Butterball season

(Playing a little 'catch up' so this post is a bit long-winded.)

Thanksgiving is coming, Thanksgiving is coming. Oh how I lurve me some turkey day! This year we'll be hosting the family at our house for the big eating festivities. I enjoy a house full of crazy, loud, generally whacko family members...and then I realize that I enjoy the subsequent empty house following their departure even more.

Speaking of butterball, guess who has gained an impressive 32 lbs. so far with this pregnancy? Yes, that would be moi and my just-got-its-own-zip code belly. Bear in mind that I gained 41 lbs during my entire pregnancy with J and you can easily do the math to realize that, with 13 to 16 weeks still to go, I'm going to blow my old 'record' out of the water. The strange thing is that I seem to have gained it all in my stomach. Honestly, for just over 6 months along, I am huge in the belly.

The good news despite all of the weight gained is the fact that I passed both my one- and three-hour glucose tolerance tests. So far, no GD for me--yea! Of course, they did do the three-hour test earlier than normal just to see where I stand currently and I do have to go back and do another three-hour test in two weeks time. Hopefully, it comes back normal again.

In other baby news, A and I can not come to an agreement on a name for BG 2.0. I have my heart set on one name and one name only, while he has his heart set on another name (one that was our #2 contender when I was expecting J). His choice is one of our nation's most popular names and has been on the top ten list for the past 5 years or so which is why I don't want it. I have no problem with the name itself, it's just that I don't want my daughter to be one of 10 with the same name in her school classes one day. I don't think that'll be the case with J and in keeping with her not-too-popular name, I figured the second girl should have a name fairly in keeping with her big sister's. Not anything that rhymes or anything like that, just something with a similar 'feel.' So we go round and round, and try to come up with a third name that we can both agree on and just go with it but so far, no go. It's a little frustrating to say the least. Of course, I do like to raise the point that since this baby gets pushed out of my girly bits, I should get a double vote in what her name gets to be. A's not buying that argument though. Damn it. Any name suggestions you have would gratefully be considered.

2.0 passed the 'magical' mark of viability last week and I am heading boldly towards the third trimester in a few weeks. I still can't believe it. She kicks and rolls and twirls around with wild abandon and I love it. The big girl, J, is blossoming as well. She seems to add new words to her vocabulary every day and it's amazing to see the connections she makes between objects and words. She is a true joy and a baby no more. She is firmly in the realm of toddlerhood now, and I love her to bits.

I forgot to mention that I had jury duty a few weeks back (and ultimately got selected for a trial). One of the other potential jurors (when we were still being questioned to be on the jury), an older grandmotherly-type, struck up a conversation with me in the bathroom. It started out innocently enough--how far along are you? is this your first? etc. When I mentioned that I had a then-15 month-old daughter at home, I got the critical stink eye and a "wow, they'll be really close in age." My reply? "Only 20 months and since I'm getting up there in years, we decided to knock them both out of the park in short order" in a lighthearted manner. Thankfully, that shut the nosy woman up. If only she knew that it wasn't so easy as 'knocking them both out of the park in short order' (but it was the best reply I could come up with off the cuff).

The fact is, at 37, I certainly didn't expect trying for another child to be such short work. In fact, I thought to myself that we were so incredibly lucky the first (actually, second) time, there was no way it would happen again. Especially when it took us four years to get to J...so yes, I realize every. single. day just how amazing this pregnancy is. Just the fact that we managed to get pregnant again is huge. That she is healthy and thriving is more than we could hope and dream for. The icing on the cake. The fact that they'll be 20 months apart to me simply means that they'll hopefully be playmates and friends for a long time to come. Oh, and that I'll be in diaper mode for a good long time.

I look forward to what the coming months hold and intend to savor every moment that I can. 2.0 will complete our family, making A the lone male in a house full of estrogen.

I look forward to what the unknown future holds. To dreams, and realities, family dinners, family vacations, heartbreaks, skinned knees, and so very much more. Time flies by at an amazing clip; I intend to treasure it--and to stop and smell the roses--as often as I can. These days, stopping to smell the roses means a romp in the yard with J, watching her face light up on the swing set or her calls of joy as she chases after the dogs. These are the true moments of joy, where I know just how incredibly lucky I am. I'll never ever forget that.

My cup runneth over

Today marks J's 16-month 'birthday.' I can't believe it's really been that long since she arrived. How the time has flown. A and I laughingly chart her growth in terms of how tall she is in comparison to our family room couch. Used to be she stood a little higher than the cushions; now she's able to climb up on that couch. (I tried to include a recent photo but bl0gger is being, well, bl0gger.)

Apparently, in honor of her 16-month mark, today she learned how to give real honest-to-goodness kisses, with little puckered lips and a 'mwah' sound (okay, she got that from watching A and I demonstrate how to give kisses, the noise was simply for demonstrative purposes but it appears that she thinks it's a required part of the process and really, I mean how cute is that?)

I could say so much about how she's started talking and recently (be still my heart) took to calling me "mama," or how she's got a real thing for her favorite blankie, or how much of a snuggler she's become. But really, is my kid the first to do those things? No, she's not, nor will she be the last.

I will say that, though, that my heart just swells with love for her. And that love seems to grow on a minute-by-minute basis...no lie. Just when I thought I couldn't love her more than I already do, I realize that I can. How do you put into words the deep, binding, and precious love you have for your child?

I guess you don't. You just ride the wave, enjoy the ride, savor the feeling. And know that you are but one of many many mothers who love their children this way...a way that defies measurement and knows no boundaries.

Radiating love...and hope

Yesterday the fur boy had his surgery. And yesterday we learned that they could not remove the mass. It has become too entrenched in his throat; to take it out would do more harm than good. There aren't many options, merely 1) do nothing or 2) do radiation therapy. The radiation will slow the tumor's progression and give him a bit more time with us--or more accurately, give us a bit more time with him.

So we've opted to do the radiation therapy. He'll meet the oncologist on the 23rd for his initial consult. The doctor is located about 80 miles from us; fortunately, his office is literally right down the street from my MIL's house and a few miles from my SIL's house. Add to that the fact that A's office is not too far from there (yes, he commutes an ungodly amount of miles most days) and it's not an inconvenience to see a doctor so far away (the only other doctor who does this treatment is in Orlando--about 2+ hours from us). Then again, even if the Orlando doc was the only option available, it still wouldn't be too far. He's worth it.

My boy is home now, recovering. He's a good guy and even the surgeon noted that when she called with the news. He was very good, she said.

He IS very good, I corrected mentally.

Sensitivity training

I've always been the sensitive one. I cry easily at movies, be they sappy or not. I cry when there is sad news (e.g., the death of Princess Diana, the death of Pope John Paul, and so on). I sometimes cry for the smallest of slights or comments--of course, I do wait until I'm alone before unleashing my tears in those cases. Wouldn't want folks to think I'm completely unhinged now, would I?

Since having a child though, there is something about sad or horrible news pertaining to children that hits me hard. Before J, sure, I'd hear news reports about a child killed or injured or something equally horrible and it would register briefly. 'Oh, how sad. Poor family,' and so on. I felt bad for a brief while, then my attention moved on to the next news story.

Nowadays though, when I read or hear a news story that involves a child, it about rips me to shreads. I cry, big honking tears, and often I think about the child and/or what happened long after hearing the news story. It sticks with me and I often cry again at the memory of the story.

For instance, some months ago in my county, there was a four-month old boy killed by his father during a dispute with the boy's mother. They were teen parents and apparently their relationship had been off-and-on for some time. When the child's father accused the mother of cheating on him, an altercation ensued and he then took the baby, this innocent four-month old boy, and swung him by one leg onto the hood of his car. He basically bashed that child onto the hood with enough force to kill him. But that wasn't enough, no. He then drove off with the boy, but without the boy's mother, threw the child into a canal several blocks away and then drove back to the boy's mother to tell her what he had just done.

Fundamentally, since having a child, something has changed inside me. I have become ultra senstive to the news stories that involve a child. Perhaps it is that I can't fathom what the parents of a hurt or missing or murdered child are going through. I can, however, imagine that their pain is beyond comprehension.

At the same time, I can't wrap my head around the fact that someone would intentionally harm a child...not when I wanted my own child for so long and was unable to. Not when I longed for, hoped for, wished for a child with every iota of my being for four long years. And now that she's here, it begs me to wonder 'how does someone do that to an innocent child?'

Since having J, I guess I'm bound to wear my heart on my sleeve...and cry lots. And that's alright by me.

Fun with baking and BG 1.0

So last week I found myself sick...again. A trip to the ENT found a raging sinus infection and meant that I started up a 10! day! course! of antibiotics--and a heavy daily dose at that. So heavy, that after 3 days, my vagina threw in the towel. She started with the itching and then progressed to something I've not had the pleasure of dealing with in probably more than 10 years--a light dough-y scent, reminiscent of sourdough bread. Yes, it's true, the vagina she is an oven, a certified baker's oven.

A quick call to the OB later and I'm directed to start a 7 day course of M0nistat, given that I've still got 6 days of antiobiotics left to take. The doc advised that I may need to retreat once the antibiotics are over with if it's still around. Talk about good times....

But, other than that, things are settling down somewhat. I appreciate your kindness about my Norm...he's acting like he normally does and we're just counting down the days until the bad thing is removed from him (9 to go). Then we'll learn if radiation or chemo are in his future.

The rest of the Dee family members are well. 2.0 is kicking away and I love it, didn't realize how much I'd missed that. Daddy took J (Baby Girl 1.0) for a ride on a big kid scooter this past weekend and I wish I had my camera with me to snap a picture of the look on her face. She was in heaven, complete nirvana. Wind in her hair, twinkle in her eye, big smile on her face. She stood tall and with one foot in front of the other, hands on the handlebars, just like Daddy told her to do. She loved it. And I loved seeing her so obviously enthralled and happy.

This mothering thing, when the good times happen, just never gets old.