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.