here comes the sun

Thanks Jen for the great photos!

romanticalities

Yesterday was one of those stressful night/mornings that made me swear I would never have another child. (I know this is a normal feeling for a mother of a 2 year old and a newborn, but still). I was starting yet another day exhausted, and I was grumpy. The baby was barfing down my shirt, which pooled into my bra, whilst Mason was having his first tantrum because I wouldn't let him color the furniture. I was depleted from a sleepless night, feeling anything but pretty. Simon was his usual chipper self, and in an attempt to lighten my spirits, leaned over and said,

"Guess what."

"Don't say it."

"What? Why?"

"Because I'm not ready for it."

"Can I say it after work?"

"We'll see."

The poor boy only wanted to wish me a happy anniversary. I wanted our anniversary to be a special day and so far it was turning out to be a greasy, whiny, poohy mess. Last year I forgot it was our anniversary so I guess it's a step up from that. After Simon left, I realized that 2 kids in 3 years of marriage is a lot to handle, and I shouldn't expect anything extravagant. I called a sitter and begged her to come over for the rest of the day, and felt much better. Simon was able to come home early, so we walked together down the street with the baby- on our way for some head and neck massages, that we would take turns getting. It was just a block away, but that walk together was so nice. We held hands and it was the first warm evening in London. I would have never suspected that a simple walk down the block would have fulfilled my anniversarial dreams. Maybe it was just some peace I was craving.

As I lay there, trying to ignore the fact that the chinese man rubbing my shoulders had long fingernails and kept swallowing his phlegm, I thought about that morning. If someone had shown me that morning before I had gotten married, it would have scared me. I would have thought- How could you let yourself go like that? And -You look terrible-why can't you get that baby to sleep? And -Your house is a disaster; when did you stop caring? Back when I was young and foolish to the ways of motherhood, I swore I would never become a sloppy person with a messy house who can never find her keys. That's easy to say when you make your own working hours and sleep in until 10:30 every day, only to stroll to brunch. Then taking your time to preen yourself, before going out to do whatever you want until whenever you feel like it. Oh, and with a perfect little body you never have to work for.

I know it sounds like I'm complaining. I am. I'm just saying it like it is.

But, looking at the same morning from the other side, having seen everything that came before it, I wouldn't change anything. I would still want the same tiny flat in our great neighborhood. I would still want my mason and my roman as early as they came. I would still want to raise them myself, rather than pay someone else to do it. Which means I want baby Romes to be barfing over my shoulder, because I'm the one who loves him the most. I want to be the one helping Mason learn that tantrums aren't the answer, because no one will be more patient with him than I. And he probably needs my attention more than anyone else's anyway.

There were no gifts exchanged. Just some peanut butter cookies and a movie on the couch. We've packed 5 years worth of travel, business and babies into 3 years, which means we have 2 bonus years to chill out. Bring them on.

meet roman : he's new here.

The Story

January 17th. Cold, rainy night.

7.00 PM

I was dressed up, with some girlfriends and having contractions all through dinner. Someone asked me if I wanted to time them. "No, that's silly—these are nothing; happens all the time," I said and carried on eating my beautiful enchilada. Not due for another week. Friend tells me I look comfortably pregnant. Happy I took a cab home.

11.00 PM

Home now and crawling on the floor, complaining to Simon that my back hurts. He advises me to go to bed. Which I do.

1.00 AM

Ow, these braxton hicks are becoming bothersome now. Take a bath, get a drink, walk around. Not convinced.

2.00 AM

"Simon, we're going to have a baby today."

3.00 AM

Shouting commands out to Simon from the bath tub. "Pack him a bottle and extra clothes!" (Mason's day bag).

3.45 AM

Trying to walk down the stairs to the car. Have to break twice and sit down. Simon runs a red light.

3.50 AM

Trying to walk from the car to the lift at the hospital. Not going to happen. Get back in the car. Simon runs to fetch a wheel chair with birthing bag and blanket and pillow around his neck.

4.00 AM

Inside the hospital. Cursing the cold. Loudly. "Why is it so f*ing cold in here?!!" Start sobbing and blubbering about being so cold, turn to see there's a man standing next to me in the lift, acting like nothing outrageous is happening. Smile.

Get in nice, warm pool. Aaaaah. Finally relaxed. Happy, working hard. Pleasant conversation. Sleeping between contractions. Loving the water.

7.20 AM

Time to push already? Wow!

7.45 AM

"He's coming! I feel his head!" Baby born right into my arms. Lift him out of the water and onto my chest. He squeaks, squirmy, wet, and perfect. He's hugged by his mum and dad. roman is here.

Surprised at how much he looks like Mason. Keep calling him Mason by accident.

7 pounds, 2 ounces.

golden hair, blue eyes

1.00 PM

Sitting with my new baby, can't help but think about Mason. I miss him. I wish he was here to be part of this ….but not really because he'd be swinging from IV's and throwing syringes. They bring me a tray of bland potatoes, foamy "tang" and a pile resembling cole-slaw, just asking for a joke on British cuisine. Smile.

7.00 PM

The staff tell me their printer is broken so they can't give me my discharge paper and I'll have to stay the night here alone. I tell them I'm checking myself out and start walking out the door with baby. They scramble to get me a discharge paper and we go home as a family of four. Smile.

turkey.... and i'm not talking about thanksgiving.

Sorry this has become somewhat of a travel blog. The travels are over now, but we did have to make a quick stop in Istanbul first, before Frankie comes and we never leave the house again. As you can see we basked in the sun, enjoying every photon before returning to the London gloom.

We were walking one morning between the blue mosque and the Hagia Sophia when we heard the prayer calls for the first time. They went back and forth between the two mosques as if they were singing a long, dramatic conversation at each other. We had never been anywhere like this before.

We of course ate Turkish delight, which will forever remind me of the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. I don't know how anyone can eat more than one bite before going into a sugar comatose- it's a little too much for me. And we didn't buy any rugs, although many kind Turkish salesmen would yell out to us from their shops doors, "Hello nice couple. Are you lost? Is this way." (As they pointed inside).

We spent some time thinking about the major world religions, given that they share roots, and probably have more in common than we typically hear about. A few weeks later we spoke with a Christian man who was converting to be a Muslim, and his Muslim wife was converting to Christianity so they could share the same customs. He spoke about how there was good to gain from both sides and their main messages really weren't that far off from each other. I'm also reading The Life of Pi right now, and came across the part where *spoiler alert* Pi wants to become a Muslim, Christian, and a Hindu because there are things that he loves about all of them, and he finds they overlap. This topic seems to keep randomly coming up lately and it's a good one to consider.

In other news, I'm feeling very nesty and am often re-organizing the cabinets in a frenzy rather than resting as I should be. I no longer count how many weeks along I am, I only know how many are left and today there are 7 weeks, 6 days to get everything ready. I've been telling M about being a brother and we talk about babies sometimes, but whenever I say the word "baby" he runs over to the iPad and starts the Justin Beiber song and we end up dancing for the next half hour with the song on repeat. Woah that little man wears me out.

scootland

Scotland in October turned out to be marvelous. I spent a large part of my time sneaking up on sheep for a picture. Once they saw me coming with my giant baby belly they would sound the alarm and waddle off the other direction. The boys' sheep bleatings from the car weren't really helping either.

But the countryside was breathtakingly pretty. It seemed as if it hadn't changed in a thousand years.

A Highland Cow.

Simon golfed while I went to the spa. Our hotel was just outside Edinburgh, but felt miles away.

Sadly, Simon and I would have never dated if he looked like this.

According to Nessy sightings, she's most often seen when the water is glassy like this. We didn't see her, which may be because she doesn't exist.

I sat on a fence calling out to this guy. But he wouldn't budge.

all hallows eve

M is a man of few words. These are they:

mama
dada
ball
(nodding head yes)
(lion roar)
ba-oo (balloon)
bay-ee (baby)
ma (more)
up
duck
mmm (moo)

So I decided he should be a duck since we could converse about it. I loved it, but he wasn't so sure. Luckily it was cheap and didn't take long to make. Thankfully he still doesn't say "no." I'm trying to hold that one off as long as possible.

And FYI, I learned today that he can actually read some words, being:

kick
yes
yellow
tongue
clap
ball
hat
monkey
bird
bee
knees

He acted all of these out to me or pointed to examples of them. I had no idea. Apparently he can also spell out animal names from scrambled letters. I'm not so sure this is normal for an 18 month old. But now I know that he DOES understand what I'm saying to him and is most often just ignoring me. Well buddy, the gig is up. You can't spell hippo and then act like you have no idea that I'm calling you to come get your diaper changed. Whenever I do, he avoids eye contact, slowly starts walking away, and then sprints into another room. Already he's been trying to trick me, and sadly he's been winning. Trick or treat I guess.

what rhymes with nebraska?

We did our holiday traveling in September this year as I'll be too pregnant to fly come Christmas. One stop we made was McCook, Nebraska to visit Simon's parents. They like to be in the middle of things, so naturally they chose to live here:

Being responsible parents.

Sue and her horse.

I think this one is really special.

My baby bump is about 8 times bigger now, just one month later. I already look full term and the other day someone guessed I was 8 months pregnant. Nope- this little nugget has 3 more months left to fatten us both up.

Cousin Kennedy.

First time riding bareback.

Squeezable.

I'm trying really hard to find a spot for this photo in my home.

3 boys and a babe

Remember that group on Star Search? Or was it 4 Boys and a Babe? Either way, I went through school with one of those boys and always knew that I was studying among a champion.

Have you seen them dance? Because that's pretty much what it feels like is going on inside of me most of the day. AND our house is officially filled with 3 boys and a babe. (Me, being that babe- in case that wasn't obvious.) I was almost certain that we were having a girl. When I was pregnant with M I was craving salty beef like a ravenous bear, but this time around all I want are egg sandwiches and fruit bowls, and I'm not all that hungry. So I took that to mean it was a girl. But once again the scan revealed those dangly bits and we were shocked. I like surprises and I like baby boys so this is a good thing. I'm so happy to be having another boy. Simon can't wait to play basketball with them. He'll be the perfect playmate for Mason and I already have all the boy toys and gear. I'm just trying not to imagine all the mischief that will surely be coming my way. Especially with M as the ring leader.

I do have to say that I wasn't expecting Baby #2 to feel like such a big transition. It's scary to become parents of "kids." Once you have 2 kids you're no longer just a couple who happens to have a baby. That single baby is your ticket into the world of families, but you can still keep your foot in Couples Land too. With 2 kids you're a full on family, which is good. But I have this fear of becoming those kind of parents. You know, the ones who are out of shape, overly serious, haven't slept in years, tell bad jokes, and generally look like they've given up on life and pop culture. If you don't know what I'm talking about then take it as a polite sign that you are one of them and you need to start following a current reality tv show. Just joining Facebook isn't enough to keep your youth. And note: if Facebook is coming up as a topic of conversation, you're probably too old to be on it. You'll never hear 14 year olds talking about facebook itself. There's nothing to say. You will, however hear them talking about Team Jacob vs. Team Edward in great detail. Oh my gosh why am I talking about this? This post is about 3 people becoming 4.

........I had a great time being a singleton. So many other fun singles. So much to do and fun to be had. So much laughter. And being married was the same way. I think the more kids I have the further away I feel from that time/freedom. I think this is my problem. I know it's inevitably going to change me/us. Unless you have a nanny, chef and cleaner working around the clock. And even then you'd need a homework tutor, driver, and nurse. I think when you have kids you give up any time you had for yourself, so by the time they're old enough to get a grip 2 decades have gone by and you just can't keep up with that. I just fear the day when I can no longer keep current with technology and good tv shows. Or maybe I won't even notice when it does happen.

It's a serious transition. It's a good one. I had no idea how much fun it would be to have a child. No one can explain it to you. It's way more rewarding than having a night life. So I guess its a different kind of fun now and it changes all the time as Mason learns new things and Simon and I figure out how to balance it all. I have found, however, as I learn to let go of my own youth I'm swept up in Mason's childhood, living it all over again. And I suppose I'd rather do that than pretty much anything else anyway.

happy birthday to me

It's a good thing Simon's 5 years older than me, so turning 27 doesn't seem so bad. "Frankie" was making me nauseous all day but I was determined to do something fun. So Mason and I went on a date to the aquarium.

First we took the tube 3 stops.

We got off at our stop - and checked the time.

Then we walked across the Thames.

(That's the aquarium on the other side). This was the part that I realized that London is a cool city, and that I like living here. For some reason my morning sickness also comes with home sickness and I long for the states, as if I wouldn't feel miserable just because I was over there. This moment was actually a great birthday gift- and a surprise which is even better.

Then I chased M around as he shrieked at the fishes and tried to run away from me.