Brenna

Dear Brenna,

One week ago today you entered this crazy world and completed our little family.  I can't believe a week has already gone by.
You were due on November 25th, but, after consulting with our doctors, we decided to induce labor on on the 22nd.  We kept the decision to induce you largely to ourselves, partly because we didn't want to hear others opinions about our choice and partly because we were convinced you were going to make your entrance well before the 22nd - we were wrong.  Apparently I provided quite a cozy little home in my belly and you were rather content staying put. 

After many hours, and lots of pushing, you finally decided to let us meet you.  You arrived at 2:19 p.m. on a very rainy Tuesday to two extremely proud, slightly tired, parents.  When the doctor plopped you on my chest you immediately stuck your index finger in your mouth and your other hand tightly grasped my index finger...and I am pretty sure my heart swelled three times its size.  You were an impressive little baby - full of fat rolls and chub.  Your cheeks could have stored berries and nuts for the winter months. 

You weighed in at a healthy eight pounds, ten ounces and were 20.5 inches long.  Your little toes look just like your big sister's, as does your perfect little bow tie mouth.  While you don't demonstrate their abilities often, your lungs are quite powerful as well. 
Dad and I struggled naming you - for the longest time we had list of twenty or so names.  Every time we would think of a new name we would add it to the list.  About two weeks before you were born we thought we had settled on a name for you, and then two days before your arrival we did a complete reversal.

Brenna Kathleen.

We are not positive about how your name, Brenna, even entered our consciousness.  I think I heard at the park one day and then texted it to Dad.  We both thought it was beautiful, strong, and different.  As we researched it we learned that Brenna was a Gaelic name meaning "little drop of water" or "raven" - and you were born on a rainy day with a head of beautiful, soft, dark hair.  We chose Kathleen as your middle name to honor your Gramma Kathy - something that makes her a bit verklempt.
This past week with you has been wonderful - you are sweet and snuggly.  You love to be held - by anyone really, but your favorites seem to be me, Dad and your amazing big sister, Addison.

Addison is so proud of you and so in love with you.  She wants to watch you sleep, she loves holding you on her lap, and she insists that you join us for bedtimes stories.  Addie also helps Mom and Dad so much - she fetches clean burp cloths, throws away dirty diapers and makes sure your swing rocks you gently to sleep. 

So far you have been very gentle on Mom and Dad - you are a great at nursing, you burp like a champ and you give us at least three hour stretches of sleep each night.  You lost a little weight, making us nervous, when we got home, but we head to the doctor tomorrow and hope to hear that you are chunking back up.

In your first few hours and days you met tons of people - Papa Johnson and Gramma Kathy were at the hospital when you were born - Grandma Patty and GG were there just a tiny bit thereafter, along with Aunts Nikki and Kim and Addison.  Uncle Brian and Aunt Kelly rushed over after work and our pal Kate even stopped by to meet you.  You came home on Thanksgiving day - our tiny turkey.  At our house you were passed from arms to arms, as your Aunts and Uncles came by to snag some snuggles, even Uncle Jeaf drove down from Akron.

Without even knowing it, it turns out that you were the missing piece to our family.  Our house seems that much more cozy, our hearts that much more full now that you are here.  I marvel at your tininess and can't stop inhaling your gorgeous baby aroma.  In the early morning hours, when it is just you and me, I feel so content and so ready and so fulfilled.  I didn't realize how much I was looking forward to meeting you - and now you are here.

 Welcome to our family,  beautiful Brenna Kathleen...

Photos on Friday

This week I was able to spy on Addie's dance class.  I learned a few things:

A.  I would never have the patience to be a preschool dance instructor.
B.  Addison may not listen to me, but she is an excellent student who listens to her teacher.
C.  The graceful gene that I lack has lightly touched my daughter - she ain't too shabby at this dance thing.

How are you?

What a loaded question that is these days.  I, of course, usually answer with a "good and how are you".  But what I am really thinking is:

Me?  I am exhausted.  I haven't slept well in months and I have months looming ahead of me without sleep.  Exhausted.

Me?  I am really, really pregnant.  I am super thankful to be carrying this baby, but my body is about done.  I am uncoordinated and waddling.  My legs feel like cement blocks at the end of the day. I can't see my pedicured feet.

Me? I am done.  Done with my aching back, my ginormous belly and swollen feet.  Done with my racing thoughts and exhaustion.  Done with uncomfortable doctor appointments and peeing in cups. I am done with bumping into things and being unable to sit comfortably at the the table...or anywhere.

Me?  I am 39 week pregnant and chasing after a four year old.  My patience is short.  I trip on toys I can't see on the floor and there is practically no room on my lap for snuggles. 

Me?  I am anxious.  I have another little girl on the way, any day now, and I worry about keeping both ladies happy.  I worry about both ladies feeling special and loved.  I worry about keeping it all together.


Don't get me wrong.  I am have an amazing support system.  I have a loving husband who cooks and does dishes and sends me to room to sleep.  I have a sweet preschooler who loves to snuggle and feel her sister kick.  I have neighbors who offer to do anything I need and a family and friends who check in with phone calls and texts and voicemails.

But me?  I am at the end of the pregnancy rope.  I have been ready to meet my little one for weeks and I am done being patient.  I am ready.  So now that I have that off my chest...

How are you?

Thankful Thursday

This is going to be short and sweet.  And I know that I haven't done any blogging since last week, but friends, this girl is uberpreggo and when I sit down I tend to fall asleep....

This Thursday I am thankful for:

Homemade burp cloths and baby blankets.
Clean bath tubs and warm water.
A shrinking To Do list.
A new hair cut and color.
Chicken salad sandwiches from Tag's Cafe - I am averaging about two a week now.
Friends that make me laugh and play dates that are drama free.
Early morning whispers of "Mama?  Can I cuddle with you?".
Knowing there are only two more days to stress about the preschool craft show fundraiser.
A husband who puts up with my moans and groans and huffs and puffs.
Excellent tickets to see Wicked tonight with a tall, dark and handsome date.
Free babysitting from my wonderful mother in law.
Keurig Apple Cider, Juicy Juice Mandarin Tangerine Juice and apple-strawberry sauce.
Being 99 percent of the way through with laundry.
Having plans to see my cousin and his fabulous family this weekend
Being told by the doctor that good progress is being made and who the on call doctor will be this weekend.
Knowing that the pregnancy finish line is in sight.
For the gorgeous fall weather that stuck around for a few days, allowing me to snag this stinking cute picture.

Thankful Thursday

This Thursday I am thankful for many things - but I have decided to highlight just one.  This Thursday I am thankful for this body of mine.

Different, right? 
I have spent much of my life hating my body.  Growing up I hated how short I was and that I wasn't covered in freckles like my friend Marie.  I hated my Johnson feet and the fact that my fingernails were never as perfectly oval as my mother's.  My hair has always been my nemesis - the wrong color, wrong length and full of cowlicks.  I hated my body for betraying me in adolescence - all my girlfriends were getting real boobs and I was being teased about my anthills. I was covered in zits, had braces on my teeth and braces on my knees.  I wore glasses, and for a short while, hearing aids.  My body was my sworn enemy.

This body of mine has put up with a lot though.  I managed to miss out on the coordination gene and have made my body work over time healing broken bones, dislocated elbows and endless stitches.  I have made it grow a new ACL and I have completely removed the menisci in one knee.  I have had countless xrays and MRIs and should have had a frequent flyer card for the emergency room.

In it's younger years my body bent and stretched its way through gymnastics and acrobatics.  It sashayed, did the jazz square and tapped its way through dance class after dance class.  It chased soccer balls and climbed high up into pine trees.  My body has probably run hundreds of 5Ks, has hurled down ski slopes and has cross country skied up mountain trails.  It's gone parasailing and white water rafting. 

This body, that I complain about, has been subjected to ear piercing, tattooing, hot wax treatments, thousands of pounds of deep fried food, cigarette smoke and alcohol.  It rarely is rewarded with enough water, enough sleep or enough fresh vegetables.

It's held its own when dealing with changes.  It survived puberty, car accidents, bike accidents and surgeries.  It's dealt with my weight fluctuations, from the 30 extra pounds of college to the emaciation of depression.  It slimmed down for my wedding and added muscle as I trained to run the marathon. 
It got me to the end 26.2 miles unscathed and unknowingly three weeks pregnant.

This body has done its job - it has maintained two healthy pregnancies with almost no complaint.  And I've realized, this week, that this tough old body of mine ain't so bad. 
Sure there are things that sag and jiggle in ways that are upsetting.  I still wish I was taller, more slender, more graceful.
Sure, in its current manifestation I have very little control.  My belly is enormous, my feet are a mystery.  My back and legs ache and my hands swell.  Those boobs I wished for in adolescence?  Yeah, in pregnancy those have shown up to work overtime. 
My legs are covered in spider veins - but they still allow me to chase after a four year old and squat down to get a great picture.  My back is sore and uncomfortable, but it can still carry load of laundry and a sobbing child.  Sure, my eyes are permanently bloodshot and tired, but they can still convey a smile.

And this belly?  This enormous, shape shifting belly? 
It is cocooning a baby. 
Another little lady. 
It has kept her safe and warm.  It has provided a nest for the last leaf on our family tree - where she has heard my heart beat, her sister's silly stories and her father's deep laughter.  This belly has been a safe haven for two babies - it has done it's job and done it well.  And in a few months, when it is wiggly and flaccid with extra, worn out skin, I will remember to be thankful, because this belly sheltered my girls,  let my husband feel tiny kicks and hiccups, provided a pillow for a tired four year old. This pregnancy has reminded me that my body is so much more impressive than I ever give it credit for....and for this imperfect, aching, aging body, I am eternally thankful.

Drama Mama

If you continue to cry like this I fear that my heart will turn to stone and I will stop caring all together.  Cry like what? 
Cry like you did this morning because you didn't like the purple shirt I picked out and because I told you that the zoo catalog couldn't go to school.

I know - those things are not worth tears, but that doesn't stop you from turning on the water works complete with jutting out lower lip and quivering chin.  Normally when I see you upset, mouth all turned down and your big eyes so sad, I melt a little.  I try to make what ever is troubling you better, because seeing you distressed makes me blue.  But lately the tears have been on demand and for inconsequential, downright silly, things.

In the last week or so here are the things that you blubbered over:
You were being silly and you spilt your milk.  You literally cried over spilt milk.
Your cousin didn't want to play the game you suggested, so you sulked in the corner.
I offered you Skittles and and you wanted M&Ms.
Only getting to pick out five books at the library.
You slept in, because you were exhausted, and then sobbed because Jake and the Neverland Pirates was no longer on.
Tears because you didn't like the outfits I laid out or the bows I put in your hair or your pigtails or braids.
Tears because Daddy said no when you asked for a fourth piece of candy.
Tears when the cat swiped at you, after you had hit her in the face with your Halloween bucket.
Tears because your sticker ripped, your seatbelt was twisted, your socks were too small.
Tears because your piece of chalk broke, magnet fell off the door, book was missing.
Endless tears.

And part of me rationalizes that you sense that our world is changing.  You know that the baby is on her way and may try to take over your throne.  I know that you are excited to be a big sister and meet our sweet littlest lady, but I also know you are worried.  Worried that Mommy and Daddy won't have time for bedtime books or midday snuggles.  Worried that we won't still play Candyland and Old Maid and Princess Bingo.  I am sure that you wonder if there is enough room for all of us in our house and whether or not you will have to share your precious toys. 
I try to keep in mind that you are four and yet smart enough to know that big changes are on the horizon.  I try to remind myself that you may be feeling sensitive and needy, wanting to make sure that you still have Mom and Dad and Grandma under your spell...and you do. 
We all still love you as much as ever.  We are excited to see what a wonderful sister you will be - how you will teach and care for and protect your baby sister.  We are excited to watch you turn your back on being the baby and run full speed ahead into being the big girl of the house.

But the tears, the ridiculous, dramatic tears must end. 
I will always comfort you when you've scraped your knee or hurt yourself.  I will always soothe you when you are scared or worried or overwhelmed.  When something hurts your heart or your sensibilities, I promise to listen and care.

But the rest of this drama mama ridiculousness?  I'm totally over it.

Princess Personified

A few days ago, at a family party, it was suggested that Addie may be one of those girls who never really outgrows princesses.  Part of me inwardly groaned and thought to myself how is she my daughter?  I thought of her tears over tangles, her endless love of twirls and taffeta, her need to accessorize.  Another part of me secretly admires her dedication to girliness - there is nothing wrong with wanting to sweet and sassy and full of sparkles and shine.  Afterall, it is perfectly alright for her to be a girl.

She desperately wants to be old enough to wear eyeshadow and lip gloss.  Weekly she tries on my bras or heels and prances around the house.  Rarely a day passes without playing dress up or princess.  Often times she asks me to introduce her when she makes her entrance to the first floor:  Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, orange cats of all sizes introducing Princess Addison Evelyn Butterfly....

Lately her princessness has translated into a fair amount of drama, complete with tears and blotchy red cheeks.  Andy and I know that some of the drama that we face is just her realizing that she is soon going to have to make more room in the castle for another princess. 

Although, who is to say that the gymnast who is currently residing within me will be so princess focused.  Perhaps she will like sports and dirt and the color green.  Maybe tutus won't be her uniform and sparkles won't be part of every accessory.  Maybe - but I kind of doubt that her big sister won't influence her a little bit.

Last night, Addie personified what a princess should be - she used good manners, she remembered her pleases and thank yous, she curtsied and bowed.  She daintily lifted her skirt to cross the street and kept a smile plastered on her face.  She hung out with her princes, but did a lot of the decision making.

 She shined...as every four year old princess should.