Happy Birthday To You, Sweet Leo

Dear Leo-

In 22 hours, you will celebrate a year since you were born.  It seems impossible that 365 days have passed since we met you.  Even now when I think about it, I get flooded with the same emotions I felt that morning.

A year ago today, I went to my Fundamentals lab, as usual.  In fact, it was the first time I ever drew blood from another person!  I was 9 months pregnant at the time and full of extra blood, so I volunteered myself to be "stuck" several times.  (Imagine my embarassement when the nurse who delivered you asked me what all of my needle sticks were from.)  Later on that day, I took my lab final.  Leaving the final, I had a pretty good feeling that you were coming soon (I'll leave out the gory details.) 

I came home, helped your brother put together a train set that he got in the mail from your cousin, Meredith, and started my Med/Surg care plan for the next morning.  I took a tablespoon of castor oil mixed in a little Diet Mountain Dew (true story), and hoped for the best.  About 10pm, my contractions started.  Strangely, I switched from "ready" mode to "denial" mode.  It wasn't until about 2:30am on the 30th that your Dad convinced me that we should go to the hospital.  My contractions were 2.5-3 minutes apart and painful. 

By the time we got to triage, I was almost 5 centimeters dilated.  I was admitted a little after 3am.  I stayed up all night, waiting for you.  Daddy slept on the couch in the room.  When it was time, the doctor came in and delivered you at 7:34am.  It was as simple as that.  He laid you at the foot of the bed and I hadn't seen you yet.  I saw your Dad's face, though, and he was silent.  He had tears running down his cheeks.  He looked so happy that it made me cry.  I looked toward the foot of the bed, just in time to see you raise your tiny hand.  That was the first I saw of you.  At the same time, Daddy leaned over and whispered, "Catie.  It's a boy."  His face was so wet with tears, that they actually fell on mine when he leaned over.  He was hugging me.  The doctor lifted you up...and there you were.

Your super-dark hair, your little Mick Jagger mouth...you were gorgeous.  You were squinting, I remember.  People say that newborns are creepy looking.  Not you.  You were perfect.  And I said so.  (You still are.) 

You snuggled.  You never caused trouble.  You didn't fuss.  You slept through your circumcision.  You were just so laid back.  Now, as your personality develops, you still are...with a firey temper that still takes me by surprise.

I love who you are.  I love that you are a part of our family.  I am honored and blessed that we were chosen to raise you, that we made you, and that you are ours.  We love you, Leo.  We have since the minute we found out we were going to have you.

Happy Birthday to you.  You might be turning into a tank, but I still see you as that sweet, handsome, cuddly baby I first met.  You are a little light in our lives and we love you more than you can know.  As you grow older, you will change, we will change, life in general will change, but that won't.  That part is constant.

With love always,
Your Mom

It's hard to believe that our Sweet Baby Leo is almost one.  No, really...this one actually snuck up on me.  Since his birthday falls the weekend before my finals, we'll be celebrating next weekend (sorry, Leo, but we got you a special surprise to make up for it!  And if your Dad hurts himself on it, it's his own fault.  Don't ever let him blame you.  He can be reckless.  You probably know that already.)  In the meantime, let's reminisce for a second.  Here we were about a year ago:

Leo: This picture was taken when I was just over 37 weeks pregnant, about a week before you were born. 

And to celebrate your impending arrival, your dad and I took a little trip by ourselves...

And during this trip, we decided on your name.  While we didn't know who you were just yet, the name we chose for you was my favorite of them all, boy or girl.  I used to say it out loud to myself or write it repeatedly in my notebooks.  In fact, I still do.  I love it, but I love that it's yours even more.

If I have a monument in this world, it is my son. 

(Well, both of you, really.)





Maximum Capacity

I feel as though I have reached my limit.  While it's not likely, that's what it feels like.  With finals around the corner, a child with strep throat (recovering, thankfully!), another coming down with what is probably strep throat, as well, a messy house, a birthday party to plan, and a various and sundry collection of other responsibilities...I'm losing my mind.  Case in point:

Last week, I needed to run to CVS for toiletries.  I took the boys, made a quick trip in and out, came home, unloaded the boys and said toiletries, and went about my day.  All afternoon, I kept looking outside, swearing that I could hear music coming from my driveway.  It sounded like someone had just pulled in.  Nobody was there.  Hm...  It wasn't until going outside to get the mail, six whole hours later, that I realized my car was running in the driveway.  Unlocked.  With the keys in the ignition.  All day.  Thank goodness gas is so cheap.

Fast forward two days.  I am going to school to drop off a project.  Again, I pack up the boys and drive to school.  It wasn't until I parked, 35 minutes later, that I realized I had left my project on the kitchen table.  The drive home included two grumpy kids (hungry and tired), one potty accident, and a bloody nose.  We spent a total of 1.5 hours in the car.  Eventually, it got done.  Again, thank goodness for the current low gas prices.  Whew.

That's not all though.  I do these little things all day long.  I'm constantly having to retrace my steps.  I repeat myself, having forgotten something I just said.  Adam's a trooper and Patrick just thinks I'm the best (really, these days he does.)  Thank goodness for that.  I'd probably never make it if not for those two and the sweet little Leo, who tolerates the worst of me because he has no clue otherwise.

I have reached my maximum capacity.  I can't handle much more.  Between school, starting a new job, and my daily resposibilities of life, it's enough.  I've hit the metaphorical cap.  So I am checking out.  Between now and July 29th, my responsibilities have to revolve only around the necessities.  That is, I can only do what I need to do to get by.  Nothing more.  There is literally no room.  In advance, I'm sorry if I disappoint or upset anyone by becoming a hermit.  I just need to maintain until this summer.  I'm sure you (that being family, mostly) can understand.  If not, I'm begging that you will.  Give me 12 weeks, and I'll be back!  That's a promise! 

(Note: That is not to say I won't continue to update this blog.  I will.)

We've Got Names!

We did it!  And super-early!  We have names...two boy names and two girl names (both completely different...even four separate middle names).  Now, for the nay-sayers who think we'll likely change our minds again several times over in the next 5.5 months...chances are, we won't.  At least not by too much.  The names we've chosen are ones that have been on our lists for years, and truly, the ones to which we keep coming back.  So I'm closing this book.  Maybe we'll re-assess once the baby gets here if he or she comes out looking completely different than we expected (as was partly the case with our Patrick), but, for the most part, I think we're good. 

I know it's not very nice to say we have names and then not tell, but we learned our lesson about that.  I'll give you a hint: 

Initials:

A.W.

N.W.

&

M.W.

H.W.

See what you can do with that.  :)

What is it about small children that makes them want to get as close to their parents as humanly possible?  That is, as close as they can without actually being absorbed?  As I sit here on an early Thursday morning, finishing up some wretched concept map, I am trying to simultaneously spend some quality time with the big guy (the little big guy...Patrick.)  Sitting on the couch, he's literally climbing up my side every few minutes (as he "slips," he says), to presumably ensure that every body part that can be touching me...is.  Considering that he's only about two feet shorter than me, that leaves little space for much typing, seeing the computer screen gets tricky, and, seriously, could his elbows be any sharper?  Really?

The funny thing is, I remember doing the same thing to my mom.  Affection runs in this family, I guess.  Not to mention we encourage it.  Nay, we reward it.  So I have no one to blame but myself.  And while I do enjoy the loviness, it really is getting hard to work.  I may just need to put the laptop down and snuggle this kid like he wants. 

On cue, he says, "C'mom, Mom.  Don't you want to hold me?  Won't you just love me forever?"  I don't even have to ask where that came from.  That one's got me written all over it.

I should be doing schoolwork, but I'm taking a little break.  (Won't you be glad when I don't have to mention school again?  Me, too.)  I thought I would update a little about our new and growing baby.

Here we sit at 14.5 weeks, just out of the first trimester, and feeling...well...kind of lousy.  I had a pretty good weekend.  I felt pretty normal!  My appetite came back, I wasn't nearly as tired and I started to think I was out of it.  But it seems as though I'm not.  These headaches bring me down fast, and above any nausea, they are the worst.  Literally, the worst. 

However, I take it all as a sign that the new baby is doing well and growing appropriately.  He/she looks a little like this on the inside: 

I can assure you this is not how I look on the outside.  I'm showing much more than this.  Much.  I'll post a picture eventually.  I'm not huge, by any means, but my belly is big enough that it ellicits several pats throughout the day from just a few people at clinical or the like as we pass in the hallway.  I've been told recently that I have a "glow," which I think may be more like sweat from the nausea.  It could, however, be that I really am excited about this new one.  Really excited.  Maybe I am actually glowing. 

While I don't get to devote a lot of time thinking about him/her, the first thing I do in the morning is roll on my back and rub my belly.  I think about how s/he's doing.  Sometimes, I talk to the baby out loud (in a whisper, so as not to sound too crazy).  The boys, too, have taking a liking to my belly, both wanting to lay on it now.  Maybe they can sense that their sibling is in there...or maybe it just makes for a good pillow.  Either way, I like it. 

Break over, I guess.  Back to the project.  Later, gators.

Winding Down

I paid my last tuition bill last night (for me, that is.  God only knows how many of these I'll pay for the wee ones in the future.)  That being said, it was a great relief to hit the "Submit Payment" button.  Over two years of school is behind me.  My third degree sits in front of me (one I'll use this time!)  Finally, an end in sight.  Fourteen weeks and counting...

I Used To Be Fun

It's true.  I used to be a fun girl.  Not in the let's-watch-Nemo-and-have-a-dance-party kinda way, but in the put on some heels, do up your hair, take extra time with the make-up and have several drinks with girlfriends kind of way.  It was a blast.  I didn't have rules.  The best part was the next day, the recounting of events the night before...the lost items, lost money, laughs that brought you to tears.  Oh, it was good.

As I was driving to lunch with my sister recently (in my new minivan, mind you), I recalled how different things were then.  I didn't have to have a bag full of supplies to go places.  I would never have left the house forgetting anyone's shoes, having to turn around half-way down the street.  I didn't care if my lunch cost $25 (for just me.)  I took my time, talked as much as I wanted, and went about my own pace.  If I wanted a drink at lunch, I had one.  Naptimes?  What?  Also, I was not ok with food in my hair and I would have never used my sleeve to wipe someone else's snot.  Wow, those were the days.  (Just this morning, I left the house with pancake smear on my white cardigan-ed shoulder.  I knew it was there.  I saw it and I left it.  Ouch.)

After Patrick was born, I remember selfishly being resentful of the freedom I once had.  I didn't know at the time that that was what I was feeling, but now it seems pretty clear.  Many of my friends could mostly still come and go when they wanted.  They didn't have to plan for nights out.  They never had to arrange for a sitter.  Spontenaity still existed.  They could sleep as long as they wanted.  Not me.  And it made me a little sad.  I got frustrated.  Even though I was in heaven having my new sweet-smelling boy, I wanted everything.  I wanted that proverbial cake and I wanted to eat every bite. 

By the time Leo came along two years later, not doing things for other (small) people was what seemed foreign to me.  Going to a party and having to keep one eye on the kid looming around the dessert table was second-nature.  Moving potentially-dangerous items from within reach while not skipping a beat in conversation became fine-tuned.  Bedtimes now rule.  Schedules are sacred.  Now, I can fix the velcro fastener on a shoe one-handed, without looking, and in the short time it takes for the light to turn green.  And once, I caught a baseball flying at my face without even looking up.  That was when I knew I had arrived.  I was a mom.

Oh, it's still fun to think about the old me.  Prettier, much more fun, in tune with adult conversation, out of tune with songs about daffodils and colors, and less concerned about language or manners. I could just get up at 10pm and head out for the night.  I never had to plan for anything.  But the new me, the one who is ok with a ponytail and glasses all weekend long...it's who I am.  The kids and I are part of each other.  Patrick and I have conversations I would never have had with my closest friends; simple and honest conversations about what we're scared of or what we want to be when we grow up.  And Sweet Leo and I have become each other's security blankets.  We're still equally uneasy when we're separated (I know this might not be entirely healthy, but he's still a baby...and he's just so lovey and cuddly.)  I'm ok with lunches that are cut short because of tantrums and with holding conversations in public with tiny people who can't talk (this one is good because it masks my tendency to talk to myself, which I especially like to do in public.)  I may have had a few friends drop off because of the transition, but that's ok.  Life goes in little paths; what is good for one might not be good for another, and there is nothing wrong with that.

And, as we add to our family, I know things will continue to change.  I'll continue to change.  As the kids grow, so do I (well, these days, I mean that in every sense.)  I don't feel like I'm losing myself.  I may feel like I'm losing my mind from time to time, but who doesn't? And when these days are over and the kids are grown, I know I'll still cherish the moments we've spent together; the Friday Fish Fries, movie nights, smothering Daddy, singing together in the car, bathroom mishaps, reading books, telling stories in the dark, trips to the Children's Museum, baking, and the simple walks when the weather is nice.  I hope their memories are as good as mine.  I may not be the same kind of fun as I was, but, now this simple life is a great kind of life.  And I wouldn't change a thing. 

Note: Felt the baby move for sure tonight.  A little wiggle and jab on the left. 

Caught a Chupacabra

As I sit down tonight to do homework, as is the case most Saturday nights, I am anticipating a Chem lab, Chem quiz, and an English (Technical Writing) paper.  I decided that I would start on my English paper because that would definitely take the longest.  Last week, we had to turn in our rough drafts to our instructor.  I hadn't looked at my feedback yet, since I  hadn't planned on doing anything about it until this weekend, so imagine my surprise and elation to open my assignment and see this notation:

You did a fantastic job with this assignment. When you consider that you chose a somewhat difficult topic, it makes your work even stronger. Many individuals become intimidated when having to work with new computer software. Your instructions and explanations were very simple and easy to follow. You make great use of illustrations in your document.

Your cover memo is well written. Your word flow is excellent.  You show great audience awareness and you clearly demonstrate to reader the purpose of the product and what the reader can gain from the product.

Great job!  No recommendations needed for improvement.  You will receive full points for this assignment.  No final draft needed.

Considering that this assignment was worth 20% of my overall grade, I'm sitting pretty right now with a solid A.  Generally, as far as nursing school goes, feedback like this is about as common as the chupacabra.  Who is shining like a new dime?  This girl is. 

On to Chemistry.

Can You Help?

Dear Friends,

Since I'm not on Facebook these days and I am running into a brick wall trying to find my own resources, I thought I would reach out on the blog.  While this is definitely a much smaller audience, it is also a target one, which is what I need!

As we're getting closer to the summer and to me working again (Sha. Bang.) , Adam and I have decided that it's time to seek outside childcare for one or both of the boys.  We have relied on our families so much (and they have been wonderful), but we've reached the point where we're starting to feel like burdens.  Also, our very busy and sociable Patrick needs an outlet and a change of pace.  Sooooooo...

With it being summer, most childcare places, which have come highly recommended by friends or family members, close until August.  Others may or may not have openings.  So, if anyone reading this knows of any reputable childcare for one or two kids (aged 3 and 1) up to two days a week starting May 9th, please let me know!  We're really in search of either a part-time summer camp for Patrick, an in-home care for them both, or Mother's-Day-Out church program.  Also, a responsible college student or stay-at-home mom who wants to earn a little extra over the summer would be great!  I would much rather get a referral from someone than search blindly.  We're pretty easy going and the kids are good kids.  Promise.  (Leo may need a little warming up, but we could arrange that.  No worries.)

I can be contacted by using the email link in my profile (or by my cell, if you happen to have that.)

Thanks in advance!

Love,
Catie

Oh, Hey Job

Hey there, Job.  It's been a while.  Nice to see you again.  Welcome back.

Picture this:  I'm out and about with the boys.  Heading back from the library in the rain.  Nothing out of the ordinary...when the phone rings.  I don't know the number and probably wouldn't have answered it on any other day, but the kids are quiet so I do.  It is a hospital.  A big one.  A major one.  And they want to offer me a job...well, kind of like THE job.  At least the job for now, and God willing, the job for a while to come.  Not a "eh, I'll just take what I can get" job, but a "I always wanted to be a..." job.  The whole reason I wanted to be a nurse kind of job.

In the end, it all pays off, and in my case, the end of this chapter is very near.  I guess I've been telling myself that all along.  I hope Adam is expecting a full-on, set-the table, lots-of-side-dishes dinner tonight because we're celebrating.  Take that, blasted semester.  I'll show you who's boss.

Every Little Thing is Going to Be Alright

The amount accomplished the weekend is almost unbelievable...and exhausting all over again.  Thank God for Adam and his helpfulness.  The troubles that I have been having at school and with a particular instructor seem to carry on.  My attempt to make things right by groveling and full disclosure...didn't work.  I'm disappointed.  I am.  I thought it was done.  I made literally every effort to make things right, but, in the end, damage done.  Maybe it was too much.  Maybe it wasn't enough.  Either way, I'm still paying for it.  I guess the clean slate I thought I had...I didn't.  Grades are subjective, and what I have found is that mine are now subject to a little more scritunity and a lot fewer points.

(NOTE: I don't want to delve too much information, but to clear up confusion, a well-meaning person meant to send an email to me, questioning the motives and tactics of an instructor.  It was understood in the text of the email that I questioned them, as well.  Unfortunately, the email was mistakenly sent to the instructor.  Since the sender is not a student and I am, what ensued was a figurative avalanche of $#!+.)

But, you know what?  It's ok.  I'm frustrated, but I'll work harder.  I did all weekend.  I have five weeks of this session to go.  Certainly, I can make it.  I can.  Maybe I'll learn a little more.  Maybe I'll develop better habits. (See the Work Hard and Be Nice below.) This, too, shall pass.  And if it just happens to be a miserable number of weeks...ok.  I'll take that.  You can't win them all.

As I shuffled back to bed last night, exhausted and struggling mentally, while Adam finally got his break from the kids, and was still swimming in the highlights from the Butler game and a new craft beer, I decided that a cold, empty bed just did not sound good.  Instead of turning right into our bedroom, I turned left into Patrick's.  He didn't budge as I tried to wedge in between a number of his superheroes and books.  He didn't flinch when I started to play with his hair.  I laid there for a couple of minutes, listening to him breathe until I decided to get up and go to bed myself.  From the dark, I heard a tiny voice, "You're not going to leave, are you mom?"  I replied, "I have to, buddy.  There just isn't enough room for all of your toys and me."  Without hesitation, or even opening his eyes, he lifted his head and said, "Do you want me to scoot?  Here, I'll make more room.  See?  It's easy to make things work."

In the dark, I smiled.  It is.  Sometimes.  But at least something I am doing is right.

Souix--My Mom

Oh, Sue (or Souix, as she once contemplated)...

Today is my mother's birthday, and at the risk of sounding like I'm trying to get something out of her, I wanted to take a moment to recognize her...one of the few people who can make me smile with a single memory.  She's gone to bat for us kids more times than I can count (or probably even know about.)  Not a (cognitively stable) person can meet my mother and not want to hug her.  Or instantly fall in love with her. She's warm and caring and very affectionate (just don't try to kiss her on her face.  Don't do it.)  Just the thought of her brings a sense of fondness to my heart.  If my mom loves you, she's probably your biggest fan, and it doesn't matter if you're family or not.  It's as simple as that.  My kids adore her, even Leo, who gives her a run for her money on a weekly basis.  Patrick cries to see his Grandma and rarely wants to leave her house.  If I threaten to take toys away, he's replied to me, "Go ahead and do it.  Grandma will give them back to me later."

Several times, my mom has said to me, "Cate, you're a good mom."  While I never tire of hearing her say it, I wonder if she realizes that part of the reason we have this fun and crazy little family is because I had a good mom.  I didn't come up with all of this on my own.  I wanted a dozen kids because I wanted to be just like her.  (Later, I realized that she didn't really have a dozen of us.)  Little did I know that I was destined to take after her, anyway.  As my own kids get a little older, I find myself swimming in mom-isms.  And now, even though we tease her relentlessly, she is still one of the funniest, goofiest, and most supportive people I have ever met.  When something good happens, it doesn't really sink in until I get to tell my mom about it.  When something bad happens, the only thing that helps sometimes is to cry to my mom.  And now, even at 31, when I get sick, the only place I want to be is on my mom's couch, even if she swears that grape juice is the only remedy.  She's remarkable. 

Happy Birthday, Mom.  You are literally second-to-none. 

It seems to me that my mother was the most splendid woman I ever knew, and I have met a lot of people knocking around the world since.  If I have amounted to anything, it will be due to her.-Charles Chaplin