Six

Hudson turned 6 years old today.  There's something different about this birthday. Maybe it's the lanky body that barely fits on my lap.  Maybe it's Hudson's blossoming literacy.  Maybe it's the fact that I now have to shop in the Boys' Department in clothing stores.  For some reason, today feels strangely sad.  Six no longer means baby or toddler, even though Hudson will always be my first "baby".

There have been many days, and many, MANY nights, when I have wished for him to grow up.  Times when I prayed he would start to do things by himself.  When will he put on his own clothes?  When will he go to sleep by himself? When will he stay in his bed all night? As all of these life skills are mastered, I'm seeing less of my little boy who needs me and more of the independent boy I dreamed he would be.

Throughout these six years, Hudson and I have walked hand in hand throughout parenting.  Without a manual, I learned to trust my gut and listen to his cues.  He has guided me. There have been many times when I doubted my decisions and the paths that we chose.  Today, he gave me a sign that we were doing just fine. We had his traditional Montessori birthday celebration at school.  We talked about each year of Hudson's life.  When we got to year six, his teacher looked at him and asked "Hudson, what is it that you like to do now that you're six?".  I waited for the expected answer, that he likes to play with Legos or likes to watch football.  Instead, Hudson replied "I like to play with my Dad.  And my baby. And my sister".  In that moment, as I beamed and blinked back tears, I knew we have done something right.

Hudson James, as you say goodbye to your toddler years and continue your journey through life, please know that I want nothing more than for you to share your kindness with the world. I see it everyday, from the way you tenderly watch after your brother and sister to the way you care for the other children in your classroom to the unprompted hugs and "I love you"s that you shower me with each day.  Every day, stories of evil and corruption flood my newsfeeds, leaving me questioning humanity. Instead of feeling discouraged, I think of you and how the kindness you bring to the world makes it a better place. I pray that your kind spirit is what leads you through life.  If there is one message I could give to you, it's that there is no amount of success, achievement, or accolades in this world that could replace your kindness.  Please don't ever lose it.

Happy birthday Hudson James.

#tearfulmommy

Birth story and bittersweet birthdays

This post is brought to you by the letter B :)


One of the reasons I wanted to start this blog back up again was because I wanted to write down Hayes' birth story.  I like to remember every minor detail and had high hopes for recording them all here.  Then life happened.  I had a newborn. And two toddlers. And was moving.  The urgency to document the details got lost in the shuffle as did many of the details of that day. But here we are, one year later, and damn it, I will write this birth story!!!

The story actually starts on Sunday, November 4th.  Ryan's mom, Jan, was staying with us in Baltimore because Hurricane Sandy left her house without power and water.  She came down for heat, a shower, and a visit.  We spent the day in the house, watching football.  The Steelers were playing (they beat the Giants), but I was distracted.  I was in serious nesting mode: all day was spent cleaning, washing laundry, baking, and cooking.  Jan even made a comment that I should really take a break as I was on my (swollen) feet all day.

During this time, Ryan was traveling to NYC on the train multiple times each week.  He would leave at 6a and get home that evening at 8p.  That evening I asked when he thought he would stop traveling as my due date of November 15th was approaching.  He told me that he would stay in Baltimore starting on November 12th.

The next morning, Monday November 5th, Ryan did his usual 4:45a wake up to get to the 6:12a train.  I stayed in bed until it was time for me to get up for work which was just before 7am.  I walked into the bathroom and happened to take my cell phone with me so I could check the weather for the day.  As I was walking, I just felt a bit crampy and nauseous. I sat to go to the bathroom and and noticed that I had passed something (presumably the mucous plus).  At 6:54a, I texted Ryan that I thought he should head back to Baltimore.

I walked into Hudson's room where Jan was still sleeping.  I nudged her awake and said that I needed to go to the hospital.  At this point, I started to experience what I assumed were contractions (with Hudson and Hadley, I was induced so I only knew what pitocin contractions felt like).  I remember sitting on the stairs to our rooftop deck, in tons of pain.  Ryan's mom got me some orange juice.  I couldn't tell if I was going to throw up or pass out.  We began to call around the neighborhood to see who could watch Hudson and Hadley until our nanny arrived at 8a.  We finally got a hold of my dear friend, Jen.  She said that her or her husband would be right over.  I was somewhat hoping for her husband since he is a doctor and I wasn't sure I was going to make it.

Once Jen arrives and takes over, we get into my car. I know that I need to call my mom ASAP and tell her what's happening.  She was in Pittsburgh and wouldn't get to Baltimore for the birth, but I had to keep her posted on the details.  As we were driving, I would get a contraction and have to put the phone down while I clutched the door handle with white knuckles.  This was all a bit much for Jan, who was trying to figure out if she should ask for a police escort as we passed the police station.  The red lights in downtown Baltimore were not on our side that morning as it seemed like we stopped at each one.

We arrive at the hospital at 8am.  A police officer/guard/someone in uniform at the emergency entrance got me a wheel chair and pushed me in as Jan went to park the car.  It was a bit lonely to have to enter the hospital by myself, but the pain quickly made me forget any of that.

I was taken right into a triage room.  They did an exam and confirmed that I was indeed in labor (no kidding Sherlock).  I have no idea how far along I was because I couldn't hear anything over my moans.  Jan had parked and was with me now.  She said that Ryan was on his way.

I was taken into a delivery room.  Jan was there.  I was really moaning now.  Just like the pregnant ladies in the movies.  I was lying on my right side, clutching onto the bedrail so tightly.  The nurse I had was not overly friendly and didn't seem too concerned about my state.  They called the anesthesiologist in to start the epidural.  I have no idea who was in my room.  I didn't care who heard me scream.  Ryan arrived at 8:45a, but I didn't see him as I couldn't even open my eyes.  Him and his mom were rushed out as they were about to begin the epidural.  They told me that they needed me to sit still and I couldn't promise that given the pain of the contractions.  This part is a bit blurry to me now, but I think that my blood pressure dropped or something happened that they couldn't do the epidural and were going to come back in a few minutes.  As they left, I was yelling that I needed to start pushing (it's true - you get an intense urge to just push).  I was still on my right side, paralyzed with pain.  The unfriendly nurse told me that I needed to open my legs if I was going to push but I told her that I couldn't and just hoped she lift my left leg for me.  They wanted me to roll to my back, but I couldn't. I continued to scream.  A doctor was pulled in.  I can't remember the details, but I don't think he was an OB.  I think he was an intern, or ER doc, or something.  But he was there at the time when a baby was coming and a doctor was needed! Some yelled "Go get her family!".  Ryan and Jan walked in just as Hayes was coming out.  I think I pushed twice and ta-da! It was 9:02am.

In the chaos of the delivery, no one yelled out what I had.  A few seconds later, Ryan told me we had a boy.

Hayes (at the time "Baby Prichard") was perfect.  Ryan and I bonded with him right away.  After an hour or so, Ryan and Jan went to get me some things at home, lunch, and birthday gifts for Hayes.  I was left alone with Hayes in our recovery room.  I vividly remember staring at him and thinking, "wow, you were just inside me.  You are the one who I have felt for months".  That feeling after delivery is just surreal.  Hayes and I just sat there, for hours.  No TV.  No visitors.  Just the two of us.

Ryan and his mom returned with food, Starbucks, clean clothes, and gifts.  Jan stayed with us for a few hours, but had to go home to spend the night with Hudson and Hadley after our nanny left at 5p.  Ryan and I spent the night watching MNF, election coverage (the presidential election was the next day), and trying to come up with a name.  Naming a child has to be one of life's most stressful decisions.  It's a lifelong decision for another person - talk about weight on your shoulders!  Ryan did what he does best: busted out dry erase markers and starting diagraming first and middle names on the dry erase board in my room.  Finally, by the next morning, Hayes Miller Prichard had his name.

Thinking back to that day makes it feel as if it were a lifetime ago.  And in some ways it was.  We were living in Baltimore.  We only had two children at home.  It was a different life from the one we're currently living.

First birthdays are always bittersweet.  It feels as though it's the first point when you truly say good bye to having a baby.  Teeth start to pop through. Wobbly standing gives way to wobbly walking.  It's possible to stop breastfeeding as we have reached our goal.  All signs of growing up.  And there are days when I want nothing more for him to grow up.  Days when I wish he could entertain himself long enough for me to cook dinner.  Days when I wish he would walk because he's too heavy to carry.  Days when I wish he would just use the potty because I can't change one.more.diaper.  And then you think of the loss of your baby.  The one who needs you for food.  The one who used to fit into those itty bitty sleepers. The one who cries when you walk away.  The one who can be calmed instantly by the warmth of your skin and the sound of your heart.

This first birthday is especially bittersweet for me as it's most likely my last.  It is marking not only the loss of "babyhood" for Hayes, but for me as a mother.  Reflecting back is leaving me with a mix of emotions.  It's hard to put into words or how to even wrap my head around it.  From the surprise of my pregnancy (and all of the emotions surrounding that), through Hayes' arrival, to the life changes that came with moving and staying home, I'm sitting here in a cloud of happiness, sadness, pride, and amazement.  I never saw my life taking all of these turns, but it seems that my road to happiness is a winding one.

Happy birthday Hayeser Laser.

#passthetissues
#ayearinpictures

Lemonade from lemons

This blog post has been writing itself all day.  In fact, it started in the wee hours of the night.  Hayes has been rather fussy and battling a fever.  He and I had a series of 45 minute naps all night until 4:30a when we crashed for two hours (finally).  Ryan woke me at 6:30a to say goodbye as he was headed to a conference in San Francisco (I had already been uneasy about this - a direct Tuesday morning flight from Newark to SFO was all too reminiscent of another flight that set out on that route 12 years ago).  I heard him close our front door and within 5 seconds heard Hadley calling for Daddy from her bed.  By the time I opened my eyes, I saw Hudson walking up the stairs into my room.  Rise and shine.

We managed to get through breakfast and the rest of the morning routine pretty smoothly.  I walked the kids to school and made it on time.  The day is already a success.
 
I had plans to get coffee with a new friend in Jersey City.  Her son is good friends with Hudson and we have gone out a few times for coffee (yay for new friends!).  I really enjoy chatting with her and having adult conversations, even if we're somewhat distracted by wrangling our little ones.  I called the pediatrician to schedule a visit for Hayes given his state overnight.  The only available time was right smack in the middle of our coffee date.  Looks like that would need to get rescheduled.

I get Hayes in the car to get to the doctor and realize that the last time I gave him Motrin was 3a. At 11:30a, it had worn off and I could tell his fever was spiking again.  We get to the doctor and find out that his fever is 103.  The doc checks his ears and, at first glance, says they looked clear.  She decided to look in the left one again and realized that it was red, thus diagnosing him with an ear infection.  For some reason, his first ear infection, especially before he was a year old, made me feel like somewhat of a failure.  It's easy to get lax by the third child, much less vigilant of keeping their hands and toys free of germs.  So, I feel responsible for not doing a better job of protecting him.  I also learned that pediatricians aren't automatically prescribing antibiotics for ear infections so her advice was to monitor for 48 hours.  That will take me right through my days of single parenting.  Fantastic.

We get home and Hayes sleeps on my chest all day.  Lethargic and unable to sleep comfortably in his crib, I accept that I will spend my day snuggling him.  My stomach and bladder were unhappy with that setup as it meant no lunch and no bathroom trips. 

I go to pick Hadley up at school for her dentist appointment.  Hayes seemed much better after his Motrin, nap, and some lunch.  I had a great car ride conversation with Hadley.  She told me that she was learning about Beethoven in school and he was a great musician, but he had crazy grey hair and didn't sing the words to his songs.  Love this girl :)

We get to the dentist and Hadley is a perfect angel.  The dentist, who was gorgeous and looked to be a good 10 years younger than me, was cleaning her teeth and found a small cavity.  Oh no! Once again, I failed one of my children.  I felt just awful.  During her surge of independence, Hadley has often been asking to brush herself without our help.  We get so caught up in all of the other routines that accompany teeth brushing in both the morning and night that we relish in the fact that she has taken a responsibility away from us.   Only to learn we probably shouldn't have handed this over to her so quickly.  The dentist said it was so small and that she could fill it right then. The dentist and the hygienist were wonderful with Hadley, but it was my sunshine who was the star of the show.  She sat there and did every thing they asked of her without even batting an eye.  They kept mumbling to one another how well she was doing.  At the end, the dentist looked at me and said "She is probably the best 3 year old patient I had.  Not just today, not in my past, but probably in my future too." I thanked her for the kind words and said that Hadley was a really good girl.  Do you know what the dentist said to me? She said "it's a sign of what a good mother you are".  Wow.  I needed to hear that.  Especially today. Thank you.

We left the dentist to pick up Hudson from school.  In place of our coffee date, my friend and I decided to get the kids together after school.  It was poor planning on my part.  Hayes was getting hungry and fussy, it was getting close to dinner, it was brisk outside, Hudson wasn't listening (just being silly with his friend). I ended the play date short to get the kids home and get dinner.

A few hours later, I go to pack the kids lunches and can't find Hudson's lunchbox.  I immediately know where it is...still at the park we played at after school.  I couldn't fathom taking all three kids back out in the dark.  I thought about asking a neighbor to watch the kids, but there's no one that I'm that comfortable with (Baltimore, I miss you).  I thought about asking the friend we playing with if she would mind running out to look for the lunchbox since I knew she had help at home.  In the end, I couldn't ask for help (this is a problem of mine), so I strapped Hayes in the Ergo, put the other two in the stroller with a blanket and set out with a flashlight in hand. The lunchbox wasn't where we left it, but after a few rounds of walking through the park, we found the box and its contents (in different places). 

Feeling a strange mix of defeat (for all the challenges presented today) and pride (for how I responded), I walked the kids home and talked to them about how I needed them to listen when we got home and get ready for bed.  Maybe it was my exasperated expression I wore on my face or maybe it was our little pep talk, but amazingly, the kids listened.  They got ready for bed without a hitch.  The four of us were sitting on Hadley's bed and Hudson says "we should have a family snuggle". And we did.

I sat back thinking about today and realized how easy it is to get caught up in how disappointed I could have been.  First ear infection, first cavity, no parenting help, failed play date, lost lunch box, cold dinner at 9p, etc.  But as I thought back, so many of the positives outshone the negatives. The dentist's comments to me, Hadley's amazing behavior, Hayes having only a minor health issue, Hudson's affection, Hadley's conversations, Ryan's safe arrival in SF.  After readjusting my focus I was able to look back on today and think "Wow, I'm pretty amazing and life is good."

#lemonade
#adaywithoutadultconversationleadstonovelsforblogposts

"Home" sick

"You never really leave a place or person you love, part of them you take with you, leaving a part of yourself behind.”

It's been 10 months and my heart still aches for Baltimore. It's funny because I would have never thought I would become so attached to that city. I mean, this is the town that is home to the Ravens. That alone has always made me feel a bit of a disconnect from the city - what can I say. It's in my blood. I truly think my blood runs black and gold. I despise the Ravens. And most of their fans. I know they would complain about "obnoxious Steeler fans" as well, but I've always been a courteous fan (well, except when I wear my "Where was Ray Lewis when Joey Porter was shot" shirt. Because that's just awesome). However I've had a few unprompted run ins. Like the night when I was at book club and a woman well into her 70s wanted to dish it (calling Ben a rapist) but couldn't take it (as I rebutted with questions about Ray Lewis's innocence). Or maybe it was the night that I argued the merits of Ben vs. Kyle Boller (we see how that comparison panned out) with man who then decided a physical altercation was the best way to solve our dilemma. I digress... Football is threaded in my skin, flowing through my veins. I say all of this to highlight why I didn't think the city of Baltimore would have an impact on me. I was a Pittsburgh girl at heart, just stopping in Baltimore along the way to a PhD. So you can imagine my surprise with the hole that Baltimore has left in my heart. 9 years, one husband, three babies, one PhD later. Charm City isn't just a physical location. It's the keeper of my memories from some of the most important years of my life. I find myself reminiscing many nights when I run out alone to go to the store or to pick up dinner. As I walk the streets of Jersey City I'm blindsided with the sadness that I feel thinking back to our first home as a family. 

We had a really special neighborhood.  We lived in a little suburb within the city where all of our neighbors were friends.  We all seemed to be in the same spot in life, having similar interests, and maybe even more importantly, similarly-aged children.  Coming home from work each day, you knew you could pull into your garage, walk in the house to get the kids, and walk right back out into our alleyway to join everyone playing baseball (kids) or having a glass of wine (adults) while someone ordered pizza for the kids and someone else ran inside to cut up some fruit for them.  Or, when a tropical storm threatens, you can have a "storm soiree" and this is what your living room would look like: 

(Looking at this picture just makes me smile.  It's from August 2011 so our little ones look like babies here).  

We are starting to plan Hudson's birthday party.  When asked who he wants to invite, he named his friends from Baltimore.  Hadley often stops and asks if I remember "when we used to do that in Baltimore".  Every night in their prayers, we pray for all of our friends and teachers in Baltimore.  Part of me wants to keep talking about it so that they don't forget the memories.

In addition to these adorable kids, Ryan and I made lifelong friends. As you get older, making friends proves to be much harder than it was in your 20s.  Once you have a family, it's even harder.  Where do you meet people? How do you find the time to connect? Our neighborhood created a setting where those friendships could flourish organically.  When your kids are out playing in limited space, you get to know people.  You chat.  You schedule playdates. You drink.  You put the kids to bed.  You drink more.  And then repeat.  When I was pregnant with Hayes, Ryan was working in NYC and often getting home at 8p or staying over night.  On numerous occasions, my neighbors would take Hudson and Hadley, get them dinner, give them a bath, take them out for ice cream, or just take them outside to play.  All just to help me.  Having a support system like that is pretty incredible.

Our send-off party

There are big things I miss.  I miss my job.  I miss my friends.  I miss City Limits. Then there's also a lot of little joys that I miss.  I miss relaxing while watching football in bed (did I mention football again?? Seriously, I have a problem).  I miss making waffles with the kids on Sunday morning in our kitchen.  I miss watching Ryan and Hudson from the kitchen window, playing football in the grassy area out front (aka The Cage).  I miss snuggling on our couch in the glow of our Christmas tree lights.  I miss our traditions. There's an empty pit in my stomach when I think about these memories. A friend told me that I need to live through all four seasons in our new home before I can start to let go and now I see why.  I need to unravel the joy of these memories from the physical space. I need to recreate these moments in a new space.  With new friends.  And new traditions.

I know that it will continue to get easier.  For all of us. The sadness will fade. But right now, 10 months later, it's still pretty raw.

#aBaltimorelovestory

A blog identity

I've been thinking about how to use this blog for a few days now.  I wrote a long blog post on my iPhone that I haven't yet transferred for editing.  The post really has nothing to do with parenting, which made me think of about this blog's identity.  In the past, this was a way of sharing things like photos of the kids with family (which is a task now managed by Facebook) or posting recipes so I didn't forget them (thanks to Pinterest, I no longer need to do this).  I also was thinking about who will be reading this.  Other than my mom (Hi Mom!), I have no idea who my little blog my attract.  So, I've concluded that this blog will serve to be a place for me to vent, to celebrate, to mourn, and hopefully discuss (via comments) all of the things life throws at me.  Most of that will pertain to parenting, but other topics will likely come up. In other words, I've decided that I'm writing this blog for me and not for anyone else.

#timetobealittleselfish
#you'vebeenwarned

Help is not a four letter word.

I have to laugh at this title. My kids' and their emerging literacy would challenge me on that one. 

Hayes and I went into NYC today. We got off of the ferry when we returned to Jersey City and I saw a woman ahead of me struggling with a little girl. She picked the girl up, trying to contain her and carry the girl over her shoulder. I immediately empathized with the mother/nanny because I had been there (many times). She was walking with the girl, also pushing a stroller with infant twins, while the girl cried. When I caught up to them, the little girl was no longer crying, but she was laying on the ground refusing to walk. The woman looked exasperated and defeated.  It was written all over her face, her hunched shoulders, her eyes pleading for just a shred of cooperation from the little girl. I looked at her and tried to express my empathy with a small smile. As I was walking away, I stopped, turned back, and asked, "is there anything I could do to help? Could I offer her a snack to maybe get her willing to walk?"  To my surprise, she said "Yes, a snack, that would be great. Maybe that will work." So I handed her a Baby Mum Mum and watched the little girl stand up to take the cracker. Just then, one of the twins started to cry so I walked along, not wanting the woman to feel any more pressure with me standing there. (As a side note, I think that mothers tend to feel judged more often while in the presence of other mothers. This is especially true when our children aren't behaving the way we would hope). 

While walking home I was thinking about my surprise that she accepted my offer for help. I thought about being in her shoes. If a stranger walked by and offered my child a snack, I would never think to take it (even if it was a sealed Mum Mum like I handed her). There are times when I'm offered help from someone I know and I don't know how to accept it. Last week, I went out for coffee and breakfast with a new friend. She didn't have her little ones with her and I had Hayes. She just had coffee while I also had breakfast. Hayes was squirming and making it really difficult for me to eat. She asked if I wanted her to hold him while I finished and my reflexive response was "no, I'm okay, thanks."   After a few introspective moments on that walk home, I tried to dissect my unwillingness to have others help me (although I'm a SAHM now, my previous life as a psychologist still shines through at times!). Has our culture of independence fooled us into thinking that we don't need help? What is the root cause for not accepting it? Being judged for not being able to do it all? I wish I had answers. I reminded myself that it takes a village to raise a child. Given the exponential impacts of additional children on our ability to parent, I just may need a continent. 

#helpisnotafourletterword

#feelsgoodtobeback 

Right now - 1:44EST

I'm bringing my blog back to life with my partner in crime

See my friend Danielle's post regarding "Right Now".

A resurrection of a blog

March 22, 2010.  That was the last time I wrote an entry here.  Hudson had Grandpa hair. Hadley was an immobile newborn.  Hayes wasn't even a registered thought.  I was still in grad school.  We were living in Baltimore.  Obviously it was a different world for us then.  In the months (years!) that have passed, I have given many thoughts to this blog.  I often think of something and go "Wow, I have a lot to say about that and should write a blog post" then life happens and that thought gets downgraded to a Facebook status or remains trapped in my overactive frontal lobes. I (over)think about creating new blog posts and tell myself that I'm already drowning in everyday life and that writing these posts would just add another item on my infinite to-do list. Well, today, September 26th 2013, I'm going to break that cycle and resurrect I Drool Black and Gold. I hope with today's technology (did I even have an iPhone in 2010?!?) that I will be able to compose posts on the fly (I'm looking at you iPad) and not have to schedule time at my desktop with pictures that I had to download off of my camera (with a wire!!). (#thatsalotofparenthesisinonesentence #wedidnothavehashtagsin2010)

Looking forward to becoming reacquainted.
#tobecontinued