The Countdown

Today I am exactly one week away from my due date. Even crazier? If Taco John is not here by December 20th, we are inducing. That’s Monday. MONDAY! As in four days from now. Monday. THIS MONDAY! Holy crap.

Along with the obvious anxiety and fear about the impending birth (OMG I can’t believe I’m about to do this again!!!!), there is also the fear of the change this is going to cause our little family unit. I mean, really, three is the magic number, you know? What if the wonderful ease we currently have is never to be again with the addition of another person. So many (annoying) people have given me the “Oh, good luck, if I’d have known what the second one would be like, I would’ve stopped at one” comments, and you can’t help but wonder, what if you only get one good kid?

And I’m sorry, but how can anyone, ANYONE even compare to Lulu? My precocious, talented, amazing child who literally knocks me over daily with love and inspiration? I know that there will never be another her, so have I doomed my poor son to constantly live in her shadow. Will he feel less loved, less special, less important? Will Lu feel like she’s being replaced by a new baby? Will she love being a big sister, or will she resent the changes this is going to cause our family?

I know in the rational part of my mind that this will all work out. I know that some way, somehow, we will all adjust to a “new normal.” But I need to just be in it…enough of this waiting and worrying. When it is our daily reality, I know it will all make sense. Lucy will be an amazing sister, our family will only get stronger and I get to smell a yummy baby on a daily basis. Onward.


I’m feeling better. Happier. Healthier. Ready for the baby, but still, happy where I am right now in this moment. I’m enjoying my last days as a mom of one, and Lulu’s enjoying her only-childness. Each morning she climbs into my bed, snuggles up close and says “You’re my favorite, mama.” And then she rubs my belly and says “And you’re my favorite baby!”

She’s ready too.

In Holding

I am now 37 weeks pregnant. That’s really, really pregnant, for those of you who aren’t familiar with the term. I’m due in 3 weeks, but really, it’s less than that, as we’ve decided to induce this little sucker if he’s not here by the 20th. So really, it’s like 2 and a half weeks left. Help. Me.

Things we don’t have ready yet:

– A crib
– A bedroom (one that has, you know, flooring)
– Any type of clothing
– A bag for the hospital
– A real childcare plan for Lulu

Things I do have ready:

– Christmas presents
– That’s about it….

To say I’m freaking out would be an understatement.

37 Weeks 3

I haven’t slept over an hour at a time in a few weeks, and all the pressure is starting to drive me insane. I’m attempting to keep on a brave face at work and in front of Lu, but it gets harder every day. I’m a planner, and to not have certain things ready to go is literally hurting my brain. I’m hoping we can hold out until the 20th, but even then, I know we won’t be ready.

I’m trying to remember that you can never really be ready for your life to change so dramatically. Three to four, one to two, kid to kids. I’m not good at waiting. I’m good at doing. Once he’s here, life will be hard, but at least there will be movement forward. We won’t be in this neverending limbo of “when, when, when?”

Basically, I’m just saying that I’m slightly bonkers right now, so if you see me, cut me some slack. And maybe offer a shoulder to cry on. Or some ice cream. Or a smoothie. Whatever.

Thankful Times a Zillion

Right now I am stuffed to the gills with delicious food from our first Thanksgiving at home. Similar to last year’s pajama Christmas, this year, as I’m about to burst with baby-ness, we decided that any trip out of town was out of the question, and spent the day just lazing around the homestead. Trent made his first turkey (on the grill, of course) and Lu and I spent the day putting together a bunch of sides. Then we made nametags for the table and pilgrim hats and headresses and glittery bonnets. It was awesome.

Trent and I both mentioned how crazy this whole day felt. Like we were pretending to be grownups, making our own big dinner and starting our own traditions. We probably won’t have another Thanksgiving at home for a while, but it was so nice to have this one, relaxing day of thanks before our lives are turned upside down. We needed it, and I’m so glad we took advantage of the opportunity.

My favorite memory from the day? Mid afternoon, I looked down in to our living room from the kitchen, and found Lulu passed out on the couch, wrapped out in blankets, a fire in the fireplace. It was quiet and warm and she succombed to the comfort of it all. It was a lovely moment.

I hope you all have as much to be thankful for this year as I do. And if this wasn’t a great year for you, I hope you still have a happy enough heart to know it will get better. And if you need some pie, we have tons of leftovers. Come on over!

A Cave of Her Own

When I was a kid, I remember going to my dad’s office all the time. I loved it there, and since he was a university professor, he had a ton of freedom and could pretty much bring us along whenever he wanted. He would walk down to the university daycare and pick me up after preschool, and the two of us would walk, hand in hand, back to his office building. We’d take the elevator up to the fourth floor, stopping at the vending machine on the way for treats, and head to his office and lab area. He had a small office, filled to the brim with books and papers and unorganized clutter. He also had a teaching lab, where graduate students would look at cell embryos and work on experiments that would be later shipped to Kennedy Space Center for launch into space. They may have been annoyed with the four-year-old running around, but they never acted like it. They’d give me candy and keep special treats in their desks. I’d draw them pictures and they’d post them proudly over their workspaces.

Eventually I’d settle in right underneath the extra desk my dad kept in his office. I’d create a path through the stacked books and papers, sometimes stacked as tall as me, and would go into my “cave,” the area underneath the desk. I decorated it with drawings and pictures, I’d read books with a flashlight and enjoy whatever special treat I’d picked from the vending machine. My dad would sit at his own desk, close by, working quietly, but always stopping if I needed help or wanted to show him something. Now my dad has risen in the ranks and no longer uses that old office. He has a fancy desk in a different building, one with a nameplate that says “Dean of Arts and Sciences” on it. But his old office is still there, shut up tight, untouched since he was promoted years ago. He claims he never had time to clean it out, and no one needed it, so there it sits. A time capsule, with my faded drawings still decorating the walls.

There are days when being a working parent is just too much for me. Days when all I want is to let Lulu sleep in, instead of forcing her awake before the sun is up. Days when I feel like I’m just missing so much. Preparing for this new baby, touring daycares and paying entrance fees, makes it worse. I start to worry and wonder, am I doing the right thing? Am I ruining them? Will they resent the fact that I worked, instead of staying home with them, making cookies and going to the zoo?

But then I have those days. Lu comes to work with me, awed by my job and my work clothes and my office. Running from desk to desk, office to office, saying hi to everyone and receiving treats. And soon enough she settles in with a special treat from the vending machine and a box of crayons, and before I know it, I look under my desk and see this:

In way more fun news, check out my new under desk decorations, care of Lulu.

When we leave, she begs to come back again. She can’t wait to spend another day at mommy’s work. And I know that these memories will always be with her, as strong as ones depicting a trip to the zoo.

I may not be doing it the way everyone else does, but I think I’m getting it right.

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