little baby noises. It's amazing how much I will miss ... lost thought, had to take an Ashley break because she needs an additional blanket and still not asleep. Decided to cry her heart out for this beloved blanket that is at the bottom of a drawer that I am certain she has never used ... and this is my life. *sigh* 
For as many times I have said "yep, I'm ready to go back to work" the pit in my stomach says I'll never, ever be "ready". I know I will get used to this new schedule. I know he will adjust.  I have been running around getting my purse packed, moving all my stuff from the diaper bag to the purse I have not touched since going to the hospital. I've got my snacks and lunch packed. I spent time agonizing over what outfit to wear. Feels like the first day of school; butterflies and all. 
I know I've done this before but I am certain it never gets easier. I won't know exactly what he does all day. I won't be the one to scoop him up after his nap feeling his sweaty little baby head. I won't however miss the poop. I will never miss the poop... or for that matter not moving fast enough for this little man and getting pee'ed on. Yeeeeeah...little boys. 
It will be surreal tomorrow as I sit at my desk...my mind rusty; but clear. I will miss my little boy; this precious little mini mister that God has blessed us with. As always time marches on; no regard for a mama's longing for it to slow down. Wish me luck tomorrow...wish us both luck tomorrow this is just the beginning of new things for him. 

To my sweet second child

To my sweet second born,
Life is different for you. You are not our "first" for many things when it comes to parenting. Your Dad and I left the hospital a day earlier than we did with your sister. We were confident and certain this time. I haven't cried during this maternity leave with the worry about day care. The first day of drop is inevitable and I guess I'll be ready. My heart will ache but I feel you and I are tougher already. You take naps with the TV blaring Mickey Mouse club and your sister screaming about something. You get rushed through your bath so I can get your sister to bed. Your feedings are hurried because something else needs to be tended to. You've been taken to Target, Publix, church and held by anyone who wants to hold you and you are only 8 weeks old. There won't be 1,000,362 pictures of just you. My sweet little second....you spend more time in the bouncy seat and the baby swing than you sister ever did. Even my time with you on maternity leave is shorter.
You and I didn't have the best start. My pregnancy was difficult. I spent two spells in the hospital due to dehydration and sickness. I took a leave of absence from work. I cried on the cold bathroom floor praying to God to make the sickness stop. I quietly cried in bed because I couldn't help with the house, dinner or spend time with your sister. When you were born it was quick and uneventful. Thank God. I sent your Dad home to be there for your sister when she woke up. You and I slept alone in the hospital.
Every thing is faster in your life. As you sit there wide eyed in your bouncy seat I am in awe of you. You take it all in stride. That's all you know I guess. You watch Ashley and smile...my heart melts. You stare up at me with all the confidence in the world...and my heart aches a little for you. You sweet, patient baby. This is your station in life, your birth order.
This quiet Sunday morning as your Dad and Ashley are off at Church...you sleep quietly in your swing content until your next feeding. I've put you on a schedule now to get you sleeping through the night. A sign the time is coming that we will be apart during our days. I've been more ambitious while we've been together; cleaning out cabinets, closets, and my head. Trying to find myself, my new self. The past months have been mentally grueling for me. I like to do everything, stay organized, be social and have been forced to put all my "self imposed musts" aside and sleep or rest or throw up. I'm not just a working wife any more, I'm not just a working mother of one who seemingly has everything balanced....I am a mom of two. Wow...that just sounds like a lot.
My little partner and my last born. You are the finale to pregnancy in my life. You will always be my baby. Ashley will rein as the only daughter and first born. But you, you complete us. As your sister has taught us so much...there is so much more to learn. I see that now.
During these last days we have together in sweatpants taking naps....I will hold you and be so thankful for everything at you are; everything you will be. Welcome to the Irwin circle; it won't always be easy but know that every step we will take will be together.
I love you sweet boy,
Your tearful Mommy

PS...for what it's worth, I am the oldest...big sisters can be a real pain. All I can say about that is good luck. You guys are stuck with each other....but I hope that's a gift your Dad and I have given to you both.

A whole lot'a shaking going on!

So, some of you that read this have been down this road before. Some of you might be considering taking the plunge. What I am referring to is a second child. We really thought we had it all figured out. We had a great first kid and thought one good turn deserves another...and so we opted to try again to get pregnant. It all worked out and after a very difficult pregnancy, our little Jake was born. NO ONE could have prepared us for this transition. I had heard it was hard but surely that was just "them". We could do it different and it wouldn't be so hard. HA. HA. HA. Although not so funny. This has been harder on so many levels...mostly humbling. Very humbling.
For starters....toddlers waiting at home for the new baby are like ticking time bombs. God should have placed a warning label on their foreheads when your bring your tiny bundle home. Our daughter, the apple of our eye, our world, our precious little pea....turned into a gremlin. No joke. A tantrum throwing, whiney, needy gremlin. Her little world was turned upside down and our parenting skills were getting a good thorough kick in the nuts. Everything we thought was right was suddenly not working and wrong. Awesome.
Secondly...sleep. I need it. Even a little bit of it. At night, when the baby cries, the toddler cries. Just when I think I will snuggle in for a little nap or a stretch of sleep...someone wakes up. WHY? WHY GOD WHY? I dream of renting a hotel room and just sleeping. My word has the bar been lowered for "dreams"!
Third...time. I have none. I mean for me that is. With one child there is a finish line. Nap time or bed time you know that time is now yours. Not any more. The other night, the baby was asleep, the toddler was off to bed...she inquired what I would be doing once she went to bed (like it's something exciting) I told her I would be showering and going to bed (lie). I stole away to my bathroom, shut the door with my phone and a piece of dark chocolate and played words with friends...GLORIOUS.
Finding a new normal:
A trip to the mall today quickly reminded me how out of mainstream I have become. After 9 months of maternity wear (which I will be burning very soon - buh bye!!!!!) and current sweatpants and t-shirt wardrobe...I have NO idea what is "in" right now. Let me just say I was very out of touch while underwear shopping today...it's been a while...and it was humbling. I am clearly getting old. Is it too much to ask for just cotton?! Enough about that... my point is, I am a new person. We are a new family and this is our new normal. The little gremlin is getting better. She's learning to share Mommy and taking turns. My husband and I are a stronger team. This is survival man and a good team mate and partner is crucial. This is a season of my life I will never forget and possibly long for when the kids are grown...ok maybe not this particular stage but you know what I mean.
It's quite hilarious how much I thought I knew vs. reality. My body is different. My mind is different (well, mostly gone). My heart is different. In the quiet moments of the late nights while I watch my precious baby, I'm amazed. With all the chaos, the pregnancy sickness, the tantrums, he is perfect. I glance around at the baby swing, the stuffed animals left after a session of "school", burp cloths and crayons and realize these moments are precious and perfect. Our little family of three has become a complete family of four and that couldn't be more precious and perfect.

My Letter Writing Campaign

I recently visited a friend whom I had not seen in a long time. With a little one and pregnant, I don't travel as much as I used to. The trip felt hurried and overly busy with all my commitments. Both the mini and I were sick and inevitably we were kind enough to share with our hosts. When it was time to leave, we were rushed by time, exhaustion and kid logistics. I spent some time on the plane thinking about all the things I didn't tell her. As mom's, we are all hurried, in "survival" mode and usually feeling a mix between exhaustion/frustration/confusion but mostly in desperate need of kind words from the heart. We would love to say our husbands fill that void all the time but the reality is when these types of words and feelings come from our girlfriends...fellow mom warriors...they can fill our souls to fight another day. 
When I got back I dutifully got my box of notecards out to pen a thank you card to my lovely hosts. I noted how great it was to see her and her family, we had a good time, etc...I also noted that I wished we had a chance at some quiet time together. Maybe then my mind would have cleared to give her the compliments I thought only in my head. This is the season of our lives. Young kids, hurried schedules, and overbooked days. Only then did it occur to me to send out a couple other quick notes. For me, there is nothing cooler than opening the mail box and finding something for me from someone I love. The general goods in the box are magazines, credit card ads and bills...bummer. However, when I run across a card, thank you note or an invite my little heart does a dance. So the same day I sent my thank you note, I sent two other cards out. I filled them with thank you's, I love you's and miss you's. It felt nice. 
In the evenings I scroll through FaceBook or Instagram and I feel "connected". Sadly, by "liking" someones status I check the box..."Oh look, I saw your cool event and was happy for you".  Ok yeah, that is NOT connecting. I wonder why at times I am left feeling empty, left out or jealous. Well it's because, I haven't actually talked to 95% of those people on the phone, met for coffee or saw in person, potentially, in years. Those social media sights leave room for judgement, the media savvy of a politician to position your life to look picture perfect and sadly the junior high feeling of "why wasn't I invited to that?!" Don't get me wrong, they do indeed keep us "connected". I wanted more. So, I've committed to a letter writing campaign. Sending out quick notes to people IN THE MAIL. Not a Face Book message or comment on a picture. 
I have cards from friends and family that go back YEARS. My aunt gave me a card probably 15 years ago; after that we were estranged for many years, but I held onto that card. Every once and a while I would run across it while cleaning and read it. It made me smile every time despite the circumstance. The written word holds weight. It can hold hope, love, or memories. 
I encourage you to try this campaign....hey, maybe we can save the USPS! I bet if you sat down you could think of someone who could use a little love in the mail today. A little surprise to make their heart dance. Maybe they will save it for years. Maybe it will be the kind words that make their day. In the end, it really makes YOUR heart do a little dance because you know in a few days they will open their mail box expecting the same old stuff and see a handwritten note from you. Yea! 

Pregnancy...round two...

We knew we wanted a second baby. After my first pregnancy I knew I was not the baby carrying kind. I was, what I considered "super" sick the first go round. I anticipated being sick again but nothing could prepare me for super storm mini that was about to ensue. It started on time at the 6 week mark. Like clock work the throwing up and nausea started. I could not keep anything down. I ended up going to the ER because I was sure I had the flu; this could not all be pregnancy related. They checked for many things...including multiples. I asked "multiple what?" was the doctor serious?!....ultimately there was only one baby taking up residence in my belly. Two days later I was readmitted to the hospital under my OB's care. That when I started hearing the term Hyperemisis. In layman's terms, you throw up a lot. And that I was. I felt like I'd been hit with a mack truck and then backed over with the same truck. Never, never would or could have imagined I would feel so awful. My sweet little mini would stand by my side while I hugged the toilet with her hand on my shoulder sucking her thumb. I would beg her between hurls to go play. But she just stayed on. Then tell me "mama gross". Yes, my sweet child, it is gross.
Fast forward to today, week 16. I've made great progress. I can eat and drink some. Weird craving of the day...Grapefruit juice. I stopped at two places this morning to get my hands on this liquid gold. Who knows what tomorrow brings. My belly is growing much faster than #1. That has left its own marks of cynicism; my maternity clothes didn't really start until later so I'm desperately digging around my closet for the "largest" fat clothes I have to accommodate my ever growing belly.
What am I getting at here? pregnancy is not fun. I know for some women it's a ball of sunshine and happiness. For me, it's 10 months of throwing up, nausea, clothes that don't fit right, too many bathroom breaks to count, narcoleptic exhaustion and no glass of wine to take the edge off. I have felt lonely and miserable. Laying on the cold bathroom floor praying to God to make it stop. Alone in a hospital room looking at the IV (and the two other bandaids where the veins collapsed) and cried. Felt the sting of guilt when Daddy takes the mini to do something "so cool" and I can't go. My friends call; I don't want to talk. I am invited but don't want to go. Some understand. Mostly, it's just me putting the guilt and frustration on myself. A lesson I'm learning.
But....it's worth it. In the small moments I am finding the greatest strength. When the mini and I talk about "the baby" and she looks up at me with her big blue eyes and boundless red hair and yells "mama's silly!" The quiet moments when I tuck her into bed and we sing...or she yells the song "Jesus loves me" and I laugh. She quietly says "love you" as I walk out her door. My sweet, smart, sassy little girl. You are the reason I do this again. You are the reason your Daddy holds me when I sob because I can't do the dishes or wash the floors. He quietly tells me "I can't carry a baby but I can do these things". You are the reason we are fighting through this. We laugh when you are naughty and say "and we wanted two?!" Both knowing we would want 100 of you.