Bridget Sophia arrived on Tuesday, September 18, at 11:34 am. She weighed 7 lbs., 12.8 oz and measured 18.5 inches long. She has beautiful blue eyes (for now) and light brown hair. She's about 30 minutes old in this video.
I'll post photos on flickr when I get a chance . . .
Kiki has been solid on potty training all month, but last night, after another read through of "What to Expect When the New Baby Comes Home," she insisted on putting on a diaper, crawled across the floor and said "waa, waa." Which was fine with me. I mean, I'd probably be doing the same thing right now if I could get down on all fours. Fortunately, playing baby lasted for about a minute, then she doffed the diaper, used the potty and jumped right back into her big girl underpants. Then, we snuggled in bed and traded Eskimo kisses.
More often, Kiki plays Mommy rather than baby. She says, "Now, I'll be the Mommy and you be the Sweetie." I never realized how much I call her Sweetie.
Logan has been utterly silent about what goes on at school all day, other than to inform me what school supplies we failed to bring in, or that I forgot to put a note in his lunch, or that I completely botched the pick-up procedure. However, many questions were answered last night when I attended Curriculum Night at his school. There are ten kids in Logan's class and two teachers. Pretty nice ratio, eh? Right now, they are just focusing on getting routines down and becoming familiar with each other and the school. (It is a very Earthy-crunchy environmentally-liberal school, by the way, even from our left-leaning perspective. They compost, have solar panels, and encourage healthy eating and recycling.)
One of the daily routines is writing a journal entry. I was very impressed by Logan's writing - he is apparently given no help with spelling or grammar but, rather, encouraged to sound out the words himself. So, it took me a moment to figure out his second entry, but when I did, my eyes welled up with tears right there in the classroom:
Tissue Warning: This post may illicit possible tearing-up to an audible sob effect, particularly on mothers, or maybe its just me and my over-loaded pregnancy hormones . . . .
Dear Logan and Kiki,
Yesterday, you attended an "I'm Special, Too!" class for big brothers and big sisters-to-be at the hospital where we will be having your baby sister very, very soon. I am proud to say that you were both at the top of your class! Your little sister is so lucky to have such caring and special siblings awaiting her arrival.
Being a brother or sister can be very difficult, as we are learning all too well this summer. I just finished reading Siblings Without Rivalry by Adele Faber and Elaine Mazlish, which, along with Ross Greene's The Explosive Child and the course materials from The Art of Positive Parenting class offered through the central-Ohio based organization, Action for Children, have become my course books for my summer educational endeavor, "How to Positively Parent Your Explosive Child and Siblings Without Inflicting Lasting Damage." Unfortunately, I'm failing miserably and will likely have to repeat this course several times.
See, this is much harder than I could have known it would be. I won't make excuses for myself or my mistakes - I'm going to keep trying no matter what - but I want you both to know that if you ever find yourself someday where I am now--well, first of all, if you blame me for all your difficulties being a parent, I likely deserve it, and second, if you don't do it so perfectly all the time, I'll understand. And I hope like anything that I'm still able to come to wherever you and your family are living and hold your hand as you work through it, no matter how huge the mess (Thanks, Nana, for doing that for me!).
The hardest thing about being a parent for me is that, unlike anything else where my potential for failure is so great and the repercussions so massive, this is something I refuse to give up on. I love you both so much, that despite the fact that my biggest fear for you right now is the hurt I might cause you by messing up - not keeping you safe, or not teaching you the right things at the right time, or not being a remotely stable and secure comforter (which, granted, is darn near impossible to do in my present overly-pregnant condition) - I promise you that I will do everything and anything I can to be a better mom to both of you and your little sister, too.
I hope that someday - perhaps on many days - you will look back over this post with me, and we can laugh about the fact that you had no clue I was so completely clueless and incapable of being the perfect parent. (You could try saying, "Gosh, Ma, you must have faked it pretty well, because I thought you had it all under control!" or "Gee, I would have never known you had a moment's doubt about what you were doing, and it all made me the wonderful person I am today!" Those are just suggestions - feel free to add your own thoughts along those lines.) That's unrealistic, I know, but what may not be so unrealistic is that you might read this and think back on these times and the times yet to come and know that I really struggled with being a good parent, as maybe you will too. But I never struggled with loving you.
I love you,
Mommy
Keelin gets into my purse and experiments with my make-up:
Considering that I never do my own make-up anywhere but in the car anymore, this is not much worse than what I usually look like.
Here are just a few of the zillion photos from Kiki's various birthday celebrations last weekend - I'll post more once I sort through and get them all edited:
Kiki and her new Boa (sorry, Grannee Doolee - I know snakes freak you out!)
"I know what you mean, Princess Audrey, good palace help is so hard to find these days!"
"May I have this dance?"
"Let them eat cake!"
Also - the Tooth Fairy came again last night for Logan's second tooth, but don't expect him to be singing "All I want for Christmas is . . . " this year. Both of his permanent teeth are already half-way in, having come up behind his milk teeth, and now just need to push forward into the space the previous tenants left behind. Oh, the orthodontia . . .
Despite the fact that Keelin absolutely abhors anyone trying to comb, brush, wrangle or otherwise touch her hair, she sat almost completely still one night so I could set her hair in sponge curlers. She even slept with them in, which made waking up the next morning and pulling them out oodles of fun. Click here for more photos.
"Keelin! Come in here! I'm hiding from Darth Vadar."
"Dawk Vadaw!"
"Not Dark Vadar - it's Darth Vadar."
"Dawk Vadar!"
"I used to think it was Dark Vadar, but now I know its Darth - thu -thu Vadar. But he is very dark."
"Vewy Dawk."
An leaves for Vietnam tomorrow. She and I just finished a grueling but invigorating week leading a first grade class through vacation bible school.
As glorious as our recent role-reversal has been, Patrick and I are still trying to figure out how all the bills will get paid, and adding to that the possibility of the additional considerable expense that comes with our realization that private school may be the best fit for Logan next year.
Kiki is on the verge of turning three, although some days, it seems more like fifteen.
Charlotte/Frances/Megan/Lucy/Sophia continues to kick and squirm more tumultuously each day (though none of her pokes and prods give me any indication as to which of the aforementioned name possibilities she prefers - feel free to cast your votes through comments as I am taking all the naming help I can get at this point).
In sum, I am feeling stronger yet more challenged than I have in a long, long time - possibly ever. I have never wanted to give and do so much for my children--more than I feel I know how to do, and yet, I cannot quite believe that I am bearing as much of this glorious cross I have been given as I have so far.
I spent much of last night pondering and woke this morning thinking Why? Why all of this at the same time? Isn't the challenge of just raising our own two children enough? Will I really have what it takes to bring a third precious child into this mix without detracting from what I have to give to the others? Can I possible give An even the tiniest bit of insight to get her through what she must go through this summer and help her to return next fall?
How would I feel if I were being called upon to do less? This is certainly not an area in which I'd want to underachieve. At the risk of sounding like a completely unworthy martyr, I'll share the thought that came to me this morning -- the penultimate scene of the move Schindler's List.
Schindler saves hundreds of Jews from death during the holocaust, and yet, when it's all over and he looks back on what he's done, all he can think of is why didn't he do more? Why wasn't he able to save more people? It certainly was not for want of effort - I won't re-tell the story, but through the tale of this one man who put more than his own life on the line to save others, I realize when you are called upon to do something for the most valuable reason there is, you can't help but yearn to have done more when you finally get to the point of laying down that cross.
I have always been somewhat of an over-achiever (or at least an over-attempter), and my children mean more than anything to me. I've known since we first thought of having another baby that I did not want to get to the end of my child-raising years and wonder if we could have had a third. I also accept that, while I may have doubts in my own abilities, I know I would not be called on to do a job where children are concerned if the Big Boss didn't feel I could handle it. Now, it's just a matter of convincing myself.
"WOOK AT DAT MAN, MOMMY!"
"Turn around and eat your dinner, Kiki"
"HE IS EATING HIS DINNER, TOO!"
"Yes he is. Now, let's give him some privacy."
"WHY? IS HE POOPING?"
Recent Comments