So Very Thankful

Ahhh. My very favorite time of year is upon us. Thanksgiving is past, and Christmas is less than a month away. There's a bit of a chill in the air, and homes and businesses are all decked out in their holiday finery. Bliss.
I had a wonderful Thanksgiving week last week. For the first time, Elvis had the opportunity to work flex days over the summer so he could be home with us all week, and it was great. He'd been working like a dog lately, and was really looking forward to the rest. Friday AND Saturday night of last week, we took a handful of his theatre students to see shows in neighboring towns, so even though his work-week ended at 4 on Friday, he wasn't done with teacher duties until the wee hours of Sunday morning. That man works so hard for his family. We are so lucky.

After the late start to the vacation, we had a great week of doing almost nothing until Wednesday, when I spent the evening baking pies. The next morning the three of us trekked down to my parents' house this year and - for the first time ever - E's parents joined us there to celebrate. It was a really small T-giving for our family this year, but that was nice. Henry had a great audience all day, and had a blast showing off for his grandmas and great-grandma. What a little ham.

I spent most of Friday decorating our house, and it looks pretty good. I decided not to put up the big tree this year to avoid the constant shouting of "Henry, NO!" and I was a bit nervous about how our house would look sans tree. But, thanks to Pinterest, I was able to come up with some good, toddler-safe ideas. Yay!

Saturday morning we got up and snuck back to town to surprise my favorite aunt & uncle who had decided to make a surprise visit (that's right, we surprised the surprisers). We met up with my mom and Aunt Bunny at the mall, and I thought everyone was going to wet their pants with delight. Bunny hadn't seen Henry in a few months, and was sad to have missed him at Thanksgiving, so I think it made her weekend to get to snuggle with him for a few hours. Then on Saturday evening a friend of mine came over for some frolicking. She decided to stay for awhile, so we pulled out one of our homemade board games, and had a super time playing and giggling and eating pizza. It was a grand time, and I was sad when it was time for her to go home.

I could not have wished for a better week or a happier Thanksgiving day, and I'm so thankful for all my many blessings. A beautiful home; a loving husband; a healthy son; supportive friends & family scattered across the country; and a breathtaking homeland where the stars at night are big and bright, and - best of all - we can enjoy 'em in our t-shirts even at Thanksgiving.

Oh, Pinterest ...

Of course I'd heard of Pinterest, I don't live under a rock.  My favorite aunt started talking about it at Christmas this past year, saying I could find hundreds of activities and such for little Henry.  It sounded interesting until I heard there was a "waiting list" to join.  Forget about it.  I wasn't into cliques in high school, and I'm certainly not into them as an adult either.  I kept on hearing about the magic of Pinterest, though, and finally one afternoon at my parents' house I got suckered into it.  Let me be clear, I was only checking it out to help my mom in her quest for window treatments.  I checked out her pins, made a few new ones of my own, and then spent the next ... I dunno ... 63 hours or so browsing.

This was totally me.

It. Is. Awesome.
Yes, it's true.  I've been on Pinterest for about 3 weeks now, and already Elvis is just sick to death of hearing about this or that new thing I've pinned.  It's a good thing I have a toddler to look after, or I don't think I'd EVER put the iPad down.  Seriously.  I'm thinking about "multitasking" with it right now.
Anyway, a few good things actually HAVE come into our lives from The Great Timesuck, I'm proud to say.  I made a great little toy for Henry out of an old coffee can and some milk lids, and we've tried some bathtime tricks and games as well.  He's playing a Pinterest sorting game as we speak, actually, sticking the handles of his baby spoons through the holes of their dishwashing basket.  What a magical site.  Ahem.  Also, my mom AND my grandmother's Christmas presents this year are already underway, inspired by some of the beautiful DIY projects.  But what I think I'm proudest of is that I have found a house-cleaning regimen that works. 
I've only been doing it for a week, but that's about 4 days longer than I've ever stuck with any sort of cleaning regimen in the past.  Ha ha.  Seriously, though, I HATE cleaning.  So last week was pretty rough, as starting a cleaning routine always is.  I had a few weeks' worth of clutter sitting around on my tables and counters, as is typically the case at my house.  But once I got started it was so easy.  I do a few major tasks each day (today was laundry and weekend damage control) as well as a few small ones (I also wiped down the walls in the kitchen, as well as the coffee and dining tables, and the kitchen trash can).  Now my house just stays clean-ish all the time, and I can make progress on the detail work, like tidying drawers, organizing Henry's closets, washing exterior windows, and dusting the louvres on my utility room doors.  It's true, I haven't actually DONE any of those things yet, but ... well, at least now I don't have a good excuse.  Maybe next week when Elvis is home from school all week. 
Also, although I don't have the patience or the steady hands to try all the awesome nail art ideas on Pinterest, I WAS inspired to paint my nails for the first time since Henry was born.  It makes me feel a little bit like Betty Draper when I'm doing my chores.  Except that I've seen every episode of Mad Men twice now, and I'm pretty sure I never see her doing any actual housework.  So there, thanks to Pinterest I know I'm at least as good a housewife as Betty Draper.  Thanks, P.  ;-)

Grandbaby Fever

Okay, so I used to tease my mom all the time that she started wanting grandkids a few days after I was born. She's never denied it, and I've never understood it. Until now, that is. I guess I couldn't think past the whole being-old-enough-to-be-a-grandmother aspect. Anyway, now that I know and love my own son, I can totally see the draw of grandmotherhood. 

First of all, grandma is everyone's favorite, isn't she? I know Henry is completely crazy for his 2 grandmas and his great-grandma. I mean, the clingy little monkey who wants me to carry him around all day will actually push my face away in his excitement to get to any of them. They love him and spoil him so much, it's no wonder he's head over heels. That's gotta be pretty gratifying. 

Also, grandmas don't discipline much do they? Of course they don't let him get away with ANYTHING, but ... well, almost. That's as it should be, I understand. But still, I feel certain my parents never let me do a lot of the things that are so charming coming from their grandson. 

And of course, the very idea of the child of my beloved child is pretty magical. Henry's so magnificent, I get excited about his pee (we're potty training, I'm not gross); I can only imagine how spectacular any child of his would be. I certainly don't want to rush through the years, but I have to admit I totally can't wait to hold each of his -hopefully many- babies in my arms. The very thought brings tears to my eyes. It must be pure joy to hold the magnum opus of your own magnum opus.

Happy weekend to me

Well, we had a super weekend. I didn't even realize how refreshing it was until just before bed last night. Friday was the first day of Hunting Season 'round these parts, and the men in my life (father, husband, brother) went out to the family's land to celebrate in style. That left me, Henry, and my mom with nothing to do, so we spent the weekend together. We did some Christmas shopping, went out for every meal, stayed up late watching Mad Men, and giggled at the hilarious antics of my adorable son. My grandmother came over  Saturday afternoon to see her favorite guy, and they had so much fun. I will not reveal her age, but it's amazing to see her crawling around on the floor and swinging that little dude around. They've always seemed younger than their age, but Henry has totally reinvigorated both Nana and Gramps. 

We went to church yesterday morning, and -as usual- it seemed like the sermon was just for me. "Big Milt" talked about living in your Big self (kind, patient, generous, etc) instead of your Small self (petty, gossipy, stingy, etc). This is something I struggle with pretty regularly, I admit. Being in the house with just a toddler for company all day sometimes leads me to feel resentful and angry, which leads me to behave in an unpleasant fashion sometimes. I just need to remember to think before I act or speak, and remember that, as difficult as our life can be, we have been so richly  blessed. Then, in Sunday School (during which my little monkey charmed all the ladies into playing peekaboo) we talked about Extravagant Generosity. The topic was talking about being financially generous, and the whole time I wanted to call out my mom (and dad). They are so generous in so many ways. Aside from all they do for my little family, they give generously to lots of causes, particularly schools and our military. A few months ago they anonymously paid for the lunches of a big group of soldiers who were eating a few tables over from them. They give freely of their time and energy as well, through church and work programs. I'm so proud of my parents for all they do for others. They are such wonderful role models in so many ways. 

After church we went home to put little Henry down for his nap, and I made a cake for Daddy's birthday. I had just frosted it when the guys got home from Place (the ranch still does not have an official name, after almost 3 years), and I was so pleased at how delighted my dad was with his cake. My mom does not cook, so his birthday treats are of the store-bought variety unless I make them myself (which I almost always do, of course. I'm not a perfect daughter, but I understand the importance of a homemade-with-love birthday cake!). It's so easy to make him happy (as though a whole weekend of hunting, whiskey, and off-color jokes with the guys didn't do that). 

Finally we loaded everything into the car and went home, but not before I acquired a new piece of furniture. My parents had this cabinet in the garage that they didn't know what to do with, so I took it off their hands. I had been racking my brain trying to figure out what to do with our overcrowded patio out back. Now it's looking great, all my gardening junk is concealed, and the cabinet is still less than half full. This thing is going to free up so much closet space! Wow, that's a lame thing to be so excited about. Ah, the joys of growing up ... ;-)

So, after all the fun and organizing, I was exhausted and ready for bed by 10:00 last night. Elvis changed the sheets (!!!) and I was out like a light.  Ahhh, what a wonderful weekend! 

What Might Have Been

October 15 is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day. I'm so sad that we have to have such a day, but I think it's great that there's recognition for this horror, and support for the parents who face it. Lately I've been inspired by the courage and faith of women who've had reproductive difficulties, some of whom I'm blessed to know, and some whose voices I hear through their blogs. Many of them have happy endings, and some don't. But the point is, these women have been brave enough to open up about the most painful moments of their lives. And so I think it's time to tell this story:

In 2009 I took my first positive pregnancy test. Elvis and I were on Cloud 9 and could barely contain ourselves. We told my brother and E's best friend, but decided to wait til after my initial OB/Gyn appointment to tell everyone else our joyous news.  I began a baby diet and started taking prenatal vitamins. We went out and bought a few cute non-gender-specific onesies. We planned and dreamed and talked to my belly. And then, 4 days before my appointment, I miscarried. 

I was "only" about 9 weeks along, and even though there was nothing I could have done to prevent it, I was devastated. I withdrew into myself completely for a few weeks. I ended up telling my mom and my best friend about the miscarriage, but nobody else knew. I didn't answer the phone or respond to emails. I mostly just sat around our apartment crying and feeling some wretched feelings: I was angry at myself for not being a good enough mother; I was terrified that Elvis would be mad at me (so silly. He was -as he always is - wonderful); I was worried that I'd never have a baby. I was the lowest I've ever been, and then it got worse: my oldest friend announced her pregnancy less than a week after I lost mine. I couldn't even bring myself to be happy for her. I felt petty and ugly for my jealousy, but I couldn't help it. Over the next few months more of our friends made their big announcements, and every time it felt like a slap in the face. 

Finally, one day, there was light at the end of the tunnel. Our friends Dustin & Becky announced their impending arrival in July of 2010. I still felt faintly jealous, but more importantly, I was happy for them. Elvis and I had dinner with them a few weeks later and even brought them a baby gift. They were both so excited and Becky was positively glowing. It was the first time in almost a year that I didn't want to scratch out the eyes of an expectant mother. We had a great time and I guess God was pleased that we had finally been able to deal with our grief because 2 months later He rewarded us with another little pink plus. 

We decided to tell our family and close friends right away. Elvis thought (and I agreed) that we should take all the prayers and positive thoughts we could get, right from the start. About a week later, I was going to the bathroom before bed and noticed some spotting. It was only a little bit, but given our history Elvis decided we should go to the hospital. They ran some tests and did some ultrasounds and finally, with the bedside manner of a goat, the doctor told me to go home and see what happened, and that I would likely lose the pregnancy. Clearly all the love and prayers from our family worked, because I took another positive pregnancy test a few days later. Everyone stayed positive, and Elvis and I were so thrilled and relieved to see a healthy heartbeat at my initial OB/Gyn appointment (which happened to fall on my dad's 55th birthday. It felt like a lucky day, and I'm certain that a healthy grandchild was his most fervent birthday wish). 

Medically, the pregnancy wasn't easy. At that same appointment I was tested for Gestational Diabetes, and the tests came back positive. I had to see several specialists throughout the course of my pregnancy, which - in addition to my regular OB/Gyn visits - made me feel like I was living in doctors' offices. I got to be chummy with many wonderful nurses, and grew to hate the inappropriately named non-stress test. I got sick at every one of my many ultrasound appointments. In the final weeks I battled high blood pressure, and even spent a few nights in the hospital. But I was a cheerful patient, knowing that whatever awful routines they put me through, I would come out a winner. Sure, collecting your pee in a jug for 24 hours sounds dreadful (it WAS dreadful. I had to do it 7 or 8 times. Elvis kept my spirits up by referring to the bathroom as "hittin' the jug"). But at the end of it all, I would finally hold in my arms the piece of my soul that I hadn't known was missing. My beautiful, healthy son is truly a miracle straight from God. 

Even now, 3 years and one healthy son later it still hurts to think about the loss of that first pregnancy, and the painful months afterward. I feel so grateful to have had my supportive, loving husband by my side through the ordeal. I wish nobody would ever have to go through the loss of a pregnancy or -far worse- a child. What an unimaginable nightmare. If this unspeakable horror has happened to you or someone you love, I pray that you will find the peace your soul needs, and that you will one day know the bliss of holding your new baby in your arms. Miracles happen every day. 

You Don't Own Me

So this past Sunday was the first birthday of our friends' son, and we were invited to an exclusive (well ... family only) party to celebrate. We arrived with bells on, excited to see our friends for the first time since Henry's birthday. The daddies were outside grilling while the mommies (and grandmommy) coralled the kids inside. Mr. and Mrs. P had secured their enormous living room and filled it with balloons and toys. What on earth could be better for the 18-months-and-under set (or, indeed, the 3-7 crowd once their little tummies were full of delicious treats)? Henry loves other little ones, and he quickly fell into a "conversation" with the birthday boy and his cousin. They were so cute, sharing their sippy cups and babbling, giggling and pointing at each other. Adorable. At any rate, in all the excitement the birthday boy toppled over and bonked his head on the fireplace. Being the closest person over 3, I immediately grabbed him and started to soothe him, as he was more scared than hurt. As I rubbed his little noggin (and - more importantly - he saw his mommy come running) he started to calm down. Just in time, too. Mrs. P. arrived to scoop her little guy up just as mine began to melt down. Henry did NOT like to see somebody else in his mama's arms, and he threw a royal fit to let everyone know.

Of course he cooled down after a few moments of back-rubbing and forehead kisses, but it was kind of a big deal at the time. It was the first time Henry ever had to share Mama with a "stranger", and even though I hated seeing him upset, I have to admit it was kind of ... sweet(?). He's such a sweet little guy, and usually pretty good about sharing things, but it's kind of touching that -right now at least- I'm the one thing he does not share. 

Fine. He does own me. And I'm okay with that. 

Our Favorite Time

One afternoon this summer, Elvis and I were channel surfing, and happened upon something wonderful: a TV show teaching sign language. We'd read articles about how babies can communicate with sign before they can speak, and even seen it in action. So we got a book of basic signs for baby. It's beautiful, with lovely photographs and descriptions of the motions. But E and I are both the kind who learn by watching, and so Signing Time quickly became our family's favorite time (and communication tool!). We've been watching for a few months now, and I can proudly say I'm actually learning something. 

Signing Time is on PBS and features hostess Rachel, her daughter Leah and her nephew Alex. Each episode has a theme (eg. Around the House), and words are taught in small groups (3-4 at a time) and then reinforced with songs. It's been so great to learn a new way to communicate, and I've loved the results. Henry doesn't seem inclined to speak any time soon, but he does know a handful of signs. He can ask for milk or cheese,  is working on crackers, and lets me know he's hungry without throwing a fit. 

Since school started back up, Henry and I watch it each day before nap time, and then I show Elvis that day's lesson when he gets home that evening. It's such a wonderful tool for our family: we're learning a new skill and giving Henry the power to communicate. 

Game time!

I would absolutely give this show 2 hearty thumbs way up. Check your local listings for Signing Time, or check out their segments on YouTube (I particularly enjoyed Leah and Alex's version of the Star Spangled Banner)  I hope it becomes a cherished part of your family's daily routine, too. 

What's In a Name?

I love baby names. In particular, I enjoy hearing the crazy things people name their children, or the unique spellings of more traditional names. I feel sort of sad for all the Kortnees, Neveahs, Aidans, and Braedynns out there whose parents went for the fad names. Alright, I'll just say it: I love my son's name. The more baby names I hear these days, the more I love the one we chose. Several people have asked me recently how we chose his name, and it's a story I love telling so here it is. Brace yourself, it's a bit long. 

My husband was born with baby fever. Once I caught it too, baby names became a common topic of conversation for us. In the summer of 2009 we found ourselves in the midst of this conversation, and finally chose the names we wanted for the son and daughter we wanted one day. We'd always loved Katherine for a girl, and we chose Jackson for a boy. Not 2 hours after we'd agreed, word came that Michael Jackson had died (seriously. It was eerie). That wasn't such a big deal breaker, but then my cousin gave birth to a little angel a few weeks later and -not content with all our grandmother's antiques and heirlooms - she stole my name. Back to the drawing board. 

Let me interrupt here and tell you I had some strict criteria for a name:

1. It had to be something that was neither too common nor too out-there. 

2. I wanted our child to have nickname options. I've always hated that my name can't be shortened. 

3. I wanted our child to be named after someone special to us. 

4. No awkward initials or monograms. 

When I finally got pregnant in the fall of 2010 we had to get serious about a name. Katherine had fallen by the wayside, and we needed some good candidates. Elvis suggested Heidi for a girl, which I loved immediately. I could just picture a little girl with Elvis' golden hair, hunting Easter eggs in a little princess dress (you caught me, I can still picture it). I think I was the one who suggested Henry for a boy. They both fit all my criteria, and they had a bonus: Both are German names (to honor my heritage). 

When we found out I was going to have a boy, we were over the moon. I just loved the name Henry, and still do. It's a good solid name: even the nickname we chose is a classic (Hank). I know nobody will have difficulty spelling it. And he's named after some great men: Hank Aaron, Hank Williams, King Henry VIII of England, and his Poppa (with whom he shares a middle name). And I LOVE its meaning: Ruler of the house. What could be more appropriate for a baby? 

At the end of the day, I'm just glad to be able to say that I adore my son's name more every time I hear it. Way to go, team!

What are your childrens' names, or names you love? Or, what are some of the strangest names you've heard? 

Another???

So I guess it's that time now, huh? People are delighted with their babies, and are deciding to have The Second. In the past month, 4 women I know have delightedly announced their second pregnancies, and another has announced her third. I'm excited for them of course, but as for myself, I just can't imagine having another baby right now (heck, I can't imagine having another baby in the next 2 years! People sure do love to ask though, don't they? A month after Henry was born, people started asking me about having The Second). I'm flat-out exhausted keeping up with one climbing little monkey, keeping the pets' tails out of his mouth, and trying to encourage him to talk already (to say nothing of my housewifely duties of laundry, dishes, and the like). I don't know how people do it. 

Last night Elvis and I - just in casual conversation - talked about parenting and our feelings about going through it again.  I was genuinely surprised to hear that he would like to have a daughter one day. The whole time I've known him, he's wanted a son.  At my 20-week ultrasound, when we found out we were having a Henry instead of a Heidi, (after I made an Anne Boleyn joke that made the U/S tech uncomfortable) he assured me that one healthy son was all he wanted from my uterus. I took him at his word, and the three of us have been a loving, happy family since.  

As for myself, I don't really know what I want. I'm so torn on the idea of another child. I guess there are pros and cons, huh? Ooh, let's make a list!

PROS:

1.  Henry would have a sibling.  I would kind of like for him to have a brother or sister (in theory, anyway). My brother and I were always close, and I would love for my son to know that special bond as well. Also, Elvis is the only only-child I've ever met who wasn't completely self-absorbed and weird. 

2.  Pregnancy. Mine was the happiest time of my life. I loved watching my body change and adapt to nourish the new life within. Truly miraculous. 

3. The relationship between Elvis and me grew so much deeper and more profound. I recently read a quote that I wish I could remember. I can't though, so to paraphrase it said something like this: we loved one another so fiercely that magic happened.  The love we already shared has grown and intensified through this amazing experience, and I know that another baby would have the same effect. 

4. A baby! Who doesn't love a sweet new baby? The weight of them sleeping in your arms, their delicious baby smell, their round little bellies, their toothless smiles, their sweet little fingers and toes ... Sigh. Magic. 

5. Baby clothes. This one gets a category to itself. I freaking love baby clothes. So much the better if we're talking about baby girl clothes. Squeeee!!!

CONS:

1. Birth. I know, I know. But hey, I did it once and now I know what to expect. Scary. 

2. Financial fears. Pregnancy and childbirth were expensive, but then there are costs like feeding a kid (we spend almost as much money on milk now as we used to spend on cable), finding a bigger place to live, furnishing another nursery, etc. 

3. Exhaustion. I've got enough on my plate without a brand new baby. 

4. Superstitions. I had a wonderful pregnancy that resulted in a pretty spectacular child, and our family is so happy. I guess it's silly, but I fear things wouldn't go so smoothly the second time around. 

So I guess our conversation didn't really go anywhere. I certainly don't even want to think about The Second for another year or two. I'm just content with what I have: my smart, funny, kind, handsome hubby and our glorious son, who is so much like his Poppa. 

Friday Night Football

My fantastic husband was hired for his first teaching job 2 days before he officially graduated from Texas State University in 2008.  He went to work in a small town nearby and - to our delight - it's a really wonderful community.  The people embraced Elvis for all his wonderful qualities, and then extended that embrace to me and eventually to precious Henry.  We love being a part of the community, and to that end our little family loaded up and headed out for our annual High School Football (I think that's the grammatically appropriate reverance required from a Texan) season opener last night. 
We got there in plenty of time to get good seats, up at the top of the stands near the band.  The weather was absolutely beautiful for a football game: cloudy and warm, but with a pleasant breeze. Especially as the sun went down, it was just a lovely evening.  To nobody's surprise, the band sounded fantastic.  One of Elvis' best students is a drum major this year, so it was great to see her leading the better-than-ever 2012 band.
The actual surprise of the night was the football team itself.  They had a whole new energy about them.  Nerves and excitement, of course, but also a confidence that they seem to have lacked in years past.  They went out there and got down to business, and scored their first touchdown within a few minutes.  At halftime, our guys were up 21-6.  What a great first half!
Henry freaked out a little bit at the overwhelming crowd response to that first TD, but that was the only moment of the night he didn't love.  For most of the first half, he sat happily in my lap or Elvis' and clapped along with the band, or sucked his beloved thumb and watched the game.  Around the middle of the second quarter he started to get a little squirmy, so we decided to walk around a little bit.  On our way out of the stands Elvis stopped to talk to a few people,  and we ended up standing around the fence near the entrance to the stands, greeting teachers and students as they came in or went to the concession stand.  There are a lot of new teachers and administrators this year, so it was nice to meet some of the cool new co-workers E's been talking about, and their families.  Everyone was so  nice, and so pumped for the year.  And, of course, they had such wonderful things to say to and about Elvis.  He's getting to be kind of a Big Deal there.  At the very least, he garnered rave reviews as the MC at yesterday's pep rally.  :-)  Oh, and of course everyone oohed and ahhed over each other's babies.  Henry was praised many times over for his handsome face and sweet nature, and his adorable dancing & clapping along with the crowd.  Fun times were had by all.
We got to watch both bands at halftime, and they were both good.  I myself was in the marching band (and - for one magical year - the Feature Twirler), and I still love seeing the band.  It's always cool to see what they're doing these days.  The Eagle band was, like I said, better than ever this year.  They added a dance element for some surprise showmanship, and it was really fun!  I can't wait to see the show when they're all uniformed, and not in their casual jeans-and-band-tee getup for opening night. 
As the band finished up we decided it was probably time to go.  It was already about half an hour past bedtime, and we still had a 30 minute drive home.  Rather than risk a fussy baby, we cut our losses.  Henry was still in a good mood, and stayed awake long enough to eat dinner and drink 3 glasses of milk before falling asleep. 
What a night!  Ahh, I do love Game Night!