Cecily Update

Here are the deets on little Cecily.  Boring for others I'm sure, but something I'd like to have recorded.

09/03/13  7.81 lbs    62%tile
10/10/13  11.06 lbs  76%tile
10/30/13  13.4 lbs    92%tile
12/19/13  15.12 lbs  78%tile

09/03/13  20 in         68%tile (they must have measured wrong because she was 21.5 inches at birth)
10/10/13  22.25 in    82%tile
12/19/14 25.75 in     97%tile

1. Little Sis, Little C (according to Grandpa Allen), Cessy, and Little Miss-Miss loves her Mama!
2. Little Miss-Miss loves her Mama so much she won't go to anyone else, can't be put down and is attached to my hip, and even cries at the sight of new people (even familiar recently). 
3. Still loves piano music, especially Mozart.
4. Is a bit of a drama queen. 
5. Thinks her brother is pretty funny, especially when he jumps.
6. Makes plenty of smiles and gurgles and has recently taken up talking in her sleep.

Happy 2nd Birthday Oliver

Oliver had his 2nd birthday December 7th, 2013.  He had a few friends over to celebrate and watch Monsters University.  They made monster hats, MU ID cards, and played in the little ball pit he got for his birthday.  Here are few things about Oliver at age 2:

1. Likes the color blue.
2. Enjoys playing with bubbles.
3. Still obsessed with Itsy Bitsy Spider.
4. Also obsessed with Winnie the Pooh movie and Sword in the Stone.
5. Still loves This is The Way By Charles Fuge, and loves his Curious George book.
6. Loves to dance and jump up in the air.
7. Likes to dance to the Moreska.
8. Weighs 31 lbs. (90% %tile) and is 35.75 inches tall (83.65 %tile).
9. Loves to give kisses and wave hi to strangers.
10. Can be bribed to say new words with chips and mini M&Ms.
11. Will say the sounds for letters and recognizes the letters of the alphabet.
12. Loves to play ball.
13. Loves Cecily and is very protective of her. 

Oliver really is a sweet little boy and seems to care deeply about others.  He rarely exhibits poor behavior.  When misunderstood he will continually repeat until understood, shout "no", or move onto something else.  Hitting has been an issue as of late, however we've figured out that he has learned this from other kids that like to invite play by slapping or pushing him.  He's beginning to understand the difference between rough housing and slapping when it is unwanted.  If we say "ouch" or "no" he'll stop himself or give a kiss to say sorry.  He has also recently been asking to have Cecily share his crib with him at night.  Each night I have to tell him she's too little to sleep with him.  I really can't wait to see how their relationship and brother and sister develop.  Happy Birthday to this sweet little guy!

The Kiddos

Cecily Grace Gough 

2.5 Months

• This little girl is such a blessing to our family.
• What a chatterbox!  These aren't just gurgles, I almost half expect her to speak in fully formed words.  She is especially chatty in the morning and right before falling asleep.
• Such a smiley baby.  Always happy to see her Mommy - what a confidence booster.
• Was born at 8.3 lbs. and fell down to 7.6 lbs. before leaving the hospital.  A month later she jumped up to an awesome 12 lbs.!
• For the past two evenings she has been sleeping for 8 hours! Whoa, right?  I can't expect perfection from her all the time, can I?
• She's a mover for sure.  No wonder I felt those kicks so early on.
• She loves the sound of the piano.  We realized this as she was crying in the RS room and I began to play and she stopped immediately to listen.

Oliver Joseph Gough

23 Months

 

• He is one happy little man and I love him for his naturally kind and sweet heart. 
• Any boo-boo requires a kiss until it no longer hurts.
• This awesome dude loves his itsy bitsy spider and twinkle twinkle little star. 
• He's into this youtube song by Super Simple Learning.  The format goes as such: "Do you like broccoli? Yes I do, Yes I do. Do you like ice cream? Yes I do, Yes I do.  Do you like broccoli ice cream?  No I don't. Yucky!" It's hilarious to see him crack up.
• This kid loves Trotro in French.  I'm not quite sure of how much he actually understands.
• He's using all sorts of words now and of course only repeating words only when he feels like it.
• He enjoys hopping, jumping, and has even done a skip once while playing with Dad.  Mom was impressed to say the least.
• He loves his sister and says "hello" to her multiple times a day, brings her toys, gives her suffocating kisses, and is her protector and body guard.  When friends and strangers alike have come over to her car seat he'll stand his ground in front of her and clearly announce a "No!".

NYCB Tribute to 9/11

I thought this was a beautiful tribute and had to share . . . even if  a month late.

(Found on the blog ablogaboutlove)

Welcoming Fall

Oliver takes after his Mom and loves to spend time outside.  It takes much convincing to get this kid back in the house.

Cecily at one month old and already 11 lbs. (just ignore my penguin pjs).  I'm loving my time at home with her and Oliver and am constantly reminded of how lucky I am that I don't have to return to work.

It's been all Halloween crafts up in Gough household for the past couple weeks.  When crafting starts to feel tedious Oliver makes my efforts worth the time with his expressions of excitement - a cute little "Ooooo!" accompanied with a finger point towards the object designated worthy of such an exclamation.

Yo Gaba Gaba has been reintroduced into our household after a six month hiatus.  Who needs tranquilizers when oddly shaped and brightly colored giants are willing to dance and sing for twenty minutes at a time?  They're totally psychedelic man. 

Suiting Up the Little Man

Isn't he just the most handsome little man ever?  About two months ago my parents came out to visit and brought a trunk load of gifts and hand-me-downs.   And along with the items came a wonderful wardrobe of dress clothes and jackets for Oliver from my sweet cousin Kim.  The majority of his clothing is now almost all second-hand or gifts from family.  Since moving out to Illinois for John to become a full-time student I've honed my frugality skills and am now proud to admit that I am now a garage sale junkie.  Oliver is wearing a shirt bought at a garage sale for $2, a tie bought on sale for $2, the vest and slacks were hand-me-downs, and the shoes (brand new) were bought at a garage sale for $2.  Although the outfit doesn't necessarily match - I think he still looks pretty good at $6!

I'm really just so grateful for how sweet of a kid Oliver is and how willing he is to roll with the punches.  Early in my pregnancy we had a nicely filled schedule with outings and play dates.  However, with the end of my pregnancy much of our daily activities have been confined to our apartment and movies are unfortunately now a part of our daily repertoire.  But he takes everything in stride.

Today he refused to take a nap.  A tragedy for any SAHM really.  I took him to his room at the usual 10:30am.  He laid down calmly, rubbed his eyes and drank his milk while I tucked him in and laid his kangaroo nearby.  A few minutes later there was some babbling.  And then half an hour later there was still more babbling (many ya-ya-yas) and so out we came.  And by 5:30pm he was feeling the lack of sleep.  When I refused to read a book as immediately as he requested he became upset and threw the book - however, within three seconds he and I were able to turn that tantrum into a giggle fest.  He rolled on the floor and we would call giggles back and forth as if it were our own secret language.  With a half an hour left before Dad was out of class I had little left I could think of to do to interact with Oliver and with a recently inflamed hip and ankle any activity would have to be confined to me sitting on the couch.  And I refused to allow myself to turn on any kind of t.v. or to resort to any kind of media app (even a learning one).  So Oliver obliged and ran and picked out a few books to read at my request (for the third time today) and then, even though he was dog tired - he played fetch.  I threw the ball, he ran and caught it.  It just amazed me that he had such a great attitude when he was already upset and tired.  I couldn't be any luckier and love Oliver so much and at times wish I knew how to move past my own limitations and love him even more.  It sounds corny and all - but he definitely deserves it.

Sweet Corn Festival

Messy corn face.

Awesome tiger painted by our neighbor Joy at her face-painting booth.

For the last weekend of John's break (all two wonderful weeks) we made an excursion to the sweet corn festival in Urbana on Saturday.  And we were pleasantly surprised!  The festival was a mere ten minutes away, parking was free and across the street.  Entrance was also free, each booth was easily accessible, the temperature had dropped to something much more mild and bearable, and there was plenty of seating available to take time to munch on our reasonably priced goodies.  

It was a nice evening out as a family and I have to say that I was truly ecstatic about Oliver getting painted.  He would look down at it intermittently and make his raspy Tiger call.  "Roar" he would say, and John and I roared back in response.  Praising him with our smiles for attributing the right call to the animal on his knee.  

I recalled to John that as a kid, face-painting was always the best part to any outdoor festival.  I remembered getting a butterfly painted as a kid and refusing to wash it from my face upon returning home that evening.  Not until the morning did I concede to my Mom that it was fading and no longer in the shape of a butterfly, but blotches of paint in pink and purple that I reluctantly washed from my face.

Although festivals have their downsides, like the drunken lady badgering me for eating a pulled pork sandwich instead of the fried fish from the stand she was sitting next to and the crowds the Sweet Corn Festival was a success!

The thought that I ought to blog more often occurred to me when making a comment on another blog.   I then proceeded to read the few posts I made on Manhattan Mornings while living in SI and I wished that I had documented more of my experiences while living there.  The little details that I did record made my memories of NYC and SI much more vivid than what I could recall off hand.  I'd still like to record current family events, but I tend to enjoy recollecting memories and am hoping, in an effort to encourage myself to blog more, to record a memory weekly.  Although, I guess anything in the past is considered a memory, but if I approach it as recollecting rather than recording current activities it seems to make it more of an enjoyable hobby rather than a burdensome task.  And so there we are.  Of course as I write this Oliver is running circles around me asking repeatedly "This?  This?  This?".

Cecily Grace Gough

The following are the good and bad of Cecily's pregnancy:


The Good:

I've gained less weight than my pregnancy with Oliver.
I do not have gestational diabetes.
First trimester  nausea was far more minimal than it was with Oliver.
Der Guervain's hasn't been a problem at all.
Prenatal vitamins haven't made me ill.
I feel Cecily move quite a bit.
Smelling essential oils like lavender is very calming.
The summer has been temperate and the heat has been manageable.
I haven't felt faint like with Oliver. Every subway ride was a challenge.


The Bad:

Carpal tunnel in my right is bad enough that it's been numb for the past three months.
Stretch marks have made an appearance for the first time.
I'm slightly anemic, so I will see stars, crave ice, and am addicted to soap, detergent, and lavender.
Ulcers in my first trimester were extremely painful.  That combined with nausea, made each meal a challenge to eat.
Restless leg syndrome in my second trimester made resting, riding in a car, and sleeping difficult.
Exhaustion was pretty intense during the first trimester.
Braxton Hicks contractions in my third trimester are prevalent (mostly due to the fact that I dehydrate very quickly and need to be drinking water consistently).


The Same:

Swollen like a balloon.
Symphisis Pubic Dysfunction (SPD) makes walking painful - especially after resting.
Breathing is difficult, and randomly feel short of breath even when resting.
John has been wonderful, patient, and supportive throughout - helping and giving where needed.

Oliver at 18 months

Oliver has hit the 18 month mark and I can't help but think of how wonderful and rewarding it is to be at home with him.  There was an adjustment period when we first moved to Champaign having worked full time, having been away from home 13 hours a day.  I quickly found that I tend to flounder if I don't have a schedule.  But I found a schedule for Oliver and me with enriching activities to keep me on track.

A few things about Oliver at a year and a half:

Still loves to be read to, sung to, and blow bubbles (however the recent acquisition of a bubble machine has been somewhat traumatizing).
Continues to love pineapple, oranges, and peaches.
Will ask us to sing by doing the actions to Itsy-Bitsy Spider or Twinkle Twinkle Little Star
 . . . or will move his head side-to-side to ask us to repeat a song.
Loves to laugh.
Observes before he participates.
Enjoys playing with his yellow Little People school bus, puzzles, and rocking horse.
Knows who Mama is but continues to say Dada to me . . . I wonder what he's trying to tell me.
Enjoys his ABC and recognizes quite a few letters.
Will run and keep running without looking back.
Gives Sparky plenty of hugs.
Unfortunately enjoys screaming as loud as he can for fun when at the grocery store.

I wouldn't trade my time at home with Oliver for any career opportunity.  I can't quite put into words exactly what it is that makes being with and raising Oliver so enriching.  I suspect there is an eternal aspect inherent in raising and caring for a child.  Oliver doesn't have to do anything either, but be himself to make it what it is - awesome.  Yes, day to day tasks are mundane and I sometimes find myself wondering what to do with my extra time after he's asleep.  Then I hear people complain about losing their self when they devote their time to raising children.  And maybe my opinion will change with time, but losing yourself in service (especially to your own family) with the help of a spouse and the aid of a heavenly source seems like a life full of purpose and substantial meaning.  More so than any other profession could offer.  

NYC

Read this on another blog and couldn't help but think of NYC.

It's strange how deserts turn us into believers. I believe in walking in a landscape of mirages because you learn humility. I believe in living in a land of little water because life is drawn together. And I believe in the gathering of bones as a testament to spirits that have moved on.

If the desert is holy, it is because it is a forgotten place that allows us to remember the sacred. Perhaps that is why every pilgrimage to the desert is a pilgrimage to the self. There is no place to hide and so we are found.

Wilderness courts our souls. 

Terry Tempest Williams, Red 

Oliver at 15 months and 3 weeks

Loving this little guy Oliver. He's nearing sixteen months and is loving the freedom of walking, playing ball with his Dad, would be read to for hours if we had the patience - he'll even bring a book to us and cry until we read (we keep the books out of reach), can recognize and identify colors, is developing shyness, continues to throw his food  when done eating, and is now taking toys from other children and bringing them to his Mom.

Thoughts on Personal Spirituality

Spiritual goals are something of a personal nature and I hinge on whether such topics are suitable for public posting on a blog.  However, where one draws the line between bearing testimony and crossing into the field of the sacred, I hope, is a line easily understood when encountered.  Which is why I hope to express some thoughts on spirituality and my current areas of exploration on this blog - to record for myself and maybe one day my children who will hopefully have access to this recorded information.

At times when I sit in Relief Society I hear of all the spiritual benefits of following Gospel principles.  Which really are more valuable than anything material.  And yet, regardless of how shallow, I want to say hey, there are lots of tangible blessings too.  Of course these things are given after faith and are seen with a spiritual perspective and not a cynical one.  But God can give us all that we actually need, temporally and spiritually.  Of course this brings to mind the scripture of the birds that they care not what they wear, when they will eat, and when they will next find cover and yet they have what they need to live.  And I have to note that I refrained from using the word "survive" as one can live with only the necessities and still live a happy and fulfilling life.  Of course I preach but have little experience with true poverty.  And yet it is something that I truly believe, and when my circumstances have changed temporally I try my best to believe in and live this principle.  But I digress, as I hope to eventually record the spiritual as well as the temporal blessings received in my life - as I see them.  Other goals are present in my mind, such as understanding the twelve apostles of the new testament as individuals and to learn the differences between the Gospels.  I'd also like a deeper understanding of the old and new testament.  Which I hope in turn will help me to understand the God of the Old and of the New testament.

And finally I've heard of the book called "The God Who Weeps" by Terryl and Fiona Givens through another popular blog.  At first I thought that this type of book wouldn't appeal to me, not to say that I don't believe in a God that has empathy and mercy for His children - because I definitely do.  I just didn't think I needed to read a book about it.  However, I have this urge to read it.  I'm hoping to find it at the library, but if not I may have to make the investment and try it out.  Here's to hoping that the two reviews I read were reliable!

The Foot of a Russian Ballerina

Monday, MLK day this year we celebrated my 28th birthday.  And true to form John and I played the guess-what-my-gift-is game.  It started as I sat at the dinning table snacking and watching Oliver play with his Safari figurine next to the sewing machine I inherited from my Grandmother Allen.  And an idea hit me so I threw it out there.  "Sewing machine" I shouted to John, "you got me a sewing machine"!  John looked over and non-nonchalantly replied, "Nope".  Each following guess received less and less notice.

Until later that evening.  I begged for some clue, some inkling to tip me in the direction of what my gift was.  After about half an hour of guesses John replies with the following, "each answer may or may not have been the truth".  Sigh . . . so I erased my mind of the stockpile of clues I had saved up.  By this point we're lying in bed, the sun had set, and all I can see is the outline of his figure next to me. 

"You said you thought it was cool", says John.  Eventually I gather that I had seen a similar item online, that it was purchased in New York, that we had never physically been to the store, that the item was purchased from a store in a reality TV show, and that the item was admired by all the other women in the postal office because John "had to take it out of the box to ensure that it wasn't broken" as it was somewhat of "an antique".  Also, it wasn't clothing or furniture.  And it was related to something I had an interest in and was fragile.

After this point much had become somewhat unclear as I believe the shock of what the gift was revealed as must have clouded my memory.  "A skeleton?" I asked in disbelief knowing it was ridiculous - but the path of answers led me to this only one conclusion, as far as my mind could gather.  And then he came out with it.  It was the foot of a dead ballerina reconstructed in her pointe shoe encased in a glass box.  Purchased from an oddity shop called Obscura and totally up John's alley.  "You have to be joking John" and "you're pulling my leg" were the two phrases I repeated over and over again in disbelief.  He dodged each of my jabbing inquiries with ease.  "Who's foot?" and "are you serious"?  I comfort myself with the thought that had the room been lit and his countenance visible I would have been able to tell he was fibbing up a storm. 

And so it was, John used his tricky ways of half truths and a vague memory of a conversation two months ago to lead me to believe that he had bought me the foot of a dead ballerina for my birthday. 

Much to my surprise and absolute relief I saw a sewing machine when I opened that box.  So relieved.  No dead lady's foot for my bookshelf!