34 weeks

Tomorrow I will be 34 weeks pregnant. And for the past week I have been mulling over a question the pediatrician asked at Sophia's last appointment.

"So are you ready for #2?"

To which I sort of nervously laughed and said that "I am trying to finish up projects and is anyone ever ready?" Of course, no matter how nice the pediatrician, I'm pretty sure the correct answer is "yes" . . . but I'm just not quite there yet.

I am frantically trying to finish sewing the baby's quilt, because I know if it is not done before he/she arrives then it will get packed away for a long time, and forget actually being able to use it as a baby. And then of course organizing the basement (again), and making food to have in the freezer, pulling out newborn clothes and finding a place to put them, and painting the cradle. Oh, and ordering all the homebirth supplies, and organizing them in some semblance of order, and perhaps continuing to take care of Sophia, pay the bills, and run the house amidst all that.

And then mentally processing having and taking care of not just one kiddo anymore, but two. I just don't think that you can be "ready" when you don't have the reality of it sitting in front of you.

At this point I am finally at a place where Sophia and I have our routines and know how each other works. Today we had errands, so we walked to the bank and the library, and had such a fun time together. In another two months if we walk to the bank and the library it will be with one kiddo in the Moby wrap, and other in the jogger, and I'll have to be sure to time it right with nursing #2, and naptime for #1, and don't forget the extra diapers for both of them . . .

Seems pretty exhausting to me! Yet people have been surviving and thriving with multiple children since Adam and Eve, so I'm sure we will be no different.

I think as a Type A list-maker, part of the secret to success for me will be to let go of my expectations of what I want to accomplish and be content with just getting thru the day for the first little bit.

And maybe just taking time to enjoy #2, and all of us getting to know each other without worrying about making the perfect dinner, or having just the right seasonal decor, or doing whatever project I just have to get done. Loving on the Snuggler and the Bump, and let's not forget John!

So, for those of you with more than one kid, what is your advice for this pregnant mama? Your "how to survive the first 3 months and enjoy it" tip?

Signing off, as I have a sleeping kiddo and a quilt to finish!

Independence!

Sophia is turning two in July. That fact has been becoming more and more apparent this week as she has started asserted herself in so many facets of life. Some occasions have been really cute and funny, and others have been maddening, and some have been both at the same time.

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We started off the week on Tuesday, John's first day back at work. Monday is his day off, so that still counts as the weekend for the Libby family. After Sophia finished her breakfast she headed into the living room to play and I settled myself at the computer in the dining room to pay bills. Of course, paying bills is far more fun than toys, so as soon as I was sitting down Sophia wanted to come sit on my lap.

Fine.

She decided that my calculator made a great phone (never mind that she has an actual cell phone to play with . . . John's old one that we cancelled service on), and just had to play with it. That works great until Mama needs to do up the totals in the checkbook, and needs the calculator to actually use.

Usually I give Sophia fair warning that I am going to need something that she has decided is a toy, and she'll give it up without a fight. Not so on Tuesday!

I finally had to take the calculator, and put my now screaming child down to have her temper tantrum on the floor. (We're still at "I can count my kiddo's temper tantrums on one hand" but apparently not for much longer.) Calculating anything was lots of fun then, with little Sophia turned mutant crazy child tearing at my shirt/pants, attempting to climb back on my lap, all with the calculator as her goal.

I finished my work and put the calculator away in the den (not giving it back after all that) . . . meanwhile Sophia was getting over her sob fest. Or I thought she was getting over her sob fest when I picked her up to wipe the snot and tears off her face/hands/clothes.

But no, the crying restarted. And this time didn't stop until my little Snuggler had puked everywhere. Down my shirt (not just on it, no, DOWN the inside of it), all over her cute little dress, on her bedroom carpet (thought she was done . . . nope!), and then the tub and bath mat for good measure.

FYI, oatmeal as a facemask is much different from a whole bowl down your shirt. One is fun and relaxing, the other is most definitely not.

End scene.

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And now a cute one.

I was (again) in the dining room on Wednesday while Sophia played in the living room. She was being a very good girl, playing with her teddy bears in their little house. Or at least I thought she was.

Then I realized that I was hearing sounds of exertion coming from the next room. I assumed that it was the post-breakfast poop happening, smell soon to follow. Until I heard several different thumps, followed by joyous exclamations of "I got it!"

I peeked in to see what was going on, and realized that my 22 pound child had just pulled down a huge coffeetable type book. Off a shelf that is over her head, which she can barely reach! Not a small book, at least five or six pounds, and about 20 by 16 inches.

Usually Sophia would come asking for help with something like this, but obviously Mama's help is not so essential these days.

"I got it!"

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Obviously Sophia can reach things that I thought she could not. So I was not terribly surprised when I walked into the kitchen and found that she had reached up to the mug tree and grabbed one of the bottom mugs off of it.

I took the mug back, told her she was not allowed to get those down, and that seemed to be the end of the incident.

Until I walked back into the kitchen 20 minutes later and saw that she had taken another mug down . . . and was smirking at me! I know many of you may doubt that sweet little Sophia has it in her to smirk, but trust me on this one.

I said "Sophia, Mommy said no playing with the mugs. Please give it to me." as I headed toward her. My little docile child continued to smirk as she extended her hand toward me . . . and then deliberately threw the mug to the floor.

Can you say "Terrible Twos?!"

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We (and by that I mean "I") have been doing lots of extra laundry this week. I think Sophia is trying to get me ready for the newborn laundry that will be starting back up when #2 arrives.

Wednesday we were at a friend's house and Sophia had some trouble settling in for her nap, but yesterday we were home again and as soon as I put her down it was quiet.

I should have known.

I walked back up to get her three hours later and found . . . Naked Sophia!

I had purposely put her pajama pants on, as she was wearing a dress that day and I was concerned that she might pull her diaper off. So, on the floor: dress, pajama pants, and dry diaper. In the crib: naked Sophia, wet sheet, wet quilt, wet crocheted blanket . . . thankfully the four stuffed animals were saved.

Of course, this is coming after I found her in only a diaper Sunday night, crying because she was cold . . . because she had taken off her zippered footie pj's. We've tried a variety of solutions to keep clothes on in the crib since then, and I thought that tights or pj pants was going to work longer than a few days.

Ha!

I don't know what we will do when it warms back up again, but I'll tell you what worked last night . . . zippered footie pj's on BACKWARD.

Sophia's first box

When I was young, one of my favorite books to read was "Christina Katerina and the Box." Christina is an imaginative little girl who, along with her friend Fats, transformed an empty refrigerator box into a race car, space shuttle, clubhouse, dance floor, and a number of other uses. The book ends with the final disintegration of the box, followed by the arrival of Fats bringing over two more boxes for them to play with from his mother's new washer and dryer.

Fast forward a little bit.

Two years ago when we bought our house, the previous owners left us quite a wealth of useful (and not so useful) items. One of those items was a lawn mower. I am inclined to include it in the "useful" category, though I am not so sure that John would. It survived until this spring, with some judicious use of duct tape (ok, a lot of duct tape and some creativity), but the handle finally broke in half at the very end of the first mow of 2011. There was some discussion about the pros and cons of welding the handle back together, but when all of its issues were added up . . . it was time!

So I did some research while I was at work last week and found a Craftsman mower from Sears that wouldn't completely break the bank, and we picked it up yesterday. Ironically, when we put the old mower out by the road, it didn't even take half an hour for someone to pull up and take it. Broke any record of curbside pickup yet! I guess they want to get some welding practice.

I know. What does any of this have to do with Christina Katerina and the box?

Well, said lawn mower came in a box! And we have one creative daddy in this house who decided that his little girl needed a teddy bear house.

Saturday afternoon was spent discovering how much fun a box can provide. And the fun isn't over! That box is still in our living room, and I anticipate many fun-filled afternoons this week . . . sailing in a boat, making a bed for Sophia's doggies and doll, having another visit with the teddy bears, and anything else we come up with.

(Sophia doesn't look at all like her mama at that age, huh?)

RSVP?

RSVP: French "respondez s'il vous plait," respond if you please; that is, a response is expected.

Emphasis on the word EXPECTED.

Five plus years ago when John and I got married I had my first experience with attempting to get people to RSVP. Before that I thought you sent out invitations and people would send back the little card (that I had so kindly put a stamp AND my address on for them) and we would know how many people to expect.

Ha! What a naive bride-to-be I was!

A week before the wedding I was making frantic calls to about half the list of invitees so I could get some sort of final head count to the caterer. And then of course some of the people that had said "yes" didn't show, which was awesome at $20 a plate.

I am going to be in a friend's wedding in the beginning of July, and the other bridesmaids and I are in the throes of shower planning. Now, you know what makes planning a shower easier? When you know how many of the 70 invitees are coming! Of course, if only 25 out of 70 respond, then you get to play really fun guessing games as far as how much food to make, how many tables to decorate, etc.

And the thing is, that when I have complained to anyone about the lack of response, everyone says "Oh, yes, it's terrible, people are so bad at RSVPing."

Well, when everyone agrees, who does that leave that is not RSVPing?! I'm so confused!

Last night I was enlightened a little bit when I spoke with the bride. Sort of. But it may have just confused me more. Apparently several people have not responded because they might be making other plans.

?????????

Really? You might make other plans that do not include coming to a dear friend's bridal shower, AND THEN YOU TELL THE BRIDE THAT?

Amidst my frustration, I have made a mid-year resolution (and this makes up for not making a New Year's Resolution) that I am a reformed RSVPer! When I get an invitation, I am going to pull my planner right out, and say "yes" or "no."

Of course, that has to take into account my current pregnancy brain. And my soon to come sleep-deprived-caring-for-a-newborn brain. My pregnancy brain recently managed to RSVP yes to a birthday party for one of Sophia's little buddies that I completely forgot conflicted with a prenatal appointment, despite having both a calendar and planner. And then I forgot to call to change my RSVP to no, and we just didn't show up.

I'm thinking it might have been better to just forget to RSVP in the first place.

30

Turning 25 back in May 2006 was a bit of a crisis . . . John and I were living in our tiny apartment in Biddeford, we had been married just about 6 months, I was working 3 nights a week, and 25 seemed so OLD. Back then I would have said that turning 30 was the point at which you just might as well give up the ghost because life was just about OVER and from then on you would just be trudging thru serious Adultville. (Of course, the year I turned 25 John turned 31, and he was as young as ever . . . not sayin' my theory made sense.)

But now?

30 is not the decrepitude that I thought it would be. Sure, I might feel crippled over with sciatica at the moment, but that is due to the relaxin coursing thru my veins because of Baby Libby #2 coming in another couple months. And the runny / stuffy nose and sneezing . . . spring allergies, not some sort of "Now You're Old" disease.

30 is confidence to do what I want to without being embarrassed or feeling silly. I just got back from using my "Free Entree" coupon at Davinci's Restaurant for lunch. I had a delicious caesar salad followed by some sort of chicken/pasta/cheese dish that was AMAZING. And I savored every bite of my meal over an hour and a half . . . all by myself. Me, Davinci's, and a good book. Best 30th birthday lunch ever!

At 20 I would have been mortified to go to lunch by myself, especially on my birthday. Such an occasion calls for a contingent! How embarrassing to have to go by yourself!

Well, at 30 it was wonderful to come home from church, put the Snuggler to bed for a nap, grab my book, say "Bye!" to John, and dash out the door for lunch. I didn't even invite anyone else to come along. I thought about it, very briefly, but really wanted to have a nice quiet lunch and finish my book. So I did!

Of course, turning 30 does call for celebration, and I am blessed to have a husband and mother who schemed together to plan a wonderful party, and friends and family who made my day-before-my-birthday Birthday Party such a blast.

Now, if you are reading this post looking for some sort of "And here is what I have learned and will now share with you in all my wisdom of 30-ness" . . . I'm sorry, but you will be disappointed. I am a little disappointed myself. In the back of my mind I had hoped that this morning I would wake up with some sort of epiphany, but really I looked at my watch and thought:

"6:45. The Snuggler's still asleep! Too bad I have to get up. Hey, it's my 30th birthday. I'm 30. Doesn't really feel any different from 29 . . . Well, guess I better try to get ready while the kid is still sleeping."

Not so much on the wisdom front.

But I guess if there are any ways that I can pinpoint this birthday being different from turning 25, it would be confidence and contentment. 25 was a crisis because I was lacking both. At that point I was still constantly looking forward to what was next. Not that I am always confident and content now, but I think I am maturing in those two areas. At least I hope and pray I am!

Of course there are days that I look around my house and say "I wish I had the money to do _________" or feel my confidence waver when I look in the mirror, but there is something to be said for hindsight putting life into perspective. I love the life that God has given me, and the people in it, and am grateful for where I have come from . . . and am looking forward to where I am going, one day at a time!