Are you happy now?

As of late, Charlie is learning the deal about how doing something good makes mommy and daddy happy. Doing something bad does not. So, when he starts acting like a freaky 2-year old and steam starts to burst out of my fiery ears, he understands that he better switch gears fast or he will pay. He will eventually put on his charming face and comply with my request. Next, he will smile sweetly and say, “Are you happy now?” This always makes me giggle.

He doesn’t say it in a sarcastic way, like when, say a certain someone in my house doesn’t listen to my explicit instructions on how to prepare a favorite food and ends up with a gloppy mess. Like, “If you would have listened to me and done what I instructed, then we wouldn’t be in this situation. Are you happy now?” Instead, Charlie truly seems genuinely concerned with my happiness at these particular moments and it often makes me melt.

Last night, when suffering a difficult moment because Daddy would not pick him up because he was graciously making dinner, I put Charlie in my lap to try to comfort him. I held him close while he continuously said, “stop it, mommy!” (another one of his new favorite phrases). He continued to pull away until I decided to reason with the kid. I told him that I just want him to be happy and that it makes me sad when he’s said. After a little coaxing, he finally leaned into me and grabbed my arms to wrap them around him. He nuzzled into my shoulder for a long and cozy hug and asked, “Are you happy now?” And yes, I was very happy.

I want to carry you

“I want to carry you.” This is what Charlie says when he wants me or the Professor to pick him up. Every time he says this I’m like, “Okay. PLEASE carry me.” He never gets the joke.

This week, I’m feeling doubly pregnant. My late night Olympic viewing is totally cutting into my valuable sleep time. At a time when I’m supposed to focus on resting, I instead am staying up until midnight to watch Michael Phelps kick everyone’s butt and break world record after world record. The "live" gymnastics competitions are the killer, though. I just can't manage to make myself turn the television off when gymnasts are flying through the air and contorting their bodies is such amazing and often disturbing ways.

Also during this “resting” period, the Professor is working diligently to install our new kitchen countertops and backsplash. We are finally getting rid of the old particle board/laminate gold speckled counters accented with rust stains, wine stains, and cigarette burns from probably about 30 years ago. This, of course, is something I have begged to do for the past 3+ years that we have lived in our home. And we finally decided that it’s time to do it 5 weeks before our second child is due to be born. So, by day, the Professor keeps Charlie entertained and works to finish up last minute work projects during Charlie’s naptime (like getting his dissertation published!). By night, I become Charlie’s playmate/feeder/bather/bedtime reader, and the Professor gets to work on those counters! What should have taken only 2-3 days, though, is now going on 6 days because of lack of time and experience. We hope the project will be 100% complete by Friday. Please let the project be 100% complete by Friday because I want my kitchen sink back and I’m exhausted.

I am 35 weeks pregnant and according to my doctor, I could “go any time now” but also according to my doctor, I’ll probably be asking him why I’m still pregnant at 39 weeks. So, I’m just trying to wait patiently and not let every little ache and pain convince me that I’m going into labor. I am excited and nervous, but mostly I’m tired.

I do wish Charlie could carry me around for a change. At least for a little while.

34 Weeks and Fingers Crossed

Tomorrow I will officially be 34 weeks pregnant. Wednesday will mark the gestational period when I went into the hospital to give birth to Charlie. I went in leaking amniotic fluid at 34 weeks and 1 day and gave birth to him at 34 weeks and 3 days. That day, gestationally, will be this Friday with this pregnancy. Needless to say, I’m freaking out a little bit.

It doesn’t help that I feel much more pregnant this time around at this stage than I did with Charlie. My belly feels bigger and firmer. I am more tired. My body aches in ways I never felt when pregnant with Charlie. It also doesn’t help that I am busy chasing and lifting a 2-year old and it has been consistently 100 degrees outside this week.

I am also freaking out a little bit because we haven’t fully decided on a name, we have not yet completed the little things around the house that we would like to have done before the baby arrives like install new kitchen countertops (are we crazy?!?) and paint Charlie’s room. And we certainly haven’t done things like wash baby clothes or get any of the necessary supplies out of storage and cleaned - things like the car seat. Fortunately, my generous friends and family gave us an enormous stock of disposable chlorine free diapers that I can use until I get around to washing the cloth ones I plan to use most of the time. I am hoping the breast-feeding goes well because my back up bottles and breast pump supplies are not washed and I haven’t even begun studying my breast-feeding guide book. I am definitely ready for this baby to come but time is sneaking away from me. And when I think about how quickly Charlie came into our lives, I get a little nervous about being slapped in the face with that unexpected reality again. My nesting instincts have kicked in, but I just haven’t found the time (or energy) to put them to use.

I do know, however, that I am definitely more prepared this time around. If this little boy decides to make his grand entry into the world sooner than expected, I know I can handle it. He may just have to ride home from the hospital in the nude in a dirty car seat. But in this sweltering Memphis heat, that may not be such a bad thing.

I'm glad he's looking out for me

As I’m getting out of the car this morning heading in to work:

Me (noticing the goo threatening to escape his nose): Charlie, let’s blow your nose.

He compliantly blows into the tissues. I proceed to wipe his nose.

Me: Charlie, give Mommy a kiss goodbye!

Charlie: Kiss my mouth. Don’t kiss my boogers.

Ewww...!

A Pampered Day

On Saturday, I was pampered by friends and family in honor of our yet to be named baby. The day began with a frantic call from Stephanie whose plans to host my first ever baby shower were foiled when her air conditioner kicked it in the middle of the night. I think she hit it on the nose when she said, “I’m just not meant to throw a baby shower for you!” (For Charlie’s baby shower, I went into preterm labor the weekend before the scheduled event.) This time, it was an air conditioner motor.

After establishing a Plan B, the Professor, Charlie and I headed to the pool for a morning swim. Our goal was to exhaust Charlie so he would take a nap before the party. We arrive around 10:00 and it was already scorching outside. Thankfully, the YMCA pool was not yet crowded with rambunctious kids. Most of the families there were like us - families with infants and toddlers who had already been up for several hours and were looking at this as a “mid-day swim.” The pampering came into play when the Professor allowed me to swim off in the deep-end lanes to do some laps while he splashed around with Charlie. It was wonderful. It felt SO good to be doing something active yet not be sweating. At 8 months pregnant in the middle of a Memphis July, sweating has become my middle name.

After about an hour or so at the pool, we headed home in time for me to shower, lunch, and bustle off to my prenatal massage, complements of Tiffany and Mark for my birthday. Pat at Spa De Jour totally pampered me with a full-body, hour-long prenatal massage. It was so relaxing. She massaged me from my scalp to the tips of my toes. The experience was great and I definitely plan to go back to that spa. They were super-friendly and warm; I wish I could do that every day or at least every month. Finally, the massage portion of my pampering ended and I had to rush home to get my boys and head to my first ever baby shower.

When we arrived at my mother’s house (our new party location), I was surprised at how many people were there. Even though I helped with the invitation list, I was still a little taken by the number of people who want to help us celebrate our new baby. It was a bit surreal for me, but I am definitely moved by the joy and celebration a new baby can bring. With Charlie and his preterm delivery, everything just happened all at once and Wham! We had a new baby almost 6 weeks before expected. No one was ready, and I never got to go through that phase of really waiting for him. Sure, I was excited about meeting him and more than curious to find out what he looked like. But I was barely on the verge of feeling really pregnant and ready for him when his birthday arrived. So, with this baby shower, which was intentionally planned early, I have been given more than the wonderful gifts that our friends and family showered us with. I have also been given a gift of greater anticipation for our newest addition to the family. Now, just 8 weeks away from my due date (2 ½ weeks away from the point at which Charlie was born), I am trying to focus more this growing baby inside me, and having friends and family come to help me celebrate our new baby before he is born makes it all the sweeter.

Thanks to everyone who helped make my Saturday special! I especially appreciate Tiffany, Stephanie, and my mom, who went to the trouble of making this party a reality. It means a lot.

A great way to spend my lunch hour on a Friday

This afternoon, I had the great honor of attending a live performance and talk by Mr. Kirk Whalum. He came to campus to give a performance for students working on regional studies projects this summer and I was lucky enough to be invited. He began the show by almost breathlessly playing several songs on his gorgeous saxophone. My, that man has a set of lungs!

He spoke about his life experiences and the boomerang effect Memphis has had on him. A graduate of Melrose High School, he left Memphis for college with no inclination to ever come back. He went to college in Houston and eventually made his way to California working as a musician. He later moved to Paris with his wife and four children where he felt the pull of Memphis calling to him. He said that he realized that Memphis is part of his soul. Sipping coffee in Paris cafes, he heard the sounds of Memphis. He recognized the music Memphis while eating a sandwich in a Parisian bistro. On the Metro, he saw an advertisement for a Rufus Thomas performance. He stated that Memphis was everywhere, and that is when he realized that the sounds and culture of Memphis are part of his soul. After moving back to California from France, he and his wife decided to re-root themselves in Memphis. He said that he was like a boomerang. He was compelled by a force to come back.

Kirk Whalum is one of the coolest people I have ever met. He is a genuinely nice person, he is passionate, he is talented, and he is an inspiration. As he spoke to the students, he reminded them that each one has a gift, that each person has something in the core of his soul that is meant to be shared. He reminded us to take a closer look at the simple things and realize how complex the simple things really are. He reminded me to think about my life in terms of the big picture and not just the day to day routine. I am grateful to people like Kirk Whalum; he is a man who knows what it means to dream and who isn’t afraid to take chances trying to realize his dreams.

He closed the event with a performance of Ruby, Ruby, Ruby, a song dedicated to his wife by the title name. It was beautiful and I can only think how wonderful she must feel to have a husband who can create such moving music, especially a song meant for her.

On a final note, he asked everyone to check out a website for a documentary call Miss HIV. The director of the film is working with him on a documentary. I ask you to check it out as well. It promises to be a very interesting and touching story.

Weekend Rendezvous

Last weekend the Professor took one last hurrah before baby number 2 comes along. He went to a cabin in East Tennessee with some old college friends to do things that old college fraternity brothers do. I guess this means they drank a lot of beer, played poker, went to a bar or two and acted immature. I’m not asking. When he told me about his plans, I was at first a bit peeved that he was willing to leave his 30 week pregnant wife at home with a very frustratingly ornery two-year old. You see, lately, Charlie has become defiant, whiney, and a bit of a handful. It all started on his second birthday. Since then, we have implemented a few discipline techniques, one involving the naughty stool that we learned about from the one episode of the Supernanny I watched a few months ago. It works, but before my solo weekend with Charlie, we hadn’t quite gotten the point across to Charlie that what we say goes. Getting him to go to the toilet was a nightmare laced with screams and crying and “No! I don’t have to!” even when he had consumed an entire cup of water an hour before. Eating at the dinner table was also filled with whining and “I don’t like that!” and “I want graham crackers!”

Now, I’m not one to force food upon my kid, but I am diligently trying to broaden his palate so that he can enjoy the fruits of our cooking and the occasional night out. I am desperately hoping that he will be an adventurous eater, but it’s really, REALLY difficult not to succumb to his cries at dinner when he doesn’t want to try a bite of fish or, God forbid, mashed potatoes. He’s all “Pretzels! Graham crackers! Yogurt! More milk!” I just don’t have the patience to listen to all that whining while I’m trying to eat. Don’t get me wrong. I do not punish him for not eating. I do punish him for throwing a massive fit at the table if I ask him to take one bite of something before I will give him what he adamantly demands.

So, I was dreading a hormonal weekend alone with Charlie. I envisioned a weekend of either Charlie crying about dinner or me just throwing in the towel and letting him dine on pretzels for dinner while watching yet another episode of “Go Diego Go!” I saw myself begging Charlie to go to the bathroom and I was exhausted just thinking about having to hunch my big whale-belly self over to help him change his wet underwear repeatedly throughout the day. I could hear the multiple “I want Daddy” cries coming my way. I was not looking forward to it and I let the Professor know that he had better be grateful and remember what a loving and generous wife I am.

Then Friday came around. The Professor left around 2:00 for his weekend rendezvous. I picked up Charlie from school at 5:00 and braced myself for the weekend of potential hell that was headed my way. When I got to school, his teacher happily informed me that he had been dry all day. Yea! That gave me a little bit of hope. When we got home, we somehow managed to have dinner at the table without any screams. And miraculously, Charlie did not fight me when I suggested he go to the bathroom. Yes, I had to use the threat of the naughty stool, but it only took one mention of that simple form of punishment to send him running to the bathroom. He happily pulled his stool up to the toilet, announced with excitement “I’m dry!” and swiftly took care of business. This happened over and over again throughout the evening.
On Saturday, we had a wonderful morning with Gammy at the Children’s Museum, and nice lunch at home, a long restful nap, and an evening at the Zoo. I decided to be brave and forgo using any diapers or plastic covers and what do you know, he stayed dry all day long. It was awesome! And we had very few tantrums, all of which were fixed with a mild threat of the naughty stool.

When the Professor came home on Sunday, I was exhausted, but not from having to barter and fight with my two-year old. My exhaustion was due to a truly enjoyable and active weekend with him. I loved spending those two short days with him, playing, singing, dancing, and cuddling. He has always been a sweet little boy, but this weekend, I realized just how sweet he is. Thanks to the waning tantrums, a few gentle discipline measures and a genuinely loveable child, I could not have had more fun with Charlie than I did this weekend.