Enchiladas With Plaff

I am indescribably exhausted. I was hoping for a second trimester boost, but recently I've just felt like a zombie walking around. I try to exercise to get some energy (so glad I can return to the gym now), I eat reasonably well, I get a reasonable amount of sleep . . . but wow, I feel tired just typing. What have I added to my schedule? Well, the gym, as mentioned, and I now teach dance lessons to little girls twice a week. Just twice a week, shouldn't be making an impact.

So exactly how tired am I? Last night I climbed in bed (not too late, either), and Josh made some crazy sound in his sleep. The thought that came to my mind was, "That child sounds like an enchilada." What?! Yet that was my first thought, one that didn't seem strange until this morning.

This thought of mine reminds me of my dear son Joshua, who is constantly making up words whenever he doesn't have one. Here are a few he's come up with recently:

-Josh was playing in his room and Gary asked him what he was doing. "Playing with the duckgums," was Josh's reply. (They were Triominoes.)
-He is constantly drawing something he calls "penshuns." No, he's never heard us talking about "pensions," as far as he knows he made that up. He draws penshuns for everyone. "Mom, I found Noah's penshun on the floor!" he'll say.
-We were getting shelves built in our house (hooray for that, more later), and there were little scraps of wood all over. Josh picked some up and proclaimed he was playing with fees.
- At dinner Gary asked me what recipe I used. Josh said, "I have a recipe. It has sugar and plaff."

I know there's more that I'm forgetting, like I said, he does this often. The crazy thing is, he remembers the words he made up. A couple of days later, he cleaned up the duckgums, and called them the same thing. Similar story with the other words. Funny boy. As for Noah, he's getting a lot of attention by sweetly saying, "Hi, hi," to everyone he sees. Aaaah. Writing happy things just gave me an energy boost. Maybe I have the strength to go buy more plaff . . .

One Year of Noah

Dear Noah,

I worry that you might struggle a little with being a big brother so young. I know that you won't remember being the baby, and hopefully you and your new brother will grow up being great friends, like I was with my sister, but still . . . I want you to know that you're not just one of a crowd of kids or a bunch of babies, you are my one and only Noah. Maybe someday if you struggle I'll be able to pull out this blog entry, and you'll know my sincere feelings around the time you turned one.

Although your first year has passed by very quickly, I feel like you've been a part of our family for a long time. I remember the first time the doctor laid you on my chest, I looked at you and gasped because you were so beautiful. You were nearly clean (thanks to being overdue), and you had wavy dark hair and big brown eyes . . . I just stroked your head and cheeks in wonder. That night I was trying to sleep, I mean, I should have been tired, getting you here wasn't exactly easy, but I couldn't really sleep. All I could think was, "I have a really cute baby, and I can't wait to see him."

I tried to get the perfect photo of you those first few weeks, but my camera wasn't fancy enough to snap one before you made a funny face. I love the funny face photos, but trust me, your preciousness in person was over the top. Now, I still love your big eyes and your brown hair . . . which is usually all over the place because you style it with food at every meal. I love your giggle, your snuggly hugs (especially when you pat me on the back), and your cheeks. Oh, man, I love those cheeks, I just kiss and kiss them. It's actually bringing tears to my eyes thinking about you growing up and not having those cheeks and that snuggle.

When I thought about having a new baby, one of the reasons why it sounded good is because you have been such a great baby. When I watch you and Josh playing together or with your dad, how can I help but think babies are great?

Oh, Noah, I really love you. I might have other babies, but I'll never have another baby Noah.

Love,
Mom

So, yes . . . my baby had a birthday a couple of weeks ago! I hope you can excuse that I chose to write that here instead of my journal, but this is where it ended up. Hope it doesn't sound like my baby is superior, but he is my baby. My prayer would be that every baby could have a mommy that feels this way about him or her, if not in all of those exact words. Anyway, we did have birthday festivities, and I have no brilliant segues, so here is some of Noah's recent life.

Noah got his first haircut at the beginning of May. Doesn't he look excited to get a new look? (Yes, Gary's the barber around here, and I think we did this pretty early in the morning.)

Noah loves playing with hats all of the sudden.

For his birthday, we celebrated hard at Chuck E. Cheese. Normally we wouldn't have a one-year-old's party there, but my niece was having a birthday at the same time, and my family had another event in the area anyway, so . . . lucky everyone! Noah is cheap there, because he loves the cars, etc. whether or not there's a token making it go. Here he is with his cousin Braden, just delighted to be sitting on the ride.

Noah and I took a little safari together and Gary captured this face . . . "Why is all of the attention suddenly on me?" He wondered. But once the song is over, it didn't take Noah long to find the "business end" of the candle. (Quote by my dad.)

There was no question how he felt about eating the cake . . .

(Two side notes: Why don't I have an adorable photo of both children with their cakes, which were actually on the same table as the song was sung? I don't know, crazy night, wish I did. Sophie looked cute and 2, though. Also, I thought I would save time by buying canned frosting instead of making colored frosting and putting it in the bag to pipe words on the cakes. Big mistake . . . the frosting comes out of those cans at 120 miles per hour, and is impossible to control. So it looks ghetto, but the toys on top were all Noah and Sophie cared about, so whatever.)

Present time . . . he loves this car from grandma. I'm pretty sure his initial reaction of sucking on this shirt meant he loved it, too.

Our visit to the doctor revealed that he's still tall, but not as chubby as you think. He's 31 inches tall, 90th percentile, and 23 lbs. 6 oz., 50th percentile. Another scale said he's 24 lbs, 6 oz., but when I weigh myself I always go with the lowest number, so I guess I can do that for my son.

He also has become quite talkative lately. He loves talking on the phone, whether it's a real phone and a real person, or a calculator, a remote, a spoon, some goggles . . . usually it's a bunch of, "Be, ba, ba, be? Ba da bee de!" However, lately he's been trying to say other things. Adding to his "mom,mom", "dad,dad," and "uh, oh" are "dog," "ball," "night,night," "thank you," and "Jo" (Josh). No, none of them are perfect, but it's fun to see him try new things out. Also, once he said, "bath" as clear as day, but Gary and I think he must have gotten lucky.

He's really got a little personality, loving to dance, clap, listen to music, play games like peek-a-boo and tickle, torment Josh by running around with his binky, color with sidewalk chalk in between bites . . . all the good kid stuff. This is a really long post, but turning one deserves it. How often does one go from totally helpless to full of fun in one year? Love you, Noah!

Help Team Maddie If You Can

My family and I have recently joined Great Strides, an organization associated with the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation. Basic deal is we walk for the cause, try to get people to donate to the cause, and millions of dollars later the disease is cured. Hooray!

If you have a dollar or two or a million (doesn't hurt to ask, I mean, some people have a million) that could go towards cystic fibrosis research, there is a handy widget on the top right side of my blog. You just click, donate, then feel good all over. (If you donate, don't scoff at my low goals . . . I am afraid of fundraising.) The walk for this year is on Saturday, so we're getting into this late in the game, but at least I'll donate, so it should be fantastic! I'll leave you with a little inspiration:

I Finally Get Back To The Gym And . . .

- During the first class I attended, I realized I smelled very strongly of bacon. Yes, I am dedicated to health!

- During the second class I attended (this morning), the instructor told me I should suck in my belly so my belly button is going in toward my spine . . . I have a feeling my belly button and spine won't be seeing much of each other for a while.

- I did not die!

Oh, why has it been so long? Because the gym won't accept babies under 1, which I did not know when I signed up while pregnant with Noah. The fact I told the owner when signing up that the daycare was my sole reason for choosing his gym, and he knew I was pregnant, does not phase him. I must pay, pay, pay, so now that Noah is 1, I must also work out.