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.