Living Life

Friends and Babies (Or, Congrats, @Antibob!)

Today one of my best friends welcomed her second son into the world. The Interwebz knows her as @antibob, and I’ve known her for what feels like eons. We met via “early blogging” back on LiveJournal. We’ve been friends ever since, having grown closer with the growth of social media (twitter, Facebook) and smart phones (oh, Ping app, how we love thee).

Today she too becomes the mom of two boys. Today she too is ushered into the Moms of Boys — plural — group, one that not one of my local friends belongs to. It makes me sad that she’s six-ish hours away, especially as how it is both winter (icy, snowy, ick) and the holiday season (schedules = crazy), and I can’t just hop in a car and photograph her beautiful baby boy. I’m pretty darn sure that the boys and I will be taking a road trip this spring or summer to let our boy-ish brood romp around. Not that the new baby will be romping this spring, but still.

What I’m trying to say is, “Welcome to the world, New Baby.” And welcome to the wonderful, crazy, loud, huggy, dirty, snotty, poopy, laughable, crying, fantastic world of parenting two boys, Kristen and Jason. I’m so, so happy for you both. When you guys are feeling up to it, FireDad and I challenge you to some Mario Kart-ing.

(PS: Sorry to get all Oprah on you, but I do love you!)


I Have The Fever!

It’s true. I have The Fever. No, not Swine Flu. That was last week. This week I have The Fever. What it lacks in body temperature it makes up for in hormonal outbursts and ooh-ing and ahh-ing over any baby or pregnant woman. That’s right. The Fever is also known as The Baby Fever. Other ways to explain it include saying that my uterus aches or my ovaries are twitching. Basically, I want an itty-bitty, teen-tiny baby. And I can’t have one. Insert pout here.

Symptoms of The Fever include:

  • Nostalgic perusing of baby pictures.
  • Sorting through old baby clothes to give to a friend and deciding, despite the fact that you’re done having babies, that you’re keeping some of them.
  • Standing in front of the mirror and sticking your belly out to see if you can look pregnant. (Sadly, I can.)
  • Thinking that you could be pregnant the second your period is late despite the fact that its an impossibility.
  • Mentally trying to plan an escape with someone else’s child strapped to your chest. (What? You haven’t thought of that? Uh, me either.)

It’s really all Mandy’s fault. I went to her Shutterfly House Party on Saturday evening. As I was teaching her sister-in-law how to use a mei tai with her new baby girl, I melted. A teeny-tiny newborn was strapped to my chest, round-about the time of year that teeny-tiny newborns were strapped to my chest in the past (all on odd numbered years). Suddenly it hit me: I’m not pregnant. I won’t be having a baby this year. Or ever again. I just wanted to walk out to the vehicle and drive home with a fuzzy little head strapped to my chest. Kidnapping tends to end friendships and so I chose not to follow through with that illogical thought process.

Then I got home and saw this in my camera, care of my friend who snapped a shot while I was demonstrating the carrier.


And I wanted to go right back and bring the baby home with me.

Don’t worry. I’m too much of a chicken to really steal babies. I have this internal moral code that doesn’t let me break laws, cute babies involved or otherwise. (Except for the occasional speed limit. Even then I feel guilty.) And, really, don’t worry about The Fever either. It’s mostly gone today as LittleBrother has what we had last week and is not doing well. I’m debating a call to our doctor at this point even though BigBrother and I survived just fine. Moments like these I’m well aware that parenting these two boys keeps me busy (and stressed) enough.

It’s okay though. Yesterday BigBrother told me that he’s going to have FORTY kids. Forty grandchildren?! Hooray! I’ll be hip deep in babies! It made me laugh because my own mother said that she wanted fifty grandchildren. While she still has some hope left that my brother can deliver her a few, she has lost all hope in me as we can’t have any more children. It’s somewhat doubtful that my brother and sister-in-law will have that many children. What’s the next best thing to having fifty grandchildren? Forty great-grandchildren. So, of course, my mother is thrilled that BigBrother is taking one for the team.

I’m informed by friends who have been through this phase, time and time again it seems, that The Fever is just a part of life. It comes and goes at various points in time, usually returning around birthday times of your existing children. The non-feverish months are sometimes even speckled with outright joy that you don’t have to lug a baby carseat along while trying to hold hands with other children who are all in big, fluffy winter coats and hats and whining that it’s too cold and that it’s all your fault. I’m sure at some point this winter, I’ll think, “Gee, isn’t it nice that I have these two (mostly) capable little boys who (mostly) listen to me?

But for now, I’ll look at the picture and ponder the what if’s and the could have been’s of it all. Or, at least for as long as it takes me to publish this post. Then I need to finish up two loads of laundry, clean up our kitchen mess, get some work done, get LittleBrother into his coat and hat, drive to preschool, pick up BigBrother, get us in the door with our coats on, make lunch, get the kids down for a nap, do some more work while finishing up the laundry from earlier today, play with the boys (hopefully outside as it is supposed to warm up today), make supper (fettucini alfredo, homemade), play some more (okay, so it’s not all difficult), baths, teeth brushing, jammies, bedtime stories, clean the house and then finish up my work for the day. We may or may not add in a doctor’s visit or a trip to the fire station so that FireDad can listen to LittleBrother’s lungs. See? The Fever has already been cured.