worth the weight.

The day Claire was born, I weighed 211 pounds. Let that sink in. Two hundred and eleven pounds. Because I arrived at the hospital mid-Everett, I missed out on a hospital weigh-in. My midwives, bless them, used a bathroom scale. After my girth got too girthy, and I couldn't see my feet anymore they didn't bother telling me my weight. The 'wives were picky about diet and I obeyed. Very little sugar. Lots of herbs. No coffee. Tons of kiefer and tons of fiber. The goal was to develop a modest sized baby, rather than the plus-sized models that I seemed to make. Who knows how huge Mr. Baby could have gotten if I hadn't stuck to their strict no-sugar plan? Almost 3 months later, I am still carrying around about 20 pounds more than I'd like. It could be worse, but I would like very much to fit into my skinny jeans. And my tummy, poor dear, is struggling to maintain its dignity after being stretched around almost 10 pounds of baby. I don't remember it looking quite this sad after I had Claire.

I'm going to avoid saying mean things about my body, because there is a little girl who lives in my house and she is listening. I want her to know that this is a body that grew two babies. A body learned to care for her while recovering from major surgery. A body that pushed out her brother without drugs. This body is perfect for singing songs and rocking babies and dance parties. I might never get back into my skinny jeans. I'll give it a try, but I'm not sitting out any dance parties over 20 little pounds.
My boy, who smiles like a Buick every time I walk into the room, thinks I'm pretty. And that makes it worth it.

6 things about month 31.

Dear Claire,
Here's what you should know about yourself at 31 months:
1. You have a good memory. I mean, freakishly good. You remember the names of waitresses that you've met one time. I'm good at names, but you, my friend, are amazing.
2. One of my favorite parts of the day is watching you watch the intro to Sesame Street. You seem genuinely surprised to see the characters on screen and shout their names as they appear. It seriously blows your mind that they come back every morning.
3. You can throw a pretty spectacular fit.
4. You are compassionate. When Everett cries, you pet his arm and say, "that's okay, baby" in this low voice that mimics the one I use to comfort you.
5. When something's especially great you say, "I'm es-cited!" and run circles.
6. Today when we were talking about our favorite things. We had a long conversation about food. Then I asked you to tell me your very favorite. Your answer was this: "Going to the park with Dada. That's my favorite."

You are long and lean and no longer a baby. Sometimes you still want to be rocked and your limbs dangle to the ground. You love it when I hold you both and call you my two babies. I look at his hand on my breast as he nurses and I see the baby you were. I am better at loving him because of you, girlie. I love you.

Love,
Mama

one little monkey sleeping in the bed.

Guess who slept 7 1/2 hours last night? Any guesses?

Guess who woke up completely refreshed and in a soaked t-shirt?

just in time for thanksgiving?

A photo from our trip to the pumpkin patch.

We went back to our usual patch. The one went visited last year and the year before that.

That I am posting this picture a month after our visit pretty much sums up my life right now. Everett is sleeping a solid 5 or 6 hours a night, but I unfortunately, still require a solid 8 or 9. Claire is managing. Somehow, I am keeping them both alive. There have been many, many trips for coffee. And lots of help from friends. I know that this gets easier, but I still feel like a mother of one masquerading as a mother of 2. I can do one kid. Yesterday, it took somewhere in the neighborhood of an hour and a half to get the three of us ready to go to the library. Storytime lasts 30 minutes, so yeah, that was awesome.

his & hers.

Claire's mom- 29 and pregnant. Not her plan. Scared to death. Fearful.
Everett's mom- 31 and pregnant. Planned. Still scared. Hopeful.

Claire's mom- Cleans during naptime. Makes grocery lists. Plans menus and cooks.
Everett's mom- Does not clean during naptime. Makes grocery lists. Makes sandwiches.

Claire's mom- Takes a picture every day of her sweet little cherub.
Everett's mom- Happy if she takes a shower every day. Has no idea where the camera is most days.

Speaking of bathing.
Claire's mom- Gives her baby a bath every single night.
Everett's mom- "Hey Nate, when was the last time we bathed the baby?"


In a proud Claire's mom tradition, a self portrait. We've done a ton of these together. This one is blurry because, dude, we're tired. Not because he is a bad baby, but because he is a baby. He wakes up in the night to nurse, as he should. The difference for this new mother of 2 is that when she was little and napped during the day, I would curl her onto my chest and sleep. When he naps, I am building tall towers and singing the usual songs and giving horsey rides (really!). It's a charmed life.

i remember when. i remember when i lost my mind.

Do you know that sleep deprivation is a highly effective form of torture? We've been conducting some unscientific research here at Casa Iderdider, and have concluded that sixty nights is the maximum number of nights that a mother can go without adequate sleep before she loses her mind.

Last week, I hit the wall. Claire's constant questions stopped being endearing. Even the sweet smell of Mr.'s head was only slightly comforting. I started offering to drive Nate to the doctor for a vasectomy myself. I would wake to Everett's nocturnal cries, stumble to the couch to nurse only to find myself sitting there two hours later with a crink in my neck, knowing that I'd be doing it all again in an hour.

Thankfully, this time I knew what to do. There are no gold stars for motherhood. You don't get extra points for soldiering on without asking for help. Claire spent an afternoon with friends. The next day I drove to my mom's for a bath and a nap (hello, sleep number bed, will you marry me?). Nate stepped up his night time bottling. Also: last night I went to bed at 8 PM and slept uninterrupted until 1:30. I had actual dreams for the first time in forever. If you don't have a newborn, you can't appreciate the awesomeness of that amount of sleep. But it was awesome indeed.
Mr.Baby, my sweet torturer.

*This is another of Hollie's pictures. Love love love this one.

2: also about 2 1/2.

Dear Mr.,
Lately she never stops talking. Yesterday we drove to the Oma's house so that mommy could nap and someone else could take over as Chief Question Answerer. She'll keep asking until someone answers. Even when I couldn't possibly know the answer. It's a little like watching a movie with a certain blond. There are wonderful things about you at 2 months: your chubby thighs, sweet breath and smiles. Also awesome: you never, ever ask a question. Your needs read something like this: Milk, cuddle, more milk, diaper please, more milk, thumb, more milk, Weepies CD, more milk. When Claire was tiny, I couldn't wait for her to get big. With you, I know too well how fast this is going to go. How fast it's already gone. When she naps, you sprawl in my arms. I smell your head and enjoy the silence, knowing it won't last long enough.
Love,
Mama