I am having trouble writing a complete thought here these days. Between being completely overtaken with the loss of my friend Shana’s baby boy and more trivial, trying to be the all-American mom and host two birthday parties and Easter has left me with little to say.

Actually, I have some things to say. It’s just that anything that comes to mind, doesn’t seem….right. My day, my issues, aren’t made for expressing right now when I know another is hurting, so terribly.

I guess I just wanted to come on here and let her know I am still thinking about her, her son, her girls and her husband. I can’t forget, and I won’t.

e

One year ago, I told hubs I was going into the den to sleep upright on the couch because my lower back was killing me. He asked me, quite concerned, “ARE YOU IN LABOR????” Being quite offended at his whacked out statement, I told him, “NOOOO!” (I thought to myself, AS IF. Like I wouldn’t know I was in labor. This was to be my SECOND baby. PppShaaw. And off to the couch I went.

(did I mention I was 2 days past due at this point?)

15 minutes later, after timing my annoying lower back pain, I returned to hubs in the bedroom and admitted, with my ego majorly bruised, that yes,

I might. in fact. be. having a baby.

7 1/2 hours later, Hunter was born.

Wow, second baby. Everything was mostly the same, penis included, but now I had to whip out my brand new balancing act. And for me, I was pumping 6 times a day, plus everything else that was going on with a newborn and a stay-at-home-not-yet-in-pre-school 3 year old. Those were some good times, they tell me. Nah, I recall them well, actually. I remembered having a feeling of, “I CAN DO THIS. This maybe really hard, but I have my WITS about me. I’m not psycho this time around. Party!” I was convinced my Omega-3 pills were keeping me from jumping ship, so I did my best to take my over-the-counter meds and truly enjoy myself. Well, as much as you can sleeping in 3 hour increments day in and day out.

I was able to stop. look. listen and really enjoy my kids. Watch with a clear mind, a focused eye. I was me and they were they and it was fun, DOABLE, even when it really wasn’t doable, I knew that someday it would be, and THAT kept me going. It made all the difference.

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Dear Hunter,

You love your feet. You can’t stand not holding onto them ever chance you get. I look at you over the monitor to make sure you are asleep and you have both hands holding a foot AND asleep at the same time. When I change your diaper you hold one or both feet and try at least 23 times to put all 10 toes in your mouth.

You are extremely flexible. Yes, all babies are flexible, but not like this. I can literally sit you in the middle splits on the floor. You once reached for a toy out in front of you and went THROUGH middle splits on your way to this toy. I was never this flexible and I WAS a gymnast. I am not sure if it’s due to your flexibility, but you walk around like you just stepped off a horse than you’ve been riding on for DAYS. Maybe that is why you are such a good walker, you spread yourself out to help you maintain such great balance. It’s a total hoot.

You haven’t said much yet in terms of words besides “Ga Ga.” You have added “Ma Ma Ma Ma” in the last month which is so nice of you to think of me before your Da Da, but you make up for your limited vocabulary with V O L U M E. When you are happy, you make noises of glee AT SUCH HIGH LEVELS. If you are upset, everybody knows about it. If you want to get our attention in a somewhat quiet restaurant, you will let out one loud shrill, and then look at all of us to say “what?”

You laugh and laugh and smile and laugh all the time. So many people, so often, say you are such a happy baby. A smiley baby. And they are right. Yes, babies are happy, but YOU almost always have a smile on your face. When you don’t, you have a look of concern, just like your brother did, just like your father does, the infamous furrowed brow. Recently, your grandfather gave you a small ball, you threw it on the floor and freaked out with laughter when he picked it up and gave it back to you. The game continued on for quite sometime, but you laughed and giggled every time you dropped it as if it was the first.

You are an amazing eater. I don’t know if it was me being so careful with your brother, or he just was a difficult baby to feed, but our progress with him was slow. Yours? You have an appetite and a will to try anything from the get go. You eat, willingly, anything off my plate I think you are ok to have. You’ve already had egg whites one time when we were out for breakfast because I forgot you weren’t old enough to have them yet. You thought they were fabulous just like anything else you place in your mouth. (leaves, tissues, wipes) The only issue I have with your eating is the windshield wiping you have acquired while sitting in your highchair. Just like your brother, it PAINS me to no end to have to pick up food off the floor. I place it right back on your tray before your meal is over cause you’ll still eat it. It’s just that you wanted to play with it first. (5 second rule, right?)

Your latest trick was peeling a hard-boiled (cracked) Easter egg, then walking over to me with half a yolk in your mouth. The look on your face was that of pure glee. You were so proud of yourself. I was mostly horrified that you were able to do all of this under my nose. I must have been on the computer. Bad mommy.

You’re a cuddler. A busy one, but one none-the-less. It feels so good having your head rest on my shoulder before nap time. You hum along to me singing Itsy Bitsy Spider under your paci while I rock you for a brief moment. I sometimes wish we could stay there all day.

You crawled early, (7 months) you got your first two teeth early, (5 months) you walked early. (9 1/2 months) You do everything EARLIER than your brother did. You are reminding a lot of people, including my own mother, of ME. Dear Lord, please help, I am raising myself. I was the baby who climbed up the attic stairs, INTO THE ATTIC, at 7 months old. I was the baby who took the screws out of my baby bed and fell out on my head. HALP ME. You feel like you need to get where you are going NOW. It is definitely your personality and the need to keep up with your brother. It’s a joy to watch your pure desire.

Your brother. He loves you to pieces. He still says to this day, “I love my new brother.” I wonder when you won’t be new to him anymore. I hope never. He squeezed your cheeks, your neck, your thighs, your wrists. You, for the most part, don’t seem to care and adore the attention. You pat his head with major force and love to pull his hair. He just sits there, in some pain, cause he loves your attention as well. You guys are made for each other and it is thrilling to have a front row seat.

I had such a hard time adjusting to parenthood when your brother was born. Once you came along, I had become so accustom to this life that I was able to really trust myself and surrender to the process of the first year. You have been such a joy to watch. Being able to notice the similarities between you and your brother and REALLY notice the differences has been mind blowing to witness. During your 10th month, I dressed you up in the same outfit your brother wore in his 11th month pictures. You are the same little boy in your stature, but that face of yours, those blue eyes, those CHEEKS, are all Hunter.

You have made my year the best one I’ve had so far on this planet. We weren’t the family we were supposed to be until you arrived. You have brought out the best in me and continue to remind me to sit back and enjoy this incredible ride. You are an individual who loves to be around people, around us. And we want to be no other place.

Happy 1st Birthday my sweet boy.

All my love,

mommy

My friend lost her boy,
her son,
her baby,
yesterday.

Shana, of gorillabuns,  and her precious family, lost their 3 1/2 month old, Thalon.

Whether it be by prayers, thoughts or a small donation to help them with funeral and medical expenses, please do something.

It could have been anyone of us.

Sitting there at my brother’s rehearsal dinner, listening to my mother’s written words about her first born, I heard her say things that, at the time, I did understand, but had yet to experience for myself. She said, among many wonderful things regarding my brother, that there is nothing like your first born. Naturally, I took no offense and completely understood her viewpoint. I am not sure how I was able to give her that moment with my brother without a shred of jealousy, but I did. And now, having had my first born and now a second child, I agree with her still. There is a difference. It’s not personal. It just is.

My first born is four years old today. I have been his mother for four glorious years.

Ryan is growing up and I can’t stop it. I don’t want to stop it, I just want to be able to take a deep breath and make sure I am watching with both eyes open and pen in hand.

As I have shared every year on Rt’s birthday, my first year as a mother was a trying one. There are no regrets, only memories of a time that was so dear, so new. I knew nothing of myself and had no experience, NONE WHATSOEVER, as a parent, but yet I faulted myself for not knowing, not feeling natural as a mother, basically having a really hard time adapting. to everything. to being someone’s everything.

I still feel like I am twelve years old and am waiting for someone to show up at my door telling me I am way too young to be in charge of this household, these two children. But, no one has showed up yet, and I am becoming more and more comfortable in my new role. I am in charge. And it fits me.

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Rt has a love affair with the Noggin channel. Not one show, per say, but the sections in between each show, especially the “music” section. Moose A. Moose and his side kick bird show this section on musical instruments. Rt knows this entire portion word for word. He pauses the show, rewinds, and plays it back in slow motion (yes, he is a remote control master. I taught him everything he knows.)  jumping up and down in front of the tv reciting the entire dialogue. I am baffled and tickled in the same moment.

His imagination has kicked in full gear in the last several months. His toys now do things based on the story he creates. No longer does a toy just do what a toy is supposed to do. Even our ottoman is the only safe place to sit on, or you’ll fall into the fire. “WATCH OUT, THE FIRE PIT IS RIGHT THERE WHERE YOUR FOOT IS.”

Recently, I ask Rt to do something that he clearly wasn’t doing and his reply was, “I KNOW!” And my response was, “If you knew, then you would be doing what I asked already!” I also heard him say, when he was extremely frustrated, “You have GOT to be kidding me.” (yep, that would be all me there.)

To hear Rt recite the Pledge of Allegiance is adorable. The other day I asked him about Easter. Attending a Christian preschool, I figured they got that holiday covered. He told me Easter was about eggs and bunnies. And that God was Jesus’ brother. I am sure his teacher, Mrs. Fritz, would be horrified. BUT, he can tell you everybody’s name in his class and who got in trouble for what on a particular day. He can also write his name quite well and signs the entire alphabet. Sounding out words and telling me which letter every word starts with is his latest focus. He truly is a sponge. I just hope I can keep up!

Santa got him a bike (w/ training wheels) for Christmas and he adores riding around the neighborhood. He comes home after a ride with daddy and either say, “I didn’t fall off mommy!” or “I only fell off once!” Either way, he is enjoying his new found freedom.

The love he has for his brother is so abundant, he doesn’t quite know what to do with all that energy. (gentle, GENTLE!) I can foresee a strong bond between the two. You can just tell Rt wants Hola to be able to do much more, but for now, I don’t think he can complain too much. His little brother tries so hard to keep up (while staying on two feet) and loves him right back. It’s an honor to watch this relationship grow.

We took the rail off his twin bed last night. I think he was excited and a little scared too. I checked in on him in the middle of the night. He was still in his bed, just at the very end. I figured I’d move him back to the starting point for better odds. And he didn’t fall out! Such a big boy.

He came and got in bed with us this morning and asked, “Am I four yet?” We told him yes, and a big smile came over his face. I am so thankful he lets us in to relive the joys of life’s little moments. I couldn’t be prouder of my son. The baby he once was, the child he has become and the man he someday will be. How lucky am I? I am truly grateful.

 I love you my sweet boy. Happy Birthday.

love, mommy

Yes, I am aware it’s Thursday, (Go me!) but I’ve got a birthday post coming up for Rt, (DUDE!) so I wanted to get this out there now instead of later….

I found this recipe online while searching for something to do with chicken and leftover frozen pesto I had in my freezer. I didn’t have all the ingredients from the original, and then decided to add more as I went along. Here is what I did with mine. I am sure you can come up with your own version and it still will be just as fantastic. This made two quesadillas and fed both me and hubs happily for dinner.

• Handful of fresh basil leaves
• 1 clove of garlic
• Toasted almonds or pine nuts
• Parmesan cheese
• Olive oil
• Salt and freshly ground black pepper
• 1/4 teaspoon paprika
• 1/4 teaspoon pepper
• 1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1 boneless skinless chicken breast
• Handful of sauteed cherry tomatoes
• Handful of sauteed mushrooms
• Additional Parmesan cheese for the quesadillas (I used pepper jack)
• 1 flour tortilla

Add a large handful of fresh basil leaves, 1 clove of garlic, a 1/4 cup of roasted almonds/pine nuts, 1/4 cup of shredded Parmesan, a drizzle of olive oil, and a pinch of salt and pepper to a blender or Cuisinart. Blend until smooth. Set aside. (OR just buy some pesto sauce at the store and save yourself some time and dishes.)

Mix together the paprika, pepper, cumin and salt in a bowl. Dust chicken breast with spices and rub in. Grill on a medium hot grill, (or grill pan over the stove) turning occasionally until chicken is just cooked through. Depending on how thick the breast is, about 5 to 6 minutes per side. Remove and let rest. Cut the chicken into 1/2-inch slices and set aside.

Lay a tortilla over low heat on the grill (I used my grill pan for this part) and spread a thin layer of pesto over it. Lay the strips of chicken over the tortilla and sprinkle with Parmesan, (or whichever cheese you prefer) and add any other ingredients you’d like here, then cover with another tortilla. Cook on both sides allowing time to acquire grill marks on tortillas and cheese has melted. Remove and let rest for 1 minute. Use a pizza cutter and serve!

The flavor in my quesadillas was a rustic, Italian version of the basic chicken quesadillas. I truly adore the spice rub on the chicken, so if you are just looking for a good chicken dish, add this to your chicken and run with it.

e