Birthdays, grandparents, and funny hats with tassels.

Seth's sister Savanna would have been 32 today. Before I had kids of my own, her death from leukemia (long before I met Seth) just made me sad. That his family all missed her, that I wouldn't get to meet her, and that my kids wouldn't get to know their Aunt Savanna or have Nieman cousins to run around with.

Once I had kids of my own, though, the thought of losing one of them became so utterly unbearable that on days like today I don't know what to say to Seth's parents because I literally don't know how they have held it together so well. Finley often looks like the baby pictures of Savanna I've seen, and as I watched her funny little one-armed swagger across the kitchen this morning, I thought of Savanna, and of Jayne and Tony, who just left yesterday and managed- as always- to bring nothing but light and joy. The tears started and wouldn't stop.

Postpartum hormones probably helped, and my funk rubbed off on Ford- who fussed all morning- and was not at all helped by the loud crashing and drilling sounds issuing from the kitchen. We have a bunch of contractors here today and tomorrow ripping out kitchen counters and generally tearing the downstairs apart. When I had had enough of being an upstairs hostage with a crying baby on my hands, I gave another thought to Savanna, who apparently was an adventurous soul, and dragged Ford out for dosas.

Naturally, he slept through lunch and I spilled hot sauce all over him and his blanket (turmeric, why do you have to be so orange...?)

Weekend hangover reigns supreme here, after a lovely long one celebrating Seth's graduation with Tony & Jayne. Of course kids have a way of taking over, so graduation day was primarily characterized by the Herculean effort that was getting everybody out of the house and successfully through morning beltway traffic in time for the 8am (!!) ceremony. Followed closely by Finley/s attempt to climb all the stairs in the Xfinity Center and subsequent nuclear meltdown, ruining all of the family pictures and forcing me to skip the reception and beat a hasty retreat  in the direction of naptime.

But I couldn't be more proud of Seth, who pulled countless late nights and a very impressive recovery-family-work-school juggling act to get his master's in kinesiology. It's a big milestone for him, and for us, and makes us think about the fact that we're getting ready to move on to the next big thing (and are close to putting Walter Reed behind us forever.)

Finley was mostly just impressed by the hat.

We had lots to celebrate this weekend, as it was also Jayne's birthday. It was a beautiful whirlwind of cupcakes and crabcakes and grilling out and couch snuggles and walks to the park and being able to say "why don't you take that to Grandma?"

Grandparents really are the best.

We also made a rainy day trip to the National Aquarium in Baltimore. It was way, way more crowded than I remembered, and Finley and Seth almost got us kicked out for manhandling starfish, but a good time was had by all.

Yesterday, of course, after the grandparents were gone and yet another day of torrential downpours was underway, both kids refused to nap and were generally unrecognizable little terrorists from sunup to (way past) sundown. Seth and I exchanged wry looks of "this cannot be our life" at dinner, slamming our food in silence while Finley wailed like a siren and threw her salad on the floor, and Ford was on his third hour of eating and shrieking about it. It was kind of like a bad movie. What can you do but laugh? 

At least we had memories like these from our weekend:

And the promise of more grandparent time in the near future.

In the meantime, there's this with which to contend. (Finley pushing Ford's stroller downhill toward the big road. She looks to have been- and was- caught in the act. The clear photo of the week.)

Cheers to Monday! Surely I didn't drink all the wine...

Johnny Cash and Shirtless Deep Dish

Ford may be developing his witching hour. Most babies have them (a period of inconsolable crying), and Finley's was more like 6 hours. I was just hoping that we'd avoided that unpleasant inevitability this time, having more than paid our dues...

But last night, Ford lost his mind for the second night in a row, and- since Finley's been waking up at night wanting Mom snuggles- I was beyond exhausted. Seth was home and had his next paper mostly written, and, to my surprise and delight, he took the red faced and miserable Ford off my hands and sang Johnny Cash to him until he fell asleep. It was incredible. I actually cried. With Seth juggling dual school obligations to all hours of the day and night, I've mostly had solo kid duty, and I had forgotten 1) how terrific it is to have a partner in kid-wrangling, 2) who is an exceptional father and a genuine baby whisperer.

Plus, we shared a much-needed belly laugh about our kids' varying music choices. Ford is undeniably partial to the depressing musings of the Man in Black, while Finley goes nuts for T.Swift, the Biebs, and (to Seth's chagrin) Bruno Mars. I'm with her on this one, and admit to encouraging her fervor for "Uptown Funk."

The week was a madhouse of routine development and doctor's appointments and, naturally, metric f- tons of laundry. It's crazy, but even on leave with a daycare assist, days fill up fast. Friday featured Walter Reed at its best, and the three of us spent a grand total of four hours parking, waiting, and attempting to get Finley's 18 week appointment (45 minutes late) and DTAP booster (on our third attempt) knocked out, the delay requiring me to feed her Wendy's for lunch in the car while nursing Ford in the backseat and cursing my lot in life (generally) and Walter Reed (specifically).

DC has had record rains lately, and we were considering the purchase of an ark after two weekends in a row of being housebound (minus puddle walks.) Saturday dawned unexpectedly sunny-ish, and Finley took the opportunity to golf naked

and help mow the lawn.

In bonus news, the latter- against all odds- puts her right to sleep.

The rest of her weekend included devouring Chicago pizza sent to us by friends to whom we will forever we be indebted (it was a huge hit)

and helping out with chores.

She also had a terrific time with Scott and Grace, who came over Saturday for an impromptu BBQ (complete with Josh's latest cocktail creation, thoroughly enjoyed by all the adults.)

Ford, of course, snoozed.

Sunday Seth and I dragged the kids to Target and felt very "suburba-tastic" driving to the one with parking. Finley loves shopping and had a blast. We felt bad having that be the day's big activity, so we went to Seneca Creek State Park afterwards, where Finley eschewed the playground for the pleasure of eating sticks. We couldn't be more proud of our nature girl.

It's great to have my partner in crime back on weekends (he graduates this coming week! and is settling into the much more relaxing ILE schedule), and these guys are ecstatic:

The other photo of the week is Finley, reaping the benefits of my Sunday night craving: Buffalo Wild Wings. Our healthy eater is still her father's daughter. This is her, literally drinking ranch dressing. We didn't know whether to be mortified or to laugh. Of course the latter won out. (I swear to God she usually eats vegetables.) (We believe in occasional indulgences.) (Finley prefers them with ranch.)

Mother's Day Weekend

It's true. Your second really is (mostly) easier. And wayyyy less stressful. I don't think I took Finley anywhere by myself (other than to my parents' so I could grocery shop, and the car ride nearly finished me off) for months.

But last week I had a craving for Indian food, and Finley needed new shoes. So I took Ford to the baby consignment store and then to Kadhai for some truly delectable korma. And fine, a glass of sauvignon blanc.

And here's how I know #2 being different is not just a figment of the notoriously trauma-blocking imagination: the first time I spilled spicy food on Finley's delicate skin, I frantically dabbed it up with special organic aloe-soaked wipes and googled "does spicy food irritate baby skin?"

On the other hand, I dropped a heaping spoonful of super spicy piro aloo directly onto Ford's head, and- no shit- cleaned it up with with my tank top. Dipped in the aforementioned sauvignon blanc.

There are more than a few similarities, though. First and most awfully, they are both cluster feeders. So my evenings are again reduced to a couch-bound hostage situation, binge watching bad TV and counting the days until my self-imposed no-bottle sanction is lifted.

But also, there are the magician hands. Finley wiggled out of her swaddle and slept like this too. It cracks us up.

With two weeks down, we're still grasping for a routine but it feels like we're getting closer to some semblance of normalcy. That said, our babywearing junkie insists on being carried whenever Ford is, so my "get back in shape" plan involves less gym time and more packmule outings than I had planned on. (Thank you, Tula, from the bottom of my heart.)

Seth is thisclose to being done with school, and takes over Finley-hauling duties when possible on weekends. Finley kicks him and yells "up! up!" when they climb stairs. It's one of the funniest things I've ever witnessed.

On Tuesday, we carved out time to celebrate cinco de mayo and Finley's 18 month mark! Crazy how time flies. (She really loves tacos.)

Annddddd although mornings invariably involve the heartwrenching scene of Finley sobbing when she realizes Mom can't do whatever it is she wants because she's feeding the baby (it may be postnatal hormones, but I generally cry too), moments like this give me hope. Rare, but golden.

This weekend was Mother's Day, and although these two scored in the "sleeping in" lottery,

Finley and I did have cupcakes for breakfast.

And had a blast inspecting my present, the Dyson dustbuster I've been coveting. It may not sound romantic, but it. is. amazing.

Seth got takeout brunch and made mimosas (so much better than wrangling kids in a crowded restaurant) and sent me for a massage too, which was a little tricky to schedule between feedings but incredible. And we went for a family hike- my very favorite thing- although we failed at multiple selfie attempts.

And Finley eventually demanded Mom time too. (This link should work now.)

It was a perfect celebration of our family, and I am grateful to my busy grad student and my beautiful kid (s!!!) (as well as the magical power of mimosas) for making it a lovely day.

Photos of the week include our big girl on her tricycle

and playing with her water table from Aunt Leslye while wearing hand-me-down sunglasses from Grace,

Dad-and-Ford time after a long day,

and my Mom with Finley, on their way to the zoo on their last visit.

And Seth's Mom napping with a brand new baby Ford.

My heart is full, dark circles under my eyes notwithstanding. We are lucky indeed. 

Love and Happy Mother's Day.

Here goes nothin'...!

Baby Ford has almost survived our nutty family to the two week mark, and for the first time Monday we were without grand/legacy parents to help wrangle the beasts.

I was reminded of the infamous moment before the 2009 Army Ten Miler, when the cheery voice of my dear friend Rachel cut through the incredibly tense pre-starting gun silence: "here goes nothin', guys!"

Indeed.

We did survive. Seth continues to spend most of his time wrapping up grad school and getting ready to start ILE (as annoyed as I am about the lack of family time or any kind of paternity leave, I have to admit that the overlap is shitty and stressful for him), so Monday was my trial by fire. Countless meltdowns, spills, outfit changes, and threats to sell both kids to the gypsies as well as three baths and a near-concussion sustained by Ford at the hands of Finley and the remote control later, I felt like this when Seth walked through the door:

(That's Seth and Finley at the park Sunday, but a perfect demonstration of what it felt like to cross the bedtime finish line on a day at home with two under two.)

I seriously do not know how stay at home Moms do it. Tuesday morning I was only too happy to forego an extra hour of much-needed sleep to get Finley dressed and ready for daycare dropoff. I miss her madly during the day and plan to take her there for shortened hours so I still get lots of time to hang out with her, but wow. It really is like wrestling boa constrictors or herding cats. (Not to mention, she really does like her own little routine, and is apparently big enough to have friends that she misses!)

These were taken during the few calm moments Monday in our gorgeous backyard (the azaleas are blooming and my Mom groomed the grass into shape that would make Augusta National jealous while she was here, so it's a pretty stupendous place to hang out right now),

before baby MMA commenced.

Finley tolerates Ford OK by turns, but has made her displeasure at losing only-child status clear. (Luckily, and remote incident notwithstanding, she seems to blame us and not him.)

I try to make time for special Mom activities when the best baby in the world is sleeping or Seth is home to snuggle him (he really loves snuggles), and Finley has become a terrific "helper." She loves making Dad's juice (she samples everything, even the lemons),

using her new broom from Ana & Ata,

and making eating the dinner salad.

She love love loved getting to spend time with A&A and Grandma Jayne (who brought her presents and was endlessly patient with her demands to take lap after rainy lap around the yard), and we're already looking forward to the next grandparent visit (come ON, May!)

I am beyond grateful for all the grandparents, who helped immeasurably in easing the impact of this transition on our precious first baby.

Baby Ford continues to be chill and wonderful. He eats great, sleeps a ton (2-3 hours at night?!), and likes nothing better than a good snuggle (but is happy to chill in the bouncer while I make dinner.)

And as spread-thin as this period of my life makes me feel, I have learned to carry two babies at a time like a pro, and treasure the moments. It's crazy that this is our last baby, and my time at home to soak it all in already seems to be flying. It's still not exactly relaxing (see here for my thoughts on the "me-ternity leave" nonsense), but is definitely a special- if crazy- time.

Seth signed in to ILE today, which means we should be able to manage a schedule and some much-needed family downtime in the next couple months. Our last summer in DC!

We're looking forward to the adventures that await our little family of four.

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.