A New Season

Something happens in Michigan during the middle of March.  Winter starts to integrate itself with spring.  You may be scraping ice and snow off of your windshield on Monday and driving with your windows down on Tuesday.  If March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb, then the middle of March in Michigan is a liolamb- a chameleon that changes frequently, sometimes snowy white and sometimes robin egg blue.

My due date is in the spring.  As long as we were battling freezing temperatures and lake effect snow warnings, it always felt like I had miles to go before I met my son.  But now that we're in the middle of March, spring is starting to reveal itself and I know he's coming sooner than I've allowed myself to believe.  As I type this, birds are chirping outside of my window as if to say, "He's coming!"

There are so many thoughts swirling around inside of my head during this new season.  In the last few weeks leading up to Jack's birth I remember feeling a similar sense of anxiety wondering how things in our little family would change.  It's a much different feeling going from 2 to 3 than from 3 to 4.  Of course, there is a great deal more fanfare for your first child than for your second: showers, baby books, fears about labor, anxiety over breastfeeding, fears of all of the unknowns.  My unknowns now revolve around helping Jack with the transition while Trevor and I go through the transition ourselves.

A season is coming to an end and not just the one that melts the snow and causes buds to grow on branches and in soil.  A season for our little family is coming to an end.  Jon Acuff is a smart and polished author who wrote the book "Quitter".  I was able to see him speak at a leadership conference earlier this year and he spoke about life's seasons.  Your 20s-60s can be represented in the following ways:

20s: learning & experimenting
30s: editing
40s: mastering
50s: harvesting
60s: guiding

I see parenting in much the same way, although the cycles will repeat at various stages in life.  When Jack turns 13, I see us sliding all the way back down to learning & experimenting again just when we thought we had it all figured out!  But for now, we are moving from a place of learning & experimenting to a place of editing with Jack.  We are learning more about him and refining our approach to strategies that seem to suit him.  

There is a notion that 2nd children tend to be a bit crazier than their older siblings and I have seen that play out in many families, my own included (sorry Rosie, but you were nuts).  It makes sense though, doesn't it?  Parents are now caught up in 2 cycles- learning and experimenting with their second child and editing with their first.  I can see how easy it would be to jump to editing with a second child, just hoping that the same strategies will work, the same toys will be enjoyable and the same foods delicious.  Unfortunately, it just doesn't always work out that way and it would stand to reason that any kid who was being forced into a mold of their older sibling would fight against that.  If you were my sister Rosie you'd fight against that by insisting on wearing scuffed up white patent leather shoes with every outfit you owned, dressy or not.  Dammit, I love my sister so much!

My mom says that when my sister was born (she came 3 years after me), she did everything in her power to be her own person.  If I went left, she'd go right.  She is blonde, I am brunette.  She was the opposite of me in so many ways.  She wouldn't allow our parents to edit her in the same way they were editing their style with me.  So they had to learn and experiment all over again.  

I don't know who this little guy is growing inside of me, twisting and squirming constantly.  I hope that I can resist the urge to make him a Jack 2.0.  I hope that we can move through one season with Jack while starting a new season with his brother.  It all sounds so complicated and I understand now why 2nd children may be a little louder as they fight for their own unique place in the family.

And then there's Jack who has enjoyed 2 years of undivided attention from both of his parents.  Love multiplies, but attention is divided as a family expands. Trevor and I are both oldest children and we empathize with where Jack will be in a couple of months.  I famously refused to look at or speak to my mom when my dad brought me to visit her in the hospital upon the birth of my sister.  And yet, as much as we treasure the 2 years we learned how to be parents from Jack and he learned how to be a kid from Trevor and me, I know that he will have no recollection or memory of this time.  His entire existence as he knows it will include his brother just as my entire existence as I know it includes my sister.

People tell me that, like Jack, I won't remember much from this season either which is why I'm so grateful for this blog.  Jack taught me what it means to be a mom.  Such a huge responsibility for such a little guy.  In a few weeks, he will have someone to help him.  Jack was my 101 instructor.  He taught me the basic language of motherhood.  His brother will be my Masters level professor helping me edit and refine those rudimentary skills.  He will add to the complexity and chaos.  He will add to the love.

The wistfulness that accompanies the ending of one season washes over me now as I think of moving from a family of 3 to 4.  This is a period of so much reflection on where I was and who I was during this season of motherhood accompanied by excitement about what lies ahead.  In this new season, we get to teach Jack how to be an older sibling, something both Trevor and I have been nearly all of our lives.  We will teach him that no matter how old they get, his brother will turn to him for advice and there will even come a day when he can look to his kid brother for advice too.  Jack will see pictures of himself alone with his parents and think "wow, those were the good old days", but secretly he will be grateful for the gift of his brother even when he doesn't want to admit it.

And to my little spring chicken who is getting ready to hatch~

Be patient with us as we grow this little family.  You are wanted and special and so loved.  Your dad and I don't have older siblings, but you know who does?  Aunt Rosie, Uncle Tom, Uncle John, Uncle Frank, Aunt Mary and Uncle Cris.  And believe us, they will have no problem or hesitation listening to you and understanding  your unique place in our family.  But there is something you need to know and someday if you stumble across this, you will know that we only had one expectation for you, even before you were born:

You will always be expected to be only one thing in this life- yourself.  

Also, don't tell anyone, but we don't have all the answers.  Not yet at least.  By the time you're 15 we will know everything though.

Alpha, Beta & Gamma.  This photo is a 100% accurate reflection of our personalities.
(and if you think the 2nd kid has it rough, check out the shiner on #3!)

So Small You Just Might Miss It

There are moments in life that are so incredible, so special, and so momentous that you just might miss them.  Not all of life's greatest moments come with fireworks; sometimes they come with a whisper and if you're not paying attention you just might miss them.

Two of our very best friends welcomed their first child into the world on Monday.  Little Charlie has joined a large extended family of "aunts" and "uncles" who will adore him and teach him how to be a first class geek, artist, and friend.  We went to visit the new little family late in the afternoon on Tuesday.  It was a blustery day, wind and snow whipping all around, but in the glow of that little hospital room all I felt was warm.  The room was only a couple of doors down from where I spent my first couple of nights with Jack and Trevor.  The view of the snowy parking ramp outside brought back memories of a snowy, blustery day two years ago.

"Go see Aunt Nancy", my amazing friend, the new mama, said as she handed over a little bundle of strawberry blonde hair and deep blue eyes to me.  My heart burst into a thousand happy pieces at this first introduction to my new nephew.  Holding a newborn baby is quite possibly one of the greatest joys any of us can experience.   Any problem you faced that day, any obstacle or hurdle instantly vanishes when you touch that brand new skin.  Somehow all of that hope and promise that a new baby brings is transferred to you and for a few brief moments you feel like anything is possible.

Trevor took his turn with Charlie and remarked to me today how he noticed that he automatically fell into the baby sway with him, gently rocking him to and fro setting into a pose long abandoned in favor of lugging a toddler around on his hip.  It's been a long time since I saw Trevor sway with a baby and once again I was taken back to our own room, two years ago and seeing the guy who was once merely my crush cradle our child for the first time.  

On the way home we talked about our own baby who continues to grow inside of me.  How easy it is to forget that babies start out so small when your world becomes occupied by a 33 lb. ball of energy and noise.  That ball of crazy-happy-fun-times started out as a 5 lb 14 oz peanut (a nickname he retains to this day).  I wonder now as I type this if I allowed myself to enjoy those fleeting weeks of his babyhood to their fullest extent.  I like to think I did and although I have a thousand pictures of those days, it's just so easy to forget new baby smell and silky skin until you're pleasantly reminded of it when holding a newborn again.  

After the hospital, we picked up Jack from daycare.  I rang the doorbell and when he saw me through the glass door his face burst into a Cheshire Cat grin and he took off in a full sprint toward me.  By the time I got in he had jumped up into my arms, his arms and legs wrapped around me like a Velcro monkey.  We kissed and hugged and my heart burst all over again.  Picking up Jack and having our little family reunited again each night is the best part of every day.

Later that night, the 3 of us climbed up the stairs for Jack's bedtime ritual.  Trevor laid on the futon buried in books, I awkwardly laid down next to him, my growing belly making it awkward to do most things these days.  Instead of laying down next to us, Jack climbed up on me and as I propped myself up with throw pillows, Jack lied down across my belly.  I held him there twisting his damp post-bath hair in my fingers while Trevor read us stories.  His head rested on my chest so I know he could hear the thumping of my heart.  All of a sudden, Jack's brother starting squirming and kicking.  Unbeknownst to Jack his brother was kicking right there underneath him, both of them listening to my heart, both of them occupying a very large portion of it.  A year from now they'll both be listening to their dad's bedtime stories laying side by side, which is exactly what they did last night for the very first time.

The world is filled with so many tiny moments of pure joy that I fear sometimes I'm missing them.  Brand new strawberry blonde hair, the sight of your husband holding the beloved firstborn son of his best friend, the look of a new dad- exhausted but overcome with admiration and love for his wife and their new baby, the sound of Spider-Man sneakers running across a hardwood floor toward your waiting arms, and the feel of your two children holding space together even when neither is aware of the other's presence.  

So many small and sacred moments can make up a day.  I am so grateful that on February 19, 2013, I was able to hold them all and be present for them.  Somehow all of these whispers exploded like fireworks on my heart.

Love in All Its Many Forms

I went back to re-read a blog I posted last year on Valentine's Day.  I was instantly taken back to that pharmacy waiting room where I held Jack on my lap waiting for his prescription to be filled, grateful for this blog because I might not have ever remembered that moment were it not for it being documented here.  As a funny side note, last year Jack celebrated Valentine's Day by sporting pink eyes.  This year he nearly celebrated Valentine's Day by having to take pink amoxicillin due to a little bout of scarlet fever.  This child is nothing if he's not festive.

Valentine's Day is my favorite holiday.  I want my children to love Valentine's Day although I know it's a long shot.  I am in the minority of people who love and treasure this day.  My hope is that both of my children find love in all aspects of their lives- a loving partner, faithful friends, adoring children someday.  So in honor of love in all its many forms and the love Jack has for watching movies with his mom and dad, I thought I would present here:

The Top 5 Most Loving Movie Couples

5.  Wall-E & EVE- A tribute to my sweet little Jack.  Wall-E is currently one of  his favorite movies.  When EVE shuts down Jack looks at the screen and says "Uh-oh Wall-E".  Somehow he knows that the loss of a love like that is reason to feel sad.  And my little guy smiles ecstatically when they are reunited.  When Wall-E and EVE go sailing across the sky behind a stream of fire extinguisher spray I feel as if I'm sailing with them buzzing with the glow of new found love.

4.  Andy & Red- The Shawshank Redemption is one of the most beloved movies of all time.  Interestingly enough, it lost the Best Picture Oscar in 1995 to Forrest Gump.  If this movie came out this year I think it would shut out the competition.  Times have changed in the past 18 years and things are a bit rougher than they were in the mid-90s.  People need hope and they long for the type of friendship that Andy and Red share.  What this movie couple shows me is that the greatest friendships are the ones that keep your hope alive- hope in the world, hope in humanity, hope in yourself.  These are the friendships (minus the jail time) that I hope for my boys.  I find I'm so excited that I can barely sit still or hold a thought in my head. I think it's the excitement only a free man can feel. A free man at a start of a long journey whose conclusion is uncertain. I hope I can make it across the border. I hope to see my friend and shake his hand. I hope the pacific is as blue as it has been in my dreams. I hope. 

3.  Luke Skywalker & Yoda- This entry is clearly in honor of my darling geek husband and while I'm sure he'd have put Han and Leia on this list, I have to give props to Luke and Yoda even if theirs is a very non-traditional love story.  You see, both Trevor and I are teachers.  He works in a public school and I work in a corporate setting, but both of us take great pride in what we do.  Teachers are often called heroes and so much of what a teacher does is heroic.  But we are all the heroes of our own lives, our own stories.  What if the teacher wasn't the hero?  What if the student was the hero, the Luke Skywalker and the teacher was the Yoda, the guide who provides a tool or a way to remove an obstacle in order for the hero to achieve success?  Luke: "I do not believe it."  Yoda: "That is why you fail."  Yoda sticks by Luke in the face of Luke's most adamant resistance in the same way teachers walk back into the classroom every single day in an act of love.  Not necessarily for love of their students, but love of their communities and the promise that these students hold to shape them.

2.  Carl & Ellie Frederick- Yes, another Pixar couple, but as Pixar makes up a large portion of my world these days, I have grown excessively fond of these characters.  And it's true what they say- Pixar made a better love story in the first 15 minutes of Up than Twilight did in 5 full movies.  What Carl and Ellie teach me is that life will throw us obstacles that will break our hearts in pieces.  We can let life break us or we can find a new adventure. Carl learns this all over again after the loss of his wife plummets his world into a pretty dark place.  It's through the love of Russell, a little Wilderness Explorer that he finds his way again.  When he pins the Ellie badge on Russell's Wilderness Explorer sash I am helpless to hold back the tears.

1.  Dumbo & Mama Jumbo- Mama Jumbo in her pink bonnet and blue shawl is the picture of maternal kindness and serenity.  But when those boys bully her baby she is willing to take down an entire circus crew, ropes, whips and all to protect her boy.  There is something so real and honest about that scene that speaks to the heart of every mother who knows that she won't always be there to protect her babies which only heightens her need to protect them while she can.  And Dumbo speaks to every mother who sees her child as perfect despite flaws that only the rest of the world can see.  When I sing "Baby Mine" to Jack at night, I notice that with each passing day it's harder to cradle him in my arms.  His growing limbs dangle off the rocking chair and yet somehow we still manage to fit together.  I marvel at the fact that he was once small enough to fit snugly inside of me, in the same place his brother now occupies.  Time keeps moving forward, his limbs will keep growing longer and his desire to be rocked to sleep will someday wane.  So I enjoy these moments while I have them.

When Valentine's Day comes each year, resist the urge to hate it, resent it, loathe it, or dismiss it.  Because if we really look for it, love is all around us, in many forms, in many places, in many people and it's worth celebrating.

Life in the Test Lab

Most major companies who employ a Research and Development team also employ a team of Test Lab Engineers whose job it is to push the products to their limits to test their strength and endurance.  This helps establish product longevity and warranties.  Life with a 2 year old is like being a product in a test lab and Jack is the engineer testing all of our strength and endurance.

Most days life is as idyllic and sweet as this picture would have you believe.

But sometimes he is a mad scientist testing every fiber of our being.

Energy explodes from him like a rocket and if you're in the path of a rocket, you have no choice but to move aside or be blasted into space.  So we do what any parent of a 2 year old can do.  We love that kid like crazy and we show him every day what it looks like to be loving and kind to people while making sure he knows that flying fists of fury have no place in a civilized society.  He doesn't quite get that yet, but I can always tell that he is sad when he feels he's disappointed us.

A few nights ago after a rough day at daycare when our little rocket exploded over everyone in his path we sat him on the couch in between us with a huge pile of books and we read to him and stroked his hair.  He wanted to watch a movie- Cars to be exact- and we said no.  Not because the voice of Larry the Cable Guy sends me into a rage, although it really kinda does.  We said no because eventually, over time, he'll need to learn that actions have consequences.  And in whatever small way we can, we're showing him that.  He stomped and threw things on the floor crying out "Cars!  McQueen!"  

And so began our night in the test lab.  But after a few moments of frustration, he climbed on the couch next to us, smooshed in between us buried in books.  We read to him and kissed him, ate dinner all together, gave him a bath, read more books upstairs at bedtime together and I sang the "Choo Choo" song to him.  It was a most pleasant and calm evening.

So of course my working mother guilt tells me that I should be spending more time with him and like all other working moms I know I do my very best every day.  And I also know that whether I stayed home with him every day or kept him in daycare, he'd still be 2, he'd still be a little rocket.  And no matter what he does, I could not love him any more than I do.

There is this wonderful moment that happens at the most unexpected times when Jack comes up to me, climbs up on my lap and hugs me ferociously.  And in the test lab of our lives, I see him as the little engineer who is building his parents, testing their strength and endurance and ultimately pleased with how we're turning out. 

In that hug, I imagine that this is what he's thinking:

I test you every day and you do not break.
You never give up on me no matter how hard I push you.
Thank you for hanging in there with me.
Thank you for not giving up on me.
You are my best creation.

For the First & Millionth Time

Today, you're 2 my sweet baby boy
and you are as vibrant and colorful as a little firework that lingers long after the 4th of July
Your mood can go from dark to light quicker than cream lightens up my coffee

Somewhere in those 731 days I realized that
the boy I once merely had a crush on became the father of my child

that boy and I created the most complexly simple, devilishly angelic creature ever to use a wooden spoon as a sword

8 seasons together and sometimes I forget which one of us knows more about life, the world, the stars, God.

A year from now the last vestiges of my baby will have mysteriously and quietly disappeared except for, I hope, your long curly eyelashes which frame up those sweet brown eyes.

And every time I see those eyes I am taken back to a snowy early January night when you and I locked eyes for the first and millionth time.

A first meeting with someone who I've known forever.

And that, my baby is the sweet mystery of being your mama.

I meet you every day for the first and millionth time, 
old and new, 
strange and familiar
complex and breathtakingly simple
a crystal clear mystery that I get to solve every day

You are the most familiar stranger I have ever known.  
Happy birthday little one. 
I love you from the bottom of the ocean to the tops of the stars.

Brothers

“What strange creatures brothers are!” ~ Jane Austen


Surely, this baby must be a girl.  I had little to no trouble with my pregnancy with Jack and this one has been quite a rocky road- blood clots in my leg, unrelenting nausea.  So logic would deduce that my body makes baby boys well and isn't so great at baby girls.

Logic has no place in pregnancy.

A few years ago, I was out to lunch with a wonderful friend who is the mother of 2 boys.  They knew while pregnant with their 2nd child that they would be finished having children.  I asked her if her thought changed once she found out she was having another boy.  "You know," she said, "I definitely wanted a daughter for me, but I wanted a brother for my son even more.  I considered it a win/win."

And it was with those wise words that happy tears sprung into my eyes when the ultrasound technician told me I was having another boy.  Images started appearing in my head.  Jack and his brother reading books together, running around together at the lake, sleeping in bunk-beds, giggling all night.  And then the inevitable battles, fights, scrapes.  But then, even farther into the future, I imagined them standing next to each other at Jack's wedding.  Of course, so many of these things are possible for a brother and sister.  I have both and love them all ferociously.  But there is something magical about sisters and brothers.  I feel incredibly grateful to be able to give Jack a sibling and I feel honored to give him a brother who I hope and pray will love him and look up to him for the rest of his life.

There is a wistfulness I feel when thinking that Trevor and I may not experience the love of a daughter.  I think any parent who has single sex children can attest that many of us just assume that we'll have both and each sex carries with it some unique moments and bonds that don't form in the same way as with the other sex.  Maybe someday Trevor and I will, but maybe we won't.  But we don't wish this child to be a girl, we don't wish this child to be anything other than the miraculous being he already is.  

A funny thought hit me the other day while I was standing in the kitchen watching Jack and Trevor play together.  Jack won't have a single memory of life before his brother.  All of his earliest memories will involve the presence of this new boy.  Trevor and I will have photos and videos and blogs of life before him, although I know there will come a day when even those fade and it feels like our entire life has existed with children and not child.  Most of his identity in our family will be as someone's big brother as most of the identity I had growing up was as someone's big sister.  How funny that he'll never recall the years during which Trevor and I attempted to figure all of this out.  He'll just enjoy the years of being a family and of having a Harpo to his Groucho, a Harry to his Will, an Orville to his Wilbur, a Luigi to his Mario, and of course, if we're lucky, a Jake to his Elwood.

And it bears mentioning that in a month of so much sadness in the news, of families whose hearts are breaking and stories of our nation being at odds over practically everything, nothing in the entire world brings more hope and joy than the sight of a brand new life on an ultrasound screen.  To see the formation of his brain, his heart, his spine, his limbs breathed fresh air into my heart and mind.  Thank you, thank you God for this great gift of new life.  

Our new boy.  

Our new son. 

Jack's new brother.

Heroes

I can't look at the news today and I can't read articles about the shooting at the Connecticut elementary school without tears welling up in my eyes and a lump the size of a walnut forming in my throat.  So I do what I can.  I love my baby.  Today, instead of putting Jack in his crib for his nap, I laid down next to him on our bed, held him in the crook of my arm, planted my lips on his forehead, stroked his hair, still curly from his morning's swim lesson and we fell asleep that way.  When I woke up 30 minutes later, my lips were still pressed against his head and my new baby was wriggling around inside of me.  I reflected in that dark room how moments like these are perhaps the only times in my life when I am certain of my babies' safety.  In the still, quiet room with the sound of cars driving by outside and airplanes flying overhead, I imagine them all being filled with someone else's children and how much sheer faith in humanity it takes to ever let them out of your sight.

"When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, "Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping." To this day, especially in times of "disaster," I remember my mother's words and I am always comforted by realizing that there are still so many helpers – so many caring people in this world."
-Fred Rogers

I think of the teachers who huddled their children together and read them stories to keep them calm.  I think of my own husband, a school teacher himself, who enters his school every day not knowing what the day will bring but doing his best to nurture, educate, and inspire those young people.  As with Columbine, Aurora, and 9/11 before this, the stories of the heroes & helpers will continue to emerge and I will mentally file them all away in an act of self-preservation so I'm not afraid to let my son out of my sight.

Jack's room has posters of "heroes" on the wall.  Iron Man, Spider-Man, Captain America.  He also has a picture of his dad on his bookshelf, a real hero.  I say a prayer of gratitude for our nation's helpers today.  Our teachers, our first responders- police, fire and EMTs, our pastors, priests, counselors, and volunteers.  All of them are someone's baby.  All of us are.

In one of my favorite movies "The Night of the Hunter", the strong female protagonist, a grandmotherly type who takes in orphans proclaims:

"It's a hard world for little things.  You know, when you're little, you have more endurance than God is ever to grant you again. Children are man at his strongest. They abide."

To those babies who were plucked from this earth at their strongest and to the babies, teachers, and staff members of that once joyful elementary school who must now endure the trauma that unfolded around them, I pray for those words to be true.  It is a hard world for little things, but they will endure and abide.