Jesse's 2!

I'm so grateful that God has given us this kid to raise, and love, and teach. It's unbelievable how quickly two years have gone, and I'm running out of 'breathing room' to make those mistakes that I write off as "it doesn't matter yet, because he'll never remember". SOON, he will remember, but in parenting we have learned more than words will allow in this post, or at this hour. For one, I've learned that 11 pm, although not ideal, is the time allotted to me to take up this recreational activity of blogging. The house is quiet, the house is dark. Both are essential. Quiet to think, dark to dismiss the mess I can no longer see, which means I no longer believe it is there :) Anyways, Jesse is a champ. He woke up happy, loved his new red barn handcrafted by loving parents that did not always display that specific attribute while creating it-(it was a stretch) but certainly knew they loved eachother, and thus remained dedicated to their task and their marriage. Building exercises. And he loved it. We had a good day, made a cool cake, and threw a party for him the day after, and now I think he's getting sick. At the moment, despite the hour, he's coughing and crying. I guess I should know by now that those moments I think are 'mine' just aren't. This job continues to be the 24 hour 7 kind of job, so, I'm out. Hope the little guy kicks his cough soon.. I'm about 3 days behind in proper sleep. And still....I type. I'll let pictures do the talking later.   Happy Birthday Jesse. You are so fun, and I love you to bits. And then some :)

Turned the Page to 27

I woke up this morning to Jesse yelling "balloo". I was groggy, but could hear James blowing some up, 2 balloons, to commemorate me turning 27, on March 27. 7 years ago I met James, and for my birthday he dumped a bag of balloons on my head, and made me breakfast. This tradition has been kept alive, or would have been, I'm sure, had there been more than 2 balloons in the house, and had he not had to leave promptly by 7:30 a.m, requiring me to get out of bed and help with the breakfast part. Sticking with the breakfast theme, I received a griddle. I know some women may get stuck up on the fact that their is nothing sexy about a cooking appliance, and I admit, I'm usually one of them. But James did good. I have burned too many pancakes and wasted precious breakfast minutes hovering around my frying pan, which, by the way, can only fit one pancake at a time. So, I like the gift. And it makes a nice grilled cheese.

My mom wanted to know if I was going to do anything for my birthday, which made me think I should, which made me think that meant I had to invite everyone over. And as I thought about making this call, it dawned on me that playing hostess is not my strong suit. Don't get me wrong, I love having an open door policy, and anyone who comes in will find a beverage and something to eat and someone to talk to. Ground rules. But a planned party, for myself? Not my gift. SO, I waited until this morning (around 9) to call up people to come (at 10). I don't expect people to  particularly like these last minute shinanigans, but it is what it is.  Michelle and the kids and mom said they would come for tea at 10, and so I popped in my pie to be ready for 11, which is exactly when they came. One point for me! But minus that point on account of the pie burning anyways and my forgetting then remembering then forgetting to get mom her tea :) But things got fun as the house filled up with my wonderful family- nephews, niece, brothers, dad, mom, and I got showered with undeserved gifts (really, I rarely give birthday gifts anymore, so receiving them IS unexpected). I find that the crazier the house gets (and it doesn't take much in a one bedroom basement apartment) the more enjoyable the atmosphere. Kids under the bed, toys in the coffee, and a lot of giggling = a good time. So, the tea extended into unexpected lunch, and I liked that too.

Our evening was chill, until I thought James might be able to make Anneliese fall asleep by taking her in a car ride to Timmies and picking us up some coffees at 10 pm (it IS role up the rim, you know) . Which he did, but she promptly woke up when she got back home, and the caffeine that is now coursing through my veins and keeping me bright eyed has knocked James unconscious. Anyways, that leaves me awake enough to finish this post. Time to shift the focus.

Anneliese is about 3 1/2 months, and my guess is she's about 14 pounds, give or take. She's a butterball who loves her mom. She is ticklish when she gets changed, and her giggle makes Jesse laugh his little butt off. She spends a lot of time bouncing in her jolly jumper these days, gnawing on her fists and drooling or puking at any given moment, and so to date she's no different from any other baby, except that she's ours. And that's the best part. I get asked a lot if she sleeps through the night, to which I answer 'no', because lately she's been getting up around 2:30 am to eat, but I think the question should be rephrased to "are you sleeping through the night" because then I would answer 'yes'. Figure that one out. Anyways, Anneliese and I are getting enough sleep. Jesse, however, keeps me on my toes by getting strep throat, or pink eye, or the common cold in what appears to be some sort of cycle that is never ending. Please, winter, end already.

A few more things to document, and then I'm done. Anneliese- your nails grow too fast, and they require cutting every other day, which James and I are both hesitant to do since we snipped off the skin on your thumb. Aside from a serious bald patch, I think you will have thick, dark, curly hair one day. Fingers crossed. Your eyes look like they may be turning hazel. Your toes collect more lint than I can fathom, and you let Jesse push you around a lot (not by choice, but your jolly jumper does hang in his doorway, so he's right on that score. You're in his way a lot). But the bottom line is that you are our healthy, beautiful 3 month old, and Jesse, James and I love you like crazy. And truth be told, seeing you at 2:30 am isn't all that bad, especially when I know it won't last forever. The months just keep passing...

And just because I have a hard time leaving out my man Jesse, here he is at 3 months :)

2 months!

My sweet baby girl is 2 months. I would say the typical "time goes so fast", but really, it feels like she should be older. A lot has gone down in her short life. I mean, she was born, we ushered in the in-laws- along with Christmas, and New Year's, and then we got the boot from our previous home, and spent a full night at McMaster before the big move with Anneliese who sprung a fever (or so we thought) and contracted bronchiolitus at 3 weeks old. And during all this, she has kept her cool. I could not have imagined a baby this chill after bearing and rearing my man Jesse. I'm not sure if it's because she's our second, or because she's just that different, but she makes my job easy, and with Jesse, a perpetual ball of energy entering "sponge" phase, she really is a blessing.
Here's the quick 2 month update
I believe you are around 12 pounds-- that's just a guess though. I missed your doc. appt. today, which would have given the official weigh in :)
You have slept 5-8 hour stretches consistently at night-- unlike Jesse, who took half a year to reach those numbers.
You LOVE to cuddle, and I spend most evenings bouncing you on my  belly (you get a kick out of that :) and rocking you to sleep.
You smile at me a lot now.  You definitely like when I'm around, and you like your big brother too. Not to mention, he's a gem around you. You won't find a better helper at finding your soothers and keeping you warm. Although our appartment is a comfortable 20 degrees, Jesse has made it his mission to keep you covered in blankies at all times. It's kind of his thing. (Along with singing, kicking things, scowling, saying 'no way'  'oh my' and ' I pooped' , standing on my hands, asking for juice 30 times a day, helping me with baking, and vacuuming, and laundry-- all to the best of his ability, and craving the great outdoors as much as his mom. This photo gives a snapshot of the kind of fun Jesse has these days. He was pretty proud of this one.

This tangent could become another post, so I digress)

You don't know your daddy so well yet, but his time will come. I'll enjoy our bond while it lasts :) I know you and James are going to be a lot alike, and I'm looking forward to that developing relationship. He's thrilled to have his little girl. :)

You are very observant, your eyes follow me everywhere, and you don't rely on your soother to calm down. You like riding in the car, you rarely cry, and your fussy time is in the evening, but only if you are left alone somewhere. You take a bottle, your hair is dark and getting thick, and you are strong. You are also absolutely adorable. I know I'm biased, but really, it's true.
On that note, I'll wrap up the 2 month update. I'll be due for another one in no time at this rate.

In other news, James took a job in Copetown, and he signed his contract today, which means it's officially official. The Harskamps are heading back to Hamilton. I have mixed feelings about this, because it's been great getting back into my old community. BUT, I sense adventure is just around the corner, and although the physical act of moving can get old, God's unfolding plan doesn't seem to, and that's good enough for me.

The Story- 2^nd time around

30 minutes into Wednesday, Dec. 19—12:30 am "labour" started. It was all new to me, because with Jesse I was induced, and on top of that, I spent the good part of a year mentally blocking that horrific and beautiful event. Anyways, it was a bit uncomfortable, nothing debilitating, so an hour later I popped some Tylenol and thought I should pack my hospital bags, just to be safe, something James’ had been hounding me to do for about 3 weeks. I should have listened, because true to Ree form, I couldn’t find my track pants, and packed a pretty useless assortment of unnecessary things. Then I got on the phone with my pal Kristina, (my makeshift doula) while James' gathered 'data' on his ipad to see if this was the real deal. Any excuse to use Tech is a good excuse for James :) Anyways, after talking for about 30 minutes, she told me I better get my butt to the hospital because contractions 4 minutes apart and lasting 1 minute are a pretty sure sign the baby is coming. This was the cue James’ was waiting for, and Jesse was out the door and tucked in at grandmas before I had a chance to grab my coat. And then, untrue to James’ form, we drove 150 km/h to the hospital. I was impressed, and still quite sure that we would be turned around and told to come back when things actually got serious. Well, that may have been the case, if they hadn’t made us walk outside, around the hospital to get to labour and delivery, only to have to walk back to emerg because the hospital’s front doors were locked. I’m told a lot of women, full term, go jogging around hospitals between contractions to speed things up...

Anyways, we got into the hospital at 2:30 a.m., found a nurse to check me out, and apparently I’m at 6 cm, which means I'm staying put and having a baby. 15 minutes later, I’m at 8. Soon after that, 9 ½… and then BAM. It’s time to get real. The rest of this story is hard to recap, because I couldn’t conceive of labour without an epidural, and I kept expecting it to get way way worse.The fact that I had time to actually breathe between contractions was a small miracle, let alone that I wasn't numb and listless. The  nurse kept saying it was going to be quick, and I kept telling her that I had heard that before, and I wouldn’t let her dupe me with optimistic statements. But then she gave a very unexpected go-ahead to push.  Whaaa?? With Jesse, I waited a day for those instructions, and then proceeded to push for another day (or at least it felt like it). Having been in the hospital for all of 45 minutes, this didn’t compute. 

Well, 4 contractions and 8 minutes later, Dr. Nwebube (called down to catch my baby before he started an emergency C-section) delivered Anneliese Marie into the world, and there we had it. My job was done.  Well, at least the first job of getting her out. This job is sort of ongoing, but I’ll leave that for the next post-- entitled either "Harskamps get evicted", or "Anneliese gets bronchiolitus at 3 weeks old and her parents spend 6 hours in emerg the night before moving day, because 'Harskamps got evicted'"Thoughts? 

I am only 3 weeks away from my projected due date, and here's where things stand.
 If the baby was born today-- we'd have no name picked, no girls clothes, and no diapers bought, BUT we'd have a crib for the very first time, AND at least some idea of what to expect this time around. So I'm not sweating it. I did have that feeling of "nesting" that so many pregnant women talk about for the very first time a couple days ago. And the result was setting up for Christmas. We now have a mantle draped in garland, and an urn filled with red sticks and pine branches. I also play a lot of Christmas music. In the chaos that is my living room, music and Christmas lights temper the anxieties I am feeling at the thought of giving birth a second time. In preparation for the next bundle of lungs and joy, we have introduced Jesse to his "big boy bed". I am not sure why this would matter at all, but it just seems like the next step. That, and we realized two days ago that he can actually get enough momentum to flip himself head first out of his playpen. I was there to see it, and prevent that trip to Emerg. So, the time came to put him in a real bed, and I am already mourning the loss of his playpen. There are serious drawbacks to a 19 month old in a real bed.
Such as, he is no longer contained and I am left to wonder at all the sounds coming from the other side of his door. He can also open doors, and so the next logical step is that he will now come out of bed (quite easily) and chill in the living room, at any hour he feels so inclined. Last nights issue with the big bed was anxiety, which could not be soothed-- and so James spent the night with Jesse's feet pummeling his back because we caved and let him sleep with us. I cannot get my head around the amount of movement that goes on while this kid sleeps. Last night is not one I would like to see repeated. But, peace reigns again while he sleeps, and I blog, and feel new little feet pummel my insides while I try to get comfortable in this recliner chair that makes me uncomfortable. That thing I wrote about 'peace' a moment ago has already been interrupted by the fact that the garbage truck just caught my attention-- or more accurately, the truck that drove past with nothing on my curb to pick up,  and James' voice coming back to me as I dropped him off for school...' make sure you take out the garbage Ree....'  Oops.
At least I remembered to bake. I am participating in a Christmas bake exchange this aft with a few girls, and although my numbers were off, and I made enough for everyone excluding myself, I'm banking on getting way better stuff in return :) Speaking of which, I should be heading there now, and I doubt the towel on the head look is going to cut it, nor James' sweatpants that I've claimed as mine for the duration of the 3rd trimester. Time to put myself together.. and then the living room.

Pioneer Day!

One of my unabashed annual anticipations is Pioneer Day in Jordan Station. I'm not sure why I get such a kick out of the reenactment of life "back in the day", but I suspect it has to do with my long time desire to churn butter and dip candles. In short, BE Laura Ingalls, braids and all. So this is the closest I'll get, and it happens once a year. These two handsome gentlemen, future teacher, future student, are getting a taste of the 1900s classroom. Fantastic.

Outside the old schoohouse.

Jesse wasn't totally on side with making applesauce out of doors.

Jesse and the nephews picking out some gourds to decorate my house.

 Total Harskamp ?  :)

Done with his fries-- and moving on to the next supplier.

Photo Op.

I thought there was room on that hay bale for the clan. At 7 months pregnant, it was ambitious.

The old barn.

Jesse's first proposal. By his cousin. I'm sure this is in keeping with the Pioneer Day spirit.

After Pioneer day, James and I got to work preparing our Thanksgiving Day feast for the Hamilton friends. Roast beef, mashed potatoes, mushrooms, gravy, some beans, fresh bread and apple crisp. Fall has been embraced :) And then Jesse and I went foraging in the ditch to make some centerpieces. I didn't realize this gesture would also usher in a million bugs to join the feast. Ew.

Uncle Brian and Jesse, getting to know each other on a deeper level.

The group, and our home.

So far, a fantastic start to fall. Can't wait for the photo ops that October has to offer. Cheers, and happy early Thanksgiving!

In hindsight, Jesse's first year of life and my first year of motherhood crept along at a turtle's pace. I actually blogged monthly about my son, which means two things: I was aware of each passing month, and I associated those months with the age of my son. I commend my former diligence, realizing today that half a year has passed since Jesse's B.C birthday. I regret this fact.
I regret not continuing to document those 6 post birthday months because I think he has formed into a little person right under my nose, and I have failed to note the subtle changes that have created an altogether new person than the Jesse of 6 months ago. Some of you may be thinking, "Big whoop Ree. It's 6 months". You're probably right. It's not like I'll have this kind of stamina with the rest of my kids some day. But, this is the FIRST, and I think I may use these posts as a reference/guide for this upcoming December, in which case, the colour commentary is both amusing and helpful. Enough justification.
Update time.
My son is a monster. A very adorable, animated, independent, thrill seeking gremlin. Not a week passes when he is not nurturing one, if not multiple types of head wound. Last week this included two fat lips and a mouth full of blood and gravel after taking his toy quad straight off the stairs of the tennis court-- (* and it's worthy to note that this was absolutely premeditated) The morning of this incident he had already sustained his first injury of the day, having conveniently outmaneuvered me only to smoke the corner of the coffee table. Of all days to have an OB visit. I've decided the energy exerted in explaining to people I'm not abusive just isn't worth it.
"Oh, he was on a tricycle, but his feet didn't touch and that slash across his neck is because he scraped it against a metal faucet while he was falling...."
"Oh, he thought he could stand on my mesh hamper on the tile floor... and then he tried jumping..."
"Oh, he just didn't want to let go of his toy,  so he ended up dragging behind it on the concrete. Yes.. that's why he has no skin on his nose..."
" Oh, he just walked off the edge of the retaining wall and landed on a rock. Yes, head first."
" A chair fell on him..."

Not surprsingly, he can now say with clarity the words "Ow" and "Uh Oh", with complete understanding. In the words department, he is doing well. He is definitely in the imitation phase of his young life, and repeats a lot of my phrases. This does not always bode well for me, but I am happy in his progress with syllables.

He has a few self-taught tricks, and although we are curious about their origin, we enjoy the entertainment. For one, he clucks at dogs. Soother in or out, it doesn't matter, the same sound comes out, and it's funny.
He folds his hands for prayer, which doesn't seem that curious, but we never taught him that. What's amusing is that if I forget to pray with him and start spooning food in his mouth, he'll stop me by simply folding his hands and blinking at me.
He kisses the girl in "Ten little fingers and ten little toes". He chooses the book for that very reason and has his lips puckered well before the girl shows up.
He yells 'go' while pumping his arm when he wants something out of his way-- mostly my dog Sam. When I tell him to be nice, he pulls out his soother and gives Sam a kiss.

His morning routine is the real kicker. He's elaborated the thing to the point of excess. 5:45 am he's up and it can't be helped. Trust me, we've tried.  Before he's ready to leave his bed, he will hand me his blanket. Then he bends down and looks around for his second blanket. That safely in my grasp, he will bend down again to find his soother. Not the one in his mouth, but the one he wants to hold  until he gets his sippy cup. Now we are ready for our trip to the fridge. I've tried to cut out this step, but the steps are vital, and if one is altered, Jesse's inner monster emerges, and nobody is ready for that before 6 am. I cave. He hands me both soothers, takes his milk, and points me to the T.V. Not happening. I now win this battle, and he comes back to bed with me and begins to poke James, who is still sleeping. For some reason he has to poke both our noses, like it's a test that we are really his parents. Once that's done, he settles in and sucks back his bottle. This is more or less the beginning of every morning with Jesse.
I'm tired just thinking about it, and realize that I am quite happy that I still have approx. 3 more months until   Jesse meets his new little brother or sister :)

I hope to keep this regular, because I realize I have barely scratched the surface on our past 6 months--having skipped over our 65 hour road trip back home. But that merits a blog of its own :) Until then.