A Day in the Life

I'm beginning to wonder what my neighbors think as they see me leaving my house late at night, only to return hours later before the sun comes up. I can only hope that their mind doesn't lead them to the gutter as to what on earth would call a mother of three out of the house after hours. "Are they that hard up for cash?" "What kind of profession demands these odd hours?" Of course the fact that I'm leaving in a mini-van and wearing baggy clothes would hopefully deter their thoughts of me as a "working girl". Of course though, I am a working girl. But the other kind... a doula.
I had the honor to attend and support a couple who are dear friends of ours as they welcomed their first child into the world last night. I am continually amazed and in awe at the wonder of our creation(the human body, spirit, mind) by our Creator Himself, our Father God, as I see a mere mortal bring new life into these tiny hospital rooms. Not to discredit the male species in any way, but man, a WOMAN's body is the benchmark in excellent craftsmanship from THE Creator. The strength, will, stamina, bending-without-breaking quality that I have witnessed during these births by these laboring mothers has left me speechless (in fact I 'm having trouble putting my experiences into words presently).
I got to thinking today about what a "doula" does/is. Of course I can give the scripted answer about how we provide continuous emotional, physical and informational support to the laboring woman and her partner. BUT, there is SO MUCH MORE to it.
I guess you could say the the doula is the "jack of all trades" (or in my case the "jill of all trades!). I thought I would compile a modest list of some of the ways in which I personally have served some of my doula clients. This is not a "brag list" of accomplishments or skills that I have, just a mere description about ways in which a doula can serve (that you probably never knew!):
Here are the "skills" (every time I talk about my "skills", I can't help but think of the movie "Napoleon Dynamite", although as a disclaimer, I do NOT have nun chuck skills!):

• ability to enter a most-personal setting and yet, not become an "intruder"
• tying a woman's hair back as she is contracting, at times taking out your own ponytail and giving her your hair band
• ice cup-filler and spooner
• holding a cold cloth on a forehead, neck, back or anywhere else that is overheated
• stabilizing a birthing ball with your legs/knees
• massaging a neck, back, arm, foot or leg
• getting face-to-face with a woman and telling her that she is safe, that she is not alone and that she is so strong
• ability to contort your body to fit in between bed rails, IV poles, monitors and stools in order to be physically close to the woman
• squeeze a woman's hips with all your might to alleviate back pressure
• gently suggest position changes to the woman without being irritating or bossy
• be able to support WHATEVER decision that couple makes about their birth or baby, regardless if it is what YOU have chosen for your family
• hold food and offer it to your client bite for bite
• help a woman learn to cradle and nurse her baby and tell her that she will learn the art of breastfeeding
• take photos of baby, mother and father
  
• put your own needs on hold and remain with that couple continuously until the birth of their baby
  

And so many, many more. I've been on the other side of the fence three times in the last six years and my memories of birth are vivid and real. It is the test of a lifetime, a battle of will and the most sensitive, sacred and soul-rattling moments I've yet to experience. Being a part of that experience as a doula are all those things, to a lesser degree, but nonetheless, an experience that seems to stay with me in many deep ways.

Generational Bonding

Tonight we attended a most prestigious event. It was the place to be. Only the elite received an invite. It was "THE' party. It was the "Ice Cream Social" at Nicolas' preschool. We decided to make it a night and invite my parents and Nana along with us to visit Nicolas' preschool and see where he spends two half-days a week.
Nicolas was indeed proud to be bringing his family to his "stomping ground". It struck me that WE were the outsiders at this place and that HE was a member of the club. He knew the side door to enter through when the main door was locked. He knew where the dress-up clothes were when his big sis asked where she could adorn herself. And best of all, he knew where to hang his hat (or his jacket in this case)- on a hook with HIS name posted above it! Wow, my three-year old has a place where he belongs BESIDES at HOME.
It was so precious to see "Grampie " and "Nannie" interacting with the kids, especially the boys in this rich and fun environment. Puzzles, reading sofas and polliwogs are what captured the attention of Elias and Nicolas tonight. Sophia ran into a friend... an "older" friend (a first grader with a sparkly purse, what girl can resist idolizing an older girl with a glitzy bag??) so she was kind of scarce tonight, but politely scarce. I captured a few precious photos of the boys with their Nannie and Grampie. My favorite is the photo at the top of this post, the one where Gramps is trying to keep Elias from reaching out to the tank of polliwogs... who knows what kind of atrocity would have followed had his little arm reached that tank???

The Scent of a Mother

I very rarely write "down-beat" posts, so I thought I would give it a try. I am tired, very tired. I spent 12 hours at the hospital with a doula-client last night/this morning who was having contractions. It turns out that this sweet lady was sent home b/c her labor "stalled out". In fact, one of the labor and delivery nurses actually told her that she "actually wasn't considered to be in labor" (never tell a woman who is contracting that she is not really in labor). As it is my privilege to attend these births, it is also a reality that they leave me, and my family, drained. And sometimes I question, "Why am I doing this?".
My darling Sophia was less-than-thrilled to see me go last night. She was teary-eyed and pretty downcast about Mommy heading out to be a doula. She often takes an article of my clothing to bed with her for comfort. Well, last night she took two... my night shirt and my watch.
Needless to say, after a night of interrupted sleep and sentimentality (Elias woke 9 times, but quickly settled back in on Mike's shoulder each time), everyone was thrilled to see me stumble in the house this morning, albeit groggy. After throwing my arms around my husband (aka "Mr. Mom" once in a while, whilst I'm out "doulaing") I scooped up my little baby bird and had the other two wrapped around each leg. I shuffled over to the sofa and gave them all what WE were all in need of- Mommy Love.
Although we venture into each other's realms/roles quite often and fervently stick to our motto, "hometeam" (I'm sorry, I married a jock and this is kind of our thing when referring to picking up where the other leaves off) we both enjoy returning to where we fall naturally- Mommy as Mom and Daddy as Dad. Although he is darn good at holding down the fort (sometimes I am envious that he can do it all and then some while I'm gone) we both admit to lacking the "it factor" that the other brings to their primary role. This is seen in major ways like Mike not being able to breastfeed Elias or me not wanting to spend each day away from the children OR small things like my making oatmeal differently (by different, the kids mean better!) than Mike and Mike being way better at "bear wrestling" with the kids than I am).
Sophia noted that I "didn't smell like Mommy" as we sat entwined on the sofa this morning. She said I smelled like the hospital, then quickly retrieved my night shirt and said, "Mmmm, now this smells like you". Nicolas quickly leaned in for a sniff and agreed, "You smell like a doctor". "Well, she is a doctor Nicolas", were the words of his sister. I gently reminded them that "No", Mommy is not a doctor, she is a doula, but first and foremost, I am Mommy.

Sedation

Okay, three beautiful days in a row. It is certainly a record of some sort, considering the gloomy weather that we're coming off of.
Friday was a park day and a yard day. Saturday was a park day and a yard day. And today, although we did not visit the park, we spent a great deal of time in the yard. The kids have been riding their bikes like crazy. In fact, we ventured into a "pivotal moment" as parents just today. We removed the training wheels from Sophia's bicycle. Of course, this moment was more about her than us, but nevertheless, I am feeling it in my back (running alongside my darling daughter, hunched over with one hand on the seat and the other on the handlebars). She is so me. In fact, Mike was calling her "little Jill" today as she nervously demanded that I keep my hands on her bike and not let go (I honestly think she must have said it 30 or 40 times... poor little thing). We concluded that we need to get her to a field in order to really let her "open it up" and ride independently. It's officially on the "to do" list for the week.
But back to the weather. The sun and fresh air have made their appearance so suddenly that we're almost NOT used to such beautiful conditions. The kids have adjusted. They are in spring/summer mode. They even have the first signs of a suntan (despite putting SPF 30 on them while at the park... try explaining to your pediatrician why your kids are brown in June. They're probably thinking, "Yeah right, she's really putting sunblock on her kids and they look like they just got back from 'Hollywood Tans'!". I'm probably on some sort of neglectful parent list at the office! That coupled with the fact that I never knew the answer to "How many blocks can "baby girl/baby boy" stack on top of one another?" A very lame question that our old pediatrician used to ask me at EVERY visit. I was always like, "I'm not gonna' lie... I have NO idea."). Mike and I on the other hand... well, we are still in transition mode. Let's just say that all of this "fresh air" has near-sedated us. We have been going to bed at about 9pm for the last two nights. And the only reason that we haven't turned in yet tonight is that I was determined NOT to turn get in bed and see numbers "9:23" on my clock (we REALLY need this down-time after the kids are tucked in! Duh, like any one of your parents reading this DON'T already know that!). We have been so worn out at the end of the day that we've actually wondered if the kids slipped something into our drinks at dinner (well, we haven't really considered that possibility, but it does feel a little bit like a "Benadryl high" or should I say "low").
All I can say is that I hope we adjust to this Spring weather soon...

A Defining Moment for a Baby Bird

A defining moment for Elias

Our little baby bird turned one as most of you know. So, we decided to celebrate. We invited to our home
1 Great-Grand Nana
2 Grandmothers
2 Grandfathers
2 Uncles
1 Auntie
3 Cousins...
And a partridge in a pear tree!
It was a day to remember. The food was exquisite (can you say 12-pound vegetable lasagna?). The guest list prestigious. And the gifts, well, any mama would have been happy to add these items to their child's dresser drawers or toychest (you know how we often times "suggest" gift ideas to eager family members? "yes" to sentimental gifts, "no" to gifts that will make you mental- battery-driven, plastic, light-flashing toys!!!).
It was an amazing day, much like a mini-family reunion. We were so proud to see our little baby bird walking, babbling, interacting and playing games with over three generations of his family. We took some really touching photos of Elias with both sets of grandparents and one really special photos with his 86-year old great grandmother.
The highlight of the party was when Elias was given a piece of his "bird's nest" birthday cake (well, it was actually a bird's nest cupcake, part of the "baby bird" motif!). I had prided myself on withholding JUNK from his little mouth for the first year of his life. I had succeeded and was proud (does a lick of Ben and Jerry's ice cream REALLY count???). It was a moment I had been waiting for. How would he respond to that lump of heaven before him? Would he gobble it up or refuse it and be loyal to his favorite cuisine- breastmilk? In a secret place, I wished that he would despise that cupcake. It was a symbol of breaking into the real world. A world where our children are bombarded with ads for sugary, artificial and dyed "snacks". Okay, I'm digressing (is this the "purist' in me speaking?).
Well, needless to say, Elias devoured his cupcake. It was like a National Geographic video. It was like a wild creature going after his prey. There were gasps in the room as he smashed, licked and smeared the cake over his mouth, cheeks and nostrils. He went about it so barbarically that I had to look away at points. It was horrifying! When his spree came to an end all we could do was laugh. The room was filled with roaring, belly laughs from children, to adults to the elderly. I had my answer. Elias was a child; a normal child who likes sweets.
I will always look back on that day with mixed emotions. Joy and pride in the completed first year of our third child. But also with sadness, as we realized that we no longer had a "baby" in our home.





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It's Finished!

It's official... Mike has finished running the Boston Marathon!!! His official ending time was 4:02:43. He came in place 13,511. His goal was to pass 5,000 runners during the course of the marathon, and he doubled his goal and passed OVER 10,000!!!
He will be heading home tonight and I'm sure he could use your prayers for safe travel.
I'm sure he would love to hear from you all whether by phone, email (mikehoule@colonialpoint.com) or good-old-fashioned pen and paper mail!
I am so proud of you Michael...

My Boston Marathoner

Well, he's off! I guess when it comes to running my dear husband is like the Postal Service... be it rain or shine, sleet or snow he will RUN! Ever since we have read the weather "warnings" on the rain/sleet/snow/cold/puddles/headwinds for those running the Boston Marathon tomorrow there have been mixed emotions in our home. Mike, on one hand, has been optimistic. Why what's a little rain? He actually stated that he preferred a little drizzle for the cooling effects. He pleaded his case that wet feet didn't bother him. And the headwinds (that were predicted to be blowing at about 50 miles/hour at one point last week) were a mere detterent to his pace; why he would just be slowed down a bit. (This man's attitude towards life in general continues to be a positive force in my life for almost 9 years now.)
ME on the other hand... well let's just say my "nervous side" has come out of hiding!

You would think that a) I was running the marathon and would be directly affected by the bad conditions, b) had been subjected to hearing Mike complain about the bad conditions, or c) that Mike was the pawn in a hostage situation and he had NO CHOICE but to run the 26.2 miles to save his life.

Those of you that know me well know that I have a flare for the dramatic. And for some reason, during the times that Mike runs these marathons my EMOTIONS RUN HIGH!!!!
Here is a photo of him with Sophia and Nicolas just as he was walking out the door. See... does he look nervous/upset/scared/threatened/pessimistic to you?
Needless to say, I am extremely proud of Mike and cannot wait for the race to begin. I will be tracking him using the link I posted on the homepage of this blog. I will also be getting text messages on my cell phone each time he passes a certain point (every 5 miles or so).
Mike has trained so well and so smartly for this race. I am so proud of him and am thrilled that he has the chance to be a part of history!

Bittersweet

Today is a bittersweet day in our house... Elias turns ONE YEAR OLD today. We are all dealing with the fact that he is technically no longer a "baby" (according the books, on paper, etc...). Despite the labels he is SO the baby around here. The attention and forgiveness ("Oh, that's okay Elias. You're just a baby and it's actually funny that you just wrecked my lego creation/art project/took my food...") he receives in this house from me, his Daddy, big sister and big brother will either make him into a very secure and confident adult OR a classic "baby of the family" type (you know, what I mean!).
For obvious reasons, I am remembering the day/night he was born and thinking back on it with such positive emotions. It was a very beautiful and intimate night... Mike and I working as a team to bring this new baby of ours into the world. Mike was fully present that night in body, mind and spirit. He was my rock and my shoulder to cry on. He was steel wrapped in velvet. And he supported my beautifully during my labor and the quick and intense delivery that followed. He and my midwife, Julie, were calming presences and allowed the atmosphere in the room that night to be however I wanted it to be... calm, minimal disruption and no-cause for alarm (after all, birth is not a medical event, just an extension of our body's normalcy).
Elias was born after 1 1/2 hours of laboring and came quickly, within minutes. He immediately found his spot in our family and took his position in my arms (I feel like I have been holding babies for six years straight, oh, wait, I have!).

Happy Birthday Sweet Baby Boy... you are so loved.

Death By Chocolate

Okay, I have to ask... are there any other mommies out their who bribe their children with sweets? I have to admit that today, I did just that. I was feeling a wee bit more enthusiastic about getting some schoolwork done than my plead-her-case daughter was. There was also an enormous amount of Easter candy just sitting there on the counter (I could see the eyes of the Peeps staring at me from across the room saying , "Eat me, eat me before I get stale"). My children were also begging for candy from the moment they woke up. It was the perfect storm: three fronts (or pressures) colliding at once. The pressure was too intense for even ME, the nutritionist (or "purist" as my mother-in-law has referred to me as, in regards to me NOT putting sugar on top of my kids cereal) to resist. So, I gave in.
I promised a treat to Sophia and Nicolas for finishing her "Rhyming Phrases and Words" book and her reading game that I made up (I places those foam blocks with words on each surface along in a path and had her read words off of them as she jumped from block to block. She is somewhat of a kinesthetic learner AND was quite excited at the prospect of sugar at 10am so she moved pretty quickly at this point). Poor Nicolas... an innocent bystander at the mercy of his sister (once again). He couldn't get any candy until she was done either (wow, that's pretty unfair of me...).
So here was the reward. Of course I had to make it even across the boards so I had to set an amount to choose from for each kind of candy. My equation went something like this:
4 small jellybeans=2 large jelly beans=1peep=1/2 Cadbury egg=2 malted Robin's Egg chocolates
It's quite complicated and I was quite pleased to get to use some of my algebra on this mommy moment.
Oh, there was a bright spot in all of this. My children are quite fond of hard-boiled eggs, especially if they are brightly colored. So, they did have some nutrition in the midst of all of this sugar and food dye. They each chose 2 eggs. I have to relinquish my OCD about keeping a clean house every time I let them crack, peel and eat those darn crumbly eggs by themselves (but it's a good skill for them to have, right???). They started to peel the eggs and this darling conversation followed:

Sophia: crack, crack, crack. peel, peel, peel. "We are the doulas right now."
Nicolas: "Yeah."
Mom: "Oh, tell me why sweetie?"
Sophia: "Oh, because we are helping the baby chicks to come out of their shells."

Adorable. We then had a little discussion about the "daddy" chickens and the "mommy" chickens and Sophia seemed to know that the dads had to do something to the eggs for them to become chickens in the first place!
So needless to say, after a day of jellybeans and peeps I actually gave them a piece of their chocolates as they "wound down" for bed. "But just a piece" I said. So Sophia chose the "legs" off of her chocolate ballerina (she already decided that tomorrow she'll have the tutus and the body the day after that!) and Nicolas chose the "dirt" from the back of his chocolate dump truck. What a sick night!

Preparation

I can still smell the steam coming off the hot iron I just used to press my daughter's, sons' and husband's "Easter" clothing. I should really run upstairs to figure out MY outfit for tomorrow, but I felt the pull towards the computer to blog more intensely than the pull to my closet to get a head start on the morning...
I have to say that I have grown to love keeping this blog. It meets so many needs in a young mother's life. Some of which are...

the need to speak of those acts/thoughts/experiences which are usually unseen by the outside world (for we are "at home" and often do not have many witnesses to our day)

the need to know we are being heard- replies to posts, personal e-mails, phone calls and "face-to-face" conversations (imagine that, there actually does exist people talking in person still!) telling me of their experience/thoughts of reading my little old blog (aw, shucks!)

an outlet for a bit of creative expression

the freedom in speaking the truth without fear of judgement/backlash/comments/looking down noses at you (at least I can't SEE my readers doing these sorts of things, so I can also pretend they're not)

a record of sorts of my daily life, thoughts, happenings- I can actually look back and say, "Yes, I did do that yesterday didn't I?"

I have to admit that part of the intrigue of reading other blogger's blogs is the brief glimpse into their family life. I find my interest in other family's family life/dynamics so interesting that I have often questioned my "peeping Tom" status (or "peeping Veronica", or peeping whatever female name gives off the nosy vibe). There is a fine line between nosiness and intrigue; mine is the latter, I assure you.
So, here is a little bit of what we all did today to prepare for Easter. We colored Easter eggs. We chose three colors ( a hodgepodge of assorted squirts of food coloring... "Wow, mommy your so good at that! How did you know just how many squirts of which to put in to make that pretty color?") and dipped/rolled our eggs in them and then stamped them with our fingerprints. Elias' egg is precious. Sophia's are bold and artistic. And Nicolas' "thumbprint cross" is just so sweet. We scrubbed the kids from head to toe, armed with their new toys given as Easter gifts to them from our dear friends Chrissy and Steve (our friends who live in Manhattan who have asked permission to lavish our kids with gifts until they have their own to spoil... thanks you two). We gave them a special Easter package filled with sweets and a special personal gift for each. I felt the desire to make them each a special card this year. A homemade card, ink stamped with their name and a message telling how much they are LOVED. We made "Easter Story Cookies" for the first time with Sophia and Nicolas. This really prepared our hearts to welcome in the amazing triumph of Christ's Resurrection... the kids were appalled by the smell of the vinegar (the drink given to Him when He was thirsty and there just hanging on the Cross) and the taste of the salt (tears of His followers), but rejoiced as they added the sugar (the sweetness of His love for us) and "sealed the tomb" of the oven door. We can't wait to open it in the morning! Lastly, I ironed. Nothing fantastic or glamorous, just preparation.

Delegation

Okay, please forgive me. I have come to the point of not only always writing about my children, but now also writing about the BOOKS that these children are reading. I just couldn't help myself this time because the book was very deliberately borrowed BY ME and FOR ME although I brushed it off as "one of the kids books". It is called "The Country Bunny: And the Little Gold Shoe". The cover alone caught my attention, as it shows a darling women bunny standing centered between 21 bunny babies. These baby bunnies are perfectly dressed: the boys in trousers, bowties and blazers and the girls in little dresses, layered perfectly with cardigans and little bows around their necks. The cover color alone got my attention... CORAL (the color just personifies SUMMER to me). Not to mention it is illustrated by Marjorie Flack (author of "The Story About Ping"... one of our book lessons from "FIAR" back in the Fall).
So here's how it goes... A little country girl bunny promises that someday SHE will be one of the five Easter Bunnies. Everyone laughs, the snobby elitist lady rabbits and the strong macho Jack Rabbits. But she says, "Wait and see!"
When she ends up "just a mother" to her 21 bunnies, people have shoot her one of those "I told you so" attitude (that many of us mums have felt before). They say just worry about all those babies you made (only a moron would go and have all those kids, right?). Obviously a mother could not amount to anything outside of keeping up with the feeding of and caring for her offspring and setting about the household drudgery that is our lot in life (I'm being sarcastic here... although I have been know to grumpily tell my kids that my middle name must be "LAUNDRY"). But NO. She want shake things up a bit and show her fellow rabbits just what a mama is made of. "If you think you're strong, swift, wise and kind then look out for me" (do you know the training she has received from chasing after those little ones?) she seems to say.
Now here is the fun part... trains all 21 of her children to do her work for her so that she can make it to the Easter Bunny tryouts (okay, so the book is more poetic about what she attends).
Well, I could go on and on about this darling little book, but I won't. The thing that struck me is how wise this little mama is. I like her strategy and I have to admit that I too have often thought "who me? just a mother?" (and this sort of negative self-talk). But in the end mamabunny's dream/venture ends with success and reward.
My FAVORITE part of this book is that she if first and foremost her children's mama. She, in the end, returns to them (she is gone only an evening... hmmm sounds like a doula to me!!!) and THEY are her real prize and joy!
Oh, if anyone is looking to train their little bunnies (or at least help them to be able to help themselves) I have an amazing book that I have used in my home for years now (it is one of those where the pages are thinning from so much use/flipping about) it is called, "Montessori from the Start: The Child at Home, from Birth to Age Three" by Paula Polk Lillard and Lynn Lillard Jessen. I LOVE this book.

Stating the Obvious

This may be stating the obvious, but boy do kids love to play! Every morning as I creep down the stairs (everyone else is already up except for me... God has blessed me with a man who knows how luxurious and renewing an extra hour and half of sleep can be for a mother of three!) I hear the sounds of trucks "brrmming", whistles blowing, wooden hammers pounding and more often than not the pounding of little feet running. Of course it is a lot to wake up to all at once and I often have to take a deep breath and surrender my day to God before the children hear me coming down (once they see me, it's all over!).
It just amazes me that even so early in the morning they have the energy and concentration to play so hard. Mike often worries about the sounds our bordering neighbors may hear (because they don't have small children we assume that they must be sleeping). They often get into a trance-like state as they build lego villages, role-play with their dolls/GI Joes, or color through pages of coloring books (this week they've grown very fond of a historical coloring book that friends gave to us with pictures of John Smith and Pocahontus!). Whenever I have to interrupt and call them to dress, school work or anything other than play they act as if they're being tortured. Tears, whining, "one more mintue pleases" follow.
I have read and do indeed believe that a child's work is PLAY. And if this is the case, then my children are working overtime! Mike and I often reminisce about when we were small and play was our work. It brings smiles to our faces and often gives us the understanding necessary to be more forgiving of the children's flying off sofas (and often flying just centimeters over their baby brother's head), pounding feet racing in circles through the "loop" that our dining area, school room and kitchen make (we moved into the perfect house for running laps) and toys that we often trip over. Dr. Sears says to "get behind the eyes of the child" and that really helps me to remember how FUN it was to play. Besides, you can see the wheels of imagination turning and the bond between this brother and sister growing.

Still Waiting

It seems like the experiences that go along with having children and a family have taught me more about myself, my husband, my disposition, my dreams/fears and life itself than any other single life experience/book/class/lesson ever has.
Being a mother has been a series of episodes, whether short (waiting for your child to finish their meal so that you can be somewhere on time) or long (9 months of carrying that child inside of you) that have taught me tremendous amounts on the virute of PATIENCE. Saying that being a mother has "taught me ABOUT" patience is not quite true. Being a mother has taught me HOW TO BE PATIENT. Know about something and actually BEING/DOING that thing are so very different.
It is as if all of those waiting periods have been like little seeds that the winds of time have blown (some gently and some quite violently) into my garden of life. Some of the seeds found their way nicely into the soil and began sprouting and growing immediately into beautiful traits. Some of the seeds missed the mark and perhaps I had to experience the episode again (and again and again!) in order for the little seed to fall into the ground properly. After all has been said and done, there is a nice little garden of patience that has grown over the last six years. It lies nicely in a sunny spot in my spirit (and I don't even have to water it often!).
This is not to say that I am always patient (my husband, children and now, sad to say even mother-in-law can say that I can "lose it"... she was actually quite pleased to see that I was "human" as she called it!!). But, I know where to draw from when I am in need of sustinance and survival skills!
So, with all of that said, I find myself waiting for two major events at this very moment. Both of them relating to my precious 11-month son, Elias James...
The first event that I am waiting for, or should I say waiting on, is the arrival of his FIRST BIRTHDAY on April 12th. In TEN days, my little baby will no longer be a "baby", but a "toddler". I find this so bitter-sweet. And I know that it is life and that he is so teetering on the edge of infancy and toddlerhood (you can see it in his eyes when he defiantly puts his hands into the trash can when he thinks that no one is looking!), but I have to admit that I am not ready to let go of having a "baby".
The other event that I am surely waiting for (day after day and night after night!) is for this same sweet, precious and oh-so charming little boy to START SLEEPING THROUGH THE NIGHT! Talk about a test of patience (not to mention, sanity)! It has been 11 months, 2weeks and 4 days since I've had a solid, uninterrupted 8 hours of sleep (but who's counting?).

I guess that these two events could potentially collide and come to fruition at the same exact moment (like they did with his brother Nicolas... who slept throught the night, 12 hours straight, for the first time on the eve of his first birthday). But, I'm not holding my breath. So for now I'm just waiting.