A Post About the Posts I Meant to Write

So, it's been a few days. I couldn't write on Friday because Landon and I made an impromptu trip to Houston for my dad's birthday. Birthdays always make him sad and my mom has been so overwhelmingly busy with school work (both from teaching two preps and being a full time masters student) that I thought Landon and I could make the weekend a bit more cheerful. Plus, JP had a ton of his own schoolwork to do, so I thought we'd give him the weekend to be extra productive in a quiet house. (Too quiet, as he kept telling me when he'd call just to hear our voices; I love how my introverted, only-child husband has come to dislike an empty house.)

On Saturday Landon, my dad, and I headed to the Houston Zoo. If you live nearby and haven't been, go. It's awesome.

Landon, crawling through a piranha tank

Unfortunately, despite a morning weather report titled "No Rain for a While," it rained, a lot. And it was cold. We were all dressed in shorts and short-sleeves and failed to bring an umbrella, something my uber-prepared dad found rather horrifying. He'd even asked about bringing an umbrella several times that morning, only to be brushed off by my mom and me. But still, we had fun.

Landon, popping his head up in the prairie dog habitat

For whatever reason, Landon alternated between being delightful and whiny/crabby for the first two hours we were there. This meant that I, without thinking about my easily injured back, my 31-week pregnant state, and my 35 lb. dead weight of a toddler, leaned over to pick him up many, many times. My dad always took over and spent much of the time carrying Landon on his shoulders and making him laugh by running into tree branches, but I still did way more bending and lifting than I should have. I honestly just forget how quickly things become "too much" and by the time we got home my back was very, very angry.

That evening I made my dad a carrot cake birthday cake from scratch with this amazing recipe. I don't even like carrot cake and I could eat this one until I burst. Landon was sooooo excited about the "cake with all the carrots in it" but waited patiently while we ate an delicious steak dinner, sang the birthday song, and then finally cut the cake.

So that is what I intended to write on Saturday night, but instead I passed out around 10 pm. Landon woke up cranky and went on a long walk with his papa while I packed our things. He returned full of smiles and we piled in the car for what should have been an easy 3 hour drive home.

But it was not. It was 4 hours of hell. Landon screamed and yelled for 75% of the trip. He slept for 30 minutes, and he talked and sang happily to himself for the other 30. My back was in a lot of pain, with a constant dull ache accompanied by spasms of sharp pain shooting up from my tailbone every time I moved my foot from the gas to the brake. I tried to use cruise control but ten million people decided it would be a great idea to take pictures in the freaking wildflowers on the side of the highway, and even though they could pull over with plenty of room on the shoulder, everyone else who drove by thought they needed to slow down to 10 mph and create a stop-and-go traffic situation for miles and miles along Highway 290. We finally entered the Austin city limits, only to be stuck in terrible traffic on I-35 and I was in so much pain and Landon was yelling and I was having very strong and very frequent braxton-hicks contractions and I wanted to cry.

We finally pulled into our driveway and I got out of the car, abandoned the yelling Landon, and walked in the house. JP came out to the kitchen with a huge smile on his face, so excited that we were home, and I just glared at him and informed him that his son was still in the car and I was taking a bath and please just leave me alone for a few hours.

I took my bath, took a muscle relaxer for my back, and crawled into bed. It was 4:30 p.m. JP took Landon somewhere (to the grocery store and park, I later found out) and my braxton-hicks contractions slowed to a stop. I then slept for 15 hours, not waking up until 8 a.m. the next morning. JP said he checked on me a few times, and even shook me a little at one point to make sure I was responsive, but I was out.

And that's why there was no post on Sunday. Then I didn't write one yesterday because I was still nursing a bad mood hangover. But today I'm much better. Landon is cheerful and charming, my back is much recovered, and today's perinatal appointment revealed no bad effects from my four stressful hours in the car. I head to Chicago tomorrow for a 1-day recruiting trip to the law school and I am SO EXCITED about 36 hours in my favorite city. Perfect spring weather, meals with friends, a night at the Four Seasons, a slow stroll down Michigan Avenue... oh and a few hours chatting with 1Ls about the firm. Hooray!

66 Weeks Pregnant - now illustrated!

Scene: Our master bathroom, this morning.

Landon: I'm a big boy. And daddy is a big daddy. And Tex is a big doggie.

JP/Me: (nodding, making general noises of agreement while getting dressed)

Landon: And Rosie is a big doggie. And Lilly is a big kitty.

[I suddenly turn to the side, revealing to maximum effect my giant belly that is somehow made to look even bigger in my purple top.]

Landon, with eyes as big as saucers: And Mommy is a BIG Mommy.

JP, laughing: Yes, but we don't tell her that.

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So yes I am 66 weeks pregnant and have the belly to prove it. I've decided to start adding in the 35 weeks I was pregnant with Landon because only that number accurately reflects how pregnant I feel. Everything continues to go well so I shouldn't complain- I'm not swelling, my blood pressure is super low, and I have no stretch marks or any other nefarious pregnancy symptoms, but I am just so tired of it. I miss my waist and my old clothes. I miss the way I used to be able to turn to the side to pass by something. I desperately miss wine and now that it's getting warmer, miss the possibility of a frozen margarita on an outdoor patio. Each morning I remain surprised to find this giant belly attachment that I need to swing out of the bed along with me. I have 8 weeks to go, and annoyingly enough, even in my most negative "I hate being pregnant" mood, I really do want to stay pregnant for the majority of them.

People have asked if it's been different being pregnant for a second time. Yes and no. At first I thought it went by much faster- and it did, until right about now when it has slowed to the same crawl that I remember from last time. I know even more now that I should be enjoying these last few weeks of uninterrupted sleep and time along with my little boy (who has morphed right back to his usual utterly charming and tantrum-less self), and yet I'm just as impatient to meet our baby girl as I was to meet Landon. That and I just seriously hate being pregnant and I'm ready to get back being the only one living in my body.

There are few differences. This time around I am way less focused on my weight gain, to the point of not noting it at all. I didn't do anything to attempt to restrict or control my weight gain last time (obviously, since I was +38 lbs. when Landon was born 5 weeks early), I just remember thinking about it a lot and always being aware of where I stood. But right now I couldn't even tell you how much I'd gained, though I think it's about 25-30 lbs. More than I was hoping, but nothing I'm concerned about (good thing, since I just ate a cookie the size of my head after lunch). The other major difference in this pregnancy is that I haven't done any pregnancy or baby-related reading at all. I barely even skim the babycenter.com updates that arrive every week. I think last time those emails and articles were my only connection to motherhood and my baby, so I reveled in them; whereas this time I've got a Landon running around who is SO much more fun than a fetus and I don't always need to know what variety of vegetable my baby looks like this week. Physically I feel about the same- maybe a little more tired, but I think that's because I have a Landon I want to play with after work rather than just a couch that needs to be sat upon (and also, I'm at work all day rather than just being a school for a few hours). But overall I don't feel like it's been too different this time around.

Lastly, I want to thank you all so much for your wonderful, helpful comments on my c-section post. I got so much from reading your stories, the positive and the negative, and from your advice- I even copied a bunch of them into a Word document for JP to read. So thank you. Thank you for understanding this sentence of the post, "I knew I had already made my decision as to how future babies would be exiting my body" and responding with your comments, experiences, and insights rather than judgment. It was all of tremendous help to me and will likely be a help to other women who google their way to that post as well.

57 more days!

(Not that I'm counting.)

Update! I got JP to grudgingly snap a picture of me after work today. I really need to start taking them in the morning when I haven't had my makeup on for 12 hours. But here's my 66-week belly, forever frozen in time:

Oh, What a Beautiful Morning

I went to bed much too late last night for no good reason at all. At 9 p.m. I had forced myself to make my favorite soup (the chicken barley chili) so it would be ready to heat up quickly when we got home tonight. Pleased with my productivity, I then wasted an hour on the couch flipping between HGTV and the Food Network. I promised myself I'd go to bed after the Daily Show was over at 10:30 but found I couldn't work up the momentum to exit the couch cushions. Finally at 11:45 I was in bed, mad that it was so late and I hadn't done anything worthwhile since 9:30, and JP had tucked me in and promised to put the now-cooled soup in the fridge. I fall asleep within 15 minutes (record time for me).

Six hours later Landon's cries were piercing through my dreams. It was 5:45. I know there are people who wake up at this terrible hour, but Landon usually gets up between 7:30 and 8 and I've come to rely on that with my too-late bedtime. After several minutes of soothing in the stairway I was able to make out that he was crying because he couldn't find his puppy (which was up in his bed under the covers WHERE HE SHOULD BE), and he was upset that he was awake but the sun was not. My sensible solution- that he get back in bed, with his longed-for puppy, to wait for the sun to be awake- was rejected with a wail, and thus began our morning.

He wanted his cereal bar but was upset the cereal bar did not match his PJ's which did not match his milk cup and he wanted the little milk cup and not the big milk cup and his feet were cold but he did NOT WANT SOCKS. NO SOCKS. "But my feet are colllllllld [interrupted by a combo sob/hiccup]. I want my pupppppppy.... NO PUPPY! NO SOCKS! GO AWAY MOMMY."

Happily, darling.

He was just acting like a normal, upset, under-rested 2-year-old, but it was a side of him we pretty much never see, so I decided his surgery must be to blame (which is possible; the ENT nurse said that while kids usually do great immediately after the procedure, about half become very crabby and emotional on days 3-6 post-surgery, so yeah, that must be it). And I was so tired and a million weeks pregnant and without my usual reserves of patience, so I headed back to our bedroom to tag JP to come reason with our child, and then I saw the soup pot on the stove. The full soup pot. The soup which we now needed to dump down the drain and couldn't eat for dinner because my mother is a bacterial microbiologist and if there is anything I learned from childhood it is how to imagine all the creepy crawling microscopic things that are now swimming around in that soup after being left at room temperature for 9 hours. Waah.

JP took Landon back upstairs to "start the day over" while I crawled back in bed for a few minutes of sleepless rest. Landon's do-over went well until he crumpled in a little ball of tears in the pantry because his cereal bars had not magically changed colors and there were still no green ones and now he was wearing an orange shirt- and really I have no idea, but he told JP in a voice of tears that he wanted to "start over again with mommy."

So up we went for Wednesday Morning attempt #3. We picked out a new shirt and pants, and things were going well, so we fed Lilly and headed back down to the pantry of peril. This time we breezed through the breakfast picking process only to have him lose it at the selection of the milk cup. Then he was so busy screaming at me that he couldn't use his words to tell me he needed to go to the bathroom so he had an accident in the middle of the kitchen floor, which REALLY made him mad (at me, obviously). He'd been doing so well with using the potty and was so proud of himself, so peeing on the kitchen floor and then having to change his clothes was absolutely the worst thing that had ever happened to him in his life. So we were back to "GO AWAY MOMMY. GO AWAY DADDY. YOU ARE NOT MY FRIEND."

All in all, a joyful start to the day.

The good news is that once he was installed in his fourth outfit he started jabbering about sharks that live in the ocean and ate his breakfast and drank his milk without incident. And then he stayed busy re-hiding his Easter eggs in the playroom, expressing his delight that the sun was awake "just like me Mommy!", all the way until 9:00 when it was time to go to daycare. And though I wanted to be grumpy and mad, I couldn't help laughing when he marched out of the house wearing his sunglasses and blowing me lots of kisses. God did not make babies and toddlers cute on accident.

I dragged myself to work, only to find that my two pharmacy claims had been rejected by my insurance company, again, for ridiculous loop-hole reasons, so I'm still paying out of pocket for my progesterone shots even though they are medically indicated and prescribed by my doctor and will likely save my insurance company tens of thousands of dollars in NICU bills. This is the same insurance I pay $1,000/month to cover me and my family and whose representative actually made me cry on the phone last week during my 50th phone call regarding some of my 2009 OB bills. I don't cry easily.

Blogger informs me that this is my 800th blog post, so I feel like it should be so much more than a long whine about my morning, but this is all I've got. I've decided we're going out for ice cream tonight (and JP is taking care of dinner), so maybe I'll have something more insightful and positive to say then.

Being the Bunny

I like being the Easter Bunny. I may wield a little less power than I do as Santa Claus, but there's so much less hype and pressure.

We enjoyed a very low key Easter weekend. Landon was back to 110% within hours of his surgery and has remained that way ever since. It's amazing. On Friday we both stayed home and cuddled and played and took two trips to the park. On Saturday we headed out to our church Easter party. Landon was so proud of his "handsome shirt" (which is now anything with a collar) "with the agigator on it" that he actually requested a picture before we left.

And then this morning Landon was delighted to find an Easter basket waiting for him at the table. And he was even MORE delighted to find his very own pair of sunglasses inside that basket (along with a few books and a puzzle, but really it was all about the shades).

my two handsome men

He wore them through the entirety of his living room egg hunt (which he loved, especially when he opened the eggs to discover the plastic bugs I'd picked out for him; the centipede he's ooohing and ahhing over in the picture below is now sleeping with him), the drive to church, the 50 minutes he spent in the church nursery, the 10 minutes he spent in the church sanctuary (JP always goes to get him after communion befor the last song), our homemade waffle breakfast, and all the way up until naptime, when I finally convinced him to remove the glasses and place them next to his bed for safekeeping.

This afternoon we went for a family hike along the Barton Creek Greenbelt. The dogs loved swimming in the river, as did JP, while Landon and I investigated the various bugs that crossed our path along the shore. Dinner was a roasted pork tenderloin. While ham seems to be the traditional favorite, neither JP nor I are big fans of it so we opted for a different cut of pig. And luckily, even though it was a new recipe, it turned out delicious! Especially when followed by a few Easter sugar cookies.

All in all it was a completely lovely little holiday. I hope you all enjoyed the same.

Lilly does too.

Surgical Success, for Landon anyway

Landon has successfully gained a set of ear tubes and lost a set of adenoids! He was amazing through it all, though due to an act of complete idiocy by his mother, the day was a bit more drawn out than it should have been.

His surgery was scheduled for 10:30 a.m., and according to the very clear instructions from the surgical center Landon was not to have any food after 1:30 a.m., any milk after 3:30, and any clear liquids after 7:30. He usually wakes up between 7:30 and 8, so I was really hoping he'd wake up before the liquid cut-off so he could have a little something in his tummy. When I heard him downstairs at 7:00 I exclaimed to JP to hurry out of bed and get him his milk because he can still have liquids! Yay!

An hour later, as we were gathering our things to head to the hospital I saw the used milk cup and immediately realized, "oh shit we gave him milk." It was only okay to drink clear liquids, not any liquids. I berated myself the whole way to the hospital, secretly hoping we'd talk to the anesthesiologist and he'd say it was no big deal -- I mean it was 6 ounces of fat free milk, how much could it matter?

Well, according to the surgical nurse, who glared at me above the rim of her glasses, and the anesthesiologist who was apologetic but firm, it matters quite a lot. Milk can aspirate up into the lungs making a nearly risk-free procedure something else entirely. It is therefore necessary to wait 6 hours after drinking milk, moving our surgery all the way back to 1:00 PM. Luckily our ENT was at the hospital all day and they were willing to accommodate us. But the guilt, oh the crushing guilt that I was going to be starving my son for 3 more hours. And the urge, the nearly overwhelming urge to tell everyone that I swear I'm usually VERY good at following instructions and I love lists and charts and rules and really this is just SO UNLIKE me and I'm so sorry and again, seriously, I am really a very competent person. But I didn't do that. I held my tongue, and nodded my head while the nurse explained three times that Landon could have NO FOOD OR DRINK OF ANY KIND for the next three hours, and then sincerely thanked them all for rearranging their schedule and allowing us to continue with the surgery that day.

So far Landon had yet to mention his lack of a breakfast. He had been dancing for the nurses and was very excited when we told him we were going to come back and see the doctor again. We walked over to a nearby PetSmart where Landon admired the birds and fish and I very nearly convinced JP that we should adopt a 2-year-old tabby cat named Pumpkin. Two parents, two kids, two dogs, and two cats - it would be perfect! Then we hung out on the benches at the back of the store like a sad homeless family until I suggested we head back to Dell Children's to hopefully find some sort of park.

And we did! Soon Landon and JP had taken over this little corner of the grounds and spent nearly an hour building rock rapids in the outdoor waterscape.

Landon almost immediately fell into the fountain (though no water passed his lips, I checked!) and ended up pants-less with his sweats and socks drying on a nearby rock. We were back to vagabond status with our bags in a pile, our laundry strewn about, and our half-naked child trying to swim in this tiny decorative river.

For an added bit of class and entertainment we floated his crocs down the rapids. Lots and lots of times.

Finally it was 12:00 and time to head back into the surgical center. But then we had to wait 45 minutes in the waiting room (because all our pre-op paperwork was already done) and about 15 minutes in, Landon started asking for a snack. I felt absolutely terrible saying no, explaining that we had to wait for the doctor, but he seemed to shrug it off, only to ask again 5 minutes later. Finally, just as he was starting to whine "I'm hunnnnngry" and I was about to cry because it was my fault and I felt like the worst mother ever, we got called back. Within 10 minutes he was decked out in a little gown, fuzzy socks, and a hospital bracelet. He was stylin' and totally distracted.

This time I was able to give the right answers when asked when he last ate and drank and a surgical nurse held out her arms to take Landon back behind the double doors. He accepted the transfer and they were gone. The anesthesiologist came out just a few minutes later to say that Landon did great- he was very relaxed and had laid back and breathed into the mask with no problems. He walked away saying, "he's remarkably mellow for a 2-year-old." His teachers tell me that all the time.

JP and I headed to a private recovery room where I realized I was about to faint because I hadn't ate or drank anything all day either. The ENT appeared about 20 minutes later to say that everything went great! He told us he removed a lot of thick liquid in his ears which should make a huge difference in Landon's hearing (though we had never noticed a problem with his hearing and his vocabulary and speech are excellent, so I'm interested to see if we do notice a change). He also remarked that Landon's adenoids were very large and definitely pressing on his ear canal so it was going to help a lot to have those out too.

Ten minutes later this sad, cuddly little man was in my lap getting blood on my shirt and refusing to drink his juice.

The next 45 minutes were tough. Landon alternated between being sweet and snuggly and sobbing and kicking (and hitting- I got clocked in his jaw at least four times). I know he was just exhausted- we were way past nap time, and he was starving and disoriented, and it was so hard to not be able to make him better. The promise of two Spiderman stickers finally got him to drink his juice, which he kept down just fine, and which morphed him back into his usual self. By the time we left at 3:30 he was asking about going to the park and eating pancakes.

Once home he ate those pancakes, plus a yogurt smoothie, jello, cereal bar, animal crackers, two cookies, cinnamon toast crunch, and various beverages.

For the rest of the evening he bounced around the house (literally), went on a walk with his dad and dogs, and seemed to exhibit no signs that he'd just been in surgery a few hours earlier.

I, on the other hand, lay down on the couch completely drained and kept drifting in and out of consciousness. I can't remember the last time I felt that tired.

But for Landon the day was a total success and he seems to feel great. And I will never, ever get surgical instructions mixed up again. Ever.

The Stork Is Scheduled

My c-section is scheduled for Friday, June 4th, which means that regardless of what else happens, in 65 days I will have held my baby girl. This makes me smile in a very big way.

I mentioned my decision to opt for a c-section this time around in a very early pregnancy post, and as happens with these issues, people had opinions. They're interesting to read, especially since I frequently and gratefully rely on my blog to serve as a world-wide internet community of girlfriends, but there is one view that annoys me, and that is the one that assumes this is something my OB pushed me into doing. I am a smart, self-confident woman. If I had walked in my OB's office for my first maternity visit after a perfect vaginal birth and she recommended a c-section, I would have left to find a new doctor. My OB's white coat and status as an MD would not have affected my ability to think for myself one bit. This option was introduced by me alone.

You see for me, Landon's birth was perfect. It was very calm, relatively quick, nearly painless (at least until the very end), and resulted in only one little tear. I recovered quickly, running errands at Target by the end of the first week and happily regaining my sex life 4 weeks later. If I was the only party involved I wouldn't think twice about doing it again; in fact, I would give birth at least 3 times in a row if it meant getting out of a few of those pregnancy months.

But childbirth involves more than just me. There's a baby, and in Landon's case, that baby came out and developed dark purple bruises covering the entire top of his head, both sides of his body, and the bottoms of both feet. He was diagnosed with Respiratory Distress Syndrome, which is not unusual for preemies, but is somewhat rare for 35-weekers. And once he recovered from that, he de-satted for over a week, something the neonatologist said was unusual and very likely connected to the 7 broken ribs we discovered a few weeks later. (Her letter and testimony was very helpful at our DCFS appeal hearing.) We don't know- and will never know- that the birth process is what broke Landon's ribs, but it remains by far the most likely possibility (the other being that something happened to him while he was in the NICU) and I simply will not take a chance on that happening again. He was a perfectly average sized baby at 7 lb. 7 oz., and since this baby will hopefully bake a few weeks longer, she should be at least the same size or bigger, and we're not going to risk her getting stuck or injured in my screwed up pelvis.

Those are my medical reasons, and my doctor agrees with them. But it goes deeper than that, as I realized when I had my first OB/GYN check-up right after we moved to Austin- the idea of another bruised or injured baby terrified me. When I sat down in my OB's office to introduce myself, I was amazed to find the whole Chicago story spilling out of my mouth about 5 seconds after saying hello. I hadn't told it to anyone start-to-finish since it happened, so it was a little bumpy, but she listened patiently and we talked about my options. Well, she called them options, but I knew I had already made my decision as to how future babies would be exiting my body. I wasn't pregnant and had no plans on becoming so for at least a year, but I felt really good leaving her office knowing that she knew my full medical history (a history which includes my baby) and that she was at least on board with the possibility of a c-section. Throughout this pregnancy she has continued to phrase it as an option, but when we sat down to talk about the birth at my last appointment she agreed that it was the right one. I will be 39 weeks on June 4th. I really hope to stay pregnant that long and have come to believe that I will, but even if I don't, I'll just show up at the hospital and go straight to the OR. The peace of mind this has given me can't be put into words.

But, and this is the part where I'm really looking forward to your comments, while I am confident in my decision, that doesn't mean I'm not a little disconcerted by the idea of a scalpel-meets-belly birth. I never worried or thought much about labor the first time around. I figured I'd have a vaginal delivery, but if that didn't work out I trusted my midwife to make the right recommendations along the way. And my recovery was so easy- I felt back to 100% days before Landon was breathing regularly. I've had major surgery before- my hips were operated on in high school (as noted above, I have screwed up, turned-in hips that managed to tear through a bunch of cartilage not normally rubbed by your pelvic bones and it had to be cleaned out), but this is abdominal surgery and that's different (though it can't be much worse than major joint surgery, I had to have walking lessons after that). Still, it sounds like recovery will be harder than a vaginal delivery and I worry that it will take a long time for me to be able to pick up my baby and play with Landon like normal.

So for those who have had one, how was the recovery for you? Is there anything you recommend that I have on hand post-birth, either at home or at the hospital? And this isn't medical, but I almost cry when I think about being away from Landon for the four days I'll be in the hospital. Sure he can visit, but it's not the same and I'm going to miss him so much.

And yet, 65 days. I can't freaking wait.

Because Every Holiday Deserves A Cookie

In honor of Easter, and partially in honor of me being pregnant and requiring a constant inflow of sugar,* I decided we should decorate Easter cookies this year. So I broke out my Swedish great-grandmother's recipe, which I had attempted for the first time at Christmas, and made a small batch of dough.

Last time my little hand-mixer nearly had a breakdown when asked to combine all the wet and dry ingredients, so it was a joy to use my shiny new Kitchen-Aid. Landon served as sous chef. He quickly became intoxicated with the newfound deliciousness of cookie dough, though he refused to eat it directly from the beater, preferring instead to use his teaspoon. His mother had no such qualms.

The dough chilled overnight on Saturday while my mom, sister, and I went to see Phantom of the Opera. My mom loves music and soundtracks were often blasting through the downstairs of our house as she cleaned or did dishes. Phantom was a favorite and my sister and I knew all the words way before we had any idea what the story was about. When I was in 9th grade the play came to Houston, and even though we totally couldn't afford the tickets, my mom took my sister and me. It was the first play I ever saw and though I've now seen and loved many others, Phantom will always be special. And I'm glad to say the show in Austin on Saturday was fantastic.

On Sunday my mom headed home early in the morning and Landon donned last year's bunny ears (from my beautifully labeled "Easter" bin) to assist me with the baking.

Our Spring cookie cutter assortment consisted of a sheep, duck, bunny, and egg. The egg was my favorite; the sheep was a total pain in the ass to cut and transfer without messing up the fluffy fur. So guess which one Landon liked the best?

The sheeps.

Here they are, all ready to decorate!

Except JP had a group meeting that went 3 hours longer than he predicted, so the cookies remained naked for some time. While we waited, Landon and I did our best to soak up the absolutely gorgeous 75 degree weather. I plugged my work laptop into an outlet on the back deck and doc reviewed for 3 hours while Landon baked me many delicious treats in his new play kitchen (a fabulous craigslist find; more on it later).

When JP finally came home we cooked out hot dogs to eat with potato salad and a delicious green bean and cherry tomato salad that I found on Smitten Kitchen. The cookie decorating (with lots of homemade icing) served as dessert.

Such focus.

Landon managed to finish 4 cookies. JP completed 9, shown below, though I think only 4 count as actually being decorated. But he did put Landon to bed and then cleaned up the kitchen table, so I suppose he gets a little extra credit for that.

I was left to decorate the remainder. Many a sheep ended up with an identical twin.

They are so delicious. It was lots of fun and something I expect will be turned into tradition. And hopefully the amount of work involved will keep me from purchasing cookie cutters for Thanksgiving, Halloween, and the 4th of July.

* I'm not kidding, I've never craved sweet things like I have during this pregnancy. I had my glucose tolerance test last week. I passed, of course - believe me, if my body was having any trouble processing sugar I would know it by now.

Our Day

I was flipping through my archives the other day and came across two posts of my schedule as a law school mom: one from Landon's perspective at 6 months old, and another from mine at 9 months. They were fun to read, even if the second one made me tired, and I decided I should memorialize our current schedule in a blog post somewhere. And not because it's difficult- due to a combination of factors (my flexible work schedule, JP's status as a graduate student, Landon's excellent health and sleep habits, etc.), our days feel pretty easy. This is going to be far more detailed than necessary, but I just feel like our life is never going to be easier than this - when we have two real jobs, two kids, and the kids start having their own evening and weekend activities, things are going to be so much more hectic, and I want to remember this time clearly.

7:30-8:00ish: Wake up. As we have since the day Landon came home from the hospital, JP and I take turns getting up with him. Now that he's a big boy, this is less about bleary mornings leaning over a crib, and more about shepherding him through the dressing process and getting him set up with breakfast. You also change his diaper, feed the dogs, and generally get the day started. The other person gets to linger in bed, which feels delicious even if it's just for another 30 seconds before jumping in the shower. The big boy bed has made mornings much easier, and I do love being the one to get the cheerful "Hi Mama, I wake up!" when I open our door (he comes downstairs so quietly I'm actually not sure when he does it; this morning I found him reading a book to the dogs in his play room), but it's also great to loll in bed for a few minutes flipping through my blackberry and planning my outfit.

8:00-9:00ish: The general morning routine. I used to fear this part of being a working mom, but it's actually very calm and happy. Landon eats his cereal and a banana, sometimes with JP or I sitting next to him at the table, and sometimes with Thomas on TV (his only tv show of the day; I do love the PBS kids on-demand) while JP or I come in and out of the kitchen as we do other things. After he's done eating Landon joins us in the bathroom while we get ready, asking for a blast from my blow dryer or reading me a book while I'm in the shower. I keep my blackberry on the bathroom counter and check and respond as needed, while Lilly plants herself in the middle of everything and looks annoyed if you come close to stepping on her. We make Landon's lunch while he takes 10 minutes to put on his socks and shoes "BY MYSELF", and then he stands by the door asking when we can leave for "daycay" while I throw my work computer in its bag and gather up whatever I was working on the night before.

9:00: My goal time for getting out the door. If I leave at 8:50 and it's not raining, I can be parked in my work garage in 8 minutes. If I leave much before that, there's traffic and I get to work at 9 anyway. I always get a big hug and lots of blown kisses Landon before I go. JP doesn't have class until 11 Monday through Thursday, so he takes him to daycare (which is 1.0 miles from our house) on those days. I think they usually leave the house around 9:30 or 9:45.

9:15-5:30: I work. Usually pretty productively, with the occasional interruption from colleagues and friends. Sometimes I get annoyed with myself when I enter my time and realize I lost over an hour chit chatting, but then I remind myself that an enormous part of my job satisfaction comes from enjoying the people I work with. And besides, on most days, I work pretty hard. I generally go out for a quick lunch with a friend/co-worker. I've found I don't actually work when I try to eat at my desk, so unless it's a really crazy day I like to give myself an official break.

5:30-5:45: On Tuesdays and Thursdays I get Landon and Outlook alerts me at 5:30 that it's "time to pack up". I un-dock my laptop, throw it in my bag, and gather whatever I need to continue what I'm doing later that night. Even if I don't think I need to do any work I always bring my laptop home because on the nights I don't I'll invariably get an email at 8 or 9 asking for a document I can't access on my blackberry.

6:00: Pick-up Landon at daycare, one of my favorite things, and get a toddler-led tour of his new artwork hung on the wall and/or whatever toys he's particularly fond of that day (yesterday it was a little plastic beetle). We drive home while Landon tells me what he did that day. The dogs greet us enthusiastically at the door while Lilly looks on with disdain at their unseemly exuberance. The dogs go outside and Lilly gets lots of pets from Landon; she pretends not to be pleased but I notice she doesn't move away. (On the other days when JP doesn't have an evening class he picks up Landon around 5:30.)

6:15 Dinner is started or reheating. On the days I don't pick up Landon I get home about now and JP is the one playing chef (or he's not and I'm on the verge of being crabby because I am hungry and food is not in the process of being ready for me to eat it). Landon is immediately settled at the table with milk and a fruit or vegetable to ward off crankiness while dinner cooks (I should probably start doing the same for myself) and he sings me songs or tells me all about the random things that pop into his head. Somewhere during this I'll flip through the mail and make stacks to file, recycle, or otherwise deal with, wash out his lunch box, and feed the dogs. And change into sweat pants and a comfy shirt.

6:30ish: We hope to be eating by now, though it frequently doesn't happen until 7 depending on the meal and what time everyone got home. If it's later, Landon will play with his toys between his appetizer and entree and I'll go join him.

6:30-7:45: We eat, clean-up, and play. JP takes the dogs on a walk and Landon usually goes with them. I join on occasion, but lately have felt a strong need to sit on the couch immediately following dinner. When they get back we play some more, read Landon's books, build block towers- basically do whatever Landon wants. By 7:45 we help Landon put his toys away and head upstairs for bed. JP and I take turns with the nighttime routine, and just like in the morning, while I love my turn to kiss his damp head and read him his books, I also love the evenings when my off-duty light turns on right at 7:45. This is all going to be so much harder with two children.

7:45-8:00: I've written about the nighttime routine a few times before, but it's special and usually very easy. Bath, teeth, books, snuggle, "make me cozy", sing a song, lights off, walk out, close the door. Landon has done awesome with the big boy bed. Sometimes when I go back upstairs later to feed Lilly or put clothes away I'll hear him singing to himself or talking to Puppy, but he never gets out of bed until morning.

8:15-11: JP and I are both on our laptops working- usually with him in the study and me at the kitchen table. Even if I don't need to work on an assignment, I'll clean up my Outlook inbox, enter my time, or do whatever other "wrap-up" items I didn't finish as I ran out the door to come home. On Thursdays we watch our NBC shows and then I watch Project Runway, but on most other nights we don't bother turning on the TV. If I'm just sitting on the couch with my personal laptop, JP will come out and work next to me so we can talk and be near each other. On some nights we'll run a load of laundry because I hate when my weekends feel chore-heavy, and I always straighten up the counters before heading to bed. I've found that if clutter never builds up, it's never takes very long to put away.

11-11:30: We start getting ready for bed, or at least start thinking about getting ready for bed. I always read, even if it's only for 20 minutes, and sometimes JP does too. But usually he just falls asleep next to me and then I snuggle into him once I turn off the light, always promising myself that I'll go to bed earlier the next night.

There's variance of course. I've worked until 3 and 4 a.m. on multiple occasions, JP sometimes has all-evening meetings with business school classmates, and once or twice I've come home and had to get straight to work in the study while Landon and JP bring me food and drop in to keep me company (Landon loves to type next to me on my old broken laptop). But life is good. Now that Spring is here we've been eating our dinners outside on the porch or taking a picnic to the nearby park, which Landon loves (and I love because I can sit on a bench and watch him run about while expending very little energy myself; at 30 weeks pregnant and who knows how many pounds heaver, that's very nice).

I worry a little about what it will be like with two kids and both parents working- so far we've always had one parent as a flexible grad student. I'm sure we'll find our own ryhthm and things will be great, but I also know that there will be times I look back on these days with a lot of fondness and not just a little longing.

It was a good run...

After two years of nearly perfect health and a grand total of only FIVE visits to the pediatrician (3 required check-ups and 2 ear infection visits; there was a time when we had 5+ appointments a month), Landon will be reentering a hospital to have his adenoids removed and new ear tubes inserted. Ironically, the surgery is scheduled for April 1, which is both April Fool's Day and the same date he got ear tubes for the first time in 2008.

my itty bitty patient on April 1, 2008

His tubes fell out sometime late last year and he immediately got a double ear infection. We went to the ENT where Landon charmed a nurse and failed a hearing test (though not because he couldn't hear). The doctor advised that we wait to see if he got any additional infections before we decided on another round of tubes. Given JP's long and tormented history of ear problems (short version: his eustachian tubes do not work, at all) we knew there was a good chance Landon inherited the same anatomical "quirk" (so much better than abnormality or evolutionary failure, right?). But many weeks passed and he stayed healthy and we started thinking that maybe he got my nice, properly functioning ears and wouldn't need another surgery after all.

Then, about two weeks ago, Landon started waking up an hour early. He didn't cry- he'd just walk downstairs and play quietly with his trains until we emerged from our room, but it was strange and he wasn't getting enough rest. On the second day he was a little clingy at night, wanting only to sit in my lap and cuddle. On night three he felt hot and had a 102 fever. We dosed him with Motrin and then, after some cuddles, he very seriously informed me that "the doctor needs to check my ear." "Oh really?" I said. "Yes," he replied with a slow nod, "there's an elephant in there... he's hurting it." I almost laughed, but then I remembered that when we saw the ENT (months earlier) the doctor had jokingly asked Landon if there was an elephant in his ear. Since Landon was feeling fine at the time, he said Noooo and laughed. But I guess it stuck with him, and now that his ears hurt, he knew that pesky elephant must be involved.

He got some extra cuddles and another dose of Motrin, and I called the pediatrician on my drive to work the next morning to make an immediate appointment, thanking god for a child who can now talk when he's hurting because he had no other symptoms of an ear infection. Then JP called from home a few minutes later to say that Landon's ear drum had perforated during the night. And sure enough, he had another double infection, one burst ear drum, and another looking like it would burst any minute. Poor kid- an elephant indeed.

So ten days later he was back at the ENT who said both ear drums had healed, but both ears already had a build-up of fluid just waiting to get infected. Landon was very good during the hearing test, but he failed anyway- this time on legitimate grounds. They found a significant amount of hearing loss in his left ear and a somehwat lesser amount in his right.

I'm certain the surgery is the right call and based on last time, getting the tubes put in will be far less traumatic for him than any ear infection. But it's a little harder this time around. He's older. He's more aware. We've been extraordinarily spoiled with his immune system of steel over the past 2 years. I've stopped thinking of him as a patient- he's just my snuggly, smiley little boy. For the first time I understand the parents who freak out over some minor procedure while I'm looking at them thinking, dude, calm down, s/he's going to be fine! So it's a little general anesthesia? The odds are totally with you!

I really did think that way. I think it was an inevitable mindset, at least for me, when your baby spends his first 12 days in a NICU and then too many more days in various specialists offices, emergency rooms, and ORs. He became clinical and I could write about it and deal with it only in that detached way. Plus, I'm naturally pragmatic and the odds are with you and really, ear tubes are just not that big of a deal. I'm also just not a worrier, even in situations that all but demand it.

Yet I find myself mildly worried about next Thursday. I have complete faith in the doctor and the beautiful new pediatric surgery center where we will be going. But Landon's older now- he might not head off down the hall so cheerfully with a stranger like he did at 9 months old. When he wakes up he'll wonder where I am, rather than just being excited that he's allowed to have his bottle again. Helping him recover will be a bit harder, I think, since I can't just strap him in a swing and forcibly restrict his movements. The adenoidectomy also raises new issues as we haven't experienced that one before. Have you? What was the recovery like for your child? Any tips or things I should stock up on? When were they back to feeling 100%

On the positive side, I am looking forward to solving Landon's elephant-in-the-ear problem, and introducing him to jello. I also really hope I can take another picture of him in mini-scrubs.

For My Little Sunshine

Baby girl's nursery is about 85% complete and I'm so happy with it. It's a cheerful, sunny space and I'm so excited for our daughter call it hers.

The walls are "Daisy Spell" yellow and while they turned out quite a bit brighter than I anticipated, I've come to love them. And I have great plans for whenever this room is no longer needed as a nursery and can become a guest room with grey and white bedding and turquoise accents. With a metal bed frame and maybe this chair. That will be fun.

But back to the present. The wall cards and other framed prints are from this etsy shop. I love how her work is creative and colorful without being overly cutesy or looking like it's meant only for a baby. I laminated the wall cards at a teacher store and just used sticky-tack to put them on the wall. The white frames for the 11x14 prints ("You Are My Sunshine" and "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star") were bought on clearance at Michael's.

The butterflies are from Land of Nod, as is the bedding. The furniture is all from Landon's nursery, though we did switch out the plastic Ikea Trofast bins for girlier colors. The curtain rod still needs to be put up, but first we (JP) had to spackle the holes from the old rod and then we (JP) need to paint them yellow and then we (JP) can hang it up, but it's white with cute finials on the ends. The too long, too wide (but inexpensive and the perfect shade of pale medium blue) panel curtain is being hemmed into a single valance that I think will ground a lot of the yellow on that wall.

The butterfly trash can was picked off a clearance rack at Wal-Mart for $3. The wooden shelf is an $8 Hobby Lobby purchase that I was going to paint but then decided the natural wood color looked as good as anything else. My beloved owl sits proudly in the corner, keeping careful watch over the room. The yellow butterfly is also there because he blended a bit too much into the walls and after hanging a butterfly in three of the corners and one over the bed we weren't sure what to do with him. It was also about 11:00 pm and JP looked like he was going to kill me if I suggested he rig another one to the ceiling with fishing line. I'm thinking of nailing the yellow guy straight to the wall at an angle on the corner of the quilt since I'd like to leave some shelf space for a picture frame or two, but I don't want it to look like my high school bug project. The power tools will be removed as soon as the curtain rod is installed.

And then on the back wall you can't see there are two collage picture frames in a pretty cream color that will hold her birth announcement and some pictures of our newly expanded family. There's also a purple butterfly flying overhead. JP and I had several discussions about the angles the butterflies should hang, with me preferring them soaring majestically upward, and him preferring the suicidal looking downward dive. We compromised with three soaring up and one hovering nearly level with the floor. I'd also like to get a little name plate to hang in the area between the room and closet doors.

It's a happy little room and even Landon likes to hang out in there, though I'm sure he's getting very curious about where the heck this baby is hiding and why we won't bring her out to play.

(P.S. New High-Heeled and Pregnant post over at All Kinds of Pretty.)

(P.P.S. Updated nursery pics here.)