wherein my heart is all over the map

  • I love my new camera. I’ve only used my 50mm lens so far, but there is a MAJOR improvement over the XTi in ease of changing settings, better focus, and picture quality. I’m planning to get a new zoom lens in the near future and then I’ll really be set for a while. I am so thankful to George for this one happy distraction in the middle of our currently chaotic life.
  • We had another house showing Saturday, then the open house was on Sunday, and I got called for another showing tomorrow. And NOW, two other houses on our street just listed for $35K and $50K more, both larger in square footage (although still 3 bedrooms) and fancier (e.g. one has a fireplace and a pool, the other has a super-nice kitchen and a wet bar in the basement). I’m bummed but haven’t completely lost hope. If someone is ok with this house’s smaller size, they could remodel & fix up a bunch of things here and still not spend the difference in price. Maybe that’s delusional, but we HAVE to keep up the positive thinking to stay sane. George has already been driving 2 hours each way to Pittsburgh for two months now, I’m 21 weeks pregnant, and we’re ready to GO.
  • We toured a lovely townhouse in the northern suburbs this weekend and it was perfect for us. But I’m trying not to get attached to it in case it finds a new owner before our house does.
  • Yesterday I made Andrew dinner while George and Oliver went to the store for a few things. “Mmmm,” he said after his first bite of rice (one of his favorite things), doing a happy wiggle-dance from his kneeling position on the kitchen chair. I smoothed his messy hair and then, on second thought, rumpled it back up again. “I love you, Andrew,” I said softly. My little two-year old boy smacked his lips after swallowing another bite of rice and without hesitation or prompting answered clearly, “I love you too, Mom.” I started crying because that was the first time he ever said it. And whether it’s your first child or your second or your tenth, hearing those words is really, really amazing.
  • Tomorrow will mark exactly eight months since my mom’s surgery last June, when they discovered she did not have treatable ovarian cancer, but untreatable peritoneal mesothelioma. Now her battle is nearing the end. She is too weak to even talk on the phone so I reminded her I’m always thinking of her in between my visits. “I love you all day long,” I smiled as I held her hand. “Just like the book you bought Oliver, remember? The one about the little pig?” She laughed hoarsely and whispered, “I love you too.” As much as I want her suffering to be over, I just can’t help wanting it to never be the last time I hear her say that.
  • On Friday afternoon I caught Oliver in a well-behaved and fairly quiet mood, so I decided it was as good a time as any for our talk about Grandma and what’s going to happen. Or rather, it was decided for me that I couldn’t wait any longer, based on her recent deterioration.

    I tried to start out simply: Everything in nature lives for a while and then dies. We talked for a minute about the flowers in the yard, the dead bird daddy found last week, the life cycle of stars on his favorite show. He seemed to understand the very basic concept, so I moved on.

    “Well… people die too, when they get very old, or if they get certain diseases–but NOT things like colds or throwing up,” I added with emphasis (since he had just been sick, and I didn’t want him to be afraid!). “Grandma has a very bad disease, but it’s nothing that you could ever get.”

    “When I was sick, it was just my tummy, but I think Grandma’s whole body is sick,” he said.

    “Yes,” I agreed. “And when a person’s whole body is very sick, sometimes they die. That means their body stops working… their life energy leaves their body and they can’t do things like eat or breathe or walk around or talk to us anymore. And that’s what will happen when… when Grandma dies.” He was watching my face, intent and wide-eyed. I forced myself to continue. “Do you remember on the universe show, how stars change when they die?”

    “Yes! They turn into red giants,” he exclaimed, “and then they cool down and turn into white dwarfs.” (Side note: I am constantly amazed my five year old knows so much.)

    “Well, when people die, they change, too.” At this point I hesitated, searching for the right words. George and I are very spiritual and we believe in God, but we don’t exactly go in for the Wings, Harps, and Fluffy Clouds version of the afterlife. “We all have energy that gives us life–lets us feel and think and be ourselves. So even when a person’s body dies, their energy changes into something else. We can’t see them or touch them anymore, but we still love them and they still love us.”

    “What about their ears?” he asked.

    “They can’t hear with their ears after their body stops working, but they might hear or sense things in a different way. You can still talk to Grandma any time you want and she will know,” I encouraged.

    He thought for a minute and then asked, “Mommy? When will Grandma die?”

    “I don’t know–no one knows–but… very soon,” I said, trying not to choke on the words. “And I will be sad when she dies, so you might see me crying because I will miss her being with us. And it’s ok if you feel sad, too.”

    “Ok,” he said. “I think Andrew and Daddy will be sad too.” And then, shifting gears easily, he asked: “Can I watch the universe show now?”

    Lesson over, mercifully.

    I know that Oliver is only five and he can’t truly grasp the concept of death, but it was still necessary to have that talk. It was hard to do, and it certainly wasn’t perfect, but I did my best. My goal was to make it less of a shock, less scary, before Grandma is gone. Maybe it even helped me a little bit, too.

  • George and I have (tentatively) decided on a name for the baby, but this time we’re not telling anyone until after the baby is born. I told my mother though. It’s one last thing we can share, and I want her to carry that memory to wherever her energy goes.



  • in sickness and in health, in laundry and in love

    I don’t think I will ever need to try bungee jumping or sky diving, because I’m pretty sure the past week was as close to that “Holy crap I am falling and there is nothing under my feet” feeling as I ever want to get.

    We listed our house for sale last Thursday, after which George and I developed matching miserable colds right on cue. I could not breathe and I ached all over from cleaning every nook and cranny of the house, but hey, you could eat off my spotless floors! I almost cried when someone finally had to use the bathroom. Blame it on my congested head and pregnancy hormones but I JUST CLEANED THAT TOILET AND NOW NO ONE CAN LIVE HERE UNTIL WE SELL. Which was not the most practical strategy, as it turns out.

    Less than 24 hours after the house went on the market, I received a call to set up two house showings for the weekend. I was really surprised–I credit the immediate interest to our well-kept, family-friendly neighborhood and very good (for Ohio) school district. The feedback we received from these first two showings was positive: they really liked the house and neighborhood, but #1 wanted a “true” (not shared) master bathroom, and #2 had just started looking at houses that very weekend and weren’t ready to commit. So it’s just a matter of waiting for the right people to come along. Hopefully soon.

    Meanwhile, we went to visit my parents on Saturday. I gave my mom an ultrasound picture of the baby’s profile to keep with her; she held it silently for a long time and then placed it next to her on the bed. I cannot imagine what she feels but I hope it gives her some sense of connection to this grandson she will never get to hold. Then she expressed her continued concern over us moving while I’m pregnant, so I took her hand and said gently, “We’re ok, the baby is ok, and the house stuff will work itself out. Please don’t worry.” It is hard to say these things; it is hard because it is time for letting go, and she needs to hear it’s ok from me. But how does a mother ever let go of worrying about her children? I don’t know.

    My mood was not improved by the fact that Oliver was behaving monstrously all day. I cried in the car, I cried at home, I was at my wits’ end until he started throwing up that night and hmm, that might explain things. He had never been sick like that before so he was really upset, and for once my non-snuggly boy let me baby him a little bit (which I did enjoy, aside from getting puked on at one point). It repeated every 45 minutes almost to the dot and I was up with him past 3am. I was already exhausted from getting the house ready all week, plus I now had a ton of new laundry to do before Sunday’s house showing, since I didn’t think the smell of pukey sheets/towels would have been very welcoming to prospective buyers. No rest for the weary!

    I must have looked pretty pathetic after all this, because on Sunday night, George said he wanted to help me buy the new camera I wanted as an Anniversary Slash Thanks For Moving While Pregnant gift. (Yes, he IS awesome.) We had always planned a Big Fabulous Trip for our 10th wedding anniversary (coming up this May!) to somewhere like Hawaii or Paris, but obviously no traveling will be happening now since I’ll be 7½-8 months pregnant by then. So this is partly about the missed trip, and partly his way of saying thanks for agreeing to move so he could take the Pittsburgh job, because he is much happier now–which is all I wanted, honestly, but he insisted on doing this. After a lot of thought and research, I combined his gift with my own savings to purchase the camera I REALLY wanted as well as an external flash. (Plus I will eventually receive a small “severance” check from my old job, so I have my eye on a new lens, too. Yay!) Not the same as laying on a beach or standing in front of the Eiffel Tower, but hopefully I’ll take my new gear TO those places in the future, with my husband at my side.

    And yet–buying things for myself seems almost out of place in my life these days. It seems too easy that I can want something I don’t need and just… order it. That I can let my husband reward me for simply carrying another child and going with him to another city. I should really be thanking him.

    It has taken some getting used to, this free falling, especially for a planner and Both Feet On The Ground-er like me. I’m reading a really lovely book right now called The Beauty of Different by Karen Walrond, and today I read and re-read a particular quote by her friend Patrick. Speaking about his mother, he said, “…even though she faces challenges in her life, she faces towards them, and not away from them.” I want my sons to see that example in me, too. That is how I keep going, how I know I will get back on my feet someday.

    But for now, I have more laundry to do. And keeping the toilet clean in a house full of boys is a challenge by itself.




    a cappella

    I remember birthdays. I can’t remember significant historical dates to save my life, but if I’ve ever found out your birthday, chances are that I’ll never forget it. I also like to make a Big Deal out of birthdays. Not by spending a lot of money on presents or planning big parties or doing anything fancy; just by doing little things to make people feel special.

    I think Oliver, who takes after me in every other way, has this in his genes too.

    My mother’s birthday is October 12, which just so happened to be Grandparents Day at Oliver’s preschool. He was so excited about GRANDMA AND GRANDPA COMING TO HIS SCHOOL!!!!1!! that he could barely eat breakfast that morning. My parents had a total blast watching the class talk about the sun and moon, work with different learning tools (Oliver picked the thousands abacus that day), and sing songs during music class (apparently my Former Painfully Shy Kid really belts it out!). One of the teachers took pictures of each child with their grandparents, and all the kids and grandparents decorated picture frames together to later use for the pictures. (MY DAD USED A GLUE STICK. I don’t think my dad ever used a glue stick before! heh) When I picked him up later that day, Oliver said, “Mommy, I want ALL the days to be Grandparents Day!” So all in all, it was awesome, and my mom said it was a Perfect Birthday. I am grateful that my parents are healthy and able to do things like this, and it means the world to me, seeing how much my son loves being with them and vice versa.

    But to top it off, there was today.

    George and I were attending a memorial service for the wife of a friend (a former college professor), and my mom was watching Oliver and Andrew at her house when my sister and her husband stopped over. My mom wanted to cut the birthday cake I had baked for her and send a couple pieces home with my sister before she left, but Oliver stopped her: “Wait, Grandma, before you take a bite…!” Then he stunned everyone by CLIMBING UP ON A CHAIR and SINGING HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO HER. All by himself.

    Yeah. She cried.

    He helped me make the cake on Friday, and when he asked to have a piece afterward, I told him we had to save it for Saturday and sing Happy Birthday to Grandma first. But I would have never expected him to THINK of singing to her on his own, let alone actually SING by himself, and I am incredibly proud of him. HE’S MY SON, this thoughtful four year old boy. And he gave my mom The Absolute Best Birthday Gift Ever.

    He’s already talking about singing Happy Birthday to Andrew in a couple weeks. I don’t know if my heart can take it.




    the cake can wait

    Coaching football is my father’s life, which means football was OUR life as a family. For me, it started before I was born: I was considerate enough to wait until the Monday AFTER the last game of his 1978 season–a week past my due date (sorry, Mom!). As a kid, I didn’t see my dad very much between July and November; he never got to see me play tennis in high school or walk me out on the field with my mom on senior band night, and although he was disappointed to miss those things, I made sure he knew it was ok and I was extremely proud of him. My own kids even ended up with birthdays like bookends to football season: July 18, two weeks before two-a-days start, and November 3, shortly after the season ends.

    However, the season might not end quite as soon this year. :)

    Andrew’s first birthday is less than two weeks away, but his party is now officially on hold because my dad’s football team is 7-0 so far, and there is a high likelihood that he will make the regional playoffs (YAY!). And the first round of playoff games for his division (Division I, which are the biggest schools by student population) is scheduled for Saturday, November 6–the day we were planning to have the party. Whether he wins or not (and obviously we hope he’ll keep winning!) this means he will not be home on Saturday OR Sunday, and I know my dad does not want to miss his grandson’s first birthday party, so we’re postponing it until… well, I don’t know when, but knock on wood!

    The cake can wait. I know someday Andrew will understand.

    The four of us will still have our own little celebration on November 3, though. And I’ll say, “I’m SO glad I had you,” and my singing voice will break at the beginning of the Happy Birthday song and I’ll cry into his hair, just like it’s happened every year for his four-year old brother. If there’s anything I love more than football, it’s my little boys. They’re the best luck this family has ever had.

    GO FALCONS!




    what I’ve been doing instead of blogging

    I am so glad it’s almost October! I haven’t been around much lately, mainly due to the fact that I worked 4 days each of the past two weeks while coworkers were on honeymoons—and at 8½ months pregnant, being on my feet all day and lugging around this Huge Belleh is no easy task. However the extra work WILL provide a big paycheck, which is good considering I’ll only be getting three more paychecks before I quit working again for a few months (GULP).

    Being at home requires only slightly less time on my feet since it involves a certain superactive 3-year old. I’m really treasuring the time with Oliver, though, because pretty soon he’ll have to share my attention. We took him to my dad’s high school football team’s game two weeks ago, and he had a blast! I grew up going to my dad’s games every Friday night and it’s still very much a part of my life, a part that I love sharing with my husband and son now. We’re going to this Friday night’s game too (weather permitting). Oliver is totally his mother’s child when he tries to get the crowd around us fired up: “GO FALCONS, EVERYBODY! TOUCHDOWN, EVERYBODY!” But if there’s one person who loves it more than I do, it’s the Coach, aka Grandpa. :) And next year, he’ll have two little guys cheering for him!

    TOUCHDOWN!

    I also took some senior photos for my brother-in-law’s younger son Nick last weekend. The weather was absolutely beautiful. Unfortunately due to his job and social obligations (*AHEM* such a stud! hehe), he requested we take the photos between 1:00-3:00pm, and it was really hard to work around the bright glare and dark shadows while the sun was almost overhead. But we still managed to get a nice selection of shots that he really likes. I’m still processing them, but his favorite turned out to be a goofy out take, of course:

    Nick's senior photo out take

    Somewhere in the middle of all that busy-ness, I had a coworker (who used to work at a salon but now works part time out of her own apartment) trim and highlight my hair. She had already done this for two of our other coworkers and their hair turned out great, so I trusted her, and she did an awesome job! She put caramel highlights throughout the front and top, and then used some sort of glaze afterward that has left my hair feeling AMAZING ever since. Then she dried/straightened my hair, cut an inch off the bottom layer (to even the layers as I grow it out), and shaped it up all over. I never had my hair cut “dry” before and it made a huge, huge difference. Eventually I might quit being lazy and actually do my hair so you’ll get to see it. ;)

    Otherwise things are pretty much status quo with me. My doctor’s appointment last week went well: at 34 weeks, I “measured” to be 33 weeks. The funny thing is that I am carrying Andrew entirely differently than I carried Oliver. Last time I was more like a vertical “watermelon” shape and carrying high; this time I am much more of a round “basketball” shape and carrying right in the middle. I guess that’s how it goes after all the muscles and skin have been stretched out once before!

    34.5 weeks

    We’ll have a better idea about Andrew’s size/position and possible induction timing after my first internal exam on October 6. I can’t believe it’s finally getting so close! I am going to be SO happy when he’s here in my arms. I remember having such a postpartum “high” after Oliver was born because I was relieved to be done with pregnancy, and this time I’ll surely feel a hundred times higher.

    A baby-related conversation with a patient sort-of threw me last week. After the usual When are you due? What are you having? questions, she asked, “Have you had an easy pregnancy?”

    Easy? It took me a second to realize she was asking about morning sickness and stuff like that.

    I mustered a smile. “Yeah… No complaints.”

    Easy? Maybe physically. Minimal first trimester nausea, minimal discomfort even now. Emotionally, though, not easy at all. Every day has been a struggle. I worry half of the time, and the other half of the time, I’m using all my strength NOT to worry. And the closer I get to my due date, the more intensely I worry. I want him to be 100% healthy and I’ve done everything in my power to ensure that he will be. So my only complaint, I guess, is that I am tired of being afraid.

    I bought myself an early Christmas present last week, a necklace with two tiny hearts: a smaller heart bearing the initial “A” overlapping a slightly larger heart bearing the initial “O.” I put it in a safe place until Andrew arrives and I can wear it at last. Oliver and Andrew. My children. My heart, times two.

    Andrew’s crib and dresser arrived last week. We rearranged our bedroom to make space for the crib. I’m starting to wash Oliver’s former newborn clothes (they look SO TINY now!), blankets, bottles, etc. Just a little over a month to go!




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