Introducing Baby Ford

My cashier at the NEX this morning took one look at my purchases lined up for checkout- newborn diapers, giant super maxi pads, nighttime orajel, and a bottle of wine- and the sleeping baby in the ring sling I was wearing, and said: "man, if I were a bartender I'd buy you a drink!"

Yeah, I've already cracked that bottle of wine, and let there be no question as to whether I'm going to have a second glass.

Getting baby Ford to his doctor's appointment, Finley to daycare, and a beyond-exhausted Seth (who's been pulling all-nighters trying to get his thesis done) out the door this morning was an actual freaking three ring circus. There were tears (by at least three of us), hysterics, mismatched socks, and an unhealthy amount of cursing. I also just steam cleaned my carpet for the third time this week upon being reminded of the cup of coffee I had left upended in the living room after looking at my watch and sprinting for the door with a screeching Ford (the only way I knew for sure I had grabbed him) tucked under my arm.

Two under two is going to be quite an experience...

But first, how we got here. I was a week past my due date, and starting to be kind of over it (although relieved to have made it to the end of ILE!) We were still determined to help Finley get the most out of her last couple days, so we took her bowling and let her eat pizza out of the box.

The doctors were starting to talk induction, though, which I was determined to avoid, and I was going in every other day for fetal monitoring. Finally, Wednesday night, I was pretty sure my water had broken, and I waited for contractions to start. When I was still just mildly uncomfortable by Thursday afternoon, we sent Finley off to the zoo with Mom & Dad (a hormonal mess by then, I cried like a baby and waved in the driveway until their car disappeared from sight), reminded ourselves that Finley was the reason we had decided on kid #2 in the first place, stopped for Nando's on the way (since I knew I wouldn't get to eat for awhile if this was really it), and headed for labor & delivery, hospital bags packed just in case.

It turned out that my water hadn't broken- I had a leak, still only sporadic contractions, and unimpressive dilation- and they almossstttt let us go, until someone decided Ford's fluids were a bit low and brought us admission paperwork. I was still hoping for a quick (and natural) delivery, so we started low dose oxytocin and I spent a couple hours using the ridiculous squat bar and bouncy ball and chewing on my inner lip while I thought mean thoughts about Seth, who had gotten to order dinner and did not have to deal with drug-induced contractions. (Even doubled over in pain, I hate to skip a meal.)

Finally, with Seth still waiting on his reuben, Ford's heartbeat dipped and they cranked up the pitocin. I writhed on the floor, threw up on myself, and demanded an anesthesiologist. Pitocin really is the devil. The epidural went in, although not in time to take full effect, and after another hour or so I was about to recall the poor guy who put it in to tell him he had better get it fixed and fast, when the doctor came in and said "ready to have this baby?" (God, yes.) I can't have pushed for more than ten minutes, with a calm and collected Seth directing things and helping haul him out- and baby Ford was here! (11:13pm, at a whopping 7 lbs., 14 oz. and 20.5" long.) The subsequent hospital stay was uneventful (and Seth brought me veggie burgers and cupcakes), and Finley came to visit and cooperated for this heartwarming photo.

And it's been all mostly smooth sailing since then. There aren't words to express the difference "only" having a 2nd degree tear makes. I am functional! After Finley, I couldn't walk for weeks, cried when I had to go to the bathroom for at least a month, bled profusely, sat exclusively on ice packs, and was too miserable to drive or sleep or enjoy much of anything or really even leave the house. The day I came home from the hospital this time, I cleaned my kitchen, put away laundry, and napped in the hammock with Ford. Life is unbelievably good.

Of course, two other things contribute heavily to my current state of maternity leave bliss. One, my amazing, high-energy, self-sufficient parents are in town (Mom not sounding too disappointed about the Arkansas reprieve), which means that my incredible guilt at being unavailable to the very-demanding Finley has been replaced by her elation at regular trips to the zoo and birdwatching and her very own fan club. They've been unobtrusive enough for me to forget I'm rocking the new-baby gut and indifference to shirtwearing, done our yardwork and laundry, facilitated Seth's eleventh-hour pre-graduation paper-and-presentation push, whisked Finley off, and left dinner in the oven more often than not.

And two, Ford is an absurdly easy baby. Again- I had no idea. Finley hated sleep, hated baby toys, hated to be put down, hated to be picked up, despised her car seat, and only napped while I was actively moving with her. I walked 4am laps around our cul-de-sac like it was my job, wincing in pain the whole way. She never did become good at nursing after arriving with a busted lip, which meant I was consumed by pumping around the clock to make sure I had enough milk for her (to drink out of bottles, which had to be washed when she did sleep.) When she acquiesced to nursing, she cluster fed for 5-7 hours a night for a period of over a month. I felt like a hostage. She had a "baby witching hour" that sometimes lasted all night and prompted my parents- who adored her even then- to refer to her as "the devil child." She was not an easy baby.

Ford, on the other hand, likes to lounge, loves to eat, and almost never fusses. He's a champion snuggler who's already getting his days and nights sorted out, doesn't mind his car seat, and lets me ignore him completely when Finley wants to chase birds in the yard. He does cluster feed, but I swear to God even seems apologetic about that.

This all sounds like I don't like Finley very much, or didn't early on anyway. To the contrary- my handful baby turned into the best, most fun toddler on the planet, and my hands-down favorite person. I love her to the point that I was 99% certain I couldn't possibly love baby #2 as much.

I think Seth was worried about the same thing, and he still calls Finley his "#1 draft pick." But we have determined that baby Ford is really playing his cards right. Apparently sensing that he couldn't possibly compete with Miss Personality, he's decided to kill 'em with chill, and is his own interesting, charming little person. Who really does sleep like this.

At any rate, I have a draft thesis to edit, a delivery person at the door (we have been overwhelmed, again, with the love and generosity of friends and family), and Ford's healthy appetite has materialized for the second time this hour. We have our hands full for sure, but are counting our blessings and looking forward to Grandma Jayne's visit this weekend!

A couple photos of the week. We're trying to beat the "2nd kid photo curse" and take some of baby Ford. I love this one, because I took the same one of Seth & Finley in the early days with her. And this one is just as priceless.

As for Finley, she's surviving the transition as well as can be expected. This weekend we had (topless, natch) cupcakes for breakfast, courtesy of Aunts Michelle and Nicole

and M&D put her to work in the yard.

I also finally got around to pumping this morning when Ford skipped a feeding (may as well start stockpiling!) and I was worried about how she'd take it, but she cheerfully helped me inspect the parts.

Here goes nothin'! Wish us luck.

Babywatch 2016

... is still on. And I think I'm the only person who's less than thrilled about it. Seth is loving the extra time to get schoolwork done, and somebody around here is enjoying every additional second she gets to be an only child.

Seriously, doesn't it look like life is good and she knows it?

Ana & Ata are around somewhere, kidnapping Finley for trips to the zoo and leaving homemade pizzas in the oven and doing our yardwork (with a little help from the peanut gallery.)

And I got up this morning and dug my maternity swimsuit and uniform back out of the bag I was planning to hand off to my next lucky friend to need them, packed my stuff, and dragged myself to school. The extra weekend was kind of nice, but I'm definitely over it. Doctor's appointment tomorrow, so we'll see...

In the meantime, I'll have to enjoy pre-kid #2 time vicariously. Luckily, this little beast (pictured in her new pink tank top, diaper, and next year's snow boots, while wielding the remote) has plenty of joy to go around.

No baby yet! And Finley's Last Weekend.

I turned in my last (huge) exam Friday afternoon with a major sigh of relief. I hadn't realized exactly how much I had been sweating my deadlines, trying to get everything knocked out so there was no "will I graduate?" uncertainty on the way to the delivery room.

Seth had, and he brought home flowers and picked up my favorite (Nepalese) takeout to mark the occasion. Swimming in his own sea of down-to-the-wire school requirements, he hadn't let my frantic race to the finish go unnoticed, and I was grateful. We celebrated with a trip to the park, and I got a whole 1/4 glass of wine down before heartburn kicked in. Oh, the glamour.

It's starting to feel like time.

Finley, feeling no such pressure (or discomfort), unsuspectingly reveled in (what we assume was) her last weekend as an only child.

She got a trip to our new favorite toy store on a rainy Saturday morning, and ate my nutella crepes at brunch,

found an abandoned hot wheels at the park,

got a frozen yogurt date with Mom while Dad was at the library,

and terrorized Whole Foods. (The bakery case is obviously a huge hit.)

Sunday Seth pulled Dad duty while I got a (long overdue and much-appreciated) pedicure, and we enjoyed a finally-beautiful afternoon setting up Finley's new swingset.

Which she loves. Obviously.

And now we feel allmoossstttt ready, now that I've had a little bit of time to knock out the last big grocery shop, prep a couple meals, give the house a quick once-over (for no reason, of course women feel like we need to scrub the damned carpets before we can have a baby), and make these. (Not looking forward to that part.) No baby signs yet, even though the dates Sara and maybe Missy guessed have already come and gone...! I'm betting by this weekend.

A couple photos of the week, in the meantime. A not-at-all deprived Finley playing hoops on her new basket (in mismatched PJs and snowboots, don't even ask), which her Dad may actually enjoy- and play with- more than she does:

One of my favorite Finley expressions, which she uses when she's begging for something (usually successfully):

And this one, from one of our park dates last week. Already bossing the big kids around. Heaven help us.

April showers

We're well into three things at the moment: Babywatch 2016 (my next appointment isn't until next week- two days before my due date!- and Walters family birthdate bets have been placed, so it's all downhill from here), the (early) 18 month sleep regression (it's a thing, and it sucks), and the discovery of the temper tantrum. The latter means that a park date can go pretty rapidly from this:

to this:

and all three mean that the next couple months promise to be a handful. To put it mildly.

Finley and I survived the week on our own, and although waking her up insanely early to get her to daycare in time to make my awful commute was a complete nightmare, Seth had a productive time at West Point learning the ropes of the new job. More importantly to those of us more concerned with moving dates than win records, he found time to go in person to the housing and daycare offices to straighten out all of our paperwork for the lengthy waitlists there. (It had, naturally, been completely screwed up.) As a result we can tentatively report that both kids have a reasonable chance of scoring childcare and we may even get onpost housing. Although the latter is less certain, and the horrific process for both only adds to my aversion to joining the West Point scene.

We put Seth to work upon his return, and he knocked it out of the park Saturday, finally getting rid of the pool table and moving the guest bed downstairs so the new baby can have at least part of a nursery (and we don't feel like complete jerks.) Finley "helped"

and took snack breaks. I think the fact that she has learned to dip her pita in hummus is basically the cutest thing ever. (We take a lot of Mom-daughter snack breaks.)

We dragged Finley to a swanky brunch in the city Sunday and she behaved as expected, underscoring our general rule of "no restaurants at naptimes." Still, it was a treat to see the Alexanders (and meet the adorable, tiny 6 week old Nina!) and pretty funny to watch our little beast stare at the baby suspiciously in between bites of sausage.

The rest of our weekend was uneventful and pleasant, wild weather swings and the resulting cancellation of Bunnyland at Butler's Orchard notwithstanding. We played outside in the yard (Finley cheats at cornhole)

and she was thrilled to have her patient bubble-blowing buddy back (Mom's bubble time limit is significantly shorter than Dad's.)

There may even have been a nap on the couch. And there was definitely Final Four watching.

We're all hoping to make it through this week (I'll be 39 weeks on Thursday!) baby-free and unscathed, although Finley's first day in her big girl classroom (yesterday) included being bitten in under an hour, and Seth and I both spent a rough 24 hours battling some sort of horrific stomach bug. Today we're all none the worse for the wear, and at least two of us are frantically trying to get papers written. Wish us luck, as we really are racing the clock now!

Two photos of the week- Finley hilariously trying to put on her a-pac slippers. She knows there are no shoes in the house, and always takes hers off immediately (then sometimes demands her slippers.)

And this was our first puddle walk, which she demanded yesterday in the middle of a downpour. I was under the weather and Seth was at school, and I really did not feel like unearthing rain clothes. But Finley was adamant so I located this oversized hand-me-down rain coat and next year's snow boots, and we spent a delightful hour splashing in puddles. Her delight at this discovery made my entire week. It's true what they say about seeing the world through a kid's eyes. Tired, nauseous, and "to-do list"ing in my head, I still may have been convinced to do a little splashing myself.