Happy 22^nd Birthday, Baby Brother!

Emry vs. Ethan

I never want to be one of those parents that compares her children with one another. The fact that I have a girl and a boy will help prevent that. Naturally, Ethan is not going to be like Emry. I can’t see him walking around the house with one of his stuffed animals, patting it on the back and comforting it as if he is a mother. Or vice versa. I know there will be things my little boy will do that will have never crossed Emry’s mind to try.

However, sometimes I can’t help comparing them. After all, my full experience as a mom has been raising Emry. So, now raising Ethan, it’s easy to compare what he does to what Emry had done. Both favorably and unfavorably. For in some ways, they are the same, just as all babies are similar in certain ways. In so many ways, they are very different.

Emry was a very contented, easy baby. She never minded being put on the floor and left there while I wandered about doing chores, preparing meals, scrapbooking or whatever. Ethan, on the other hand, hates to be left alone. If you leave him on the floor and walk off, he’ll be okay for a couple of minutes before you hear his protests. Perhaps that comes from being a second born with a sister usually about.

Emry stayed wherever you set her until she was a year old. She rolled over at four or five months, but she didn’t use that skill as a mode of transportation much. And since she didn’t crawl until a week after she turned one, I could sit her down and expect to find her in that same place an hour later. Ethan, I don’t think, will be that way. He’s squirmy, and likes to “kickbox” (as he did in the womb) and already digs his heels into the floor and pushes himself back several inches. Will Ethan be as happy in once place as Emry was? I have my doubts.

Ethan is also fussier than Emry. If he isn’t happy about something, he lets us know. And he keeps on letting us know. If Emry cried for a long time, it meant something was seriously wrong. If Ethan cries for a long time, well, he’s just trying to make himself heard. And perhaps he has his reasons. I confess I’m guilty of not paying as much attention to him as I did Emry. Another trial of a second born.

On the other hand…

Ethan is my cuddler. The only time Emry wants to sit with me is to be read to or because I’m feeding Ethan and she feels neglected. Emry WILL NOT cuddle just to cuddle or be held because she’s tired. Ethan, however, would be held and cuddled 24/7 if you’d let him. I can’t do that, but I do spoil him sometimes and let him sleep in my arms if Emry is napping or in bed at night.

Ethan also eats better than Emry. I thought Emry ate decently, and she probably did for her. But Ethan latched on and knew exactly what to do within an hour of birth…and he hasn’t stopped yet. Gone are the worries I constantly had with Emry over producing enough!

And because he eats so well, he also grows faster. At one month, Emry weighed 6 pounds, 12 ounces. Ethan weighed in at 7 pounds, 6 ounces. So while the doctor was concerned because he is quite small on the charts, I was leaping for joy that he is gaining so well.  I have no doubt he’ll outgrow his sister quickly…even if he never catches up to his much bigger cousins.

She Continues to Grow...

This past weekend, Emry and Ethan spent a few hours at their Sunday School “teacher’s” house while Ed and I went to see Beauty and the Beast.  (Yes, Ed was a good husband and suffered through it…maybe even enjoyed it!) A couple about the age of my parents, I think they have had the 0-2 year old Sunday School hour for the past decade or more. They’ve known nearly every child in that church as a baby and are like an extra set of grandparents to many of them. They loved having Emry and Ethan, but especially Emry for in Sunday School she tends to be a bit less of herself. (Definition: on her best behavior.) One thing they both learned is how much she talks! Amen to that. She seems to talk all day long…

Emry will be two in three weeks. Although a tiny two-years (how long have we been in 12-month clothes????), everything about her is starting to scream “TWO!”. Especially her vocabulary. She parrots just about everything we say. And all day long, she chatters away whether it’s talking to her stuffed animals, playing with her dollhouse or just wandering about looking for her next activity. I can’t understand every “word” but most of it is a repeat of her life, from changing Ethan, to taking her vitamins, to getting the switch for disobedience. It’s rather amusing. The funniest one is when she says (and signs) “please”. Trying to get her to use her words more than her little whines and pointing, I would respond, “Please what?” And she would say, “Please spat.” For weeks I didn’t know what “spat” referred to and why she thought this was the right response. Finally, Ed enlightened me: “She’s saying ‘Please what’ back at you,” As funny as it can be, I just wish (especially after repeating her disobedient act for the second or third time) that she understood the action as clearly as she parrots the words.

With “growing up” has also come stumbles and our first scrapes and bruises. Emry has never been daring. Until she was a year old, she simply sat wherever she was put. Then came crawling, but she avoided tight spaces or climbing up to her feet. When she finally decided that standing was in order, that feat was only done when holding on to something. She never walked unless holding both hands of Ed or me. She was 18 months before she walked on her own. And it’s only been in the past month that climbing has been attempted. Of course, climbing equals falling. So within the first week of moving into our new home, she took two tumbles. The first was down the steps – nearly all of them in a somersault form. Thankfully, God has created toddlers to handle these terrifying tumbles with little more than a small carpet burn on her cheek and a few moments of tears. A few days later, Emry went up and over her bed rail. In this situation, she may have deserved it. She has my old bed, which is a captain’s bed with drawers, so it’s quite high up and she has never attempted to crawl in or out of it except on two occasions when she was so angry/upset she didn’t know what she was doing when she climbed out and started banging on the door. This time she was simply goofing off, standing up and shaking the rail until over she tumbled. Except for a moment of fright, she wasn’t hurt.

Growing up is certainly painful at times. For near-two-year-olds and their exhausted parents!

My…Twins?

They say pregnant women have dreams of their babies. I can’t remember any particular dreams of either Emry or Ethan except ones in which I had twins instead of just one. But anytime I thought day dreamed about either of my kids, I certainly didn’t get it right. I imagined Emry would be a blond. I was bleach blond as a child. Ed was also blond. A dark head full of hair was not at all what I imagined, although I think her hair will have blond streaks in it after hours outside this summer. I also thought she’s be bigger, chubbier. Since she’s nearly two and just now outgrowing 12-month clothes, I wasn’t spot on there either. Oh, well.

I didn’t day dream quite as much about Ethan. Still, I was sure he would be bigger than Emry. And chubbier. And bald. Nope. An ounce lighter then Emry, but an inch longer and not a lot of fat at all. And, another head full of dark hair. Point of fact, I was stunned when I saw my little boy for the first time…for I certainly never imagined he would look so much like his sister. In fact, he could be her twin!

Newborn Emry – April 2015.

Newborn Ethan – February 2017.

Emry – one month old.

Ethan – one month old.

A Mystery Book Review

Two and a half years ago, I reviewed the book The Rules of Murder  the first of the Drew Fathering series by Julianna Deering. I am certainly not a mystery expert, but I do enjoy a really well written mystery that will keep me up in the wee hours, unable to put it down until I discover “whodunit”. I thought The Rules of Murder a bit mediocre as it didn’t keep me up at all.

Murder on the Moor is the latest installment of the Drew Fathering series by Julianna Deering. Since I wasn’t overly impressed with the first book, I haven’t kept up with rich young playboy Drew and his now wife Madeline. Now, however…I need to go back and read the installments I’ve missed. For Murder on the Moor did keep me up, wanting to know what was going to happen next and “whodunit”. Two murders, seemingly unconnected. Interesting characters, all with motives. And a detective that has matured with time. Yea!

This book was provided by Bethany House Publishers for review purposes only.

Move Number…17?

I’ve checked my list…counted it twice. The number is right. Last weekend was move number 17. Address number 18. (Well, I guess it’s technically address number 17 as well since I’ve lived at one address on two separate occasions.) However you count it, at age 37 I am still maintaining an average of a move every two point some-odd years. Guess that’s what happens when 1) you’re born and military brat, and 2) “Thursday’s child has far to go”.

This move from our little duplex in Avalon (a borough of Pittsburgh, but everything in Allegheny county is a “borough” or “township” of Pittsburgh, a difference nobody can explain) to a little duplex in Rochester (a place I believe is also considered a “borough” but in Beaver county) has once again made me marvel at my mother. However did she pick up and move over and over again with one…two…four…five…seven…eight children?!?!?! I don’t recall any move of mine being quite so exhausting!

It didn’t seem exhausting during the whole process. I find moving to be oddly comforting. I’ve been packing boxes for months, knowing we’d be moving and there are some things (mostly just my books) that I don’t really need access to every day. We found our new place and I simply started packing everything. Moving day came, my parents came to help out and we had help from people at church. With two little ones, I was around only to see all the boxes piled up at the old place and then to see them piled up at the new place. (A couple from church wonderfully opened up their home for my mom and I to take Emry and Ethan so they’d be out from under foot while everything was loaded, moved and unloaded.) My tasks on moving day were to keep up with two kids, clean the old place and take the food stuff to the new place. The rest of the day and following day my mom and I unpacked important things (like what a friend had not unpacked earlier in the kitchen). Our new place looked like a disaster, but it would come together in the next day or so. At least, that’s what my previous moves had been like…

Of course, I had not given birth a mere three weeks previous on my other moves. After my early morning feeding of Ethan, I began to suffer from what is called “after birth pains”. Think contractions…every fifteen minutes…with no reward at the end. And they lasted off and on for seven full hours. After which I had a massive headache until I could collapse in bed that night at about nine. It was one of those days that – had I not had two kids – I would have spent on the couch drugged with painkillers. But that’s not an option with a near-two-year-old and breastfeeding infant. For those of you who have yet to have children, let me give you one piece of wisdom I’ve yet to learn: when they say SIX weeks postpartum recovery they mean SIX weeks. I didn’t learn that the first time around…and I have a feeling I haven’t learned it this time either. Yes, I have a stubborn streak.

But, that aside, we are moved. Like any new place, it will be an adjustment as things find places. (95% of which have found places now…at least for the moment.) And, all in all, it’s a good stopping place. But, as I always say, don’t put my address in ink. It will change.

One Month!!!

With everything that’s been going on in our lives, it’s hard to believe our Little Man is a whole month old! He grows and changes right before our eyes. He’s “talking”, kicking, loves to have people around and is our cuddler, And, even though he’s a little guy, he’s really quite huge…at least compared to his sister. A full 7 pounds, 6 ounces!

With Sock Monkey.

Beginning to smile.

Pictures

I am trying. Truly, I am.  I have a baby calendar on the wall I am faithfully scribbling on, just as I did for Emry. I have the month stickers ready for pictures when Ethan turns 1-month old next week. I have a box full of cards, a list of gifts he has been given, and all his special little things put away just as I had with Emry. But I can now officially say I have a lot more empathy for my younger siblings. They’re not far from wrong – being the firstborn has a lot of perks, privileges and…okay, let’s tell it like it is: attention.

In preparing for Ethan’s arrival, I noted that so much of the preparation focused on Emry. Upon Ethan’s arrival, I am noting that so much of my time and attention is still focused on Emry as I try to help her through this adjustment of no longer being the center of attention. I don’t mean for it to be that way, but I also can’t have her throwing tantrums, wetting her panties or squeezing Ethan’s ribcage to pieces. 90% of the time, she’s fine. But, oh, that 10%!!!!

Sadly, I am also falling short in picture-taking area.  For one, Emry is in most of the pictures I take of Ethan (mostly because she’s always nearby).  Secondly, I don’t have my phone on me as much.  Emry is forever wanting to play with it if she sees it, so I tend to keep it out of her sight. Not only that, but she wants to see the pictures before I even take them so taking pictures has become nearly impossible. However, I do have some I want to share. For, really, our little man is adorable.

 Sleeping…

Emry loves to lie next to him.

Talking to Mama.

Big Sister Emry in her new coat and hat Grandma Sturm made.