She Says… The Big Boy Room

If you’ve kept up on the news about what went down in Boston last week, you know that Friday was a crazy end to an already crazy week. Though life felt relatively normal for us (we were not part of the lockdown or police searches), behind the “normal” exterior, everything was different. Owen’s school was closed on Friday while we were encouraged to stay in our house during the manhunt for the second bomber, and I struggled to catch headlines and stay up-to-date via my phone so Owen wasn’t hearing/seeing the coverage.

It was stressful. And exhausting. And the second Owen went to bed I was glued to the television. We were so relieved to hear the news of the bomber’s capture late Friday night, and I spent the rest of the weekend almost completely unplugged from all news/social media/email in a sort of backlash against the time I had spent pouring over media during the week.

On a MUCH lighter note, the switch to the big boy bed that I have written/obsessed about far too much happened last Thursday, amidst the craziness. The bed was delivered and assembled while he was at school. It worked out really well because we were able to get everything set up and have a “big reveal” when he got home. I knew it would either be a huge success or a total failure.

The verdict? Huge success.

So far (we’re on night 5 tonight), he has stayed in bed and called for me in the morning. A few early wakeups, mostly due to being excited about the bed and also the fact that my mom was visiting this weekend and he wanted to see her as soon as he woke up. I’m considering that a huge success since I was scared he’d be out of the bed on night 1 and not sleeping at all. So… big boy bed for the win!

The transition also meant that we moved the changing table and the crib into the new baby’s room, and it has gotten me REALLY excited that we’re actually going to have a little person to put into that room very soon. My mom helped me get out all of the boxes of tiny baby clothes and clean out things like swings and baby seats that have been in our attic/basement since we moved. It’s making our NEXT big transition feel a whole lot more real!

Fingers crossed that the big boy bed maintains its allure and Owen continues to believe he really can’t get out on his own. So far, so good.

She Says… A Trip to the Hospital I Can Get Behind

Last weekend, before the horrific Boston Marathon bombings, our family spent some time at Boston Children’s Hospital. But, thankfully, it wasn’t due to illness or asthma or injury. It was to do our part to advance scientific research. Those of you who have been reading since Owen was a baby may remember we did this once before (how cute and chubby is he in those pictures?!).

We were contacted by Children’s a few weeks ago because Owen is in the prime age group for a study they are doing on how spatial memory development is related to brain development during infancy/toddlerhood. I’ve declined to participate in a few studies over the last two years because of scheduling or the hassle of driving to the hospital, but Benjamin has been traveling so much this month that this time I was thankful for the morning activity for us.

Also, as a bonus, Owen is now old enough to understand things like “scientists” and “experiments” and he thought it was SO COOL that he got to be a part of this. And, as a former psychology student and someone who is incredibly interested in human development, I think it’s SO COOL to be a part of it too.

The study involved 2 sessions (one Saturday morning, one Sunday morning) where Owen participated in 2 learning/memory tasks assessing his ability to remember the location of different objects he had seen earlier. Just like when he was a baby, he had to wear an electrode cap, made up of tiny little sensors surrounded by tiny little sponges, that would pick up his brain signals during the task.

I wasn’t sure how he’d feel about wearing the cap this time around (he couldn’t have cared less when he was a baby). He wasn’t really into it when we first put it on…

but once it was on for a minute and he was distracted by toys, he was totally cool.

He had fun with the memory task and quickly became best friends with the researcher. It helped that she rewarded him with gummy candy that I rarely let him have!

The setup at the lab is really interesting. They track his brain waves and where his eyes are looking via cameras in an adjoining room.

Once again, I am so thankful to have these amazing research hospitals so close to home, and happy to be part of the work that they do. Now Owen can’t stop talking about being a scientist and doing experiments too.

Little Dr. Owen in the making, perhaps?

Last time I posted about this I got a lot of emails and comments about how others in the area could participate. Here is the link to sign up to be a part of the participant registry at the Laboratories of Cognitive Neuroscience at Boston Children’s Hospital.

She Says… Boston Marathon Tragedy

Yesterday, these pictures made me so happy.

Today, I can’t look at them without tears.

For anyone who has not heard, two bombs exploded near the finish line of the Boston Marathon yesterday while thousands of runners were still on the course, and thousands more were in the near vicinity cheering them on. So far I think there have been 3 confirmed deaths and over 100 reported injuries, many of them very, very serious.

Thank you to all who reached out to our family to see if we were ok yesterday amidst the chaos. I am so thankful to be able to say that we were safe away from the bombs and Owen was at home taking a nap when the blasts actually occurred. So thankful. Still, knowing that there were so many “If we hadn’t done X, we would have done Y”s that would have put us RIGHT THERE, RIGHT THEN, is harrowing. It’s totally surreal to see the video of the exact place where we watched a dear friend finish the marathon a few short years ago (and less than a block from my office) thick with smoke and covered in debris and bodies. And, of course, not everyone was as lucky as we were.

Marathon Monday is a holiday here in Massachusetts. It’s the unofficial start to spring. It’s the day when you walk down the street and everyone is a friend and neighbor. It’s the day when, no matter who you vote for or to whom you pray, you come out and clap and cheer and ring your cowbell for the amazing people participating in this historic event. If you are anything like me, tears stream down your face when you see those first wheelchairs whizzing past you. You are struck by the strength and power of the human body and spirit. Even if you are not running, no matter where on the route you watch, it feels like you are a part of a tradition so vast that you can’t help but be thankful to be a small part of it.

It is the innocence of carrying a red balloon around and reveling in the beauty of the season, the event, and love and pride for where you live.

Yesterday’s bombing shattered that innocence. At least for me. Owen has no idea what happened (and I will do my best to keep it that way), but it changed things for him, too.

The world that he is growing up in is so different from the one that I grew up in.

Social media has a strange effect on tragedy. On one hand, a friend commented on my Facebook page and told me to get Owen inside because of the bombs long before I ever turned on the tv to hear the awful news. If we HAD been downtown, that comment literally could have saved our lives. Or helped us get out of the city before all transportation was shut down. Or at least helped us answer questions of what just happened. On the other hand, constant information from Facebook and Twitter and news feeds so often means MISinformation. The many inaccurate things reported in the heat of the moments yesterday are both confusing and damaging to those seeking the truth. Horrible images circulated without permission that many of us can not get out of our heads. The way that tragedy unfolds with constant information updates (both true and untrue) is complicated and scary.

My heart is breaking for those who were downtown and were affected by the bombs. And also for those of us who feel violated by the way a tragedy like this, so close to home, changes everything about how we feel when we walk out our door.

Hug your loved ones extra close today and every day.

 

 

She Says… It All Adds Up

Project: Big Boy Bed could have been as simple as mattress on the floor. But no, things are never that simple around here. Somehow my brain turned that simple change into a catalyst for making all kinds of bigger changes.

Here’s what I intended to buy:

• Twin bed (Our crib converts to a toddler bed, but since we are planning to use that crib in July for the new baby, I didn’t think it made much sense to transition multiple times. Straight to the twin!)

Here’s what I kind of forgot we had to buy in addition to the things above:

• Mattress
• Box spring
• Duvet cover
• Duvet/comforter
• Twin sheets (x2)
• Waterproof mattress protector (x2)

And then those things made me think of something else…

• Video monitor (We never got one when Owen was a baby, and I’m glad we didn’t because I would have obsessed over it… but now I want to see what he’s up to when that door is shut and he has no crib to confine him! We’ll likely get 2 cameras so we can watch both kiddos on the same screen.)
• Dresser? (Currently Owen’s clothes are all in his changing table. He is very much potty trained at home, but still wears diapers for sleeping, so we also kind of need a place to change him. Unfortunately he loves to climb his current changing table like a little monkey, and even though it’s securely bolted to the wall, I think it will be better if we take it out of his room once he is let loose. Also, we’ll need it for the baby about a million times more often, so it makes sense to put in the nursery. Which means that… now we need a dresser too? Maybe with a changing pad on top?).

And then somehow my brain made the jump that since we’ll be moving the crib and changing table OUT of Owen’s room and INTO the new nursery, we’re eliminating what we have been using as a guest room. Of course we knew that was going to happen, but the actual date (next Thursday) of the bed coming really catapults these changes into reality.

So, naturally, I started meeting with contractors to possibly put a bathroom in our basement to create a guest suite away from children… before the baby comes. Ummm, yeah. Maybe not the best timing, but it certainly would be useful!

I’m trying to convince myself that most of the new things we’re buying for Owen’s room are balanced out by what we DON’T have to buy for the baby’s nursery. And they will also be used for years and years to come (my good, sturdy twin bed lasted me until college!), so we’re investing in solid pieces, rather than something flimsy as a placeholder for the “real deal” when he gets older. Still, this feels like a much bigger chunk of change (in all senses of the word) than I bargained for.

She Says… Poopy Mouth

Poop.

Why is poop so darn funny?

Given that I will eventually have two (or more?) sons, I guess I’d better get on board. Poop is, apparently, hilarious.

At the ripe old age of 2 3/4, Owen caught on to the fact that talking about poop elicits giggles and smirks, no matter who he’s talking to, adult or child. I do my best to keep a straight face (nearly impossible sometimes), and even attempted a valiant effort of firmly responding, “We don’t talk about poop unless we’re ACTUALLY talking about going poop” every time it came out of his mouth for a while. I know another mom who says you can only say the word poop if you are IN the bathroom.

To no avail. The poop talk is here to stay.

I thought I had more time before this lovely milestone hit, because I know from experience it doesn’t go away until, like… 12 years old? 21 years old? Ummm, never, for some dudes?

As I said, originally I actually thought I could control/contain/discourage this behavior by not laughing and setting boundaries around when we actually CAN talk about poop. WRONG! Everything is poop. Poopy face. Poopy girl. Poop. Poop brown. Poop, poop, poop. Peepee once in a while, though that is far less funny. If he doesn’t know the answer to a question? It’s poop. What do you want for dinner tonight? Poop. Did you have a nice sleep last night? Poop. And then cue the giggles.

Benjamin recently pointed out that my tactic of discouraging this kind of talk was likely making it worse (“Oh, this BOTHERS you, Mom? I will do it some more! POOP POOP POOP!”). So I tried a new tactic. Just let it be. Give the word poop no more power than any other word. Deal with it, but don’t encourage it. I thought maybe Benjamin was right.

Alas, that doesn’t seem to have helped either. Or the damage is already done.

We had a playdate over the weekend and that little boy tempted fate by saying “butt” and looking at his mom like, “Is she going to punish me?”. Clearly these little guys are just testing limits. And I don’t think this is a battle I’m going to fight very hard. There are bigger fish to fry. But someone please tell me this poop talk thing is a stage?

Does your kid talk about poop (or some other inappropriate but totally normal topic that makes non-parents in the grocery store roll their eyes at you)? What do you do about it, if anything?

She Says… Moo, Baa, La la la

(I’m assuming most of you caught the reference to the Sandra Boynton book title…)

I know we live right outside of Boston (in a pretty urban suburb, if there is such a thing), but I have a secret dream of running away to live on a farm. Though I love the convenience of the city and would likely regret my decision at some point, I love the thought of growing my own food and having barns full of animals and going to bed with dirt under my fingernails. Since we’re not leaving town anytime soon, I have to settle for the next best thing. Luckily, the next best thing is pretty awesome.

Owen and I took part in a super fun kids program at a local farm this past weekend. We got to do some “farm chores” with a farmer, learn a little bit about the farm, and then partake in a hearty farm breakfast. Not such a bad introduction to farm livin’, right?

First we opened up the chicken coop and let all of the chickens out for the day. They were corralled into a run/small field, but pretty much get free rein of the farm, as many of them hop over the fence. It was pretty cool to see them flood out of the coop when the farmer opened the door. Owen just stood there all chill, hands in his pockets, like it was no big thang to have chickens running right past his feet. He also observed that “they smell like poop!”. You got that right.

When they had fled the coop (err, some of them had), we ventured inside to feed them and collect eggs.

Owen was really brave and had no problem reaching right in by the chickens to collect the eggs. I have never done that before either and it was strangely exciting.

After egg collecting we took a little tour around the farm and checked out the other animals. There was a Mama Pig (clearly still nursing many of her piglets… just looking at her udders — are they called udders on a pig? — made my boobs hurt!) and a bunch of baby piglets.

The baby piglets also had free rein on the farm. It doesn’t get much cuter than watching your kid running around chasing a bunch of squealing piglets! I VERY much wanted to snag one of those little piggies to take home with me (which would have fulfilled a childhood dream of having a pet pig). Sigh.

The goats and sheep hung out together (and OMG the baby lambs and little goats with their horn nubbins were so precious). Owen was smitten with the “baby goatees”.

They also have rabbits. See that sign? It says “Bunnies For Sale $25″. I’m so glad Owen can’t read. Because I know I was dying to take one home and I’m not sure I could have resisted if he begged me. Benjamin would have KILLED me.

And a cow (who only showed us her butt, and that glorious pile of poop right next to Owen). It’s not a wonder Owen can’t stop talking about poop. It’s everywhere.

Strangely, Owen’s true love was the barn cat, Lucky. All he wanted to do was touch her.

I, on the other hand, would have much preferred a piglet or a goatee.

It was such a fun way to spend the morning and I very much hope to go back again soon. It was a giant leap towards raising a city boy with a country state of mind.

She Says… Time Should Stop

I was going to write a post today about how Owen’s new favorite game is to play hide and seek. And blah blah blah it’s so cute.

But you know what?

Bigger things are happening. Lives are beginning and ending this very second. And while I know that happens every day, while I blog away about mundane things like what Owen ate for breakfast and getting a balloon at music class and how my belly is expanding faster than I thought possible, today feels different.

Late last night, my sweet friend Bridget passed away. She and I attended a small all-girls’ school together for many years. I had my first taste of beer at a party in her basement… long before she was diagnosed with Stage IV breast cancer during her senior year at Boston University. We wore long, white gowns and carried red roses together the day we graduated from high school… long before she began to think about her life in terms of months instead of years. After college graduation we both ended up in Boston and we chatted about turning her blog into a book, how she could use her heart-wrenching fight with cancer to inspire others and how my husband could shoot a documentary of her when she was healthy enough to have a baby with her amazing husband… long before she knew that she would not make it to her 30th birthday.

Bridget was a warrior. She fought cancer from the day she was diagnosed, and she fought hard. It bothers me to hear people say that she “lost” the battle against this disease, because that’s not how I would put it at all. She fought, and she won, for 9 whole years. Long past the timeline her doctors gave her. During that time she inspired thousands upon thousands of people through speaking engagements and tireless efforts to support the Susan G. Komen foundation and walks around the country. And then, when she was tired of fighting, she made the decision to stop. She traveled and savored the rest of her time with her husband and family. She didn’t lose. She won.

So although we all have “stuff” going on today, and every day, I hope you can take a moment to stop time, and think about the big things that are happening. See the forest through the trees.

And I’m not going to tell you how to spend your money, but I know what Bridget would have asked you to do. Support cancer research however you can. Donate. Walk/run/race. Share her story.

 

 

In Bridget’s last blog post that she wrote in December, she asked that we not forget her. I know that I, for one, never could. I hope you can’t either.

She Says… The Hollow Leg

We’re in the middle of one of those crazy voracious toddler eating phases. The last few days, it feels like Owen is eating us out of house and home. What am I going to do when he’s a teenager? Or with TWO teenage boys in the house?! Sigh.

Each breakfast lasted nearly an hour this past weekend, because Owen just kept saying, “I’m still hungry!”. On Sunday he started with his usual:

• Milk (plus an extra half cup upon his request)
• Protein (a hard-boiled egg)
• Carb/starch (a pancake with ground flax)
• Fruit (a clementine)

Still hungry.

• Cheese stick
• Fruit/veggie/almond milk smoothie that Benjamin and I were having
• Dry cereal

Still hungry.

• Handful of pistachios

And then I cut him off. I thought maybe he was just front-loading his food, like I often do (I eat a huge breakfast, smaller lunch, and eventually need a smaller dinner… so I don’t sweat it or starve myself if I’m super hungry in the morning, since it usually evens out). But then at lunch the same thing happened (despite doing my best to fill his belly with black beans, a hummus wrap, pear slices and green and red peppers). And I’m pretty sure he had his usual two snacks a day, also.

By dinner I thought he would have had enough, but no.

• Salmon
• Rice made with coconut milk
• Broccoli
• Milk

Then he was ready for his “treat”, since he gobbled his dinner.

• Easter marshmallow

Still hungry.

• Applesauce
• Dry cereal

Still hungry.

• Almonds

The kid is a vacuum. Thankfully he pretty much says “Ummmm… yes!” to whatever I offer when he grins and says, “I’m still hungry”, so at least he’s eating whatever I put in front of him.

Growth spurt, much?!

She Says… The April Fool’s Joke That Wasn’t

In general, I think most blog/website April Fool’s Day jokes are kind of lame. Once in a long time there’s one that makes me laugh out loud (this YouTube one was pretty funny), but usually they are so ridiculous that no one gets fooled, but instead are left rolling their eyes.

And, clearly, in my case, the classic “I’m pregnant!” farce is not funny… ’cause it’s true.

However, I giggled a little when Benjamin told me about an idea he had. You know how I’ve been shocked at how big I am already with this pregnancy as compared to how I was with Owen (which was still very big for a 1st baby bump)? He thought I could tell you all that we finally found out why: That I’m having twins!

Kinda funny, right?

…Bueller?

Ok, maybe not.

In other news, I have been quietly avoiding the topic of switching Owen into a big boy bed since introducing the idea back in February, but that is about to change. I’m resisting this transition for many reasons, but Owen not being ready for it is not one of them (they’re all MY issues, not his).

• I’m worried about losing the control that I have when he is in his crib
• I’m stressed about upsetting/changing our peaceful and happy routine that has been the same since he was about 4 months old
• And although I love the person he is growing into, I don’t want to admit that he’s not a baby anymore

Still, if we ARE going to make this transition before Baby #2 comes, I’ve heard from many sources that we should do so at least 3 months before the baby arrives so that Owen doesn’t feel pushed out or like the baby “stole” the crib from him. Given that he’s already totally jazzed about the big boy bed and has been asking for it for weeks (months?), I don’t think we’re going to have that problem. In any case, it seems like now is about the right time, a little over 3 months before baby brother arrives.

Benjamin is gently encouraging me to just bite the freaking bullet and move on.

So… the bed is ordered. It’s being delivered on April 18th. I have 2 weeks to get over my reservations so Owen doesn’t sense my doubt (the kid senses everything). On the bright side, that also means I have 2 weeks to pick out the fun stuff like sheets and comforters to turn his nursery into a real, live big boy room.

I’m 99.9% sure this is going to be a total non-issue, despite my incessant blogging about it.

Fingers are crossed.

She Says… The Easter Bunny Came!

Eggs were dyed…

and eaten.

The Easter basket was hidden (in the bathtub!)…

… found,

… and immediately dug through.

Bellies were filled. Well, mine with a big, active baby (and a few Peeps and peanut butter eggs) and Owen’s with more chocolate and sugar than his little body has ever experienced.

I regulated the treats well at home (only put 2 Peeps and 2 marshmallows in the basket, allowed him to choose ONE to have when he opened his basket, and then put the rest away as special treats to be awarded after eating good dinners).

But I restrained myself from controlling him while we let him go wild on an Easter egg hunt at his Grammy and Grampy’s. I’m working on loosening my grip on stuff like this. Though they only put treats in a few of the eggs, Owen promptly stuffed his face with waaaaay more chocolate than he’d ever eaten in a day and didn’t eat a bite of dinner that night.

On the ride home Owen started whining that he was hungry… then that he had to poop… then that he was going to be sick. Clearly his “dinner” of sugar didn’t sit very well.

But in the end we made it home without any bodily fluid accidents and he slept like a rock, despite no dinner, a late bedtime and no bath (which may be the first time we’ve ever skipped bath since he was 4 months old).

Easter WIN.