Conversations with Catherine: Anatomy Lesson

At her three year old check up, C's doctor mentioned that she should be drawing circles and lines well by now. As I assured him that she was, it occurred to me that I really didn't know. We do a lot of coloring and drawing, but I've never studied her skill level.

So, I used bath time as an opportunity to test her skills with bath crayons. We were drawing stick figures and drew our family. I drew a little boy and said, "look it's Wilson!"

Catherine looked at the drawing, cocked her head to the side, scrunched her nose, and said, "no, he needs a body."

"Catherine, he has a body. What do you mean?" I asked as I handed her the crayon.

With one quick motion, she added the missing component - his "body."

She doesn't miss a thing.

Conversations with Catherine: About "That Baby"

I see so much of Husband in C. She spends 98% of her time with me, yet acts just like him. Aren't genetics crazy? She is a thinker. Sometimes, I can look at her face and actually see her little mind working. One of my favorite stories about Husband as a boy (one that I have heard over and over again, yet never tire of hearing) is about him as a four year old. He was standing and staring at a pile of bricks when he was asked what he was doing. He replied, "just thinking about what I can do with those bricks."

Catherine is always trying to figure out what she can do with those bricks.

Sometimes, this gets her into trouble. She is a daredevil. She likes to experiment. She likes to test her (and my) limits. As I adjust to parenting two children instead of just one, C often gets the stern, disciplinarian version of me and less of the fun, carefree me. I often lack the patience I once had. I am overtired and can't always see the magic through the mess. It's just the nature of things at this stage in our lives. So, as she also adjusts to our new roles with our little man, I can't help but chuckle at some of the things she comes up with and I just don't want to forget them.

One of the first nights I was home alone with both kids, after the entourage of help had gone back to their lives and Husband had returned to his long hours at work, I was settling both kids into C's bed to read books. I admit I was feeling a bit cocky, having successfully fed and bathed and clothed two children all by myself. It was at that moment, the one in which I was giving myself a huge pat on the back and writing my "Mother of the Year" speech in my head, that Wilson started to cry. 

Catherine looked at me in all her three year old honesty and said, "that baby needs his mommy." 

I replied, "I'm his mommy." Without missing a beat, she said, "no, you're my mommy."

Interview with a Three Year Old

Oh, this sweet child of ours. She is funny. She is sweet. She is quirky. She is 100% herself all the time (a trait I wish I could bottle and save for her teenage years). And, as of February 23rd, she is THREE.

We have a three year old.

At her check up, she weighed in at 33 pounds and measured 3' 2.25" (75th percentile in both height and weight).

On her third birthday, I took an idea from a friend and conducted an interview with my older, wiser, daughter. So, finally, two months later, here it is; and, if possible, it makes me love her even more.

What is your favorite color? Pink

What is your favorite toy? Princesses and dresses

What is your favorite food? Pizza

What is your favorite tv show? Daniel Tiger

What is your favorite movie? Spiderman and Tinkerbell

What is your favorite thing to do with Daddy? Play with princesses

What is your favorite animal? Polar bears

What is your favorite book? 

Goodnight, Goodnight, "Truction" Site (Goodnight, Goodnight, Construction Site)

What is your favorite thing to do with Mommy? Play doctor check up and firefighters

Who is your best friend? Ben and Abby

What is your favorite thing to play outside? Swings and slides

What is your favorite thing to drink? Cold water

What is your favorite thing to sleep with? Spiderbunny and my blanket

What is your favorite thing to wear? My "Punzel" dress (Rapunzel)

Where is your favorite place to go? the "wake" (lake)

What is your favorite song? Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star

What is your favorite game to play? Puzzles

What is your favorite restaurant? Macaroni and cheese (so...I guess anywhere that serves that)

Where is your favorite place to shop? Target

Three year olds are the best.

All the Time

I love you all the time.

Six simple words. What started out as an adorable phrase uttered by our then two year old, has now become our family motto.

I  love you all the time. 

Catherine, I love you when you refuse to listen. I love you when you yell. I love you when you scream. I love you when you tell me to "put my baby brother down and play with me."

I love you all the time.

Wilson, I love you at 3:00 a.m. I love you when you spit up your entire bottle on me. I love you when I'm changing dirty diapers and washing a sink full of bottles and washing loads of clothes.

I love you all the time.

Husband, I love you when you travel. I love you when you work late. I love you when you miss dinner and baths and bedtime.

I love you all the time.

Catherine, I love you when you smile. I love you when you hug and kiss and hug and kiss me again. I love you when you dance. I love you when you sing. I love you when you run and jump and play. I love you when you laugh. I love you when you take care of your baby brother. I love everything about you.

I love you all the time.

Wilson, I love you when you smile. I love you when you snuggle into my neck. I love you when you kick and squeal and play. I love you when you sleep. I love you when you are awake. I love the way your eyes follow your big sister's voice. I love the way your chubby arms and legs fill up clothes bigger than your age. I love everything about you.

I love you all the time.

Husband, I love the way you love me. I love the way you tell me I'm beautiful even when I haven't showered in days and have spit up on my faded yoga pants. I love the way you make bath time last for an hour because Catherine can't stop laughing. I love the way you crawl into our daughter's bed at 3:00 a.m. because she asks you to.  I love the way you hold our son with one arm, as if he is an extension of you. I love the way you wash dishes and fold laundry and fill stroller tires with air after working all day. I love the way you provide for our family. I love the way you love our children and I love the way they love you. 

I love you all the time.

Sweet child, you are wiser than you know.

I love you all the time.

The Dark Hours

Life with two kids. It's new. It's different. It's slightly insane.

Husband is on a business trip; but even if he weren't, he often works past the kids' bedtimes and therefore misses what I like to refer to as the "dark hours". Insert "crazy" or "loud" for "dark" and that works too. 

The dark hours occur from 5:00-8:00 every night (or later depending on how bedtime goes). They begin immediately as I start to prepare dinner. 

Tonight, for example, as I was changing a dirty diaper on my screaming infant, I heard the water boil over on my super healthy boxed macaroni and cheese as my three year old, dressed in full sparkly Snow White regalia, came running through the living room, carrying bowls of "dinner" made from play-doh, slipped on said sparkly princess dress, and landed on the back of her head, sending bowls of play-doh "spaghetti and ice cream" flying and tears flowing. 

I left my screaming infant on the changing table (he can't roll yet...thank god) and scooped her up, kissed her head, got her an ice pack, and collected the play-doh. I then made a bottle, drained the macaroni and cheese, chopped up some broccoli and threw it all on the table with all the grace I could muster.

5:43. Dinner is served.

Now we just have to make it two more hours...

About a Boy

One month ago (and some change), Husband and I packed our bags, left C with my mom, and headed across town before the sun came up, to check in and have a baby.

After the surprise early arrival of Miss C almost three years ago, this scenario was a bit unfamiliar. First and foremost, Husband was actually in town and present for this one. My bags, instead of consisting of a random assortment of yoga pants and lose toiletries thrown in as I ran out the door, were packed after making a well thought out list. The car seat was installed. I didn't leave the ingredients to spaghetti sauce all over my countertops and we fed the dog before we left. It was a strange feeling to be prepared.

We checked in like we were arriving at a hotel. We rolled our suitcase down the hall and settled into our little prep area. Then, I put on a hospital gown and got hooked up to a bunch of fun monitors and it started to feel a little less fun and a little more clinical.

I had a scheduled c-section this time, my second c-section, so I thought I knew what was coming. Apparently, I remembered very little about my first. Having it scheduled instead of an emergency leaves a whole lot more time to be very very aware of what is going on. That being said, it was pretty amazing when they let Husband in to hold my hand. I may not remember much from C's delivery other than hearing her cry after what seemed like forever, but I remember wishing so much that he were there with me.

As I lay there, numb from the chest down, squeezing Husband's hand as hard as I could, listening to a team on the other side of a curtain, all I wanted to hear was that cry - that first cry, the gasp of air and reassuring scream of a newborn. We heard the doctor say, "look at all of that hair" and then, "wow, what a chunk!" Then, there it was - the cry. He was here!

Wilson Arthur Ryan. 8 pounds, 15 ounces and 21 inches of pure joy.

I'm not sure I could ever put into words the feeling you get when you hear your child cry for the first time. There are no words adequate of such an experience. This person has been living inside you for nine months. He has literally been a part of you for all of this time and now, finally, he is out in the world and he is real and he is yours. Really. You get to keep him!

They brought him to me so I could see him and kiss his little head before making us both presentable. Husband got to hold him first - the first of many father and son moments. 

They gave me my swaddled newborn son to hold as they wheeled me to my room; then I got to do something I couldn't do with his preemie sister - I got to hold him against me for skin to skin contact, the first of many mother and son moments.

Magic. The birth of a child is just that. It is awe inspiring, life affirming, mind blowingly awesome. The birth of a second child is made all the more magical by watching your first born become a sibling. Catherine was the first person to meet Wilson. It was important to us that she have some special time just for she and him to get acquainted - the first of many brother and sister moments. She was in love at first sight.

The day was filled with family and friends filing into our room until it was bursting at the seams. I would have it no other way. Wilson was loved before he ever arrived and I'm so grateful that our children are constantly surrounded by those who love them. This is really what life is all about - sharing life's joys with those you love; and Wilson, you are one of my life's greatest joys. Welcome to our world.

Wilson Eve

Dear Wilson,

I can't even wrap my head around the fact that I get to meet you in a few hours. You've been the topic of conversation for quite some time now. We've been planning for and talking about you for so long, I thought we'd never get here; and yet, here we are on the eve of your birth. 

Your Daddy is sleeping beside me. Your sister is sleeping soundly in her bed, holding her baby doll which she has lovingly named Wilson. Your CiCi is here too, getting a little sleep before bringing your sister to meet you for the very first time. Everyone is preparing for your arrival by resting, but I just can't. 

You see, besides the fact that you are quite busy right now, I just can't calm myself enough to sleep. I am so excited and anxious and ready and so many other things, but mostly, I am so very much in love with you that I am restless with anticipation. I am dying to hold you in my arms. I am longing to hear your very first cry, the gasping of air that assures me you are okay.

I can't help but worry, a trait I'm convinced is bestowed upon mothers at the moment of their first positive pregnancy test, but I already know you and I need you to know that I already love you with every fiber of my being. 

I will hold you in my arms soon, my love. And I'm never letting go.