Practice
She’s wanted to hold him since the second she saw him, but I wasn’t ready. As Trent told her while she wildly spun in circles while he slept on the floor next to her, “You can do whatever you want when it’s our baby, but you need to be careful around this one.”
He’s their firstborn. Little, fragile, very new. I remember what that was like. Wanting to be a normal human being, but finding it totally impossible when that little face is right in front of you. Being overwhelmed and ecstatic and joyful and oh so very tired. And wanting the older kids to be a little more gentle, a tiny bit more careful.
But they are a bit more daring then we were. Maybe because they’ve had experience with the children of their friends, or maybe they are just calmer then I was (most likely), but they asked if she wanted to hold him. Her eyes lit up and she looked cautiously over at me. “If it’s okay with them, then it’s okay with me,” I told her.
They were right. She was ready. I am the one who wasn’t ready. My baby is holding a baby. Pretty soon she’ll be holding a baby every day. But can’t she still be my baby too? If she is the big kid, is she still my little girl? When did the baby in this picture, become the big girl in the picture above?
And then, just like that, I’m snapped out of it. Jesus, Megan, you’re missing this moment. And where the hell is your camera?!
Not a Photobomb
Crap, the week is over again, isn’t it? I mean, yay, it’s Friday! I didn’t get anything done this week, but at least now I can put off the rest of my to-do list until Monday!
I was going to go the lazy route and post some more pictures, this time from our beach vacation a few weeks back in South Carolina, but I figured this website is becoming a bit of a photobomb. So instead, here are some things that are making me happy this week:
Sufjan Steven’s Newest EP – All Delighted People: For sale for FIVE DOLLARS or for FREE STREAMING here. My fave is number 6. Dig it.
Stephmodo’s Maternity Portrait Session: Since my brain is all hormonal and crazy, after I checked out our family photos by Nicole this week, the first thing I did (after wiping my eyes because my family is so awesome OMG) was start compiling ideas for a maternity shoot. I’m loving this one Justin Hackworth did for blogger Stephmodo. It’s just so calm and serene. The opposite of how I’m feeling right about now.
Online Shopping: HALP! I can’t stop! It doesn’t help that I barely own any maternity clothes (spent my last pregnancy in sweatpants) and I now have to find baby boy clothes that don’t include the following: Jungle animals, sports, trains, Elmo or any other character. Between Ebay and Gilt, I may not have enough money to pay the hospital for delivery. Ah well, I’ll just have to live in the maternity ward. In really stylish clothes. (Seriously though, most of it is over 80% off and could you say no to this? I didn’t think so.)
Baby Names: So, Trent and I can’t decide on a baby name. Literally, cannot agree. On one name. Not one. So I’ve been browsing around the Social Security Administration’s website, where they have the top baby names for every year since 1879. I know, right? What was the most popular boy’s name in 1890? John. Most popular in 1990? Michael. You can even see charts depicting how name popularity has changed over time. And if you have any suggestions on names, we’re open. Just no unnecessary “y’s” or names without vowels. Please and thank you.
The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo is Secretly Just About Eating Sandwiches: Yes, yes it is. (Read article here.)
Cat Fashion Show: Do you guys remember when I worked for the crazy lady and my job was basically public relations representative for insane cat people? Good times. This would have been a totally normal part of my day. (Edward Cullen Cat and Avatar Cat should have a fight.)
Jon Stewart: This whole NYC mosque (not really a mosque actually a community center and actually not at ground zero and also there is already a Islamic community center at the site and it’s supported by most NYC’ers and Mayor Bloomberg….) “debate” is making me crazy. Whenever I see or hear anything about it on the “news” I want to vomit. But then Jon Stewart comes on and I remember that some people aren’t dumb. I think most aren’t. The dumb ones are just the loudest. I probably should’ve learned that in high school.
Samantha Bee: The following quote should be dipped in gold and hung on any pregnant lady’s wall, “I’m like an overripe papaya that’s about to fall to the ground from its own weight and split open on the sidewalk with its seedy innards spurting all over the place. Gross. I mean, I get it, it’s the Miracle of Life and everything, which is “beautiful” in the abstract. But it’s also frankly kind of gross.” I heart you, Sam Bee.
And because I’m on a roll….here’s a picture from our trip to Charleston. The rest of the wrap up will be coming next week. I think this accurately shows how my in-laws are all funny and I am eternally uncute and sort of snobbish. I mean, doesn’t my pose just scream “OMG, you guys are, like, so embarrassing!”
Granted, they were all drunk. And I was not. Probably explains it.
Happy weekend!
Growing the Pirate King
I am now five and a half months pregnant with Mr. Taco John, Pirate King. I look like this. (Except usually I try to keep my eyes open. It was sunny. I am not built for the beach.)
Already this poor second child is getting the short end of the stick, as second children often do. With Lucy, the minute I found out I was pregnant, the whole world pretty much knew it. I wrote hundreds of words detailing each and every twinge, every pain and every joy during the 9 (10) months I grew her. We’re already over halfway through this gestation, and I think I’ve written about it three times total. Poor little Pirate King.
It’s different this time. Everything is different, and the differences are so unique and new to me, it’s like this pregnancy is a whole new world. The most obvious being how overjoyed I am to even BE pregnant. My first pregnancy was met with fear and isolation, this one was met with happiness and congratulations. People smile when they see me lumbering toward them, and I smile back. Not one person has responded to the pregnancy news with “Oh no, what are you going to do?” I can’t describe what a difference that is.
(Note: Before anyone even goes there, of course Lucy was wanted. Of course she was loved and eventually there was mostly extreme joy concerning my pregnancy with her and her subsequent arrival. But having an unexpected pregnancy when you’re unmarried and 22 years old is frightening. And save two people, every single person we told in the first months of that pregnancy expressed concern about how we were going to do this. Be parents. I’m happy to have proved them wrong, but that doesn’t change the fact that the pregnancy itself was scary.)
When we went in for our 20 week sonogram, we were honestly just excited to find out everything was okay. This pregnancy (aside from the stuff mentioned above) was a bit rocky in the beginning, and there was a time early on when were weren’t sure if we were even going to carry this baby past the first trimester, so seeing our little dude swimming around in there was a huge relief. Taking in the visual of his little hands and feet and profile, which looks remarkably like his sister’s, was enough for me. But then the ultrasound tech hovered over an area of the screen, pointed and looked at me. “It’s a boy, right?” I said. “Yes, are you excited?” she replied. I just looked at Trent and smiled. He hadn’t really heard us, and was a bit confused for a second, but then it set in for him as well.
A boy.
A son.
A brother.
Before I found out that Lucy was a girl, we were sure she was going to be a boy. I am not that girly, Trent is obviously hairy and full of testosterone and I just couldn’t imagine a girl in there. Girls hate their moms. Girls are moody. Girls like princesses. Girls, girls, girls. So it had to be a boy. Boys love their moms. Boys are simpler. Boys, boys, boys.
But now, after four years of parenting my precious little girl, I’m back to square one. I know how to parent a girl. I know the parts and the pieces and how to make sure a dress twirls correctly. I have a mini-me who idolizes everything from my wardrobe to my makeup drawer. I am a girl’s mom.
And now, I will be a boy’s mom. It will be different.
I can’t freaking wait.
Sawyer Nash
In my last post before my Internet siesta, I mentioned I’d be assisting in hosting a baby shower for a good friend, and that just maybe, we’d even meet her baby before I came back to the web. The shower was wonderful, a good time was had by all. I was still a bit sickly, getting over the crap part of this particular pregnancy, so I didn’t bust my camera out until it was almost too late. At least, that’s the excuse I’m going with. It’s possible that I was holed up by the cheesy potato casserole and had no time for photography. What I did capture is below. Isn’t Mikayla all glowy? Does anyone else find that extremely frustrating? Or is it just me, holed up with my cheesy potatoes filled with jealously?
Get the flash player here: http://www.adobe.com/flashplayer
A few weeks later, Mikayla asked if I’d be willing to take some maternity photos so she could always remember how it felt to be hauling around a basketball in her stomach. I said of course. She continued to be glowy. I continued to seethe with jealousy.
Get the flash player here: http://www.adobe.com/flashplayer
And then, a few days early, Mr. Sawyer Nash Stover arrived!!! He is adorable and perfect and snuggly and awesome. And Mikayla is still all glowy. HOW DOES SHE DO IT?!
Get the flash player here: http://www.adobe.com/flashplayer
And now, a conversation I had with my husband last night.
T: What’s that smell? Did you make dinner?!
Me: No, that’s for Heath and Mikayla. I’m taking it over there tomorrow.
T: You didn’t make us anything? {sad face}
Me: No. Don’t give me that look!
T: Well, Heath will be over by our house tomorrow afternoon. Just give me the food and I’ll get it to them.
Me: No! You don’t understand! I need baby snuggles!
T: Sorry, just trying to be efficient.
Me: Babies are not efficient!!!!
I am fun and not at all hormonal. And I can sense I’m about to get glowy. Or sweaty. Either way, I’ll be shiny. Right? Right.
