18 Months

"My precious...."

Me: "What the heck is going on here?!" (upon reviewing the photos I took at the pool that day)
Matt: "She was pulling my chest hairs."

Photos were taken last week at French Creek State Park.  After many years of successfully avoiding the sun, I got a burn so bad it hurt for days to put on a bra or lie down.  Annie - who has developed a fear of baths - took to the water after about ten tentative minutes.  

OK - so this stay-at-home mom thing?  It isn't so bad.  I'm loving (while simultaneously being exasperated at) this age - 18 months - and taking such delight in your little burgeoning personality.  You are clever, mischievous, still willful as ever, and loving life.  You actually "oooo" at things.  Like, I picked up your father a new bath sponge (the boy uses sea sponges in the shower, what can I do) and when I pulled it out of the bag you literally oooed and awwed over the thing.  I mean, it's a damn loofah.

You get so excited over things: "Do you want to go outside?!" I say, emphasizing "outside" and you perk up and go to the door and start doing your toddler version of the "running man", stepping in place and banging on the door.  You're like a dog, in that way (I mean that really nicely...you know I love dogs.)

I've been struggling to find meaningful work that makes sense outside of the home, but am finding comfort in caring for you, although I've had a couple breakdowns this past week: your father has always been your fun favorite (I'm more behind the scenes at times - packing your diaper bag, readying lunch, making appointments while he is on the floor with you and your puzzles) and I accept that - and honestly didn't mind it one bit - until "Dat-tee" became the end all, be all.  He would leave the room and you'd break down.  Or you'd rush past me to find your father.  A few weeks ago I thought I had finally crimped his style - you were saying "Mama" much more than Daddy, but after some "Daddy lessons" (I seriously heard your father practicing the word Daddy with you as he put you to bed several days straight) I was back to square one.  It's a give and take - he's very hands-on and honestly, if you're going to chirp away to "Daddy, Daddy!" at least I get to lay on the couch with my Oreos when he corrals you.  And your father assures me you'll soon see how dorky he really is, so of course I find solace (and agreement) in that.

Also, you have discovered the word "No" (it's second only to "Daddy").  Like any toddler, you can be belligerent and stubborn and you are saying "no" to everything.  At the library today I told you to stop taking books off the shelves, and you yelled "NO!" and took five more off and ran off to the train table, where I swear you were trying to look strong and nonchalant but were spying on me and trying to gauge what my reaction was (by the fifth or so "NO!" we packed up and it was time to go, and by the way, my reaction was pissed off).  Another mom, who had a 22-month-old in tow, said from experience your next word will probably be "mine".  I told her you're already on the cusp of that because the other week you took sprinkles from our baking supplies, starting shaking them on the dog, and when asked to give them back, said, "No, no, mine, mine!"  Then you ran into the living room to sprinkle the carpet.  It was one of the longest, most coherent thoughts you've had to date so I let it go.

You never really watched TV before, but I have been using it as a crutch so I don't lose my mind, and you've developed a love for Elmo.  You love Elmo and shout his name and bounce on your little butt when he comes on-screen.  What's with kids and Elmo?

You're finally sitting with us nightly when we read with you and your two current favorites are "Goodnight Moon" and "I'll Teach My Dog 100 Words", although the simple baby touch-and-feel "Farm" you still have a soft spot for.  Whenever you spot a duck you screech, "Duck, duck, duck!" (as in "quack, quack, quack").

And last but not least, I'm going to try to start potty-training you.  Or at least getting you accustomed to the little toilet we bought you so we can have a leg-up when your little brother/sister makes their appearance in October.  Today at the library we picked up some "I love the potty!" books and today I sat you on it and you looked rather amused.  Almost regal sitting high on your throne.  Maybe it was because - I swear - about a minute after you got off (and I was running to get a diaper for you) you pooped on the floor about three feet from the thing.  Then you stepped in it.  Then you started wailing.  Your father thinks this is the sign of a genius (sans the stepping in it part), but unfortunately you've had some stomach issues the last few days so I think it was purely coincidence.  

You are really giving us a run for our money, kid, and we're just trying to keep up (and last until your bedtime).  Right now you're napping beside me (naps have become a battle of wills), and you're stirring, so I'm going to end here and say we love you times infinity. 

And, also, please be easy on us.  

Here's to a spectacular year-and-a-half.

Little gifts

We are expecting another baby in the early fall.  This fact is what I remember (literally, feel) when I find myself gazing at job boards and going on fruitless interviews and navigating this whole wretched situation.  Somehow we hit the lottery with Joanna.  Modern medicine, the gods, every four-leaf clover in Ireland, smiled on us a year and a half ago and now we get to do it all over again.

I’ve gone on two interviews, both in the city and both (in my mind) hard-driving positions that don’t lend themselves to any sort of balance .  The second was just yesterday but the first was last week and they wanted to have one last phone screen before moving to offer – and jeez, what a surprising, glorious position to be in – but I just couldn’t do it.  They didn’t know I was pregnant, and the position responsibilities peak in October (oh), and it’s what I’ve been doing for many years and what I desperately want to leave behind.  It was really a non-starter, but I went anyway.  It’s hard to turn down an interview even when you know in your gut it’s not right, or you probably cannot fulfill the job obligations.  So I find myself in the very frustrating situation of being smack dab in the middle of a pregnancy and unemployed.  But also – and here I am, typing this for second time – expecting a baby. 

And that trumps everything.

We found out in late February, when I was trying to calculate if I was going to get my pesky period in Mexico when I realized I couldn’t remember when I had it last.  Maybe Christmas time?  Before then?  After?  I had no clue.  I feel very ignorant typing that.  Like, maybe I should have a handle on my body or something, but you’ve got to remember – things are funky down there! – and a 28-day cycle is a foreign concept.

The telltale sign of pregnancy – I’ve learned – is an uptick in Oreo consumption.  I mean, I remember this clearly – I specifically went into the grocery store to buy Oreos (who does that?) and walked by the pharmacy and bought the cheapest test (store brand, because really, there was just no way).  I even helped myself to a huge cup of coffee that morning, knowing full-well my egg got caught up in my kinky fallopian tubes and I just didn’t ovulate.  I am not the girl who just gets pregnant.  In our early days of infertility – before blood tests confirmed that I was or wasn’t expecting – I had gone through many tears and many bargain two-packs of pregnancy tests.

Matt and I are not ignorant: since having Annie we have scrapped protection because, if for some miraculous reason it happened – that would be a good thing.  A really, really good thing.  And after a year it did.  I am not one to mince words – or do cutesy things when announcing news – so I called him three minutes after I peed on that stick, in a semi-panic, and said, “But it’s too soon!”  Our children will be just under two years apart (22.5 months).  Matt laughed nervously, happily, giddily.  I wanted Annie out of toddlerhood before having another.  I just don’t have the energy, I said.  And I told him work is going so poorly, that everything wasn’t just right yet.  And how funny to be typing that today, now out of work.  Job searching while midway through a pregnancy is almost a fruitless exercise, and in that, coupled with inconvenience, there is some very real solace.  There is solace when Matt ran down our finances, took me by the shoulders, and said, “We will be OK.  We will be fine.  Relax.  Be picky.  Take your time.  Find something you will love.  I know you will probably not go back until well after the baby is born.” 

So here we are.  I am in my 21^st week of pregnancy and due in early October.  Unlike with Annie, I have been feeling this baby kick from week 17.  All day.  Unrelenting.  Beautiful.  Like with Annie, we have decided not to find out if this is a boy or a girl.  Matt wants another girl, and as a girl who never really had guy friends – or a brother – I’m curious about a boy.

Instead of plotting out the perfect time, there is now some relief in completing our family earlier than expected.  We are not newborn people – we find infinite delight as Annie grows older and there is more give and take – and I’m glad we’ll be in our early 30’s when completing this portion of babyhood. 

Because boy I am tired. 

Maybe it’s the pregnancy (I haven’t been sleeping well).  Or maybe Crohn’s (I always felt – in general – I was more tired than others, and frequent blood work confirms that yes, I’m deficient in this and that).  I’m happy we’ll be young parents.  When it's all said and done, I'm happy our path took us to here: I’m happy I met Matt when I was 21 and we married at 26 and we will have our children by 31.  In terms of fertility, how very fortunate we have been.  To be younger.  To have that gift of time.  I am reminded of this frequently.

Thank you for following this blog, and our story.  I know I haven’t written about Crohn’s in quite some time, and this little space on the internet has become a patchwork of our family life, for better or worse, and in sickness and in health. 

Here’s to health.

Rainy Sunday

Since I'm finding myself thrown into stay-at-home momhood head-first, I've been scouring Craigslist - and this Saturday a few yard sales - for cheapy toys for Little Miss "Let's go outside!  Let's do this!  I'm bored, I'm bored!"  She is always on the move, seeing, doing, taking apart, and putting together.  Today it rained all day but here she is, out with Matt with in the mist, droplets of drizzle on her face, riding her new toy giraffe.  That's $3 well spent.

If you  notice the remnants of a bloody nose, the poor girl fell - face first - into the ground earlier in the day, leaving a bloodied mouth and nose and some tears.  She was fine in five minutes (forever our trooper)....me, not so much. ;-) 

Easter Weekend

Annie, you have no baby book (oops) so I'm trying to update your comings and goings here, but my lord, have you seen how messy the house is?  And how impossibly tired (read: lazy) I am?    These are my new normals: a very messy home.  Dishes from two days ago by the sink (not ever even "in" the sink).  Dirty clothes on the floor.  Tripping over stuff...always.

I guess it's a balance.  Matt and I do not value a clean house.

Okay, fine, that's a total lie.  You got me.  I would love nothing more than a clean house, but I'm just so tired at the end of the day.  I suggested we get someone to do a clean quarterly in the house (as my birthday and Christmas and everything gift wrapped in one) and Matt was positively horrified.  I guess it's too bourgeois.  And how embarrassing, in a way.  I don't know how they possibly couldn't pass judgement on the way we live.  So he offers to clean - and does - but it's a pitiful job.

So here we are.  I have pink eye.  Again.  It's like when I got Hand, Foot and Mouth and you didn't.  I swear I need to wear a hazmat suit to pick you at daycare.  But things are well other than my goopy eye and icky house.  You are walking everywhere!  About three weeks you go up and just decided, "Fine.  I'll do this without prodding," and from there you were off.  You adore chasing Penny (of course) around the ottoman and teasing her.  The poor girl is panting afterwards!

Oh, and the best thing happened yesterday.  I was picking you up at school, and, laying there, was an incident sheet. But the offender wasn't you!  It was for the mild-mannered George, who (okay, I read the whole thing, sue me) apparently bite a classmate out of the blue!  Boy wasn't even provoked.  I was elated to find another troublemaker in the group and desperately want to cozy up to George's mom and dish on our sharp-toothed kids.  Fortunately, you haven't bit anyone this week, but maybe it's because I keep reading the refrain from "Teeth Are Not For Biting" that goes, "Ouch!  Biting hurts!"  while screeching the "ouch!" part.  You always look vaguely embarrassed.

You've been growing a bit more petulant at times, but also so much fun.  You snuggle and love being chased and giggle and hide behind our legs.  You still love bananas and walk over to where we keep them on the counter, pointing and saying, "Na-na!  Na-na!" and yesterday I gave you a string cheese stick and you chanted "Cheesh!" over and over again.  You also say "dog" and "all done" (ah dowwwn), but only rarely call me mama or your father dada. I guess you can't have everything. ;-)

Here are some photos from Easter weekend:

Molly (far left) totally makes this photo.  "Can't these bozos get their act together and take a good picture?!"

Mexican getaway

Matt and I were in Tulum, Mexico last week.  This was our first big trip since our Honeymoon almost five years ago.  We agreed on Mexico because I wanted tropical, and he wanted ruins.  The boy is obsessed with those damn Mayans, I tell you. 

Tulum is about two hours south of Cancun and an hour south of the big all-inclusives  “This place reminds me of Vegas,” Matt noted as we drove by the entrances of these mammoth hotels.  Big fountains, ostentatious fences and winding drives into their grounds.  Not that that’s bad, but we wanted small.  

Tulum is a funny mix: almost everyone here is white, either from America or Europe.  It’s half well-off tourists and half hippie enclave.  Everything is open air, and Christmas lights strewn in the trees and fresh fish, ceviche and good fruit.  The ocean water is teal and a few dogs, all belonging to the seemingly year-around transplants who run the dive shops and restaurants (and all beautiful, sinewy Europeans with long hair or dreads) - scamper on the beach, dodging the waves.  Our small hotel was literally on the beach and we fell asleep each night listening to the waves.

I’ve spied several topless woman (with great, small perky breasts...I mean, I would go topless too if mine looked like that) and a older, very pale man in a tiniest sliver of a g-string.  “That’s got to be a dare, right?” Matt said.  I replied that no, he’s just European.  “Don’t be so uncultured, Matt,” I added, although secretly thinking, “My god that is a sight...but I have to give it to him.”

And with that, here are some photos of our trip:

The beautiful view from our balcony.  

We're so used to getting up at 6:30 due to Annie, so we just kept the blinds open and rose with the sun every morning.  Gorgeous.

Every morning we ate breakfast on the beach.  This is Lorenzo taking our photograph.

We ate several of our lunches on our balcony and just picked up goodies from the local grocery store.  Here I am ogling the varieties of peppers.

Our Mexican rental car.  Note there is no clock, radio, or CD player.  The fingerprints are me pushing on it saying, "It has to be here somewhere!"  Sadly, no mariachi music for us on our drive down to Tulum.

Our hotel room. Very white.  Very austere.  Very peaceful.

Matt went scuba diving in a cenote, which is a water hole formed by an above ground portion of an underground river.  There is a complex maze of rivers, caves, and cenotes in the Yucatan.  We went swimming in one as well (photos later).

On the road to our hotel.  

Mexican bakery.  You KNOW I got my baked goods on!

I took a photo of this because I thought it would be Matt's last healthy hours on the trip.  He asked for a aqua fresca (flavored water) and asked if it was purified.  The waiter said "si" but with a glint in his eye.  Totally thought he was playin' us.  Anyway, Matt didn't get sick, so I guess that's good.
(Prices are in pesos, and the exchange rate is about 12 pesos/US dollar.  That's one cheap taco!)

We had a game throughout vacation calling "Lizard Spotting" (ingenius titling, I know).  Here I am with a bucket full 'o' lizards!

Visiting some Mayan ruins in Tulum on the beach. 

I'm smiling, but I'm already getting sick of these darn ruins.  Once you see one ruin, you've seen 'em all (don't tell that to the Mayans).

Then we went ziplining over a lagoon.

Take a look at this here action shot.

Now take a look at Matt in these photos...

Lounging back....

Relaxed....

Almost zen....

Then there's me hanging on for my life.  Schreeching.
Typical.

We fit in a little canoing.

Here's Matt jumping into a cenote.

Another view.

Here is Matt being suave (aka doing a flip).
Our guide - Raphael - said, "This one's good for the Facebook, no?"
Well said, Raphael.  Well said.  We'll have to upload this bad boy.

The next part of our little adventre was an underground cave tour!  It was pitch black
(these photos are taken with a flashlight and camera with a flash).

Making our way through the cave....doggy paddle style, yo.

Hands down, my favorite photo of the trip.  Bwhahaha.

Lunch on the balcony.

Matt and his lady friend.

I asked for "anything in a coconut, but it must be in a coconut".  You know, just for this photo opp.  Classy.

Matt relaxing.

This is Matt's favorite part of the trip, bar none.  He sincerely got a kick outta the old man in the g-string.  He said everytime he spotted him, he got 10 extra "lizard points".  (Boy was falling behind on the lizard points, let me tell you.)  Anyway, since Matt was so enamored he spotted this gentleman daily (look, this dude really piqued his interest), and thus clenched the win for "Lizard Spotting".  Unfairly, I might add.

Beautiful beach.

Nighttime in Tulum is magical: lights in the trees everywhere, people walking to dinner on the dirt road, flashlights in hand, and hotels aglow. Here is the pool at our hotel.

On our last day we went to Chichen Itza.  Matt was dying to go.  I was like, "eh, ruins.."  I know, I'm so jaded.

We also snorkeled and saw tons of sea turtles and took some underwater photos, which I hope to share when they're developed.  It was a terrific trip, but we were so happy to come home to Annie, who spent three days with my parents and three days with Matt's.  It's good to be home.