We are Those People

A lot has happened in the past few weeks. Sloan has a new job with American Furniture Rentals and will begin on October 29th. In the interim, we have decided to make the most of his hiatus and do a little traveling. We are trying to plan little activities for everyday as we have discovered that several weeks of Sloan at home being bored drives the both of us crazy.

For starters, we went down to Greensboro to visit my family. My dad was in South Dakota hunting pheasant with Biff and my two eldest nephews and we went to keep Gigi company. We also had the opportunity to spend some quality time with my brother and his four kids while my sister-in-law Pam was out of town. At the end of that day, I was saying to Sloan, "I think we should have four kids." and Sloan was saying, "Are you crazy, woman? I'm exhausted." That Saturday we saw Caroline (5) play a soccer game. Bill is the coach and has the patience of Job. Then we went to his house and cooked out, planned their haunted trail they are doing in their neighborhood, and played with their Wii. The only thing funnier than a 3 year old playing Tony Hawk is watching my niece Sarah Grace (9) box. Man that thing is fun! It was great to hang out for the day with Bill and his family with little to do but have fun. It is common for families to fall into old routines when they get together, but the truth is few of us are the same people we were when we were kids. It was neat to experience my brother as a father. He is the perfect blend of silly and strict and you can tell that he genuinely enjoys the company of his kids. And who wouldn't. They kind and hilarious. Natalie (3) brought Henry her blankie, named Maitee, every time he fussed. He loved it and she enjoyed being able to make him giggle. Also, I have learned that I ROCK AT TONY HAWK SKATEBOARDING!!!

Henry is also beginning to master rice cereal. We're still figuring out how much formula he can take after eating a bowl of cereal and I've been spit up on frequently. We laugh that our son is bulimic. He binges and purges. Seriously, if I were like him and simply vomited up food once I began overeating, I'd be skinny as a rail! He also said his first word. Sort of. The other afternoon, plain as day, he looked at Sloan and said, "Hi!" Now granted, he babbles a lot these days and he didn't mean to say it, but it happened. Henry is quite advanced. Now if only he would learn to turn left. We'd love for him to be an ambiturner.

Then we went down to Chapel Thrill where we had a whirlwind visit with lots of my old college friends. We stayed with Jen and Paul O'Sullivan in Cary. Jen was my big sis in Zeta and has two boys--Cameron (3) and Parker (10 months). They are a funny family. We arrived at Jen's around three on Friday and had a couple of beers. Jen decided we had to have more than one because otherwise we'd just get tired or a headache. Also, at one point, while Sloan, Jen and I were chatting Cameron kept whining, "Mommy. Mommy. Mommy." Jen answered quickly, "What Cameron?" "Why aren't you talking to me?" We laughed. But still, didn't really talk to him. But he was very sweet with Henry and protected him from the poking fingers of Parker. We also went to dinner with my senior year roommate, Lori Beth, and her husband, Rob, their 18 month old, Bennet, and our friend, Alyssa, and her boyfriend, Joe.

On Saturday, it was off to Chapel Hill for the Carolina Carolina game. That's right--the UNC Tarheels played the USC Gamecocks in football to find out who is the REAL Carolina. Obviously, the Gamecocks won and so Sloan was happy, despite being haggled about wearing a gamecock jersey in Chapel Hill. We weren't able to find tickets that weren't outrageously expensive, but it worked out well with Henry. We were hanging out with some friends of mine from Zeta and their husbands--Margaret and Jarron Harkness, who are expecting their first baby next Spring, and Joy and Jason (I have no idea what their last name is) who live in Atlanta. It was great seeing them again. We had a blast and Henry was definitely the life of the party. But we definitely we those people. Those people with the baby in the bar. Ugh. We started out tailgating and Henry got to hang out in the sling while Mommy and Daddy helped float a keg of Bud Light. Then we were off to the deck at Pantana Bob's where we watched the game, ate lunch, and Daddy got to drink more beers. Once again, Henry flirted with every college coed who was there. Most of them were wearing short skirts and cowboy boots. When did this become a fad? (Gosh, I'm old...) Henry was a perfect angel. He barely slept the whole day and was passed around from person to person, and yet never fussed. The only time he cried the whole day was when the jets flew over us before the game. And they were loud. Towards the end of the game, we decided to take advantage of the beautiful weather and strolled over to He's Not Here, an outdoor beer garden. Once again, Henry was the baby in the bar. But in our defense, we were always outside with him so he was never cooped up in a smoky bar.

But we are now reaping what we sowed as Henry has a cold. He is sleeping a lot. So it is now nose drops, aspirators, and humidifiers for us. Oh well. He is still a very happy baby. And just so darned cute!!!

State Fair 2007

Went to the State Fair today. What a wonderful place to people watch. Lots of tattoos and confederate flags. We saw the pig races, the high divers, the whip master, chicks being born, adorable piglets, goats on top of a barn, lots of arts and crafts and the usual State Fair fare. We did not go in to see the freak shows, but apparently there was a snake lady, a gorilla girl, and a 29 inch woman. According to my 12 year old nephew Caleb, the snake lady was a hoax and the tiny woman was real and she is from Haiti. Apparently, he paid to see her twice. Sloan and I are afraid of these affairs. In fact, we were harangued by the people working the games as we walked down the midway. They kept yelling, "Hey lady, Hey lady with the stroller, come win a prize. Hey sir, with the lady. Hey! Hey!" I just kept staring at Sloan saying, "Pretend we're in a deep conversation. Keep talking and don't make eye contact. Don't make eye contact!" Henry enjoyed being pushed around in his stroller and was wonderful as usual.

The thing I'm most proud of was that with all of the fair food, I did not pig out on fried dough, cotton candy, and a bucket of fries. I had a pulled pork BBQ sandwich and slaw and then later a frozen banana dipped in chocolate. I figured you can't go to a fair and not get food on a stick, so at least fruit was a bit healthier.

No Awards for Me...

It has been an overwhelming past few days. One of those Seinfeld periods of time when nothing in particular happens except somehow you just can't turn away. Partly because of Zoloft withdrawal and partly because I'm a fool, I have been consumed by the gravity of what it means to be a Mom. Let me explain how I'm a fool.

Last week in Bible Study we were studying the Holiness of God, particularly the prophet Isaiah's reaction. Basically, Isaiah sees the holiness of God and is awestruck by it and his own finitude, saying "Woe is me! For I am lost; for I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips; for my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts!" I commented to my small group that I'm not really undone by my shortcomings and, as a matter of fact, seem to relish them. Convicted that this is certainly sinful, I prayed to be undone by the Holiness of God and my own sin. Big mistake. Like praying for humility. What was I thinking? I quite enjoy believing everything is OK and I'm OK and I have relatively little need for redemption much less God. Ugh.

So God heard my prayer and I was undone. I realized that what has really been pissing me off these past couple of days is the simple fact that life ain't easy. Sure, this is a lesson I've learned umpteen times before. You would think that spending three months in the hospital would've gotten me used to the idea. So I've been ticked off that I'm not getting my way. That there is this little person who is so stinkin' needy all of the time. That I'll have just arrived at the good part of the book and then all of the sudden he wakes up from his nap and wants to be fed. Or I'll have just sat down to eat and he'll poop. Or finished cutting out my fabric and finally be ready to sew and he'll have turned himself over and be angry or laying in a puddle of spit up. I think it has finally clicked that Henry can't help being selfish, that he is supposed to be calling out to me, and that I am not the baby anymore. To make matters worse the mere admission of this puts to death my dreams of the kind of mom I've always imagined I'd be. The kind of Mom who bakes brownies and puts little notes in your lunch box and packs you two puddings so you have an extra to trade, who is skinny with perfect hair and a ruffled, polka dotted apron. Sort of a modern Donna Reed with a dash of Claire Huxtable. But as a mother, I feel a bit more like the father from the Berenstein bears. Constantly falling in the mud, saying, "So now you see how not to do it..."

But things are starting to change. This morning in church something clicked. We were singing the hymn "It is Well With My Soul" and in one of the verses it says "My sin, not in part but the whole, Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more." And I thought, okay, so I'm not going to be nominated for any mother of the year awards. Why am I still bearing this burden? Get over yourself. God is not going to let you screw Henry up past the point of no return. In fact, God seems to think you're the perfect Mommy for Henry. It's a bit like I've faced my finitude, been undone, and then put back together again by the fact that it is God's job to fix me, not mine. But I do so love to be in control. And I do so want to be a good Mom.

Growing up, my dad always told me that "if something is worth doing, it is worth doing well". In college, I had a professor who told me that "the best is the enemy of the good." And then in grad school, I had a teacher, Henry Simmons, who said, "Some things are so worth doing, they are worth doing poorly." At different times in my life each saying has held merit, but I think in the grand scheme of things, Henry is right. We can't be great at everything, but that shouldn't stop us from living and loving and falling on our face now and again because in the end, we are loved far more than we know, and fear should hold no place in the Christian's life.

So I am going to just love my son. I'm not going to worry that I put him in his swing a little too much. He likes his swing. I'm not going to fret that sometimes he eats less than the books say he should--the boy has so many rolls his wrists have cleavage! In fact, I think I'm going to stop reading the books all together. (Although I do reserve the right to Google things.) I'm not going to loose sleep over the fact that this afternoon I couldn't turn my son's face away from the Television set as he watched the show Las Vegas.

Bears, Beets, Battlestar Galactica

So Henry has developed a sense of humor. He used to just laugh whenever we tickled him, but it is as if he has now discovered some things are funnier than others and it is a hoot to make him cackle. For starters, he has discovered he has feet and that his toes are funny. He has yet to put them in his mouth, but enjoys playing this little piggy with himself. He has also learned to remove the pee-pee teepee protective wipee when I change his diaper and he thinks this is funny. Mommy does not. Especially when her son pees on her early in the morning when she is trying to not really wake up as she feeds and changes him. I didn't even notice he peed on me until he started laughing. That day he also spit up all over me. Big time. Right after I'd showered and gotten dressed. And once I cleaned him off, I looked down at myself, at my newly ironed pants that were spackled with regurgitated formula and he started laughing again. Ugh.

He also enjoys the show "The Office." Whenever we quote it to him, he laughs. When I say, "Bears, Beets, Battlestar Galactica" he laughs so much he starts coughing and spitting. It's hilarious. So now I am saying "Bears, Beets, Battlestar Galactica" all of the time.

He also had his first bowl of rice cereal this week. I use the term "bowl" loosely as I mainly just shoveled the same spoonful back in his mouth over and over again. This also made him laugh. He was just goopy and giggly, unsure of why Mommy kept sticking that thing in his mouth and what was she expecting him to do with his tongue anyhow? But it is obvious that he hasn't missed too many meals as he's become quite the chubby bunny. He now weighs 17 lbs, 4 oz. That is a lot when you are lugging that up three flights of stairs in a car seat with groceries.

This week, I also have begun trying to wean myself off of my post-partum happy pills. Big mistake. Sloan was in New Jersey overnight and a glimpse of single momdom through me for a loop. That was the night before he peed on me, then pooped on me, then threw up on me all in one day. That day was only topped by the next morning when the brand new tub of Tide I'd bought at Costco fell off of our dryer and exploded all over our guest bathroom floor, oozing everywhere, even leaking into the condo below ours. Awesome. Our once adorable hot pink bath mats were suddenly black with detergent. We threw them away and I now can't find any the same color. And of course I didn't even notice the detergent everywhere until after I'd stepped in it. In bare feet. Desperately needing to pee. Sloan just started laughing at me and I'm trying not to wet me pants, and cry, but I know I can't traipse the detergent on our hallway carpet and the toilet in the guest room is clogged. So Sloan wiped my feet off with baby wipes and I finally collapsed on our bed screaming, "That's it! I'm done. I don't want anymore children. Return the one we've got." And then I heard the continued beeping of the dryer I'd gone into the guest bathroom to turn off in the first place. "And turn off the friggin' dryer!" So I'm no longer trying to wean myself off of my "Mother's Little Helpers" and have officially declared myself entitled to "a selfish phase." (Yes, my brother and sister will wonder how this is different than normal...) Which basically means I will be sewing a lot this weekend and Henry will be spending some quality time either with Daddy or in his swing.

More ladies for lovin'

WELCOME TO THE WORLD Margaret "Maggie" Bowden Kirkpatrick, born to my high school friends Katharine and Jay Kirkpatrick. Weighing in at 7 lbs and 20 inches long, she was born yesterday morning, on my dad's birthday, as I predicted.

Also, my college roomie Theresa and her husband Aaron found out that despite earlier ultrasound predictions, that they too are having a GIRL who will also be named Maggie.

What is this? Why are you people takin' my girl name? Had Henry been a girl he would've been Emma Sloan, but more and more lately I've been thinking of my grandmother Johnson, my best friend from growin' up, Meg, and also Katharine's mom, Margaret Ann, aka "Momma Hall" and was planning to name the next Baby P (if it's a girl), Margaret and call her "Meg." So what doin'?

Stinky Pickles and Bricks

I am trying to decide what I like best about being a mommy. Someone lighting up whenever I enter a room, an audience for my singing, dressing my own live doll, getting to watch Guiding Light every day, cuddles, kisses, and teeny tiny toes.

But there is also a dark side. I've gotten spit up on so many times that I now have a permanent sour milk smell. Seriously. Henry is teething and so there is more spit up than usual. I've taken to wiping myself off with baby wipes instead of bathing. (If I took a shower every time I got spit up on me, my hair would probably fall out.) Last night there was so much of it I had to call Sloan to come take Henry so I could change clothes. Ugh. But sweet.

Henry now has two favorites. It used to just be me, no one else. But now he likes Daddy too. Check out these pictures. The first is of me trying to get Henry to smile--I was making funny faces, singing, jumping up and down. The second is Sloan walking in the room and simply saying, "Hey Pickles." (Pickles is our little pet name for him. We have no idea where it came from.) I'm happy that Henry loves his daddy, but a bit sad at him loving both of us equally. I'm warped.

I'm also becoming dorky. I came home from my first day of Bible Study yesterday and told Sloan, "There's this cute girl in my small group. She's really pretty, also has a new baby boy, and dresses cool. I hope I can make her my friend." Sloan said, "Really? Maybe you should ask Mom if she can come over to play. What are you, twelve?"

To add to my dorkdom I'm becoming domestic. In addition to my regular craftiness, I'm taking sewing classes and am really excited about it. I'm making this cowboy themed bag for Henry. If I turn any more into a dork I'm just going to have to shoot myself. At least I'm not a brick expert. (Sloan watched this show on the History channel about bricks and there was this tool of a British guy whose title was "Brick Historian" and behind him was a wall full of books on bricks. I thought, imagine this guy at a dinner party. "Stewart, what do you do?" "I write books on bricks." "Really? Is there much of an audience for that?" Who buys these books? It actually makes me a bit depressed that some brick dork is a published author and I am not. He probably smells better than me too.)

God Bless Henry

I have decided that Henry is the cutest baby on the planet. Seriously. He has long eyelashes, big eyes, a single dimple in his right cheek that shows up whenever he's laughing hard, and the perfect amount of hair. I have also decided that not only is Henry the cutest baby, but that every other baby by comparison is just plain ugly. If you have a baby, then of course I don't mean your baby. I look at all of these baby catalogs, particularly now that they are full of babies in Halloween costumes and I think, "My God, where did they find all of these ugly babies? Henry could make a fortune were he to model!" Sometimes I feel bad about this, that I'm being petty and judgmental, but then I realize that no, I'm right, and you can't feel guilty about the truth.

He also is the most well behaved baby ever. He slept through his entire Baptism. Even when Pastor Shelby put the cold water on his head and kissed him on the cheek. I like to think that he wasn't asleep, but deep in prayer. That we have a deeply spiritual baby.

But I'm not so sure. This morning was the first day of my Bible Study at church where I am a leader and just as we were about to pray, Henry let out a loud belch. Not a cute baby burp, but a man-sized beer guzzling, wing eatin' burp. I, of course, proceeded to laugh throughout the entire prayer so we may be hopeless for the deeply spiritual baby.

We had a big weekend with Henry's baptism on Sunday. It was a good time and reminded me of how far we have come in a year. September 15th of last year I had my embryo transfer, so I can honestly say that he was baptized about a year to the day from when God first made him. It has been humbling to reflect on how much God has done for us and the many people who have helped bring Henry into this world. At one point, I think I counted up something like 120 people who were praying for him, and this was before he was even conceived! I'm sure my stint in the hospital bumped it up to around 200. What a treat it will be to tell Henry of how he has been loved for so long by so many.

It was also my niece Isabel's first birthday on Sunday. I wanted to get her an airbrushed onesie with Henry's face on it since he is her favorite, but opted for board books instead. It was a madhouse at her birthday party since so many were in town also for H's baptism, but it was fun. Isabel shrieked at the top of her ample lungs each time she was within reach of Henry. At one point I thought she was going to rip off his nose. I had to make sure she didn't see him during the church service of his baptism for fear of her blood curdling screams of love for him.

But as much fun as this past weekend was, it was also tiring. Even for Henry. Yesterday morning we woke up as usual around 8 for his first bottle. He took 6 oz and then fell back to sleep around 8:45. So I put him back in his crib and crawled back into bed thinking, I'll just sleep until he wakes up, which will probably be around 10 or so. No. Henry and I slept until NOON. What?! That's right. I felt like such a slob, but apparently we needed it.

What a wonderful baby. God Bless Henry.