Dear Ben,

You are a year and a half right now. You are so curious about everything, and I hope wherever you are when you read this, that you are still putting that to good use. If you don’t feel curious about life right now, I encourage you to stop trying to learn about the things other people think you should and go learn about something just because you think it’s fun. Just because you want to. The world is a lot of times tough, and a lot of times unfair. But it is also complex and deep and you could spend a hundred lifetimes trying to learn everything and still be unable. So I promise you, there is something out there that you want to learn. Today, right now, and the most important thing is that you think it’s worth knowing. The most important thing is that it ignites your joy in living.

By the time you read this, I’m sure you will already be quite versed in stacking blocks. So maybe not that.

You are so excited about stacking blocks with me. You are fascinated that things can be driven under them. You are always thunderstruck by engines and airplanes, trucks and trains. I have to agree. I still can’t figure out how those huge airplanes stay in the air over our house. It’s been explained to me many times and is still mindboggling in the moment that they scream through the air, both too fast and oh so slow. I probably couldn’t explain it if I had to, and it’s nice to still be amazed.

Your dad is still hungry for another rocket launch, another shuttle flight, another chance to learn more. I hope you feel that way about something bigger than yourself. I hope those awe inspiring moments get you excited about the potential of your own abilities.

Exploring the world is constantly forcing us to make choices about our priorities, I know. It’s hard to decide what interests to pursue and when. Knowledge isn’t handed out on streets paved with gold, but your abilities, my son. Now, those are gold plated.

I need to talk to you about self-worth. You need to know as much as you can about being you. Building a sense of self worth is like stacking blocks. You just have to be careful that those blocks are strong, and can’t be knocked down. Be thoughtful about the blocks that you choose.

You can build a quick shelter for your heart out of your recent accomplishments, be it a degree, a job or last year’s grades. You can spend your life editing that resume and showing it to the world and it will help you to feel worthy.  It’s a good thing to know your strengths and be proud of your accomplishments, buddy. The world will tell you what it expects you to be in order to claim that you are successful.

You can build an easy sense of pride on having the right kind of car, the right kind of clothes, and the right amount of money. This will soon extend to your house, and your body and your friends. You could easily learn how to fit in with anybody just about anywhere. The heavy pressure to pretend is ever present, wherever people are found.

You can try to build your confidence on doctrine. Following the right faith and the right rules and showing everyone that you can be the ideal manifestation of that religion. The desire to be admired for virtue and righteousness is powerful. It can be a noble path when taken in love and awareness of the shortcomings of humanity.

But those things cannot replace self worth. To have a sense of your own worthiness, it has to be present when everything is stripped away. If you lost your job, your degree, your sense of purpose. If you lose all your money, and your car and your friends. If your body grows old, or is injured or diseased, if your faith is questioned, your failures exposed and everything you believed about the universe and it’s certainties suddenly seems flipped upside down. What remains is you, and that sense of self must be strong, because it will help you start again.

If I manage to teach you nothing else, but somehow you grow this unshakeable self worth, that will be enough. It will allow you to discover your beliefs, your faith, and a love for yourself again and again when you need them. It will help you find a stable support system made up of people who help you to grow and thrive and expect you to be true to yourself. It will help you to take good care of yourself in the solitary periods you might find on the road in between.

When you need to find it again, I want you to search out the children around you and see that they are beautiful. They are good enough just because they are. People want to see them laugh and grow. They are open and loving and in awe of the world, and they are truly enough just as they are. You are no different. Your body may have changed, your responsibilities have grown, but you love and hurt and learn just as always and nothing about your worth has changed from the moment you took your very first breath. All we expected you to do was cry and eat and grow, and we loved you regardless. You can make big mistakes and little ones, transform yourself a million times over, take the hard roads instead of the easier ones, but your worth is a fixed thing. It is separate. Love is a fixed thing, it is permanent.

So go out and get the jobs you want, reach for the dreams you want, drive the cars you want to drive. Rent an apartment, buy a house and sell it, wear the “right” clothes and outgrow them. Fall in love, break up and fall in love again. Find group after group of friends that make you laugh and feel fun, heard and included. Try hard and fail plenty. When you fail, I hope that you can come home to us, even if just in your heart.

And I hope that coming home will help you remember that failing means that you tried, losing means that you played, and heartache means that you loved, and those things are brave.

Standing up for yourself, believing in yourself and loving yourself is hard and takes courage. Be brave whenever you can. You are our son and a person of infinite worth.

~Mama

When I was young I was very angry, for a long time. I didn’t want to be angry, and I didn’t really even know I was as angry as I was, but it showed up anyway. I don’t think anyone wants to be angry, but it is a hurricane of a feeling that will force it’s way to the top in any form that it can. It needs to be heard and will be heard and seen and felt. For me, I was angry because I felt helpless and out of control of the world around me. The solution, in my young mind, was to find the rules and demand that people follow them.

That, I thought, would make it all better. It would make things safer and easier and gentler for all of us, like drivers on the big road of life. If we all know when to stop, we won’t crash into each other.

Little did I know that there are no rules and if there are, they show themselves in different shapes and at different times for all the world’s people.

Nevermind, I still hammered away at that purpose, sure that this would lead to my relief. I would be able to relax when those around me could just see and understand. But I loved people and do still. In fact, I adore people. I think they are as beautiful as precious innocent children, which is what we really are, deep down inside. Everyone’s story is interesting and the way they see the world new and fresh. I really do like everyone, even people who aren’t kind to me. What does that have to do with liking them? I’m not going to spend another minute with them if I can help it, but they still have friends and family who probably love them very much. Treating me in exactly the way I want them to doesn’t have anything to do with their worthiness as humans, its relevant only to me in that moment and whether we are going to hurt or help each other. Or walk away.

Many people I have loved have walked away, and I have walked away from people I love. I don’t see it as the crime that it is said to be. I mean, in every love song and sage piece of wisdom is that demand- call up everyone you love and get them back in your life, because you love them. Well, let me just start with the obvious- Scott probably wouldn’t appreciate me reigniting every love relationship I have ever had now would he? But beyond just those, and widening the circle to friends and family of all kinds. I think of them and I hope they think of me with great affection and fondness. I love to hear from afar about where they are making their way in the world today, but all of us are quite whole and complete without the other. I have finally, after an understandable period of grief, come to accept that every person you love isn’t meant to be in your living room or on the phone every Sunday. They need to fly on and learn their own lessons and you need to learn yours, sometimes apart. There is nothing wrong or even really sad about that. The person that they were in my life, at the time that I desperately loved them in person, lives in my heart in even more purity. Because that relationship is no longer limited by my ego, or theirs. We are free to go on and become people that maybe we couldn’t have been if we had stayed together.

I will go even further and say that I am proud of some people for leaving me. They saw something in our relationship that was hindering them or hurting them, and they were able to let go. Now that I have the gift of hindsight, I can see those years better and I think they were right. I have wonderful friends that I have had for a lifetime, that I hope to have for the rest of it, but they are not better people for putting up with my stumbling. It just worked for them at that time, or they could understand it better than others, and I am grateful for that. But to those who needed to walk away, I get that, too, and good for them.

I still get angry, and it’s a hard feeling for me to sit with, because it reminds me and makes me feel like I’m falling back into the past. Of course, anger is something we all feel and I don’t get to bypass it. It’s okay to be angry, to feel that anger, and to tell people when I’m angry and why.

However, in the way that I have chosen to live going forward, my worst behavior should be inadvertent, like it was back then. I do not want to use it as a test of those around me, to see who will “win” by putting up with my abuse the longest. Those I love the most don’t have to have “seen me at my worst” in order to gain admission. Honesty creates intimacy, no doubt, but animosity doesn’t. I didn’t mean to push those people I loved away, or to abuse them in the way that I can now see clearly I did. But I loved them- I am glad they loved themselves enough to draw the line and go. It doesn’t mean I am unworthy and the people I chose to walk away from aren’t either. Our actions lead to consequences, but sometimes that is a great and wonderful thing.

Last weekend, while Scott was cleaning out the garage (I’ll give you a peek at that progress at the end), I was trying to push along with these awesome ideas that had been laying around in there. While Ben was down for a nap, we did some work. I also threw together some ridiculously easy ribs! Here is the recipe, found on my Allrecipes Dinner Spinner App:

Sweet and Savory Ribs:

(that’s how they looked when they just started cooking, they filled the house with a mouthwatering smell, too)

Ingredients:

1 large onion, sliced and separated into rings (skipped that)

2 1/2lbs boneless (these were bone-in, didn’t seem to matter) country style pork ribs

1 (18oz) bottle honey BBQ sauce (didn’t have honey so I squeezed some in later)

1/3 cup maple syrup

1/4 cup spicy brown mustard

1/2 tsp salt

1/4 tsp pepper

If you cut up the onion, lay it on the bottom. Combine the rest in a small bowl and then pour it over the ribs in the crock pot. Piece of cake! Let cook on low for, they say 8-9 hours. We went 6 and couldn’t stand waiting any longer and it was delicious. I let the rest cook another hour (not sure it was really necessary).

I was dressed in my finest:

My most exciting project is my ruler growth chart. I found the idea on Pinterest, but took my own direction with it. If you go to Pinterest and search “ruler growth chart” you will see some of these images, or some like it:

image from: 517Creations.blogspot.com

You get the idea, I just went with more of a loose ruler “look” and stained my wood dark. You can still see the grain, it’s pretty nice. I started with a piece of wood I picked up from Home Depot, about this size and shape.

Then last weekend, the husband stained it for me:

Then, later on, I printed out some enlarged Times New Roman numbers off the computer, and thanks to a tip (that I also found on Pinterest) I traced over the numbers with a ball point pen, impressing their outlines into the wood:

Ben was thrilled, and thought I had set up a gymnastics course for him:

Then today I finally pulled my paints and brushes down from the attic and started working on it.

Materials:

White acrylic paint

Small paintbrush

Cup for tiny bit of water

Disposable tupperware that I use for spreading paint around

Paper towel to soak up excess water on brush

The painting was going beautifully. Getting Ben to sit and color with me was hit and miss. Sometimes he was really into it but mostly he just wanted to get up and down and have me draw letters for him. Which I did, in little spurts. It got done, and was kind of nice and relaxing. Music on, Ben playing around me, painting away in a kind of meditative zone. Pret-ty nice.

Before long, things were shaping up. I had to go over each area twice or so, to get it thick enough. I really loved painting on wood, think I might try it again soon.

And the finished product!

Cute, right? I’m going to buy a white paint pen to enter heights for the kids. I love how simple and crisp it looks.

So meanwhile, back at the ranch, we had these other fun projects going on.

1) Scott was cleaning out the garage. Here are the before and afters:

 Before (during escrow, outside looking in):

Now:

Before (turned just slightly to the right, where the previous owner had built a room inside):

Didn’t get an after shot at that particular angle, but here is a dramatic “during”. You can see the door to the house hidden back there in the corner, just to orient yourself:

Before (standing by the water heater):

Now (same direction):

Still have some junk to expel, but definitely getting there.

2) Last but not least, the first nursery project for baby Alina was a $20 changing table we bought off of Craigslist, that came to us white, is now a very “sunny yellow” thanks to some Rustoleum glossy spray paint (about 3 cans, holy cow):

No sanding or fancy stuff, just sprayed it. We have zero other decorating going on in there so far, so you will have to imagine fun colored bins, a floral changing pad cover and a yellow patterned rug to accompany this after photo (this is for you, Rachel!):

From my perspective, pregnancy and infancy run a spectrum of difficulty. I have friends who have delivered and lost babies, that they held in their arms. They have lost the physical ability to get pregnant, or never had it, or have children who needed long hospital stays and physical and occupational therapists. I see that end of the spectrum and in no way do I think I come close. Then there’s the other end, who have like nineteen kids because it doesn’t seem to interfere with their lives at all. They feel great pregnant, enjoy breastfeeding, and heal quickly after delivery. I know I’m not on that end, that’s for sure. Between the myriad of experiences that can happen within pregnancy, and delivery and then postpartum, both with mother and child, there are a million places to fall on this scale. 97% of the stories I have heard from my friends and family, including mine, are considered normal and fortunate, and that’s astounding. So for first time pregnant moms, you can find entire websites devoted to pre-eclampsia complications that will make you feel like everyone in the world has had it. Whatever your particular challenges are, if they fall within the middle of the spectrum, you will probably feel intimately acquainted with them and be willing to risk them again.

That doesn’t mean they should be on a Hallmark card congratulating you on the miracles of pregnancy and childbirth! How about you give out some of mine:

Everything Ben does is painfully cute, and I think my second pregnancy alone suggests that I think it is so worth whatever I had to go through to get here. I am definitely willing to do it again (and am, currently). But it’s like we all have an agreement to furtively whisper our latest science project of a symptom that kept us in bed for two days, along with a loud disclaimer about how much we love our children. As if hemmorhoids has anything at all to do with our kids.

Which leads me to my next little point- I didn’t go through all of this for Ben. I went through all of this to have Ben. I won’t follow him around his whole life telling him about my episiotomy every year on his birthday, like it’s a college loan he has to pay back.

But I don’t have to like it!

I think if someone told me I had to really, truly, in my heart and at every single moment, appreciate the pain associated with bringing a life into this world… I. Would. Implode.

And as for the romantic concept of blissfully breastfeeding like it’s as natural as a baby foal learning to walk… well. If it was like that for you, in all seriousness, I am profoundly grateful. It should be like that for everyone. But if it was hard, and you cried and fought your body’s impulse to fling your baby away from you at every single latch… if you plastered purple stuff all over your breasts and they stained your sweet baby’s cheeks… if you spilled pumped milk all over the bed after working so hard for every drop… and you didn’t give up. I think that is the most romantic of all.

If you had to leave your brand new tiny baby in a hospital four hours away and go back to work, still wondering if he would even survive.

If you went through multiple surgeries and painful tests and were poked and prodded with needles in an attempt to get pregnant.

If you endured multiple miscarriages and delivered babies you couldn’t take home.

If you barely made it to the hospital and had a scary, drug free delivery.

I think that you are a warrior. I think that is a beautiful demonstration of what a parent will go through to have children, and as they grow and you love them more every day, those sacrifices become achievements. But it’s perfectly okay to not appreciate those parts of the process. It’s okay to say that they sucked. It’s okay to say that during those moments, you fervently prayed that this wasn’t happening to you. It doesn’t mean you don’t appreciate the outcome that you arrived at. And even if it’s something relatively little like tearing during delivery, bed rest, swelling and braxton hicks… it sucks and that doesn’t mean you aren’t glad to be having a baby.

Because DUH.

From what I see now from my adult friends, and in my own
house, the boys were getting it even worse. Not only were their parents
similarly tired of the eighty-sixth argument that day over something silly, but
they themselves had a completely different script among their young peers:
don’t talk about it, get over it, and the worst thing you could possibly do is
cry, so if you feel like that’s coming on, then push somebody, stat. If you
write your feelings down on paper, you are an inferior little girl and we will
show it to everyone and laugh. Again, totally and radically unhelpful.

Now, thanks to breaking up with my third grade best friend a
gazillion times, I know how to apologize for being a complete jerk. I know when
the words that have just come out of my mouth should have never, ever left and
what was I thinking? I know because the look on my partner’s face looks very
much like the one that Jamie would make when I really, really pissed her off.
Luckily, she was almost as patient as my husband is now. The opposite is true
of the males I know. They don’t seem to know how to fend off a big, huge
argument before it starts. They don’t seem to understand what to say, quickly
and quietly, to evoke understanding and compassion after they have just
blundered big time. In fact, most of the time I find that they place their bets
on good old awkward silence to solve the problem, just as the grown-ups had
always inadvertently promised it would. Only it doesn’t.

Among the males in their lives, maybe it achieves the
necessary- they have a tacit understanding to move on and not express any
feelings, and let the uncomfortable matter drop. Only I find, and I think men
see this, too, that women tend to have more intimate relationships than they do
with their friends. Intimacy tends to call for communication and sharing
feelings. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’ve met men with lifelong, loving
friendships, but very few involve intimacy. They support each other by showing
up, helping on a project, demonstrating love with nonverbal cues. But from what
I see, men, just like women, need to express their feelings. Most just wait
until they have a wife or a girlfriend to walk them through it. This is also
one of the first relationships in which they feel safe enough to talk about
them.

Women don’t miss this entirely. We see that men
communicate mostly through grunting and shoving, and sometimes some kind
sympathetic looks. But somehow we don’t make the connection that they didn’t
learn the skills that we did. Everybody says they are men, and are inferior at expressing their thoughts and feelings. We
all tell them that, too. “Boys will be boys” and all of that stereotypical
nonsense is the stuff we cling to. We need explanations, because communication
between the sexes is ridiculously hard. But, aside from the obvious holes in that theory (the countless male writers and romantic poets, Shakespeare included, that for centuries were our only culturally accepted written fiction and history, as one such example) couldn’t there be other reasons for
this that are just as simple? My son is very verbal, as are lots of other boys.
He is gentle and expresses a wide range of emotions, and with every one, he
looks up at me and wants me to explain it.
He says please and thank you because I won’t let him do much without it.
He doesn’t know what these words mean, but it’s a habit I want him to have in
his pocket before he has to make philosophical sense of it. I learned how to
navigate through childhood arguments through a combination of habit and
behaving poorly before I ever could appreciate what I was learning or why. Even
boys (and girls) who aren’t very verbal at a young age are still good listeners.
They can learn problem solving and communication just like they learn how to
eat with a fork, but we have to take it just as seriously.

I guess the question is, how? What are we supposed to do? It is exhausting, especially fighting against socially acceptable standards of behavior, and it’s not like kids are always just begging for our opinions on this stuff. I repeat the names for emotions to my child over and over, I plan to encourage him to either talk or write out his feelings, within the safety of his home, but of course, it’s a learn as we go process. That’s the “hoping” in my opening sentence. I am trying to remind myself to explain emotional situations in basic forms, even if it seems over his head. We’ll have to see if any of this works. I see the gap, I just have to figure out how to fill it.

I understand the “let them work it out” philosophy. Kids
learn by doing, and my friends and I were certainly left largely to our own
devices throughout grade school, mainly because we didn’t always have to tell
our parents about the drama on the playground. However, every philosophy should
be adopted with some flexibility, and I think this is one that could use some
new trends. There are other things kids learn that we widely agree requires a
guiding hand, like long division. In an ideal world, our parents are there, every night at the
dining table, going over and over it, having nightmares about us failing
standardized tests and falling behind. They can’t do it for us, we had to do
the work. However, we as parents have a vested interest in our children’s success and hopefully ours also urged us back
onto the path that eventually worked for us. Or at least got us through high school. I get those loving concerns, and
you’ll bet that I will be at that dining table, learning long division again.

I just want to end with one simple observation- my husband
and I both have to communicate with each other, our kid and our peers every
single day. And we both use calculators.

Just saying.

image from here: http://www.scasd.org/page/831

Friday

Before we left Ben had some fun with a rigged up “water table” and his friend Charlie. Charlie’s mama Danielle was quite done being pregnant and while we were gone for the weekend she had a little girl! We are so excited.

Driving up was great, just a battle with the sun in the backseat. We aren’t doing too much more long distance travel, and I want Ben to stay rear-facing as long as possible (because it’s safer in a collision). We already had to move his seat from the middle spot because pretty soon I won’t be able to get him in there with my ever-growing belly. A little bit before the new baby comes, we will flip him around to face front and I’m sure he’ll be thrilled. And these lengthy battles with sunshades will be over:

(Reached around blindly to snap photo).  Sorry for some of these grainy iPhone shots, but how cute are those shorts?

And cartoons with Grandpa make a little boy very happy.

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Saturday

In the morning I got a rare chance to have coffee with friends Nicole and Jesse, and a very celebratory baby shower for my friend Mimi at a beautiful tea house. It was amazing.

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Then the boy and I went up to spend time with my BFF Kelly. She made us a delicious barbeque dinner in the glorious heat, and we watched the boys play and everyone ate blueberries and watermelon, and I watched her water her fruits and veggies. Kelly is expecting twins about four and a half weeks after me, and we got a baby bump photo together. Our photographer, Alan, would like you to note the artistically placed bubble:

I can’t believe I didn’t get any shots of the boys playing, they were adorable. Ben was of course just studying Zach as hard as he could and copying everything he did. Zach dipped a little shovel into the water and flung it high, sprinkling himself and Ben, and Ben’s smile would get soooo big it seemed as if it would come right off his face. He giggled and Zach would say, “weee! I’m making Ben laugh!” Later, when Zach had wandered off to get something else, Ben picked up the shovel, dipped it in the water and flung the water into the air, looking at me with glee and saying, “weeee!”

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The next day was

The Big Reveal

Everyone got into position, Skyping all ’round….

Grandpa got to do the honors. I love how Scott looks ready to be surprised, too.

Grandpa was having a wonderful time drawing out the suspense, going as slow as he could, but when he pulled out the knife from the first cut, the raspberry filling was there for all to see, and once we pointed it out to him, his face was priceless. Then it was all about brandishing the bloody looking knife, and making sure everyone Skyping could get a good look. It’s a Girl!!

My favorite, again, is Scott’s shocked face, as if he didn’t already know. I think as this was happening it was sort of driving the reality home for him.

Alina Alyson Thomas is due September 14th.

Here are some of the highlights from our big ultrasound appointment:

Then we got to chow down on the cake!

We had a wonderful afternoon enjoying family and talking about the new baby. Ben had a blast playing in the yard and running through the house.

And we got an adorable sleeper from Aunt Sherri and some beautiful photos to celebrate: (this first one is Ben ‘blowing kisses’)

This week has been so much better! The last two days have been really good to me, lots of energy and people to play with.  I’m having a lot of fun dreaming about the new nursery, and when we went to the museum with Sarah, Sara and their kids on Tuesday, Sarah gave me a ton of maternity clothes. I came home, dumped them on the bed, and danced around with gleeful relief. It was getting tight around here (in more ways than one).  Here we are at the museum with our two youngest (one in, one out!). Her daughter and Ben are six months apart, and these two will be six months apart! What are the odds? Four kids in just over two years. We have been busy girls! Sarah tried to give me some encouragement, but similar to your first baby she kinda gave me the, “good luck you’ll get through it and love it” bit, which is really all you can do. You do love it, it is super hard, and you do make it to the other side. I’m enjoying my last months of fewer diapers, easy snacking, and regular sleep. Excited to meet our new little one, too.

I’m having lots of fun with the new app I got for editing photos on my phone: BeFunkyFx. Love it. Love love love it. Check out my prego happy dance. I got the moves like Jagger.

Belly. I love how I look when I’m pregnant and I love maternity clothes. I love how I feel NOT pregnant. I know this is the opposite of most and I try to appreciate the small perks that I get. Because “a little queasy sometimes but overall wonderful!” is not one of them. Besides some pelvic pain and pressure, I’m hoping this is the beginning of feeling good for awhile. I need it, but so does my poor husband. This little guy also loves getting up and around. He is a good sport and will hang on the couch with his mama, but seriously a guy needs to run outside sometimes.

Complainer face. I locked the tape measure. I know, but it was snapping back and I’d rather deal with a little whining then a full on heaving breakdown, should tape measure smack him in the face.

It feels like summer! It was so much fun today to go visit our friends and play in the water.

I’ll admit something. I really make it kind of a rule NOT to do this. After all the crazy fun with that water table today, I went and bought one. I had been watching Craigslist for awhile but none ever showed and now that it’s hot out, it will be even harder to snag one. So, I just did it. I’m excited. I want it to come tomorrow.

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This ring he is cuddling with, from the Rock-a-Stack toy that everyone has had since… ever, is just about his favorite toy. I keep thinking he is saying “Water” but he’s always saying “roll it”. He wants us to roll the ring across the house, over and over again so he can go get it. Favorite toy, favorite game. He takes it everywhere. Some things make sense but I don’t think I could say I saw that one coming.

I’m hoping to get back into some creative things soon, like scrapbooking. I know that is going to hit the backburner again and so I would like to get some preliminary stuff done so that this baby will have one, plus I still need to finish up Dean Schmalbach’s first year and decide what I am doing from then on. I think I want to start doing family album scrapbooks, just year by year, but each baby needs a baby book, that’s for sure. I have lots to catch up on and I’d like to hammer out some new layouts.

I’m also hoping I can write up some “life lessons”. I asked Scott once over a romantic dinner what he would want the kids to have learned from him when he’s gone. He said he would want them to know enough not to settle with anyone that wasn’t 100% right for them. (I then of course got all watery and he told me that I was 110% and well. The guy was really on a mission that night I guess). That little bit of fatherly advice really stuck with me (flattery will do that). I have been writing out my life memories since I was pregnant with Ben and I add little thoughts and lessons here and there, but it might be nice to make up a little scrapbook of them. I know my kids won’t want to always sit down and talk this stuff out with mom and dad, but maybe if they can pull something out and open it up it will make our words more accessible to them. More likely they would be just fine without it, but you never know how long you really get with your kids and grandkids and so on, and they may want it someday when they have already learned so many lessons on their own. Anyway, I will keep you posted if I make such a thing.

Can’t wait to surprise Scott’s family this weekend! Will take photos, promise. I’m picking out an outfit as we speak.

Well here I am in all my bumpness about a week ago (4/8), for all you out there wondering if I actually have photographs of myself anymore. I hope Ben is cute enough to keep my Instagram followers entertained for the time being (if you want to follow, look up marleathom). I look like this every blue moon, so I try to take a photo and pretend it’s every day. This is seventeen weeks. I’m getting some energy here and there, but I just recently burst a trillion blood vessels in my eyelids thanks to throwing up, and they are still fading. Thanks to my freckles they blend in. I’m blessed, it’s true. I thought I was bigger this time around, but as you can see, I’m really about the same. Guess it just always feels bigger when it’s hanging off your midsection (sob, hiccup… just kidding). Check out my seventeen weeks post for Ben. I feel that way, too. And get a load of the date. Wowza, right on the money.

Biggie and the Smalls came to visit a couple of weeks ago and we got some fun family photos:

Only one of us is pregnant this year! Isn’t our matching set of boys super adorable? I guess technically we have two sets…

So that was fun. Smalls is Scott’s best friend, Scott Schmalbach. Smalls’ childhood home, where his parents still live, is just two blocks down from our new place. We actually bought our place with the confidence that the neighborhood would be wonderful, since we are down here every holiday season to spend time with our extended family. Smalls’ sister moved just down the street from his parents with her husband, daughter, and twin boys. If only Smalls would give in and move home to the commune. But we know how much he loves San Diego, and we are headed down there next month to stay with them while we celebrate Steph’s graduation from San Diego State, where she is finishing her master’s degree in Sociology.

Speaking of, she came to visit us a week later for Easter, with Amy, who cooks every time she is here, and taught me Rummy. So we are tight.

Steph has all the Easter photos, so we will see when those happen upon the Internets. But I did get this one of Ben with his bunny. Not sure why he is pantsless but that’s relatively common around here.

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For your bloggy pleasure, I thought it had been awhile since I mocked up a good comparison photo collage. Here are Scott and I at about Ben’s age now:

And the boy flashing his gorgeous smile:

I think he is a nice blend. His hair is all mine though, make no mistake. Heather cracked me up when she said, “He looks like you making Scott’s facial expressions all the time!” which I think is right on. But I think he got some of Scott’s features straight out. Thank goodness I got those dimples on there, that is my main claim to fame.

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So let’s talk about potty training! Boy that was fun. Like I imagine running the Boston Marathon is fun. If you lose, but keep all limbs intact. I had to put it off for a smidge because right around Steph’s visit he developed a super nasty diarrhea bug and wow. None of us escaped without sinus scarring. It takes a full 24 hour period before you are convinced you finally do not smell it anymore. Until then you are washing everything in sight in desperate paranoia. Anyway, once that fun little thing cleared up, I kind of took a swing at it suddenly one morning. Here’s the method I went with: two days of naked butt, with you staring at their nether regions in a hawklike way that makes both you and the child exceedingly anxious. The idea is that by first squirt, you have them hustled over to the potty so they can watch themselves go and have a lightbulb moment. Every half hour for the whole day. LOTS of pee on the floor at this stage. By the second day they should be heading to the potty voluntarily. On the third day you put underwear on them and experience a second wave of accidents. Things should taper off by day four and they should be pretty well on their own. Minus nap and nighttime which require a diaper for quite awhile longer.

So I wrote to Scott giving him the heads up:

We refer to the baby potty as the frog. He says, “wibb-eh”. And the last three bits are references to Peppa Pig, the British cartoon that Ben watches we all watch incessantly.  I was so tired when this craziness was over. Basically the conclusion was that, although most of it made it into the potty, and Ben seemed pretty cool with most of it (a little whining by day two), he never was able to communicate that he was about to go, so the beginning of day three we called it. I am glad I tried it, and I’m glad I put it away. We will give it several months and try again. I seriously thought I was going to die I was so tired. And Ben was not thrilled about me being so up in his grill from sunup to sundown. He started trying to hide behind the curtains so I would stop staring at him. I’m sure with some maturing, it will be pretty smooth sailing when he’s ready.

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We did go and see the doctor last week, and we DO know what we are having! We have told some close friends and family but we are keeping it close to the vest until after we surprise Scott’s family in person this weekend, with the name we chose and all of that. Just thought it would be fun and we’re excited. So don’t tell them! I’ll announce it on the blog with other baby type plans next week. I leave you with rainy-day photos of our favorite park and a trip to the grocery store for Ben’s drink of choice. Kid can’t get enough.

Happy Monday!

I just didn’t understand it, and I couldn’t have, and I wanted to. All I wanted was to be able to sympathize with my mother friends with a genuine, I’ve-been-there shoulder to lean on. I knew I didn’t understand and there was nothing I could do about that.  So, now I understand. It makes me a better friend, and sometimes a worse friend. I know now that I don’t always have to remember everything, because my mom friends will cover me and I will cover them. And I know that my friends need more random acts of kindness than I can give right now. It will be so fun when my sister has kids and I can be the calm force of energy around her that has seen this and done this and knows she will be great at it.

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For the first time, I was in the store today gathering together an Easter basket. It was so fun. I haven’t really had this much fun yet, planning for an event or a holiday because Ben just hasn’t been old enough to get into it. But I know he is going to be psyched about searching for plastic eggs and putting them in his basket. And they had sports ball plastic eggs. For some reason this little gender stereotype touch just set my little mom heart on fire. Then there were kites, and pinwheels and stuffed bunnies. Oh, it’s on. I also got the grown-ups a bag of candy. We won’t be hunting for it but we’ve earned it just the same. Jesus Christ has risen and there WILL be chocolate.

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Prego Brain

It’s real, people. As you all know by now, I can’t operate under these hormonal conditions and it just keeps getting worse.

Last week, I stood blank faced in front of the ATM, trying to recall my PIN number. To be fair, I hadn’t used it in four months… to be fair, I’ve had it for eight years. I texted Scott, who had no clue what it was, not that I was surprised. I finally bit the bullet and went inside the bank. I had to get cash for the sitter one way or the other, and there was no other unless I decided to pawn something just to save myself the embarrassment. I went in, gestured at my tummy, said I needed to get my PIN, and the nice, also pregnant lady behind the counter gave me sympathy eyes as she ushered me to an office so I could get cash and reset it. It was a minute or two, some small talk while I was handing over my ID, and then they brought out the little keypad and, of course, I suddenly remembered my PIN. Because of COURSE I DID.

Draw Something is a super fun game on my iPhone (essentially Pictionary) that lets me sketch a bit and stretch my almost dead artistic muscles. It’s great. You choose from three options (each assigned levels and correlated points) about what to draw, and it takes a little movie of you drawing it and sends it to your friend with an assortment of letters and spaces a la hangman. You watch them guess yours, you guess theirs, you draw something. You write little notes to each other. Usually “LOL I forgot Miami was in Florida!” if you’re me. But one brain fart was a particular favorite. Here’s the “hard” option on my list: MCHAMMER. It keeps popping up, but I have no idea what it is. One day I just bite the bullet and write out “___Donald’s“, draw some golden arches and a hammer. With a “+” thrown in there. It works. Later I post on Facebook a note to my friend Justine:

Sad, isn’t it? A friend of mine wrote a master’s thesis while she was pregnant. Clearly you can see this was not to be for me. I can hardly follow crime dramas on TV.

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In Other Prego News

I’m feeling kicks! I got two hard jabs last weekend and then just little ones since. I want more big shoves, it helps me remember why I’m feeling so miserable and tired! Soon enough they will be against my ribs. But I’m pretty sure Ill still like them.

We go in for an ultrasound on Tuesday and I’m pretty sure we will find out if this is a girlbut we probably won’t announce until we go up north to see family. We will just tell people here and there for a couple weeks. Boxes of baby clothes will be flying all over the country. I can’t wait. Give me some kicks and a baby name and the world will be right again, I tell you.

Didja hear my BFF is pregnant with identical TWINS?? In case you don’t know, she also has a two year old son. I’m so thrilled, I can’t wait to find out if they are boys or girls.

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Tomorrow is DAY ONE of….. POTTY TRAINING!

I know. I’m absolutely masochistic and insane. I never would have considered it this early, but a couple of things came up, and Ben is unflaggingly enthused, so we are taking a swing at it. It might be a swing and a miss but I am sinking three days into it and seeing what happens. I’ll keep you informed. Here are my supplies:

One froggy portable potty.

Two packs of little boy briefs.

Cotton prefolds.

The plan for day one is naked from the waist down, drag that froggy potty all over the house and make him sit on it every 30 minutes. Clean up accidents, read our potty book. Drink water. Talk a lot about going pee pee and poo poo on the potty. Does that sound like a party or WHAT?

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Alright, time to catch up on phone photos!

Thank goodness someone is taking the reins around here. Sheesh people, sweep the floors at least.

We found a hairy caterpillar in the yard! I was as thrilled as Ben. He was a little annoyed that I tried to keep him from killing it. Or rather, overly excited shows of affection.

Here’s a great angle on the yard that foggy morning, all cleared out and cleaned up thanks to our gardeners:

We now have the furniture set up with cushiony pads and comfortably arranged. It’s so nice out there. When the wind isn’t trying to knock you over. I did make it to the museum that day. It was a herculean effort but I did it. This post is feeling like a Herculean effort, too. Phew!

Ben loves patio furniture. Remember how he is obsessed with the moon? He brought me this leaf the other day and declared that it was a “mun!” He also picked up a bread crust this morning and said, “seven!” He blows me away.

Okay I’m worn out. I leave you with this hilarious photo my father in law took when they were visiting. When Ben is super, duper psyched about something, we get this face. Sometimes a snicker. Makes life worth living. Even with heartburn.

Let me remind you….

Before:

Later:

Now:

We also installed the dining chandelier finally. So excited. It was a bit crazy, having the husband oh so high in the air, but it’s a beauty. If you don’t remember, we actually bought it before we even got the keys to this house! It was from Costco, so we figured we could return it if we had to. So glad we jumped the gun.

Another note, no our walls are not pink. They don’t even look pink, but with the sunlight and no flash, you get: pink.

Another side note: that fridge’s days are numbered. It’s a perfectly cute functional little guy, so we are keeping him for as long as we feel like it, but someday there will be a stainless two door standing there instead. And you know by now that we will do it!

So, as you can see there are still a few things to be done. From this last angle, still two doors to be hung and of course, painting. From the other angle, here is our to-do list:

I love this house, and I love watching it transform and fill in. So…. what do you think?