Grace

It started as a dream. I was having a dream that my water broke and we were trying to leave for the hospital. K went to get the car and I was frantically trying to get everything together. Of course, my hospital bag was at Baggage Claim in the airport, but when I arrived to pick it up they thought I was part of the cleaning crew. As I struggled to get up a ramp to leave I thought, “I haven’t had any contractions.” And then I thought, “But you should still go to the hospital because your water broke!” As I finally got the door open I had a contraction and woke up. I wondered if it was real and after a few minutes I had another contraction and I started to get excited.

Now I didn’t want to get too excited – I had had about 3 hours of contractions on Christmas night that amounted to nothing. But here I was at 3 in the morning walking the floors of the nursery encouraging Number 3 to come on out.

It was December 30, 2009 and after a few more hours of contractions my daughter was born at lunch time. She is named after a friend from college who passed away on my 25th birthday. Her middle name is Grace.

I hope that she will have all of the brains and spunk of my dear friend. And I hope that by naming her Grace I can give her some of the strength and peace and joy that she has most certainly given me.

Grandma

Last week my Grandmother passed away just shy of her 95th birthday. Although I will miss her very much, her health was declining and I know she was ready to go. I was asked to give the eulogy at her funeral and decided to post it to share just how special she was to our family.

Anyone who ever met my Grandmother would call her a dynamo. Into her 90’s she could still walk faster than most of us, and she did, every day. Sometimes to the store and sometimes, just because.

She remembered the birthdays of her 6 children, 14 grandchildren and 13 great grandchildren. If you were married, she knew your anniversary too.

She made a perfect roast beef. And a cup of tea that gave light and sweet new meaning. She always had candy, usually butterscotch, in her purse.

Her faith was important to her and she took great pride in attending weekly Mass, and especially in seeing her grandchildren and great grandchildren be Baptized and make their sacraments.

My Grandmother was a caretaker. Always. To my Grandfather, to all of us, and to anyone she met who was in need. She seemed to have boundless energy and she was always using it to do something for someone else. It was a selflessness that was the best and purest kind. Her good deeds were never done for accolades or recognition, they were always done out of a genuine desire to love and care for others.

Grandma showed us all a love and devotion that was truly her gift. She made each of us feel safe, she made each of us feel cared for; she made each of us feel special.

So thank you for being here and helping remember and celebrate just how special she was to all of us.

Missing in Action

I saw a discussion of what pregnant ladies missed on one of those pregnancy boards the other day. It got me thinking about what I really miss, and what I really love, about being pregnant.

What I miss:
*Sushi – I know, I can eat California rolls, and I do. But let me tell you when K sits down with a big hunk of tuna and I can’t have it, it sucks!

*Italian Subs – This one is amusing to me because I rarely eat Italian Subs when I am not pregnant, but once that test comes back, I spend 9 months counting down. K actually knows where the good Italian deli is near the hospital where I deliver. My “1st meal” post delivery is a big Italian Sub and a Diet Coke.

*Ah, Diet Coke. Not Diet Pepsi, Diet Coke. I am one of those people who can drink Diet Coke at any time of the day (although I’m old enough now that caffeine in the evening keeps me up at night). No coffee, sure I’ll have a DC at 9 am. I’ve been making due with the decaf, but it’s not the same.

*Energy – I tend to be fairly anemic when I’m pregnant. Couple that with the hormones and 20-30 extra pounds and I really could just sleep the whole time.

Given that this may well be my last pregnancy (really, I mean it this time) I think it’s also important to acknowledge that despite what I miss, I love being pregnant. I could have done without the morning sickness this time around sure, but generally, I like being pregnant.

What I love:
*Maternity jeans – I’m still not sure why all jeans don’t have those big elastic bands at the top. They are just so damn comfortable!

*Feeling the baby move – There is just nothing like it in the whole world.

*Hiccups – J and D used to get them all the time. #3 hasn’t yet, but it’s early. It is such a funny sensation. It reminds me that there is a real person in there.

*Naps – I love having an excuse to take a nap. I am very lucky that K indulges me on this one quite a bit.

*Shopping – Those tiny clothes are just too much. I do get a little frustrated though, because those of us who choose not to find out the gender ahead of time don’t get a lot of selection.

Which brings me to one of my favorite things about being pregnant. After hours of labor when the baby is finally born and the doctor looks up and says “It’s a _______!”. It is one of those amazing life moments that I have dreamt about since I was a little girl.

It’s hard to wait to meet this baby. It’s hard to have a restricted diet. But as the kicks get stronger and I spend my days in elastic waist pants, I realize that I will be a little sad at the end of this pregnancy.

I think the thing I will miss most of all will come when the pregnancy is over; that is the feeling of being a part of a miracle.

Lifeguard on Duty

Yesterday I picked J up from camp and we came home. It was a brutally hot day and the kiddie pool was set up in the back yard. He ran through the house and jumped in the pool, stopping only to yell over the fence and invite his friends from next door over to swim. I added more water to the pool and prepared for 4 kids in a tiny pool.

The neighbors arrived and jumped right in. I noticed the water was somewhat cloudy but figured it was probably sunscreen. Unfortunately not. After our neighbors took a quick swim they headed home. I began to strip J out of his wet clothes so we could head inside for quiet time. It was only as I pulled down his bathing suit that the disgusting reality of our cloudy pool hit me.

J had pooped. Now I had a kid covered in poop. A pool full of poop. Toys covered in poopy water. And…oh no…the neighbors. I took a deep breath and dialed the phone. I can’t think of too many other times in my life when I have been quite so mortified. How do you explain to someone that their kids have been swimming in your kid’s poop?

At first, I could tell, my neighbor was slightly horrified. After a minute, she started to laugh. For as hard as women can be on one another, it’s amazing what mothers will forgive each other sometimes. I guess I’m lucky, not only is she a neighbor, she is a true friend.

Blue Thunder

It’s official. I did what I said I would NEVER do. I bought a mini-van.

We realized soon after we found out I was pregnant that even my station wagon wasn’t going to work with three car seats. So, we went out in search of any vehicle with a third row of seats, and reluctantly I put mini-vans on the list. We looked at quite a few cars. There was one SUV that actually came really close to fitting our needs. But, for some reason they only put one latch tether in the third row and there was no way I was going to fit all of our groceries and a stroller in the cargo area, let alone all the gear we take on a weekend away. We were down to the mini-vans.

I drove two. One was really super nice and felt like a luxury car, if you can believe that. The second one, the big blue one, felt like home. We bought the car I test drove. Blue Thunder.

It’s been hard to adjust to the fact that no one (and by no one I guess I really mean no men) ever gives you a second look in a mini-van. It’s not like I’m out looking for someone. I am madly in love with my husband and I know he thinks I’m beautiful. But every now and again it is nice to feel like you’ve still got it. Not that a station wagon is so hot, but from the front it looked like any other sedan, and you probably couldn’t see the car seats in the back. Right?

I always appreciated all of the features the mini-van had to offer. And given that I am anxious enough about juggling three kids, having a car that makes life easier seemed like a good idea. But I swore I’d never drive a mini-van and I hated that now I was driving one. And then on our summer vacation, something changed.

We were on the ferry coming home from Block Island. It’s a small island, and a really small ferry. As we were approaching land we headed down to the car. There wasn’t room to open the passenger door (or the driver door for that matter) so we opened the rear slider. All four of us climbed in and CLOSED THE DOOR! We sort of stood there looking at each other for a minute, because it was a little strange to have four people standing in the back of a car, and then K and I buckled the boys in. Then we dropped the console between the driver and passenger seat down (oh yeah, you read that right!) and walked into the front seats. Granted the car was loaded after a week of vacation and it took some shuffling of stuff, but it was like nothing we could have done in any other car. In that moment, as I settled in to my seat and looked around at my family in our rolling living room, I fell in love with my mini-van.

Third Time’s the Charm?

So here we are.  Awaiting, with excitement, fear, love, frustration, and hope, the arrival of our third child.  I’m due on Christmas Eve.  Expecting a present I’m still not sure I wanted.

I’ve been married to K for 7 years (it’s our anniversary as I write this).  We have two boys.  J is, as he will proudly tell you, 3 ^3/4 .  D is 18 months.  After J was born I went back to work.  I made it 6 weeks before I resigned.  I’ve been home full time ever since.  But we should back up a little bit.

After college, teaching was my life.  Everyone always said I was a natural with kids and I loved being in the classroom.   I spent four years teaching elementary students with mild to moderate special needs.  I spent my final year as a fifth grade classroom teacher.  I loved watching kids learn new things and I felt confident in the rhythm of the school year.

Somewhere along the line I started watching too much West Wing, so I left teaching and started working in politics. I ran an intense, and successful campaign.  I got to help craft laws.  I had a front row seat for the passage of landmark legislation.  It was an exciting two years in state politics, but it just wasn’t a career that combined well with new motherhood.  At least, not for me.  I was crying too much.  I was sick too much.  And that is to say nothing about J!

So now, after a fast, but fulfilling, seven years in the workforce, I have settled into a life at home.  I drive my new minivan to preschool, to the supermarket, to Mommy and Me.  I count the minutes until Curious George.  I yell.  I also sit and watch robins feed their babies.  I have a fridge covered in artwork.  I get excited about interesting bugs or a big spider web.  I marvel at small achievements and see the world through two sets of small blue eyes.

Teaching came naturally to me. Maybe that’s why I was so surprised to find that motherhood often doesn’t.  Every day has a challenge, and more often than not I feel like I miss the mark.  I’m trying to figure out how to be okay with being “good enough”.

I consider myself lucky to be home with my boys.  And yet, every day I miss the challenges of the working world.  I was planning to find a new intellectual outlet for myself when I found out I was pregnant.  We weren’t sure we wanted another baby.  We were certain we didn’t want another baby right now.  But as I near the halfway point in this pregnancy I am starting to see this baby as a gift.  A gift I didn’t know I needed.

I am working hard to make peace with myself as a mother, to get comfortable in my own skin as a mom.  It’s not always a pretty process, but I promise you it is an honest account of our growing family, and my growth as a mom.  Maybe the third time is the charm?