Mr. Gabe Head and Mrs. Abby Head

"No mas!"  When I first heard this Gabe-ism, my first thought was whether we'd watched any children's shows lately that taught Spanish.  I kept trying to figure out if the context of the situation made sense for him to be telling me "no more"...then I finally figured out that he was talking about his Mr. Potato Head's mustache.

Of course.  "No mas" = mustache

Don't know why I didn't catch that faster.  (???)

Gabe's favorite thing to do with his Mr. Potato Head ("Ho head" or "Ho-ho head") is to put the pieces on his own head.  This is a favorite look of Mr. Gabe Head's:

This morning while I was doing my hair, I had Abby in her seat in the bathroom doorway and Gabe was playing back and forth between his room and the hall.  At one point I looked down and saw this*:

Hilarious.

*this picture is a re-creation.  By the time I ran downstairs to get my phone to take a picture to send to Bret, Abby had de-mustached herself.  I tried to get Gabe to put it back on, but he had moved on to putting Mr. Potato Head's arm into the slot for his hat.  So, I had to try to capture Gabe's artistic flair on my own.  I have to say that I don't think I did it justice.

What Gabe Said

Yesterday Gabe and I went to the dentist, and Gabe got a new toothbrush which he saw sitting on the kitchen table this morning.  He got very excited ("Tees!" {teeth} "Open!") and I told him we could open it after breakfast.  Then I asked him what he wanted for breakfast.  His answer:  "Too-pace!" {toothpaste}  

Earlier this morning while I was feeding Abby, he was playing with his football and running around the living room falling down like he was being tackled and yelling "Ta-down!" {touchdown}  After one of them, he came up to me and very earnestly said "Heh-mut" {helmet} ...as in, apparently he needs to be wearing his bike helmet like football players have helmets.

I didn't even know he knew the words toothpaste and helmet...although I'm not sure why that surprises me since we use them and it seems like every day he comes out with a word or two (or three or four or ...) that I haven't heard him say before.

The Pros call it "Table Tennis"

Bret and I have been talking about getting a ping pong table for several years, but the conversation has never seriously gone anywhere because of space constraints.  This last weekend, though, I think the onset of the winter doldrums got to Bret because on Sunday around noon, he says to me:  "I want a ping pong table."

So I say my usual:  "You're willing to give up the other half of your garage for this?"  (one half is already taken up by a trailer)

But this time he responded with a simple, unequivocal:  "Yep!"

So I said:  "Ok, get on craigslist and let's see what's out there."

8 minutes later we'd emailed in response to an ad for a free table.

A mere 9 1/2 hours later we were back at home with our new FREE* ping pong table!

Isn't craigslist grand?


It was too late to play on Sunday night when we got home, so last night we bundled up the kids and headed out to the garage after dinner.  We set Abby up in her swing in front of a heater and Gabe ran around us playing with his dinosaur set and generally trying to get underfoot.

So far we are tied at 2 games a piece.  We're pretty well matched - at least when Bret's not trying to perfect his slam/spike move on me.  He says he needs to practice so that he can beat his dad & brother next time they're over...they grew up with a ping pong table and apparently there are some old rivalries just waiting to be resurrected.  My family also had a table when I was a teenager, and I remember Dad & Paul playing a few epic games that included big slam/spike moves.  Whenever either of them would do that in a game with me I would get SO mad and whine "I don't want to play if you're going to play like that!".  It should be noted that I have already whined this to Bret at least twice.

Abby was all smiles for about 5 minutes, then fell asleep. 
Apparently we did not play games interesting enough for
her to stay awake for!



Gabe emptied the contents of his dinosaur box and kept us extra nimble as we tried not to trip over him.



Yes, these are pictures of us with our ping pong table.

What?  Is that strange?

*In the interest of full disclosure I will share that the table was located in Olympia, 2 hours away from our house, so there was an extra tank of gas required...however - since we all went to pick it up together, it's really just like we went on a Sunday drive and came back with a ping pong table!

I Sure Love This Kid.

Animal Instinct

The first time I held Abigail, I had an overwhelming urge to put my nose on her face.  Specifically, to touch my nose to her nose.



yeah, I'll just let that sink in a minute.



...I don't recall being conscious of the urge at the time; it was only hours later that I realized as I held her, I kept putting my nose on her face.  Looking at her, studying her, and then touching my nose to her.  Not smelling her, but just touching her.  

She's almost two and half months old and I still find myself doing this.  And I don't think I can fully describe the need that's behind it.  It's instinctive, it's basic, and usually I find myself thinking "weird, I just did it again!" because it's not something that happens with forethought.

Is it just me?  Is it just Abby?  I don't recall doing this when Gabe was a baby...although now we do Eskimo Kisses (i.e. rub noses) as part of bedtime routine hugs and kisses goodnight, so maybe I did do it with Gabe and I just never noticed it or thought it was unusual.

Oh My Goodness - have I nosed YOUR baby while holding it??  How far does this strangeness go?

And if I never did it with Gabe or with other random babies, why now with Abby? 

I have wondered if it is my subconscious way of connecting with her and reiterating:  "you are mine". 

I have wondered if it's because Abby looks so different from Gabe (dark rather than fair).  In fact, when they placed her on my stomach, my first thought was "wait a second - I don't have dark-haired babies".  Even though we said all through the pregnancy that she would probably take after Bret because Gabe took after me, my first reaction upon seeing her was surprise because Gabe and his coloring had set the standard for "how my babies look".

I have wondered if I'm just really, really odd.

I have wondered how many times I've done this while in public and whether anyone was watching and thinking "Did she just NOSE her baby?!?".  And then I have decided that I don't care, and that it probably gave them a good laugh. 

I have wondered when (if?) I'll ever stop.

C'mon...tell me you don't want to put your nose on that face!



October Fest-ivities

...we made our now traditional family trip to the Corn Maze:


Our fearless leader!



Gabe has no time for a family picture, he's seen the exit!



These two are so cute I can hardly stand it!

Don't we all look strangely happy about getting lost in a bunch of corn?



The farm we went to also had a Trike Track with various John Deere trikes and bikes for the "kids" to ride on.


...and this year we got our pumpkins from Grandma and Grandpa's pumpkin farm!  My parents put a pumpkin patch in their lower backyard and got something like 20 pumpkins from it! 

Searching for the perfect pumpkin



Found it!




Gabe picking out Bret's pumpkin - doesn't it look like he's laughing because "Daddy's pumpkin is smaller than mine!" ?



We picked the white pumpkins for mine & Abby's


...and for Halloween, Gabe was a very unhappy elephant.  He did NOT want to wear his costume and whined the whole time I was getting him dressed and ready to go trick-or-treating with Bret.  Abby and I stayed home to pass out candy, and I was attempting to get a few pictures of her in her ballerina skirt when she decided to have a major diaper blowout all over herself and me.  Talk about an eventful evening! 



This is from the day we bought the costume and were trying it on to make sure it fit.  Gabe had the most dramatic slumped over posed the whole time I was trying to get a picture...apparently the idea of having to dress up to get candy is very emotionally taxing for a toddler.



But, of course, once he was back home in his sweats and looking at a pile of candy, all was once again right with the world!

Abby in her skirt when I bought it - didn't get any good pictures on  Halloween.



Dear Children

I just wanted to let you know that you both don't actually need to have poopy diapers twice a day for me to be aware that your bowels are in good working order.  I would be fine with once a day.

Gosh, I would even be okay with once every other day.

Just rest assured that I am in no way worried about either of your bowels, so you don't need to keep proving to me multiple times every day that you're processing food efficiently.  I've gotten the message.

Love,

Your Mother

The adorable reasons we are going through babywipes at an alarming rate.

  

Two

Hard to believe that Gabe turned two today.  So cliche, but really, where does the time go?  I remember so much of the day I had him so clearly...and now he's so grown up and he both frustrates and delights me daily.  I suppose I will always feel like time has moved in impossible leaps and bounds when it comes to the kids.

We celebrated with family on Sunday and the biggest hit out of all of his presents was the soft football I picked up for $1 at Target.  Of course! 

He even blew out the candle on his cake by himself!

We sure do you love you, Gabe!

Just put him on repeat....and rollover.

This is the conversation I have with Gabe 8 (thousand) times a day, starting as as early as 6:00 AM:

Gabe:  "Daddy?"

Me:  "He's at work, buddy."

Gabe:  "Me?"

Me:  "Sorry, buddy, you're too young to go to work."

Gabe:  "Oh."


As the day goes on, Gabe's part of the conversation gets more urgent and my part of the conversation sounds more and more like a recorded message:

Gabe:  "Daddy, Daddy?!?" 

Me:  "At work."

Gabe:  "Me, me?!?!"

 Me:  "You can't work."

 Gabe:  "Oh."

 Toward the end of the day, I start to amuse myself by providing long answers, in an attempt to see if it will change the course of our dialogue:

 Gabe:  "Daddy?"

 Me:  "Sorry, buddy, he's at work.  Daddy goes to work and helps people with their computer problems.  Sometimes their hard drives are fried, or their programs lock up, or sometimes people do silly things like just forget to plug things in all the way.  Daddy's got some pretty good stories about the different calls he gets.  You should ask him about them sometime."

Gabe waits for me to finish talking and then says:  "Me?"

 Me:  "Well you can't work buddy, you're too young.  In some countries I could send you off to work but here that would be illegal.  I guess you could consider it 'work' when I make you pick up your toys...but then again, is that really 'work' or is it just teaching responsible toy ownership?  I would say it's the latter.  What do you think?"

 Gabe:  "Oh."


The kid definitely has a one track mind when it comes to the whereabouts of Bret.





In other news, Abby rolled over (front to back) for the first time last Thursday!  Gabe's solution to tummy time was to fuss and whine and bury his face in the blanket until I took pity on him and declared tummy time over.  Abby's solution is to take matters into her own hands and in short order she's usually flipped over and THEN starts fussing to be picked up.  Guess she thinks her fussing will make a bigger impact if I can see her sad little face.  Unfortunately for me, she's usually right.  I'm such a sucker.

One Month

My my how the time does fly!  Abby has been here for a month already so I decided it was time to get serious about doing a blog post since all attempts up until this point have been thwarted.  

This post promises to be all sorts of random and disjointed but I'm more interested in actually getting this written than it making a whole lot of sense so here goes:

Getting induced took longer than I hoped it would.  It took a while to get things going, though it was cool because I didn't really feel contractions or discomfort until I was at 6 centimeters.  From the time I had to concentrate on breathing through a contraction until Abby was born was only 2 1/2 hours.  My description of my childbirth experience with Gabe was that "natural childbirth chose me, rather than me really choosing it", because of how fast things went.  This time around with Abby, I wanted the opportunity to choose to go natural.  I definitely chose it, but I sure didn't fully remember how much childbirth hurts.  Wow.

Anyway - Abigail Anne was born at 8:28 pm on August 30.  These are some pictures taken by a photographer that's contracted w/the hospital to do newborn photos.  Abby is about 16 hours old in these pictures.

Abby was born weighing 7 lbs 10 oz - almost 2 pounds heavier than Gabe's birth weight of 5 lbs 14 oz.  I was looking back through Gabe's growth chart and he weighed 7 lbs 10 oz when he was a month old.  Crazy.

Abby prefers to be held, and usually me holding her gets the fastest calming results.  This makes getting anything else done quite a challenge.  I don't remember Gabe needing/wanting to be held as much, but then again both Bret and I were home for the first several months to share parenting duties whereas this time around Bret's back at work sooner and so I'm with a toddler and an infant on my own.  For the first few weeks, I thought "holy cow how do people DO this with more than one kid??" at least a hundred times a day.  My brother and sister-in-law have 4 kids that are a total of 4 1/2 years apart in age.  Yeesh!  So if ever I need a reality check, I think of Mandy when her kids were 4 1/2, 2 1/2, 1 1/2, and a newborn, and suddenly my two kids don't seem quite so overwhelming!

It also occurred to me a few days ago that Abby's wanting to be held will be something that in the future just becomes part of her story.  We will talk about how I slept sitting up holding her for the first couple of weeks, and how even after that she slept better when she was sleeping next to me than in her playpen.  When she sleeps alone she is LOUD...wheezing (the doctor says her lungs are crystal clear but she must have nose congestion because she wheezes and snuffles constantly) and squeaking and loudly sucking on her pacifier...but when she is next to me she doesn't even wheeze most of the time.  So, I think she goes into a deeper sleep when she's snuggled.  Anyway - it was sort of a cool realization about this being part of her story and it helped me think of it in a new way instead of just being frustrated about all the things I feel like I can't get done because my arms are full of baby.  Bret and I have talked about how with Gabe, we didn't know what to expect so his development just came as it happened (if that makes sense).  Now we know how much more fun kids get as they grow up, so we feel antsy to get past this infant stage.  I feel bad because I really don't want to rush past this time since I know I will be so nostalgic for it later.

Speaking of which, she is asleep on my chest as I write this and she's starting to stir and will want to eat soon, so I will leave you with a few more pictures:

Taken just a couple of days ago.

Watching cartoons with Daddy.



Abby has a blonde patch of hair on the left side of her head.  I consider it "my" patch of DNA.





Reading "I Love You, Daddy" before bed.



Bittersweet

Tonight my chest is collapsing and expanding at the same time.

I am scheduled to be induced tomorrow morning.

He will no longer be the baby.

And she will join our family.

I think I'll be lucky if I manage to get any sleep tonight.

There's Nothing Quite Like...

...the look on someone's face when they look at your very pregnant belly and ask you "So when are you due?" and you respond with "Today."  The expression of surprise mixed with a slight trace of fear, as if they think you might suddenly double over in pain at the onset of a fierce contraction and they might end up having to be your labor support person, is really quite entertaining to see. 

In fact, perhaps the only thing more entertaining is when they ask you "So when are you due?" and you get to respond with "Yesterday."  Their eyes get wider, the traces of fear on their face get more pronounced, and they usually make some sort of nervous giggling sound or exclaim "OH!" loudly.

I can hardly wait for tomorrow's reactions!

Case In Point.

Remember in my last post where I mentioned how having a kid or being pregnant has resulted in more conversations with strangers in the past couple of years than in all the years before that? 

Case in point, the following two strange(r) moments happened on Sunday:

1)  Sunday mid-morning, just inside Lowe's, loading Gabe into one of their racecar carts.  An old man walks past, looks at me and my belly and says:  "You'd better not be heading too far from town young lady!"  (note:  because he was a cute old man in a straw hat, I chose to hear "You look like you're ready to have that baby anytime!" rather than "Wow you're HUGE!")

2) Sunday after an early dinner, we drove into town to get ice cream and go to the park.  Standing in Baskin Robbins, waiting to order, an older lady comes up to us and says "I was sitting in my car outside the window and I just had to come in and tell you - your little boy reminds me so much of my grandson who just turned 13 this weekend!"  (note:  because she was a cute older lady who was reminiscing about her grandson, I chose to hear "I just had to share my walk down memory lane with you!" rather than "I've been sitting in my car watching you guys for a while...")

I've Grown Accustomed to Her Feet...

...her little kicks and tiny nudges.
I've grown accustomed to the bathroom that
I frequent night and noon.
My smiles, my tears,
My hopes, my fears
Are second nature to me now;
Like breathing out and breathing in.
I used to sleep through the night without a toss or a turn;
Surely I can be that way again -
And yet
I've grown accustomed to her hiccups;
Accustomed to her wiggles;
Accustomed to her feet.
(with sincere apologies to Alan Lerner for modifying his song lyrics from the My Fair Lady song of the same title)


Over the course of this pregnancy, I've thought a lot about the fact that this is most likely the last time I will be pregnant.  It's sort of strange to think that when I was pregnant with Gabe, everything was new and "the first" experience, and now just a short time later everything is comparison and trying to remember if it's the same or different from being pregnant previously and it's "the last" experience.

There are a bunch of things I want to write down about how I feel lately so that I remember:

I was hit recently by the feeling that I'm not ready to have the baby.  Meaning - I'm not ready to not ever be pregnant again.  I'm not ready to not know what it's like to feel life moving inside me.  I'm not ready to stop having the very odd experience that is talking to random strangers about the personal details of my life.  I swear I've talked to more people in the past two and a half years since I got pregnant with Gabe than I had in the cumulative 34.5 years up to that point.  And the things you find yourself saying/hearing!  It's so odd!  A few months ago a Starbucks employee asked me how far along I was, and 10 minutes later we were still discussing kids and she was giving me her opinion on our name choice for our daughter (she informed me that she approved...whew.  no telling what kind turmoil it might've caused had she not). 

On Wednesday I thought I might be going into labor and I first felt this surprising sense of peace...like even though it was 2 weeks early and I still have a ton to do at work, it is what it is and I can't stop it if it's going to happen.  Then I immediately thought "but even so...not ready to have a baby today".  And then over the course of the rest of this week it's been this growing emotional feeling that I haven't appreciated this last time around nearly enough; that I'm not ready for pregnancy to be a memory.  And that I'm not ready for Gabe to not be my baby anymore.  I'm not ready to figure out how to split my attention between two kids.  Right now Gabe is so much the focus of our lives...his needs, his antics, the new things he's doing.  There's a part of me that's sad that our attention will be divided now.  And yet, I think that's healthy.  We wanted more than one child - we wanted siblings for them so that they would have each other growing up and once we were gone.  But still - this little girl being my baby means that Gabe isn't my baby anymore.  Lately when I look at him I see such a little boy - how does time go so fast? 

I wish we had the ability to revisit periods in our lives for a day or a two and that it wasn't just a linear path of experiences lived and then relegated to memory.  I would go back to when I moved to California by myself and felt simultaneously so aware of being alone and yet so independent and proud of myself for stepping into the unknown.  I would revel for a few hours in the fact that back then the only person I was responsible for was me.  I would appreciate it more because I would know that never again would I have that experience, including the loneliness of that experience.  I would appreciate the things I learned about myself during that time.  I would go back to the night when Bret and I were talking in the parking lot of the church after bible study and it took us 3 hours to talk ourselves around to the point of "declaring" our interest in dating each other.  I would re-live the stomach-dropping roller coaster of thoughts and feelings and remember how I so wanted to stay and find out if we were really both saying what it sounded like we were saying, and how at the same time there were a couple points in the beginning of the conversation where I just wanted to stop talking and go so we could keep things safe and friendly between us because I was sure there was no way he could be feeling how I was feeling.  I would appreciate it more because I would know that that particular feeling of exhilaration and anticipation would never be something that could be duplicated again.  I would appreciate it more because I would be able to relax and enjoy it and not be so nervous, knowing that I was really standing there talking to my future husband and the father of my children.  I would go back to the first positive pregnancy test I took and remember that feeling of "oh wow, so I guess this is really happening then, we're really starting our family".  I would appreciate it more because I would know that 9 months actually passes quite quickly, even though while you're in the midst of it it seems like it's lasting as long as an elephant's pregnancy (which is 22 months; I Google'd it so you don't have to...guess I'm just a considerate blogger like that).

Honestly, sometimes I really think I'm way too sentimental for this life.  I think it's quite likely that I'll spend my twilight years in a retirement home looking at pictures, boring people with my memories, and crying over how "nothing is the same as it used to be". 

Anyway.  The funny part is, Bret texted me from work on Wednesday morning (after I told him I thought I might be feeling something early labor-like) and it said "I'm ready to get our new baby girl".  Classic.  I am one big pile of emotions, feeling everything and anything, and Bret is practical as ever, ready to tackle our next adventure. 

So, since this will most likely be my last post until our daughter joins us sans womb (unless I somehow find some motivation to actually start posting all the drafts I've started but haven't finished), I will end this post with a few last pictures of us as a family of three.  These were taken last weekend at Echo Falls (where we got married) for our anniversary picture (yes we got married in June, yes we were late taking this year's picture...we were late taking last year's picture...are you sensing a trend here?).

And then...a few days later I convinced Bret to stop again on the way home from my birthday dinner and take a couple pictures of me and my soon-to-be-gone baby bump because we haven't taken as many belly shots this time around, and because I was wearing the same maternity shirt that I wore when we took anniversary pictures when I was pregnant with Gabe, so I thought that'd be fun to have pictures of both pregnancies in the same place in the same outfit.

Baby Gender Reveal Bunko

This is a picture of the hand of my daughter:

Yes, this is the same daughter that is due in about 4 weeks.

Yes, the date at the top of the picture says April 8.

And yes, once again, apparently the ultrasound folks feel the need to label the picture ("HAND") so that I don't think crazy-hormone-induced thoughts like "What IS that thing in there?  A broom?!?  A tail?!?".

This is one of those catch-up posts that I really needed to do a long time ago, especially at the rate I am accumulating new catch-up posts.  Wouldn't it be nice if I was all caught up before the HAND we're expecting on August 25 arrives?  Maybe this will mean that my catch-up posts will be more concise and efficient instead of my usual rambling prose. 

Wait - who are we kidding...what it more likely means is that I will stay up way too late on way too many nights so that I feel caught up on documenting our happenings for the blog book I am one day doing to get printed since I don't really journal anymore since journaling doesn't include pictures and makes my hand cramp up and makes me think grumpy things like "ARGH!  Writing is so SLOW!  I wish I could be typing!".  The sad thing is, I love journals.  I love the excitement that comes with finding a journal with a really cool cover and how all those blank pages are just waiting for deep thoughts and poignant memories to be placed within.  If only I could type into a journal.

What was I saying about more efficiency and less rambling?  Right.  Just as I suspected.

So anyway - we found out in early April that said HAND I am carrying is female, and I had decided that a fun way to share the news with our extended families would be to have a Bunko party with the theme of revealing the baby's gender.  Everyone was to dress in blue or pink to indicate their gender guess, and the winners of the traditional Bunko categories (most wins, most Bunkos, etc.) would win more money if they also guessed the gender right.

Christina and Great Aunt Dode represented their picks in full head-to-toe fabulousness:

And much to my surprise, we actually had a pretty equal number of people guessing each gender. 

The boy Guessers, holding their consolation prize chocolate cigars:

And the girl Guessers, holding their 'you-guessed-it-right' prize chocolate cigars:

If you're saying to yourself "wait a second, that's mother-in-law Mary in BOTH pictures!  I declare foul play!"  then let me reassure you that she was not playing the odds and trying to broaden her chances of winning additional Bunko loot by switching her guess back and forth.  She came representing guesses for both her and my father-in-law.  And besides, she's the grandmother of our little female HAND, so there are special rules in play.  (For the record, and to document on Wayne's behalf, his guess was girl and Mary's was boy, and he was right.  Which I'm sure he didn't tease her about or gloat over being right about like I probably would have smugly done to Bret, because we have only been married for 4 years and my in-laws have been married for 38.  Although, I suspect I will still gloat over guessing things right even when Bret and I have been married that long, because I'm totally non-competitive like that.)

All in all a fun Bunko theme (in my oh-so-not-so-humble opinion). 

And did you notice both Christina and Sara in their regular picture poses?

4th of July

It's hard to tell who enjoyed the holiday more...

...this little boy:

...or this little boy:



All I can really be sure of is that as Gabe gets older, I should probably never let these two go to buy fireworks without either a chaperone or a very strict budget in place.

The little girls across the street shared some of their super-sized sparklers with Gabe:

...and he was a little disconcerted when Bret took his new car and lit it on fire.  But once he saw it zoom off
and flip over, he thought it was pretty cool.

Lately Gabe has been giving me this response when I first ask him to smile for a picture:

I think it must be the beginning phase of that fake smile that kids start to do when you say "Say Cheese!" and they look back at you with a sort of forced grimace that they think is the picture smile you want but really it just looks like you're making them eat brussel sprouts.  Luckily I can still manage to get a couple good ones out of him -

...especially if Bret's making him laugh.