3 years

Dear Jackson,

This morning when you woke up, I went into your room and said, "Good morning! It's your birthday!" and you said, "I'M THREE!" I think you're pretty excited to be three years old, although you might be confused. At one point today, you asked if you were going to be two again. I said that you would never be two again. Then before bed, you asked if you would wake up tomorrow and be four. Gosh, no. I mean, time is already flying entirely too quickly! Let's just be three for a while. :) We celebrated by spending the morning at the Children's Museum with Corinne and Eli (along with Corinne's friend Shelly and her daughter--your new friend--Lily). You got to meet Grover and Elmo and see Clifford, which you've been asking for the last month or so.


So, three years ago, I was a brand new mommy. On Tuesday, I mentioned at work, "Three years ago today, I went into labor with Jack." Someone said, "Isn't his birthday on Thursday?" Yup. I went into labor on St. Patrick's Day and a mere 30+ hours later I got to meet my boy! But it was obviously worth it.

I'm not sure where the last three years have gone. Even the last year. I saw some pictures of you from last summer, and you look so much younger! We got you some new clothes for your birthday (because you needed them and we're practical) and boy, did you need them. But now you look so big! You're a boy! My baby boy is long gone. But the fine young man who has replaced him is quite pleasant too! I'm hoping this new size of clothing lasts a while, but I'm not holding my breath. You are definitely growing right now--evidenced by the quantity of food consumed at each meal and by the occasional "my legs are hurting me." Poor kid. Darn growing pains.

You're quite excited about the addition of baby Leah to our family this summer. However, I'm pretty sure it's going to completely turn your world upside down. Or maybe it's just that I'm positive that it's going to turn MY world upside down. So if you can just keep your positive outlook on the whole thing and keep reassuring me that we're not going to go absolutely crazy, I'll be fine. Now that we know she's definitely a "she," we've begun spiffing up the room a little bit. I didn't want to completely overwhelm the room with pink, since it is still YOUR room too, so I think there's a nice balance of pink and yellow and some more green. You are absolutely fascinated with the size of baby Leah's diapers. And you insist on calling them pull-ups.

Speaking of pull-ups, you've been successfully potty-trained since around Christmas. We've still got you in pull-ups overnight, but you mostly wake up dry. I'm impressed. You made this way too easy on us. And don't even get me started on the big boy bed. We moved you a couple of months ago, and you've taken the transition like a champ! You actually CALL us to come get you in the morning. Maybe you just haven't yet figured out that you can get out without me. :)

Probably the biggest growth this year is in your language. You are quite the talker. It's very interesting to have actual conversations with the same person who was having trouble with individual words not too long ago. And man, you make for a funny conversationalist sometimes. Last week in the car, you were asking me something and continued with, "Why? Mommy, why?" I continued to say, "I don't know," but you KEPT asking "WHY?" Finally you said, "NO! I say 'why?' You say, 'because.'" Oh! Thanks for letting me know. A couple of nights ago, we came home to cat puke on the stairs. You are usually one to help with hairballs--just give you a paper towel, and you're good to go. Well, this was a little different, but you still insisted on helping Daddy. You each had your paper towels, but before you could even begin to clean it up, you kind of gagged. Daddy, afraid you might add to the puke, sent you upstairs to me. With the most unforgettable look on your face, you said to me, "Mommy, that was kind of yucky for me."

We're pretty sure you're the next DaVinci or Monet. The preciseness with which you color is unbelievable. Seriously, I had kindergarteners when I taught who didn't come CLOSE to coloring this well. You're actually quite obsessive about it, but we're still ridiculously proud. :) In fact, we gave you some spiffy retractable crayons for your birthday (yes, we gave you something other than clothes--although all you asked for was a Thomas cake).

Oh, Jack. Sometimes I can't believe how lucky we are to have you and how much I love you. We might have a few more kids, but you'll always be my first, and I think that's pretty special. Sara Groves says it well: "Beautiful child, right from the moment you were born, you opened up my heart, my world, my beautiful child." You certainly have--I'm so thankful for that. And you are so beautiful--inside and out. Bless you this year, sweet boy.

Love,
Momma

Baby Leah

Well, it is indeed a GIRL! Or it's still a girl. Or something.

I went to Argosy University in Eagan (yeah, not exactly next door) for a free hour-long ultrasound done by students learning ultrasound technology. The experience was pretty hilarious, actually. I had an instructor and two students. The instructor started and got us some good pictures to take home. She also confirmed the gender. Then the students took over. They are learning "extremities" this week, so all they focused on were legs, feet, arms, and hands. Well, it seems Baby Leah was making up for last time. At my 20-week ultrasound, she had sat on her butt with the cord between her legs the entire time. This time, she was SUCH a mover that they couldn't get certain shots they needed. She would even kick the probe, which both students thought was hysterical. When the technician was still taking a look, the baby did a complete flip. She said, "Well, I WAS just looking at her profile...."

What was funny was how quickly Dan and I realized that these were, in fact, students. At first they just watched the instructor and seemed totally professional and like ACTUAL ultrasound technicians. Then one student took over and suddenly had tons of questions. "Is this a good enough picture of the femur?" "Would this be the right or left tib/fib?" "Does this one show the connection between the hand and arm well enough?" It was cute.

There was another ultrasound going on at the other end of the lab, and we all overheard their instructor say something about how the baby was giving them such great shots and how they could clearly see both feet. I said, "Don't be jealous! I bet mine is making you laugh more than theirs is!" :)

Now, on to choosing the middle name. I'd love your opinions. We've got it narrowed down to Margaret, Michelle, and Renee.

And we're viable!

I am 24 weeks today, which is the official point of viability. I guess I never paid attention to that when I was pregnant with Jack. All it means is that if I were to give birth now, the baby has a pretty high rate of survival, so the hospital would do whatever it takes. But I'm not planning on giving birth anytime soon. :)
I skipped the produce comparison last week because it was kind of lame. It was the weight of a mango. This week it's the length of an ear of corn. It's actually about a foot long, and I think that would make one LONG ear of corn. Anyway, that's what it is. And just over a pound. And it's a mover! My second ultrasound is Monday, so I can hopefully call it "she" with a little more confidence. Or "he" for that matter. No more of this "it" business!

Sweet Ruby

Apparently Ruby wasn't a very photogenic cat--I had to search for a decent picture. And it's kind of hard to see her because she was so dark! But get a kick out of my chubby baby boy. :)

I love the story of how/why we ended up with this cat. I had found a cat online and was going to see it in person at an adoption fair in a pet store in Richfield. My mom decided to join me and ended up falling in love with this sweet, chocolate-brown cat. So I left with Maddie, as expected, and my mom left with Ruby. Well, the cat already living in my mother's house had a thing or two to say about Ruby's arrival. And after a mere 24 hours, it was clear they couldn't live together. So we got Ruby! Maddie and Ruby were fabulous friends until Maddie unfortunately passed away a year and a half later, at which point we got Lucy. Likewise, Lucy and Ruby became great friends too. Cats are easy. :)

Ruby had always been prone to congestion, and she was very sneezy. But on Monday night, when she started meowing more loudly than usual and breathing through her mouth because her nose was so stuffed up, I decided she probably should be looked at. So on Tuesday morning, I made an appointment at the vet and took her in. On Monday night, Dan had researched her symptoms and seemed to think she had an upper respiratory infection. So I was kind of expecting to leave the vet with some antibiotics. Well, the doctor found other stuff. First of all, she noticed Ruby's terrible teeth (which, oddly enough, have always been a problem) and said that most likely the infection had spread to her sinuses. This problem alone would have been easily remedied with some pulled teeth and antibiotics. Well, then the doctor decided to feel around Ruby's abdomen, and Ruby was clearly in pain (meowing, struggling). She said she could definitely feel that Ruby's spleen was enlarged, and there was some sort of mass on her pancreas. To find out what was wrong inside, they needed to do a number of bloodtests and x-rays, amounting to $300. After talking more, we came to the conclusion that whatever was happening inside wasn’t good, and even if we spent all that money to get some answers, we would most likely come to the conclusion that putting her down was the best option. So we avoided the tests and just put her down. Not an easy decision, especially because she was so young, but the doctor assured us that she was really not doing well. Whatever “fixes” could have been done would have been very short-term anyway.

So now we're a one-cat family. And that one cat is a little out of sorts. She saw me put Ruby in a carrier and leave with her yesterday. And she knows that I came home alone. Jack doesn't quite get it. I told him that Ruby was sick and the doctor couldn't make her better, so she got to go be with Jesus and Morgan (my parents' dog that was put down in November). He just looked at me sweetly as I explained it and nodded his head. I said, "We only have one cat now." He said, "Yeah. Just Lucy now." Then this morning he said something about Ruby being with Jesus but coming back when she gets better. I think I got the point across the second time, but we'll see. :)

Two for one

I'm a slacker, so I'm giving you two weeks' worth of vegetable-fetus comparisons. First, a carrot.

Baby Bennett was the length of a carrot last week. I'm not sure if that includes the green part. And as of tomorrow, (s)he will be the length of a spaghetti squash!

We're a bit hunkered down right now--just waiting for spring and the promise of fewer cold and flu outbreaks. I was on antibiotics last week for a sinus infection and ear infection. Jackson brought a stomach bug home from daycare over the weekend (he was kind enough not to share it with us, though). I've had a headache for two weeks. And the fact that we're supposed to wake up to 4-8 inches of snow does NOT help any of this. :)

We are having another ultrasound on March 16th to determine if Baby Bennett is, in fact, a girl. It will be wonderful to know with a little more certainty, since Jack is already calling her by name and talking about how well he will take care of her. Including making macaroni and cheese for her when she's hungry. Oh, what a helper. :)

He seriously cracks me up

Jack: "DADDY, WHAT YOU DOIN'?"

Dan: Peeing, Jack.

Jack: "Oh. GOIN' POOPY TOO?"

Dan: No, Jack.

Jack: "Oh. I LOVE YOU, THOUGH!"

Happy Valentine's Day

This is how Jack is celebrating:

He is leaning on his valentine box, "reading" one of his valentines, and eating a sucker. And yes, he's naked from the waist down. Love that boy!

Meanwhile, the other love of my life is the length of a banana this week (head to heel--yay!). And my heartburn is through the roof!

It's a....

fairly uncooperative fetus.

As soon as the technician squirted the gel on my belly and brought up the image on her screen, she said, "Oh, your bladder isn't very full." Interesting. I was supposed to drink 16 ounces of water. I drank at least 24, plus half of my water bottle on the way to the doctor's office. She said, "Well, maybe you were dehydrated and the water went somewhere else." Seriously? Water does that? Anyway, I didn't start out well. She very bluntly explained that being able to see the gender of the baby is very much dependent on how full the mother's bladder is. Wow, what a way to start!

So, the tech proceeded with the boring stuff. Looking at all the parts of my uterus, finding different things on the baby, measuring everything she could get her wand on, etc. We quickly found out that our little one was breech. It sat on its butt the whole time--with the umbilical cord between its legs, no less. So the tech kept doing other things, hoping it would eventually move. It didn't.

Don't get me wrong, this was one adorable baby. Playing with its toes, sucking its thumb, and apparently talking to something in there (or just opening and closing its mouth for no reason). But I really wanted to find out what it is so that we can stop saying "it." :) The tech got all of her necessary stuff done and decided to take one more look at the crotch. "Well, there's definitely not anything hanging down, so I'm inclined to think it's a girl. I'd say about 70% chance it's a girl. But don't start buying pink." She moved the wand around a little more. "Yup, here's the cord, right between the legs. There are definitely three lines (that's what they look for in a girl--use your imagination), I'm just not sure they are "the" three lines." She ended by saying she was 80% sure it's a girl. "Okay, you can buy pink. Just keep the receipts."

So, I was a little bummed. Not because I wanted one gender more than the other--I have many reasons for wanting both. I just wanted to know with a little more surety than what we left with. I see my doctor next Tuesday for an ultrasound follow up. My first question is how much an extra ultrasound costs. :) Yup, I'm ridiculous! I know that insurance only covers one. And I have NO interest in one of those private 3D ultrasound places--they kind of creep me out.

So, it's (maybe) a girl!

p.s. By the end of the ultrasound, the tech said, "Oh, your bladder is plenty full now!" But it obviously didn't matter. At least I did everything I was supposed to!

It's a guy

This morning, the three of us were lying in bed, and I said, "Jack, guess what we get to find out on Tuesday?! We get to see if the baby in mommy's tummy is a boy or a girl. What do you think it is?"

After a moment, he confidently said, "It's a guy." Dan and I about lost it, and I immediately had the image of the baby coming out with a mustache or a goatee.

So, stay tuned for Tuesday's news. There may just be a guy in my belly. :)

You say tomato....

I say, "What's the difference in size between a regular tomato and an heirloom tomato?" The size of my baby this week is that of a large heirloom tomato. And this is the best picture I could find. When I sold cookies at the farmers' market, the guy next to me had a variety of produce, including some pretty amazing-looking heirloom tomatoes. I'd rather have a picture of one of his. :)

In other exciting news, baby's arms and legs are now in proportion to each other and the rest of its body. Its kidneys are producing urine and the hair on its head is sprouting.

Most exciting is that starting next week, I can stop referring to it as "it." On Tuesday, we have our ultrasound and will (hopefully) find out if "it" is a "he" or a "she." Very exciting.

Big boy bed continues to go well. Although, after a few days, Jack stopped calling for me to come get him in the morning. The last two mornings, he has come out himself and announced, "I had a nice nap." :)

I'm so spoiled

Or maybe Jack just remembered what a terrible sleeper he was in his first year of life and is now deciding to make up for it in his toddlerhood.

We're entering this season of change, and I guess I just braced myself for a much harder transition. For one, there was potty training. I kind of had it in my head that I wanted him to be trained by the time he turned 3 (which will be in March). But his daycare provider assured me that he was very ready. So I just had to wait for a chunk of time that I was at home with him, which happened to be over Christmas. We spent a couple days naked (well, Jack was naked from the waist down--I was fully clothed), a couple days just in underwear (again, Jack--not me), and then added pants. He did so well. We had a couple very minor accidents, but he totally got the concept right away. We're still in diapers at night, but I'm really okay with that. For a couple weeks, he was waking up dry almost every day, but that hasn't lasted.

Then there's the concept of a big boy bed, which I mentioned briefly in my last post. Again, I really wasn't planning on transitioning him out of his crib yet, but we happened upon a free toddler bed a couple weeks ago. The original plan was for Jack to move downstairs (into what is currently a playroom) once the baby needed the upstairs room. But I decided I really wanted them on the same level as us, so I'm at least attempting to have them share a room. So my parents took Jack for a few hours yesterday while Dan and I tackled the mess that is our house. I emptied Jack's closet, threw away a pile of stuff, rearranged some furniture, and set up the toddler bed. Jack came home and was beside himself with excitement. Still, I thought, "This will pass. The excitement will fade once the reality of bedtime sets in." After dinner, we always set a timer so that Jack knows when it's time to get ready for bed. Usually, it will beep and he'll say, "No! 5 more minutes!" Last night, it beeped, and Jack said, "Oh! Time for bed!" and promptly marched into his room. We did our routine, said goodnight, and tucked him in. I fully expected to see him come waltzing out 10 minutes later or hear from him in the middle of the night. Nope. At 7:00 this morning, I hear his usual "Mommy! Mommy!" I went into his room and he was just sitting on the edge of his bed waiting for me to get him. He proceeded to tell me that he had fallen out of the bed, but I'm pretty sure I would have heard something on the monitor. (Although, I asked him to reenact it later and it was quite hilarious).

Now we're doing the first big boy bed naptime. He's not asleep yet, but I'm not giving up. As long as he takes a break and rests (and gives me a break in the meantime), I'm fine.

Mmmmm......

Baby Bennett is the length of a bell pepper. In honor of this comparison, I bought a beautiful red pepper to add to my salad today. It was most convenient to stop at Byerly's because I had just been at Babies R Us, and let me tell you--bell peppers are more beautiful at Byerly's. They are also $3.99/pound, so I only got one. And the smallest one I could find. But it was delicious. As was the rest of my salad.

Dan and I are officially beginning to prepare our house for this new addition. Even though we've got 5 months, the nesting is setting in early this time. We're going to attempt to have Jack and Baby B share a bedroom. This weekend we'll be adding a toddler bed to Jack's room and introducing him to it. (The idea kind of freaked him out at first and he would whine, "Jack no like big boy bed," but something shifted when he realized that he had to move to a different bed so that the baby could have the crib. This morning I reminded him that tomorrow was the big day. "Oh, yay! Big boy bed!") It will also require moving a bunch of toys that have migrated up to his bedroom back down to the playroom. Toddlers acquire a lot of stuff. Since he won't actually be around for the organizing, we might be purging a bit, too. Shhh, don't tell. ;)

She says it better

One of my favorite blogs is Dooce, written by a woman I've never met. She's the one who gave me the idea of writing Jack a letter every month. (A practice that I stopped after a year, but one that she still holds to--they're on month 58 or something). She's also got a book coming out in March that I am so excited to read. It's a memoir about her journey through post-partum depression called It Sucked, and Then I Cried. Yup, that pretty much sums up PPD.
Well, our lives are quite similar these days. She's pregnant too, with her second child, due just two weeks before I am. A recent blog post of hers put the whole "we're doing this all over again" thought into really great words. So I must direct you to it. Enjoy.
http://www.dooce.com/2009/01/20/second-second-trimester

Baby weighs as much as a turnip

I really don't have any other words. At 17 weeks, it's about 5 ounces and 5 inches from head to butt. (It's at 20 weeks that we start measuring from head to feet).
A turnip isn't very exciting. I don't know that I've ever eaten one. It's not much to look at. Let's hope next week is more exciting.

Diversionary tactics for a three-year-old

Okay, he's almost three. 34 months. Close enough.

Pretty much my least favorite event of the day is getting out of the house in the morning. Getting Jack and myself fed, dressed, and everything in between is just not something I excel at. It wouldn't be so bad if it just involved eating, dressing, etc. With Jack, it involves too many "everything in betweens." He has to pee. He has to try to poop. He has to try to poop again. He has to set up his house of blocks just right (because the cats are the only ones home during the day and they're particularly picky about Jack's block houses). He has to get another drink of milk.

But most of all, he has to pack his bag. It's generally just a plastic or paper grocery bag. He'll start filling it with toys and random items from around the house. A bouncy ball, a bag of goldfish crackers, a few crayons, a matchbox car. He knows that he can't actually take the bag into his home daycare. It will stay in the car all day. But that does not deter him from putting every ounce of thought into the packing. Well, this morning involved more than just thought. It involved entirely too much emotion. He couldn't find his hockey stick.

"Jack, come on, let's get your jacket on."

"Hold on," which actually comes out as one word: hol-on. The other day he even made it sound like he had a Jewish accent. You know, that hard H sound like in the beginning of the word challah.

"No, Jack, we need to go. Let's put your jacket on."

"NO! LOOKING FOR MY HOCKEY STICK!"

"Okay, we can look, but we don't have much time."

So we looked. Unsuccessfully. And I finally insisted that we leave anyway. That involved carrying a screaming child out to the car. The screaming turned into a sob: "Get...my...hockey...stick...Get...my...hockey...stick...." Sorry, Charlie. We're running late.

On our way, I decide that this is no way to leave him at daycare. He's beside himself. So as we turned at a stop sign where the sun is generally RIGHT in his eyes, I said, "JACK! WHERE IS THE SUN?"

"I don't know." Which actually comes out "Ah-no."

"I think it's still sleeping! The sun decided to sleep in!"

"Yeah!" Ooh, a cheery tone. We're on the right path....

"Can you say, 'WAKE UP, SUN!'?"

"WAKE UP, SUN!"

"Can you say, 'STOP TAKING A NAP!'?"

"STOP TAKING NAP!"

"Can you say, 'IT'S TOO CLOUDY!'?"

"TOO CLOUDY, MOMMY!"

Ah, we did it. The rest of the way down the road, Jack could not stop talking about how the sun was taking a nap. We got out of the car and he looked up. "Mommy! No sun!"

Success. :)

Of sharp knives and severed thumbs

Warning: I don't tend to get queasy about blood and stuff, but I've learned in my four days of telling this story that I'm in the minority. So, while I could watch open heart surgery while eating dinner, if the title alone has made you weak in the knees, I'd recommend skipping this post. There. You've been warned. :)

On Wednesday night, I had planned on making fajitas for dinner. So after I got Jack settled with his dinner (probably mac and cheese--that seems to be his preferred meal these days), I proceeded to prepare the "real" meal. I got out the Foreman grill (because, even though I am usually one to grill in the winter, I am also one to be realistic when it's well below zero) and got the chicken and peppers out of the fridge. I plugged in the grill and decided to start on the chopping before I cooked the chicken. So I grabbed an onion and began slicing. Not even halfway through the onion, I somehow slipped and my thumb got in the way and before I knew it, I was bleeding. Quite badly. I grabbed a paper towel and held my thumb really tight. And that's when I noticed it. On the cutting board. I had cut something off. It wasn't just a flap of skin still stuck on the knife, like when you really nick yourself shaving and the razor holds the proof. In hindsight, it was probably enough to stick back on and hope to God it would stick. But I didn't. I threw it away.

I called my husband. And even though I wasn't particularly in a ton of pain (yet), I totally started bawling. "I cut myself really bad." To which Dan replied: "I'll come home right away!" And I said, "No, you don't have to hurry--I just don't know what to do. It won't stop bleeding." So he continued to try to talk me into calling a friend or someone to come over. But frankly, I didn't need anyone to come over and watch me cry. I just needed to sit and wait until Dan got home. I could have driven to Urgent Care with Jack, but even though I felt fine at the moment, I didn't really trust myself to drive while applying pressure without becoming lightheaded and fainting at the wheel. So I held a paper towel on my thumb for an hour and a half until Dan got home. And really, as long as I was holding something on it, it was fine. It was when I took it away that the blood rushed in and threatened to take over my hand.

We arrived at Urgent Care just after 7pm, which, for future reference, is a great time to go to Urgent Care! Not a single person was in the waiting room. I got to the check-in desk and told the woman what I did. She took my info and gave me a slip of paper that told me what room to go to. I asked her to direct my husband and son (who were parking the car) to the right place. In the room, a nurse came and took my vitals and brought me to a procedure room. She had assumed that "a really bad cut" meant a slice, in which case the doctor would be administering stitches. But right before she left to get the doctor, she said, "Oh, let me just look at it," and I removed the paper towel (seriously, could you give me something a little more sterile to hold on it, please?). "Oh, stitches aren't going to help that at all. Let me see what we have." It was too large of an area to do stitches, but too deep to just bandage. And there was the "IT WON'T STOP BLEEDING!" issue.

Dan and Jack finally found me in the procedure room, just as the doctor was putting my thumb in a bowl of warm water with some antibacterial soap in it. Holy mother of God, that hurt ten times worse than the cut itself. So much so that I told Dan he should probably leave with Jack. After about two minutes in the water, it felt fine. And that was good, because the boys came back. Jack wanted to make sure I was okay. :) I have to wonder what the nurse was thinking, though. I had just told her I was 16 weeks pregnant (just in case any of their procedures or treatments involved something I shouldn't have) and then she sees me almost hit the floor when my thumb has to sit in a bowl of warm soapy water. "Wow--good luck with labor, sweetheart." I almost wanted to reassure her that I really wasn't that wimpy. That I had endured 30 hours of unmedicated labor to bring my first child into the world, and I was prepared to do it again. (But please, God, let it be shorter). But I didn't.

So after my thumb had a sufficient soaking, the doctor came back in and explained what they were going to do. They had a substance called "gel foam" that they would hold on the laceration to stop the bleeding. It would adhere and eventually help your blood clot and skin form a scab. So the doctor held the gel foam on and it kind of stung. What hurt worse was the fact that I had just held pressure on this thing for almost two hours, and it was just sore. Then she let the nurse dress the wound and sent me on my way with the extra gel foam, accessories, and instructions to repeat this process in 24-48 hours. Oh, lucky me.

I did repeat the process. Twice now, actually. And both times, I've thought, "Wow! That really isn't as bad as I expected it to look!" but Dan still shudders at the sight, so I think I'm just being optimistic. Unfortunately, fooling around with it (taking the old gel foam off, applying the new, etc) makes it start throbbing again. You know, where you can feel your heartbeat in your cut. But apparently, it's helping.

My favorite part of the story happened on the way home from Urgent Care. Dan said, "Yeah, that knife is pretty sharp." I thought about it for a second and said, "You know, I actually haven't sharpened it in a really long time!" Sheepishly, Dan said, "Um, I actually just sharpened it." Surprised, I said, "What were you cutting?"

"Nothing. I just felt like sharpening it." Thanks, dear.

Guacamole, anyone?

Baby is the size of an avocado this week. But what's WAY more exciting is that I am feeling my little avocado once in a while! It's a thrill because I didn't feel Jack until almost 20 weeks. It's a pretty amazing feeling--all of a sudden, this little thing inside you is formed enough to move around. Awesome.
In other news, the heart burn is not awesome.

An apple a day.....

My little apple is measuring about 4 inches, crown to rump (eventually it will be measured crown to feet--I forget when that happens). I think the apple is more referring to the weight 2 1/2 ounces), not necessarily the size.
Other exciting happenings this week: the baby is forming tastebuds, moving all of its joints and limbs, and making me congested. :) It's okay--it just happens to be worth it!

Lovey dovey shrimp

I wasn't planning on sharing a picture of what my baby was the size of last week until I opened a bag of frozen shrimp today. (I kind of think a shrimp is a step down from a lime, but that's another blog). What's funny is that if I've craved anything since getting pregnant, it's shrimp. So I really didn't want to think about my baby as an appetizing crustacean. Anyway, when I dumped the shrimp into the colander to thaw them, these two beauties were stuck together to form a heart and it made me smile. It mostly made me smile because Holly just blogged about a food project her sister did with funny-looking food. So add this to the list, Hol!
Okay, onto what my babe will be as of tomorrow:
Yup, back to the sweet citrus family. But more exciting for me is that 14 weeks marks the beginning of the second trimester. I'm a third of the way through? You're kidding! Crazy. Before you know it, I'll be posted a picture of a watermelon. Lovely.

Happy New Year, blogworld. :)

Meet my baby

Well, at least meet something that is the same size as my baby this week. Yup, a lime. It's kind of hard to imagine that something that was the size of a lentil just a few weeks ago is already the size of a lime. And that when it was the size of a grape, it already had a beating heart and was forming organs and appendages. Amazing.
This pregnancy feels a lot different from my first. For one, I wasn't chasing around a 2 1/2-year-old the first time I was pregnant. And I think partly because of that, the nausea felt a million times worse this time around. But even thinking about this little developing being inside me--I don't remember thinking that much about Jack at this point (sorry, buddy). Maybe it's because we shared the news earlier with Jackson and now at almost 13 weeks along with #2, everyone is just starting to find out. I've had more time to "keep things to myself."
At any rate, I'm really excited. I'm thrilled with the prospect of having a summer baby. I mean, I'm not looking forward to being huge in the middle of Minnesota humidity, but I figure with a due date of July 2, I'm avoiding the really hot stuff. And no bundling up a newborn. Jack was in 0-3 month clothes for 7 weeks. So pretty much, this time around, all I need in 0-3 month clothes is a slew of onesies. And there is a sense of "I've done this before, I can do it again" regarding the pregnancy, labor and delivery, that beautifully frustrating postpartum period. There's no "fear of the unknown" going on. I'll go into labor realizing that it certainly can last over 30 hours (but dear God, let it be quicker this time).
So, here we go again. :)