Ben: 20.5 Months

It has been a long time since I really gave a status update on either of the kids. For no particular reason I will start with Ben. I will add picture in the next few days I promise!

At the end of the month Ben will be 21 months old. I haven't weighed him for awhile and I have no clue how tall he is but I do suspect that he is pretty average for his age. Yesterday I spent two and a half hours going through all of the hand-me-down bins from one of my best friends. She has a son who is just a few months younger than Lily and a daughter who is about a year younger than Ben. In terms of clothes sharing and prearranged marriage it really could not have worked out any better. We have a pretty good system in place for swapping the clothes, although I almost always apologize when I hand over my bins. It seems harder for me to keep the clothes organized by size and season than it does for her. This last batch I got from her was in space bags and once you open those babies there is no going back! Ben desperately needed to go up to the 2T clothes so I bit the bullet during nap and opened, folded and sorted all of the 18m, 2T, and 24m clothes which included two if not three seasons worth of clothes. As I always do, I found a bunch of stuff that was super cute that for whatever reason I didn't find the first time going through the clothes...too late now, refolded and back in the bag you go. If I am being honest I am not thrilled about little boy clothes. I loved overalls last winter, they were the one thing I purposefully bought to add to the collective boy wardrobe. This winter has been all about easy, comfy clothes, which we have no shortage of! Boy clothes in general are just not as effortlessly cute as girl clothes. I mean seriously, throw a tutu on with leggings and a onsie and Lily was a show stopper every day of the week! So long story short Ben is officially in 2T/24m clothes and they are not nearly as roomy as I thought they were going to be.

In the past few weeks we really have noticed a burst in his speech and vocabulary. I chose the word burst carefully, it has not been an explosion like some people experience. To be honest he doesn't say a whole lot, but he is getting better and each word is becoming more clear. I am hyper sensitive to it because Lily was such an early talker and has always spoken with the articulation of a grown up. By comparison, and yes I think it is okay to compare and contrast my kids, Ben is a caveman. I am not worried about it and I do think that developmentally he is perfectly normal but I don't have to like it. I get very frustrated with the grunting and pointing. If I am being honest I think that living at Matt's parents and spending a lot of our time at my parents' house is hindering his verbal skills, there is always a loving grandparent, aunt or uncle present to simply hand him whatever it may be that he is grunting at. Lily almost never had that luxury! Every day now we play "Ben can you say?". He does pretty well with animal sounds, my personal favorite is his duck. He does imitate counting sounds when he and Lily play hide and seek but they are just sounds not actual words. Aside from "what's that?" which he has said no less that 7 million times since September he just now started putting two words together, "where's ____" is getting more and more frequent. If I had to guess I would say he has about 40 words only half of which he says very clearly.

Sleeping is still a challenge. I know that transitioning from MA to ME has been hard on him. He is a light sleeper and I think he stirs every time the heat kicks because he can hear the furnace. Naps are tough because there really is not a lot of separation between their bedroom and the main living area and Ben can't stand it if he thinks he is missing something. We dropped morning nap recently and that too has been a real struggle. He is a pacifier addict and kicking that habit in not going to be fun for anyone involved. We have been trying to limit his paci time to within those white bars with limited success.

Eating has also become somewhat of a challenge. He likes food, including vegetables, but he simply can't be bothered to take the time to eat. If I would simply throw the food on the floor and let him forage like a wild animal we would never see another tantrum from him. Alas I make him sit at the table and use utensils and every other meal I end up feeding him because I am soft in my old age.

Talking tantrums, lord help me. If imitation is the sincerest form of flattery then Lily should feel very secure in her relationship with her brother. She can tantrum with the best of them and Ben is her intern. I love him dearly but I do not love the fact that he literally has zero patience, for anything, ever.

In order to end on a high note I will say the Ben continues to be an exceptionally happy guy most of the time. He has a fantastic belly laugh and it is impossible not to engage him when he flashes his devilish "come chase me" grin. He is obsessed with trucks, cars, tractors and trains. The vacuum is one of his favorite toys which makes total sense, it has four wheels and makes a loud noise. He is all boy, though he does like to accessorize with Lily's headbands and necklaces. My dad rolls his eyes each time he runs by in a blur pushing the baby stroller but again, it has four wheels, clearly it is just a modified truck! He has good coordination and can throw a ball with surprising accuracy. Today we watched him balance on a kick ball, already working on his core. Aside from being on the go I will also add that Ben loves to be read to and still has a very long attention span for books. He also loves to watch puppy videos on youtube and will sit through about 15 minutes of Doc McStuffins.

The move has not come without its transitions and adjustments. Some days are certainly easier than others. No matter what is going on around us one thing has not changed. I am Ben's go to person. I can't say that I mind being the one he runs to. I was not worried in the least that having a baby would ruin Lily's life, I am not so sure that Ben will be as willing to share. For now I just try and appreciate every minute of my time with him, especially the few hours a week when Lily is at school.

My smiley, snugly, warm and loving little potato.

House Hunters

We have been living with Matt's parents since the week of Thanksgiving. For the most part we have all made the transition fairly seamlessly. There are definitely days that I feel bad for my in-laws, we are a lot to handle in the late afternoon! There are other days when I feel bad for the kids, it has got to be hard to have five grownups talking to/at you at any given time. Matt seems to be handling the commute and his new work schedule really well. He leaves Maine on Monday morning around 9 and gets to work by 11. On Monday night he stays at a friend's house near his office, works early on Tuesday morning and is back in Maine by dinner time. On Wednesday he works from home and then repeats the M/T schedule on TH/F. The kids and I are pretty darn excited when he walks through the door on Friday evening.

I am a creature of habit and it has been hard for me to go without any semblance of a routine for the past 7 weeks. The holidays are definitely partly to blame, with siblings in town and various grandparents on vacation no one was really in their normal routine. This last week everyone went back to work and a week from today my brother flies back to VA. I'm not exactly sure what the kids and I will do with ourselves but establishing a routine is high on my list. Lily is enrolled at a preschool so we do have a least a little structure. Aside from everyone being on vacation I am finding it a little hard to really get into a routine because just like our old house we are living with one foot out the door. I would like to settle down here but there are several other surrounding towns that we are looking at and making friends is hard enough without feeling like everything could be temporary. I am really hoping we love our new neighbors, whoever they may be!

Having just sold a house I think we are very sympathetic buyers. We waited until this past weekend to start scheduling showing because I thought it was really unfair to ask people to let us traipse around their home the week before Christmas. We take our shoes off, take our time to look around, and then leave everything just as we found it. You wouldn't believe how many people came in to our home and made a mess or broke something. And this is the part were I count my blessing again that the home selling process is behind us! (I promise the epic moving post is coming this weekend)

So here are the criteria for the dream house hunt:

3 bedrooms is a must but we would prefer 4
A large yard where we can put in a pool
A playroom/bonus room where the kids can bring their friends (now and in 10 years)
A mudroom or entryway where we can drop our winter gear

That's it. I would like first floor laundry but as long as the basement isn't a dungeon I can live with lugging the basket.

Matt has a few other things he would like. He is a sucker for a great front porch and would like some land but we have come to the conclusion that even an acre is a lot of space. We would both like to have a wood stove but again, that isn't a deal breaker.

We have seen a few houses in our hometown that we really liked. This weekend we are heading north about 30 minutes to look at a bunch of properties in a few surrounding towns. The inventory isn't great this time of year but we are hoping that we can find a place and close before the spring when inevitably home prices and interest rates will rise.

I'll keep you posted, keep your fingers crossed that our dream house is out there just waiting!

I got my hair done, it was a big day!

My hair...yikes.

All of my close friends will tell you...I do not have great hair. In fact I can almost guarantee that if asked to make a list of all of my positive attributes not one of them would write, "has beautiful hair!". Although, these ladies that I speak of are all clever and quite witty, I wouldn't put it past any of them to write something like, "does the best she can with her hair...sometimes."

This has been a ROUGH few months for the hair. Genetically I am totally screwed. I was born with baby fine hair that is also very thin. Over the years I have come to the conclusion that a chin length bob serves me pretty well. After I gave birth to Lily I had a terrible experience at a salon and as a result went almost two years without a hair cut. My hair was longer than it has ever been and not a strand thicker. It didn't look terrible but it didn't look particularly healthy either. Most days I threw it in a sloppy pony tail and called it good. When I finally did get it cut I felt much more like myself.

The post is about to become overrun with terrible selfies, you have been warned.

A few weeks later I chopped it all off 5.8.13

At it's longest 4.24.13

After my initial cut and color in May I decided that there was no way I was ever going to go so long again without taking care of my hair situation. Pregnancy has not been kind to my poor hair. It falls out and breaks and when it grows back in it is spiky and totally unmanageable...and as of this past year, 110% of my new hair growth is gray. Awesome. Oh hey, did I mention I have been pregnant 27 of the last 45 months?? Not a single day of that has been beneficial to my hair. I definitely do not mean to sounds as if I resent my pregnancies, more just pointing out that for some of us pregnancy is not a magical time for gorgeous locks like the books might have you believe.

I had my hair cut and colored in September when I knew for sure that I was not pregnant. I told the stylist that we were trying to get pregnant and that I would like a color that would hide the gray but also wouldn't look terrible if I had to go a few months without having it done. For some reason she thought that meant giving me highlights much lighter than my natural hair color. For the past month I have worn my hair pulled up because I couldn't stand the dark roots!
(I am not at all happy with the pictures, my old iphone camera just looks terrible compared to the iphone 5 pics everyone else posts!)

At long last I decided that I am close enough to the end of my first trimester that I felt comfortable getting my hair colored and cut today. Added bonus we live in Maine now and the woman who has been cutting my hair since middle school is still working at a salon near by. I think she did a great job with the color, hides most of the grays and feels like me :) The cut was really just a trim, I think next time I will go an inch shorter. 

I think the moral of the story is that today was overdue. I have been telling Matt for weeks that I feel like I am going through an ugly phase. The reality for me is that first trimester is hard on my looks. I do not glow. I look tired and pale. I get breakouts on my chin and along my hairline. I get addition dark spots, as if being fully freckled wasn't enough. My hair is even more limp and thin looking...and this time I desperately needed to have it colored pretty much from day one. If I am not careful it starts to take a toll on my day to day attitude. In general I would say that I am very comfortable and happy with my appearance. I am no super model but I think I am pretty in a 'girl next door' sort of way. I don't typically wear much makeup but will usually swipe on some mascara if I am leaving the house. With a mostly carefree attitude, (which is not to be confused with an 'I don't care attitude') it is easy for me to neglect the little things, like getting my brows done or having my hair trimmed, and before too long I start to skip the mascara and settle on a pony tail every day. The trick is making time to take care of the little things before I get to my "ugly phase".  One of the reasons I am so grateful to be living near family again is that it is no longer an issue of finding the time...I just have to get in the habit of taking the time. 

Today I got my hair done, it was a big day!

Our sweet Shark

The epic moving story is in the works but before I can finish it up I owe my girl Shark her very own farewell post.

The day before the moving truck arrived I drove the kids and the cats to my parent's house. The kids would just be staying the weekend but the cats were to live there until we find our new house. Over the years they have made the trip to my parents' house many times. My parents also have cats and although there is no love lost between them, they get along ok for the most part. 

As is usual for Shark upon being released from her tiny cat prison (cat carrier) she fled to the basement to listen to Alanis Morissette and hate the world. It only lasted a few days and by the end of the weekend she had decided that it is actually warmer upstairs in my brothers old room anyway. The next ten days or so went by in a blur. The kids and I came and went from my parents' every few days, there were definitely days when Shark did not grace us with her presence but that was not unusual. 

My mom mentioned that one or both of the cats had been throwing up, which I completely dismissed because they have always been pukers. The vet told us when they were kittens, "some cats are just like that." I wasn't overly concerned about the news, more apologetic that my mom was having to clean up cat throw up several times a day. A few days later Matt and I took the kids over for a visit, and Sunday night dinner. Shark was laying on the living room rug not looking her best. I picked her up and she felt very thin to me. I put her on my lap and pet her for a few minutes seeing if she would perk up, but mostly she just laid there very still. I started to get a little worried so I asked my parents if they had seen her eat or if they knew whether or not she was the one throwing up. The thing about a reclusive cat is that they are hard to monitor, Shark had definitely been hiding the fact that she didn't feel well. 

After about an hour I started to get a sick feeling in my stomach. I was able to get her drink a little water but afterwards she laid down on the kitchen floor. I told Matt that I thought we should take her to the emergency vet (of course these things always happen on a Sunday after hours). I am not going to say a whole lot about the experience at the vet. It was horrible, they treated us as though Shark had been neglected. We didn't want to pay thousands of dollars (that is not an exaggeration) to run the diagnostic tests and the staff would not treat her without them. She was very sick, the vet suspected that her liver was failing and didn't think she would make it through the night if we brought her home. 

I simply couldn't bear the thought of leaving her there, I was certain that she would die alone in the night. After fifteen minutes of holding her and crying our eyes out we made the gut wrenching decision to have her put to sleep. 

In the name of full disclosure, putting her down was harder on me and my husband than I ever in a million years would have predicted. There was a lot of crying, a lot, and it lasted for several days. I felt like I had let her down. We sold the house to move to Maine as a family and now we will be moving in to our new house without her. It hurts. Even though it happened the week after Thanksgiving it still hurts now and I have had to take a break from writing this post twice to get a tissue. 

Telling Lily was hard and I tried my very best not to project my own feelings on to her. As it turns out she had some pretty deep feelings of her own and she spontaneously sobbed at lunch a few days after we had told her what happened. My philosophy, in general not just in this instance, is to only answer the questions she asks as truthfully as I can, without elaborating or adding details that she might not understand. In the end she had three really profound questions. 1. Are Colby and Blackbeary sick too, will they need to go to the vet? (I told her no, they were not sick, and that getting sick does not always mean that an animal will not get better and come home) 2. Is Shark happy where she is now or is she still sick? (I told her that Shark was definitely not sick anymore, that she had gone to sleep and was probably dreaming about being at home with us) 3. Will I miss her forever? (Yes, we all will and that is okay.)

Shark was, to this day, the absolute cutest kitten I have ever seen. Matt and I adopted her and her brother when they were just 8 weeks old. They were so tiny and I can still hear their little cries as we drove them to our apartment. They were our first babies. We took hundreds of pictures of them, bought them presents, and missed them while we were at work. Sharky had these giant eyes and we would often make hooting noises, to imply that she was more owl than cat, to each other when we would catch her staring at us. Over the course of nine years we subjected her to four moves, a dog, and two babies. It really is a wonder she didn't kill me in my sleep. For the most part she liked to be left alone to lay on the clean laundry except in the winter, then she would return to me and would spend all day and all night on my lap if I would let her. I was her person. She was our fatty boo, pain in the ass, grumpy, lazy old cat...and I loved her with my whole heart.