MollyMadonna.com

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birth certificates. (57)

I unearthed my original hospital birth certificate tonight while going through desk drawers in our guest room. I’m not sure why it ended up there to begin with, but I suppose it was with like items and it probably made sense to me at the time.

I have two reflections regarding this discovery:

1) I had really, really tiny feet. And I bet they were cute. All baby feet are cute. If you don’t think so, well, bah humbug. You must be fraternizing with the person who once told me that all babies are born ugly. C’mon now. They’re all beautiful to someone. And most are cute only shortly after they unwrinkle a little bit and have a chance to stretch out for a few hours. Clearly this person hadn’t had a child of his own. I hope he never tells a date the same thing. He may remain childless that way. 😉 Kidding. Mostly.

2, and more importantly) Our new baby will have a birth certificate of his or her very own in approximately eight weeks. And if it’s a boy, said birth certificate might stay blank for awhile. Maybe it’s because we already used the one name we were very set on for Henry, I’m not sure. But we can’t seem to land on a name. This perplexes me and also kind of makes me a little nutty. I’m just being honest. I know we’ll come up with something we love, but I’d feel better if we knew what that name was now. If we have a little girl, she’s good to go. Why is this baby naming thing so tricky sometimes?

Time will tell on both fronts…Boy or girl? Name or no name? If you don’t have a name for your baby, do they let you leave the hospital anyway? I don’t think we’d let it get that far, but I am curious. How long can you go without a name?

don’t worry little button. we’ll land on something amazing for you. we might have to meet you first, but it’ll be the best name we could ever pick for our littlest munchkin. i promise.

contemplating the teeniest of feet (and feeling them, too),

mm

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stuff my two year old says :) (59)

So we have a fairly mobile baby. And by mobile, I guess I mean acrobatic. And super-charged with gusto. Most of the time I love it, and sometimes it really hurts. But who can complain about signs of life in a belly? Not this girl.

Tonight I’m sitting on the couch across the room from Henry when little brother or sister decides to begin his/her nightly gymnastics routine. I always love letting Henry feel the baby as it tumbles…somehow I figure it probably helps him to process what’s happening. At any rate, his reaction to baby’s activity tonight was priceless. Upon seeing the little one move and hearing me say something about assuming it was the baby’s bottom, Henry exclaimed, “That little baby has a big butt!”

I can’t help but crack a smile.

H is in for a surprise when everything about this baby comes out tiny. I mean, as tiny as Henry’s predecessor in birth could be…hopefully no larger than our 9 Lb. munchkin. I think it’s endearing that Henry seems to understand completely that a whole little person is tucked inside my belly these days. I know I’m growing like a weed, but still…I have to think it through myself sometimes. A whole human being is hanging out in there! Kids are the best for taking things at face value and not questioning their practicality.

Baby Button, you are in for a treat having HD as your big brother. He’s going to love you like crazy, and protect you just as much, no doubt. Don’t be offended about the butt comment, ok? He thinks you’re the greatest, and he’ll certainly get his facts straight once you’ve joined our little family out in the world.

love you. love your silly brother.

mama

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small victories. (60)

Tonight I’m celebrating the fact that…after leaving the house at 9am, talking on the radio, working a very full day and an event tonight, carting around boxes and bags galore, running errands in the summer heat, and standing for four hours…my toes, feet and ankles looked exactly normal upon inspection at 9pm. Today marks t-minus two months until baby’s due date, and the thermometer was pushing 80ish through parts of the day, so this is an encouraging “win” for me.

Not all pregnant summer days might be like this, but I’ll take what I can get. It’s the small victories, really.

Also, kudos to the man of the house, who ran the 5k event I was working tonight and did so with gusto. I’m not sure I’d ever come close to his time, and if I did, I’d have to be scraped off the floor afterwards. Here’s to hoping we can run it all together as a fam next year! With two of us and two of them, no one will be outnumbered and we can each push a stroller. Seems like a plan to me.

Then, I’ll celebrate the small victory of getting back in the game and finding my running legs again. For now, I’m just thankful to find my legs–and to recognize them as themselves, at seven+ months pregnant in the heat. 😉

It was a great race, as always. So glad we were all a part of it in our own capacities this year. H did look pretty fancy sporting dad’s finisher’s medal post-run.

running the race to august these days,

mm

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henry and the super moon. (62)

“I’m sad about the super moon,” Henry lamented from the backseat tonight. “I have tears in my eyes. I can cry if I wa-aant.”

On this, the second longest day of the year and the night of the “most super super moon,” we threw parental caution to the wind, put Henry in his PJs, and headed out to the beach for the 9:30p sunset. On Sunday nights it’s hard to let the weekend go, isn’t it? We agree–especially in the summertime, and it’s always fun to find a way to stretch out our weekend time as long as possible. It was a great night for this kind of adventure. The sun was beautifully coral and round, peeking in and out of clouds as it set on the shoreline, lining blue clouds with streamers of pink across the sky. The beach was full–families and couples and throngs of kids making the most of a perfectly breezy summer evening. We watched Henry as he ran wildly through the sand, picking up “very cool” rocks as he went.

Before leaving, and after the sun had set, we swung on the swings and then caught wind of a freighter coming through the channel. This is any two year old boy’s dream come true…bedtime delayed, sand in his toes, mom and dad letting the evening stretch even further to watch a gigantic boat passing by. For ten minutes or so the freighter made its way slowly past us and out into the lake, Henry providing commentary the whole time. On the way home, he just kept saying over and over, “That was the biggest boat I’ve ever seen!” Worth every extra minute he wasn’t in bed tonight, for sure.

But perhaps the most entertaining part of the night was when we noticed the super moon outside the car window, noted it briefly, then turned another direction where it was suddenly out of sight. For a kid who’s never heard of a super moon before tonight, you’d think the world was grinding to a halt from the back seat. “I missed the super moon!” he whimpered. “I missed it. I’m sad about that super moon.” This went on for the next ten or so minutes, while we (very quietly) cracked up in the front seat, and Jason drove in circles around our neighborhood trying to get to spots where the super moon was once again visible to our sad little passenger. I managed to get a good deal of these shenanigans on video, but of course they’re pretty much just audio in the dark. If you could only have seen his face–that big, pouty lip and the scrunch that says, “I’m trying so hard not to cry right now but I think I just might melt.” These moments with our boy are simply priceless.

The story ends well for Henry, who, after saying prayers and goodnights was able to catch one last glimpse of the all-important super moon through the trees outside his window. Apparently this particular moon really is something special–at least when you’re two. I for one am just thankful for summer time and for all that this season means. This year it’s particularly special in ways, but there’s something about mid-June any year that puts me in a good mood. Could be the lack of snow and the very distant memory of it, could be random trips out to the beach and days at the pool and suntans and…well, just everything about summer. And I suppose it could be that super moon, although I think that might be a bit of a stretch. The best part about the moon to me is simply the hilarity it caused tonight on the way home (although it certainly was pretty, too). Whoever knew we’d have such a memory to attach to the super moon of 2013?

going to bed by the light of the silvery (er, i mean, super-y) moon tonight,

mm

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choosing words. (67)

Almost a third of the way through this 100 day challenge, tonight I’m hard pressed to find more than a few words to share. Do you ever just have one of those days where a conversation doesn’t go the way you’d hoped or planned it would in your head? That was me today, and I walked away feeling defeated, and somehow buying into a few of the fear-based ideas that were tossed my way. I presumed the discussion would be uplifting, which perhaps was my own mistake. But either way, I’ve spent the rest of the day battling a fifteen minute exchange that left me upended and undone.

It wasn’t the end of the world, really. Just two people expressing contrasting ideas and a less than favorable outcome. The weight and delivery of words can be so important, because what you’re saying and what you mean might come across as two different things (as was probably the case this afternoon). Unless you know your audience well (and they, in turn, know you), I’m not sure it’s wise to take too many sarcastic liberties–especially when the topic is one you’re obviously both passionate about. I’m a somewhat sarcastic person by nature, but as I realize more and more how bitter a taste sarcasm can leave, I’m trying to eliminate it from my communication wherever possible. It’s a challenging change to make.

At any rate, I have no idea if the other person even thought a thing of our word volley today (and it’s ok if they didn’t), but it left me reeling. I felt defensive and protective, misunderstood and misheard, disregarded, and suddenly in a category I didn’t want to join. My boldness somewhat backfired, and I’ll have to figure out how my next approach will be different in hopes to elicit a different kind of response. I think we were both trying to protect our side of things, and there’s nothing wrong there. I can’t walk around uneasy about it for very long though, so I need to find a way to get back to my own heart and what I know to be true–and quickly. There’s much more to focus on, and a light at the end of the tunnel that I’m hoping to reach with as much positivity and strength as possible. I’m not sure there’s a whole lot of room for emotional fender benders along the way.

doing my best to shake it tonight. grateful for a mama who listened well and quelled my fears with rational wisdom. a sounding board who loves you and knows your heart is never a bad thing at the end of a day like today.

we’ll try again tomorrow. it will be wonderful wednesday, after all.

mm