ahhhhh.... spring!

The other day I realized that this is the first spring I've been able to actually enjoy in at least five years.

Last year at this time I was pregnant and sick all day every day. The four years previous I spent working at a job so wholly demanding that I almost never had a guilt-free chance to pause and marvel at the flowers, the sunshine, the warm spring breezes.

But this year is different.

This year I am a mother. This year I am working my own hours, in my own company. This year I can take my laptop outdoors and soak up sunshine while being productive.

Or I can just scrap it all and spend a few hours on the porch swing with my son, watching him blow bubbles and stare in wonderment at every new thing. And, since everything is new, he finds it all magnificently fascinating.

Today I planted flowers, mulched the shrubbery beds and potted herbs. Little Man rolled around on his blanket in the grass, observing my every move and babbling contentedly.

This is paradise.

© Sarah K. Asaftei, 2009 unless otherwise sourced. Use allowed by express written permission only.

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before you become a mother...

...nobody can tell you:

• how you will break down and cry when you see your baby's face the first time.
• how you will melt when you hear his first cooing sounds - and keep melting at all the ones that follow.
• how you will never fully, deeply sleep again because you have one ear tuned to their cries.
• how you can be standing in a room filled with babies and still know when YOUR baby is the one crying.
• how you will somehow find the energy to stay awake and pleasant each day after months of sleepless nights, physical exhaustion, and hormonal swings.
• how you would throw yourself in front anything to protect your child.
• how tears fill your eyes at the mere thought of something happening to your baby. 

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© Sarah K. Asaftei, 2009 unless otherwise sourced. Use allowed by express written permission only.

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flash forward...

Last night I had a brief mental picture of the future. You have to understand - my husband is one of the most stylish and best-dressed men that I know. But when he comes into the privacy of his home, he and even the most comfortable of his clothes are swiftly parted.

Yesterday evening we went to pick up my new eyeglasses. Then we ate some supper. Then we came home. I stopped in the kitchen to put something away, and by the time I made it into the bedroom he had already shucked down to the essentials.

I stood there for a moment, adoring this man who has held my heart for more than eight years. And suddenly I had this mental image of our son about 3 years from now. I can imagine that every time I think I've got him dressed for the day, he'll manage to remove all his clothes by the time I turn back around.

Or maybe he'll keep them on until just before the doorbell rings, and then strip down while I'm not looking, just in time to beat me to the front door and stun the unfortunate guest with a huge impish grin and an eyeful of little boy.

Oh yes, I can just see him now. Little white teeth and big brown eyes flashing as he looks up at them with all the charm he can muster.

"Hi!!!! You wanna come in?" Then he swivels his little head and calls out, "Mommy!!! Somebody from church is at the door!"

Yup, life in this pastor's house is about to get fun!

© Sarah K. Asaftei, 2009 unless otherwise sourced. Use allowed by express written permission only.

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ummmm...

Five minutes ago I had a really great blog post in mind. Then I got out of the shower and by the time I got to my laptop the idea went POOF!

BLEH.

© Sarah K. Asaftei, 2009 unless otherwise sourced. Use allowed by express written permission only.

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baby shower blessings...

Yesterday our church gave us a baby shower.

We were deeply grateful - seeing as we have very little baby supplies and zero baby furniture. The shower was lovely, the food delicious, the gifts thoughtful, and the day itself will be a beautiful memory for a very long time.

with my sister

with Marius's sister

church friends prayed the most beautiful blessing prayers over each of us and Munchkin

hubby and brother-in-law chugging chocolate milk for the prize in a very hilarious game!

the three of us

Last night we sat together on the big white rug in the floor of Munchkin's room, going through the gifts, reading the cards and making memories together.

We are so blessed.

© Sarah K. Asaftei, 2009 unless otherwise sourced. Use allowed by express written permission only.

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a perfect weekend...

It was a beautiful weekend.

On Friday afternoon, I got into the kitchen and spent three hours making Sabbath dinner - gluten steaks and gravy, mashed potatoes, steamed asparagus, frozen watermelon balls (to be blended into deLISH icees), etc...

All are recipes held in high esteem by Hubby - and it's been a while since I had both the energy and the olfactory fortitude to spend a few hours cooking! So I made the most of it...

Sabbath brought a lovely day - brilliant sunshine, low humidity and fresh temperatures - as well as a beautiful morning at church. After church, we enjoyed a fabulous lunch at our new house with mom and dad, my sister and her husband, and a friend. The boys went hiking, the girls went resting, and a good time was had by all.

Saturday night we feasted on corn ears, burgers, hot dogs, homemade fried peach pies and watermelon - out on the deck. And played games into the evening...

Sunday morning brought our baby shower - more on that in the next post - attended by family (my parents and sister and husband, Hubby's sister) and church friends.

All in all, it was a perfect weekend to remember. Can't think of any way to improve on it, not even one little smidge.

Ahhhhhhh.

© Sarah K. Asaftei, 2009 unless otherwise sourced. Use allowed by express written permission only.

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crabby days...

I've been really crabby today.

Cranky.

Whiny.

My poor hubby bore the brunt of it as I sought to supervise his efforts to hang drapes this morning. He's such a trooper. Maybe I didn't sleep as well as I thought I did last night? Or maybe it's just one of those days.

"Momma said there'll be days like this..."

Then we went to our old apartment office to turn in the last keys and sign off on the completed lease papers. And the manager took us outside, opened her car door and pulled out a nearly-new Graco baby swing. In our baby room colors!

"My grandson is 9 months old, and has outgrown a bunch of stuff," she said. "Follow me back to the rear garage building - I've got two big plastic containers full of all the clothes he's too big for, and a bag of baby toys!"

I couldn't believe it. Shame on me for secretly having thought that she wasn't very nice the last time we met! *slaps own hand*

As we finished loading up her splendid hand-me-downs, she asked us to please keep in touch with her after the baby is born - 'cause she doesn't have anywhere else to offload her grandbaby's gear.

Wow, God. You're pretty awesome. Thanks for cheering me up on a day when I just wanted to curl up in bed and forget everything.

Now I think I'll go remove that cute (almost identical) baby swing from our gift registry. There's no point in having two!

© Sarah K. Asaftei, 2009 unless otherwise sourced. Use allowed by express written permission only.

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the sympathy of men...

My husband is a jewel. Really he is.

Over the last 5 months I've been convinced that he's a closet nursing professional. He's been kind, caring, patient beyond belief.

There's some inner switch that flips in a truly good man when the woman he loves is carrying his child. He'll do all kinds of things that he'd never dreamed of before. With joy.

Like midnight snack runs. Or holding you upright in the shower when you're about to faint. Or doing all your chores in addition to his own. Or getting your snacks out of the refrigerator because the slightest smell makes you gag and run from the room.

But then there are moments when, like every human, he does something that makes you wonder about his sanity. Or at least, your reaction makes him question yours.

Like coming in from work one night last week, flopping on the couch, and announcing that he's so tired he "feels like he's pregnant!"

I just walked out of the room.

But he's only human, right? Fallible. Bound to fall off his perfectly polished pedestal once or twice over nine months.

I guess I can grant him that. After all, the next morning he scrubbed out the refrigerator with bleach, dumped all the expired food and totally organized the remaining contents. I can almost get my own snacks without holding my nose now.

In my book, that puts him right back up near perfect. Even if he does think he's tired enough to feel pregnant. HAH.

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on urgent care compassion...

Since Friday, my left pinkie finger has been really bothering me. By Saturday night it was swollen, feverish, and extremely painful to move or touch.

That means that last night I got a whopping 45 minutes or so of uninterrupted sleep, in those magic moments between the heat pack being too hot to touch and too cold and clammy for comfort. The rest of the time it throbbed and pulsated across my knuckles and down the side of my wrist.

Marius is out of state for a wedding. So I got to take up his side of the bed with pillows arranged neatly to keep the arm propped up vertically. Except that every time I fell asleep the wrist would relax and flop to one side and the throbbing would start up again.

This morning I called my doctor's office. It could be an infected knuckle that might need draining with a needle. Or it could just be another lovely byproduct of all the extra pregnancy fluids. The nice part is that I'm allergic to Extra Strength Tylenol, and all sulfa-based antibiotics. Yay.

So they gave me Hydrocodone and told me to sleep it off. And I did - for three dreamless hours this afternoon.

Then we fashioned a home made splint (brownie points for popsicle sticks, cotton strips, and an ace bandage!!), and I decided to go to Urgent Care.

An hour in the waiting room - dizzy and nauseated - got me to a patient room where I could lie down. 30 minutes later the doctor arrived. Same story.

You must have bumped it and didn't realize. Can't give you most antibiotics cause you're pregnant. Can't give you the rest of available antibiotics cause you're allergic to sulfa. Can't x-ray it cause you're in your 2nd trimester. But I'll swab it to rule out a staph infection.

So he grabs my hand, twists my pinkie finger around to face him, takes this long-handled Q-tip thingy and starts literally attacking my finger with it. Like a scullery maid scrubbing floors.

I gasped as pain shot down my wrist and across my hand. The doctor literally snickered at me.

"Oh, this is nothing! Just wait till you go into labor!"

Yeah. Because you've been in labor yourself, mister. So you would totally know what it's all about.

Gee, thanks for nothing, doc.

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idiots at the pump...

... the breast pump, that is.

My sister works as a nursetech. And oh the tales she can tell at a family dinner...

Like the one about the 30-something career woman that gave birth to twins, and decided she needed to pump, so she could get right back to work.

So the nurses brought her a double breast pump and showed her how to use it, then left the room -- 'cause she could "do it herself". They'd given all the normal instructions of course - how to put it on, how it should feel, not to exceed 15 minutes of pumping, and so on.

A half hour later, they popped back in to check her progress.

Pumps glued in place. Empty bottles. Pump timer reading 21:00 minutes.

"I just don't know what's wrong with me," she wails. "I must not have any milk!"

The lactation consultant and my sister pry off the pumps. Which weren't even in the right place. Instead, there were massive hickies where normal skin should be - raised up from 21 straight minutes of unforgiving mechanical suction. The nurses could hardly keep a straight face.

"Umm, darlin', it might help if you actually put the pumps where the milk comes out."

Ya think?

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what's that, nanny?

My mom works as a nanny. Sometimes the families who hire nannies end up being quite, uhhh, colorful. Difficult. Challenging. Those are the nice words that come to mind.

Today she and the younger of her charges came to visit me. Actually, they came to visit my pool, but it was too cold. While waiting for the air to get warm, mom cracked open a book while almost-4-year old Munchkin played quietly on the floor.

For a few minutes.

Then he sidled over to Nanny, who was focused on reading her book:

"What's that book about, Nanny?"

"Ummm, I'm not exactly sure how to explain this one to you, sweetheart." He's such a sweet child, and just doesn't need to know that other members of his family are driving her to distraction.

He thought about it for a moment, looking intently at the cover.

"So it's a screw driver book, Nanny?"

"Uh, yes, exactly. It's a screw driver book, sweetheart."

"Oh, okay!"

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