Growing

I wanted to take a minute and update on here the recent milestones and changes my boys experienced, if for no other reason than to have it written down somewhere so in the future I can remember this moment in life.

Levi is now over three and a half years old, closing in on four. This is the year Levi started school. His first taste of a pre-school program was at the local YMCA in September. He was incredibly shy and nervous at first, but adapted quickly. In early October, we found out he had been accepted at a local public Montessori program, and we made the switch. Again, the transition was difficult and full of struggle, but he is now thriving in his class. At the same time he started at his new school, we had Levi evaluated for speech and he is now receiving speech therapy twice a week.

Levi is full of energy, loves to run,chase,scooter,climb, jump and wrestle. He is incredibly kind and thoughtful, teaching his brother new things, working hard to share, and has recently started telling us he loves us completely unprompted. He is loving learning about letters and how to spell his name. While he is hard to understand sometimes, he loves talking and once he starts he will tell stories non-stop. His imagination is blooming, his favorite is to be a dinosaur/monster and chase Ian. He loves to growl. He gets himself dressed all by himself most days. He would go every where naked if we allowed. We've finally had to set a few rules about his level of undress- that if we have company, he must at least have pants on, if he is naked he is *not* allowed to stand in the front window, and he must wear underwear on school days. I love how creative Levi is, how curious he is about the world, and how generous he is with his love. He is absolutely wonderful and I love him more every day.

Ian is over eighteen months old, a few months away from turning two. He is simply amazing. I could not have asked for a more relaxed and easy going baby. He recently weaned, transitioned to his own bed, switched to forward facing in the car seat, and had his first hair cut. And he's starting to show interest in the potty. I'm afraid he's not really a baby anymore. He absolutely adores his brother and every single day gets really excited to meet Levi at the bus stop. Ian will laugh even when he's sick. He loves books. He climbs everything. And then tries to jump off.

He has so many words, and loves using them. He loves books and drawing, preferably on himself or any non-paper medium. He blows kisses and waves good-bye. He'll make friends with anyone. Anytime he catches me using my cell phone he gets really excited and says "hello! hello!" which is his way of demanding I call someone so he can talk to them. He is incredibly independent and prefers to do most things all by himself, like drinking out of a big cup, walking down the stairs, and brushing his teeth. He is a great eater- is favorite foods are eggs, cheese, bananas (a recent discovery), and anything with sugar. I love him to pieces and am lucky to be his mom.

Therapy

I'm in therapy. Twice a week for the last eighteen months, I drag myself and often times Ian and/or Levi to therapy. Ian and Levi know my therapist better, and see her more frequently, than any of their grandparents.

I hesitate to admit to just how frequently I go to therapy. Sure, admitting you get counseling is more acceptable now than it used to be, but to admit to going twice a week for such a long time? The idea of how people will perceive me after knowing that fills me with panic. And I don't particularly think of myself as caring about how people see me. Although, if I'm being truly honest, I do care. I want people to see me as good and kind, generous and loving, funny and easy to be around, hard working and trustworthy. I want others to think I'm a good wife, mother, friend, woman. I suppose I say that I don't care because I don't believe that others could possibly see me this way. I have such a negative, hateful view of who I am and what I deserve, that I couldn't imagine that anyone else could possibly truly think anything different. Not really. Not if they really knew me.

The thing is, I have been let down so many times, by so many people, in so many ways, that the only logical conclusion is that the problem is me. If it were just one relationship, or perhaps two, that were dysfunctional, I could place the blame squarely on the other person. But to be hurt so deeply, so often, clearly the fault is mine. If only I were better, kinder, easier to love, prettier, skinnier, anything but how I am, then people wouldn't hurt me. Then, those who were supposed to love and protect me, would have. Those who were supposed to nurture and support me, would have. Then I would be lovable and deserving of good things.

Here's the funny thing; I have a good life. I have almost everything I've ever dreamed of. A loving, supportive husband and two healthy wonderful children. I have a handful of friends that I can trust with my life. I'm a stay at home mom and this is the life I dreamed about. We live in a comfortable home, drive a reliable car, have food to eat and clothes to wear, and not a single need goes unmet.

This is the point in the post where I struggle to continue writing. I am afraid of being too honest about my feelings, too dramatic about things, but can't stand the thought of being fake either. How do I say what I am truly thinking without hurting people or creating more misunderstanding? And what is the point anyway? Who even reads this? Usually this is when I delete the post and walk away.

The rub is that people continue to hurt me. I try to learn from my mistakes, I work on being a better friend, I am open to hearing how I have messed up and to apologize, but none of that matters. At the end of the day, it seems most people want nothing to do with me. That given the choice, others would choose almost anything else over me. I won't name names, but there are several people I thought I could count as friend, who only hurt me when I feel vulnerable. This has happened many times, in different ways over the years.

And I blame myself. I tried too hard, didn't try hard enough. I expected too much, I pushed too hard, I talked too much, I wasn't there when so and so needed it, I should have done more, could have said something different, better, kinder, the list goes on. Every time I get burned, I willingly take on the guilt.

I'm learning, slowly, incredibly slowly, that it isn't all me. I am not genuinely bad. I do deserve love. You see, everyone else has their own baggage and their own hurts, pains, and fears that are a part of it all. Relationships don't happen in a vacuum. There are numerous dynamics, many we may not even be aware of, that play out and are out of our control. So while I'm not placing the blame squarely on anyone else, I'm also no longer willing to take it all, either.

I am also immensely grateful for the friends in my life who have proven themselves to be trustworthy and good, the people who have found a way to stay in my life even when it was hard. Specifically, my husband. That man knows me better than anyone else, sometimes better than I know myself, and he stays by me. He loves me. I know some days he doesn't like me, and I don't blame him, but he never leaves. He still sees the best in me, which amazes me.

I suppose this post was more for me than anyone, but sometimes just writing something down, getting it out, is healing in and of itself. This may seem like rambling nonsense, incoherent and non-cohesive, but I don't need it to be anything other than what it is.

Things I'm Learning

- There are always two sides to the story, sometimes more, and it is possible for all of them to be right.

- It is best to ask for help when you need it.

- Difficult conversations are not always bad. Sometimes they are exactly what you need.

- Being honest does not always mean being mean, even if the truth is hard.

- Levi is most likely not allergic to shrimp.

- Perspective is important. Memories are not completely reliable.

- I deserve love.

- People can surprise you. Often when you stop hoping they will.

- Some things never change and it is pointless to expect them to.

- Ian loves macaroni and cheese and rarely ever sleeps in the car.

- My husband is always on my side. And always will be. Even when I don't deserve it.

- I still don't know what I want to do when I grow up, and I'm pretty sure I'm 'grown up.'

- Growing is painful.

Three Years

At this time three years ago, we were settling in for our first night in Buffalo. We arrived in the early afternoon and made a stop along the waterfront, enjoying the view of the lake and feeling hopeful about what this new city had in store for us. Shortly after, we drove past our potential first apartment and since we had time to kill until our scheduled viewing, we found the nearest Starbucks and purchased a newspaper along with some tasty drinks.

The apartment looked great and we were ready to start unpacking once we signed the lease. The landlords misunderstood our communication with them about when we were moving, so they said we wouldn't be able to stay there that night. Being completely unfamiliar with the area and where hotels were, as well as exhausted from the previous two days of packing and moving, we were feeling quite disappointed in this turn of events, but ended up finding a Super 8 nearby that was nice enough for one night.

The next day brought errands and the beginnings of unpacking at our new place. Being seven months pregnant and nursing a cold (that ended up being pneumonia), I was easily drained of energy and spent a lot of those first days resting.

Tony's first few weeks at work left me with plenty of time to rest and unpack and take care of the details of moving to a new state. Of course, if I'm being completely honest, Tony still did most of the unpacking. One day after dropping Tony off at work, I decided that I wanted to familiarize myself with the city and I intentionally tried to get lost. It worked. Fortunately I was able to find my way after a while.

I remember being oddly comforted in the familiar street names; Sheridan, Pleasant, Michigan, all roads that we traveled frequently in MI and seeing these common names made me feel connected to home, allowed me to acknowledge this place could easily be home.

I would imagine it helped that we moved as spring was arriving. The fresh grass appearing, the bear trees waiting for new life to bloom, the smell of a changing season in the air reinforced my growing excitement for this new adventure.

Three years later, I'm feeling that same sense of excitement and hope. We are just starting to emerge from an incredibly dark period of our lives. We are stepping into a new phase of life, even if the changes are more subtle than those of three years ago.

Farewell

I am ready to say good-bye to this calendar year. I believe this year has been the hardest year of my life. The beauty was couple with brokenness. The addition to our family included not only a beautiful, healthy boy, but also a crippling mental illness.

I am ready to focus on the positive, to enjoy the little moments with my sons and cherish my husband. The time since Ian was born is a blur. One big blur. For someone who usually has a fantastic memory, feeling like time has been erased is really difficult to adjust to. There are pictures and videos of events that I simply do not remember. I am ready to remember and make new memories.

I expect 2012 to bring numerous milestones for Ian, as well as Levi. I am looking forward to seeing Ian continue to explore his world and really get to know him. Levi constantly surprises me with his new skills and how much he understands about the world around him.

I plan to make more time for my husband. I imagine that we will embark on new adventures together and our bond will be strengthened from the struggle we've endured.

I am still healing. I am still working my way out of the darkness. There are still ugly moments, and there are many wounds that need time to heal. I am hopeful that the person that emerges on the other side of this will be a stronger, happier, gentler, beautiful version of myself.

Farewell 2011. Hello and welcome, 2012.

Honesty

I have a hard time asking for help. I do not like admitting defeat or feeling like a failure. I struggle to lean on others when I need them. It takes a long time for me to trust anyone. I would much rather be the one helping.

Living with postpartum depression and trying to overcome it, while striving to be the mother I long to be, the mother my children deserve, is perhaps the most difficult thing I've ever experienced. I am responsible for the well being of two other people. I can't give up and walk away. I can't take the easy way out. I have to face this head on and get through it, and at the same time I have to carry on with life and take care of my children. Life doesn't stop. Levi and Ian don't stop growing and developing. They aren't waiting for me to get better, but they need me to.

The moment I was admitted to the hospital I lost something. I lost a dream. I missed out on an experience I was longing for, one I prepared for, and I mourn that loss. I am pissed off that I was not able to have a peaceful birth at home. It is not fair that I barely remember the first moments of my son's life, that his first weeks are a blur in my memory. I don't have those idyllic pictures of Ian's first precious moments to look back on and I certainly don't recall my birth story with fondness. Whatever joy there is in the victory of a vaginal birth despite all odds is overshadowed by the sorrow I feel for the loss of everything that should have been and wasn't.

I blame myself for Ian's admission to the hospital. I know I over reacted and it is my fault my son had to endure painful procedures in a cold, sterile, hospital environment. I failed him when he was only a few days old.

There are days I don't want to hold my son. I am often angry with my children. There are moments that I want to run away and never look back. I frequently question why I ever wanted this life. This is the life I always dreamed of and now I feel trapped.

This doesn't just effect me. My husband misses his wife and friend. My children want their mother back. They are trying to live life with the broken pieces I've created.

Postpartum depression, and the anxiety that goes along with it for me, is extremely scary and often debilitating. I thought by now the worst would be over. I thought I would be 'fixed' by now. And yet there are still absolutely horrible moments that I am unable to be the person I need to be.

I often feel like I'm pretending- just going through the motions and nobody knows what is going on. But who wants to know? This isn't rainbows and butterflies. This is messy.

My Boys

I realize how fortunate I am. There are three amazing boys in my life, one of whom happens to be a truly outstanding husband.

Ian. Dear, sweet, chunky, lovable, Ian. My second born, he is full of life and wonder. In just under four months he has nearly tripled his birth weight. As I sit here holding this precious gift, feeling the warmth and weight of his body on mine, listening to the gentle rhythm of his sleepy breathing, I am full of love and gratitude. Life for him did not start out easily. He had to fight his way into this world, and fight to stay here. Now there is no question- he is healthy and thriving. His beautiful dark hair is gradually filling in, while his gorgeous blue eyes continue to shine. Loving him is easy. His laughter melts my heart and calms my soul, if only momentarily. The way he looks at me reminds me how much he needs and loves me.

Levi. Amazing Levi, full of love and surprises, he fills me with joy and reminds me to savor the moments. I am in awe of how gentle and caring he is. Through all of the turbulent changes this summer brought him, he has remained joyful and easygoing. He is curious about the world around him- always trying to figure it out. He has so many words, thoughts of his own, opinions, draws his own conclusions, and is not shy about expressing them. The other night as I helped put him to bed, I was singing to him and he kept asking ‘another one, another one’ while he gently rubbed my arm. Moments like those I hope to never forget. He made me a mother. He changed me forever the moment he was born, and continues to shape me every day since.

Tony. My strength and my love, he is the most amazing man that exists. He is patient, gentle, generous, a wonderful and loving father, compassionate, creative, passionate, selfless, honest, kind, and so much more. He loves me well. He knows everything there is to know about me and yet still, somehow, wants me, wants to share life with me. He has not had any easy role being my husband. From my back surgery to postpartum depression, he has had to be there for me through many difficult times. And each time he exceeds any expectations. We recently celebrated our seven year anniversary. I use the term celebrate loosely since we weren’t even in the same state, but I know we’ll have many more years to celebrate properly. Being married to him and having him as my partner in life has made me a better person.

I am one incredibly lucky (and grateful) woman.

Moving

We decided recently that life was a tad too boring and we had far too much free time and the best solution was moving. You know, because I've mastered the whole mothering a toddler and infant thing, while also taking care of the daily details of the rest of life. (cue laughter that ends sort of awkwardly because of the sad truth that the exact opposite is true).

*eh hem* Sorry about that tangent.

So. We're moving. This time, we're staying close by. Instead of moving to a different state, we're staying in the same neighborhood, just a few blocks away from where we are currently. We'll be situated on a nice, quiet, one-way street. Our backyard includes a play structure for the children and lots of grass, as well as a patio area for a grill. I am extremely excited about the outdoor space.

The house has recently undergone a remodel, which includes new cabinets in the kitchen, dishwasher, and garbage disposal. You have no idea how great those last two things are until you don't have them. There is some storage space in the basement, as well as a washer and dryer. The floors are bamboo throughout, with tiling in the kitchen and bathroom.

The two biggest downers are the space and the parking. There are only two (small) bedrooms, and the apartment is just shy of 1000 square feet. Considering we're currently in a three bedroom, 1600 square foot apartment, we'll be doing some serious purging. The other issue- parking- there are only spaces on the street- no off street parking. The upside is that it is a slow one way, so I'm hoping (and expecting) that parking won't be an issue. *fingers crossed*

Between the lower cost of rent and the smaller space for heating, we should save a little bit of money, which will be nice.

We'll still be within walking distance or close by to everything we love, including our friends and parks. Our landlord lives next door and has two children of his own. Him and his wife seem really friendly, and normal, which will be nice.

Starting September 1st we'll haul our boxes and other junk over to the new place, and on October 1st we'll turn in our keys to the first home we had in Buffalo, the home we brought our babies home to.

I am mostly looking forward to this move, but there is an emotional aspect to it that I didn't expect. There are so many memories created here, life began here for our children and this is the only home they've known. Of all the moves we've made as a married couple, this one is the hardest for me emotionally. Definitely bittersweet.

Two Months

Two months ago (almost to the minute) my sweet Ian burst into this world. The first few weeks of his life were harder than we hoped or expected. He proved to be a fighter immediately and is continuing to amaze me with his strength and sweetness.

He is starting to make many new noises, is working on smiling and is gaining more and more head control each day. Waking hours are more frequent now. He is sleeping in good stretches at night, usually four or more hours. So far nap time is working out to fall at the same time as Levi's, so mom is able to join them for a much needed rest as well.

I am in love with this baby and am so grateful he joined our family, making it complete. I am looking forward to his many firsts and watching him grow. I already love how gentle Levi tries to be with Ian and can't wait until they are able to play together.

Two months ago he changed me in ways I didn't think were possible. And I am stronger because of him.

Two Steps Forward, One Step Back

Over the last few weeks, we have endured a lot. When Tony's two weeks of vacation were up and he was working from home during the third, we knew that we needed someone to help us out so Tony could get back to work.

We ended up hiring a doula to help me with Levi and Ian during the day, as well as with house work, for three days a week and relied on friends for the other two. The doula we hired was wonderful. I had met her during my prenatal care at my midwife's office and she was the one who encapsulated my placenta. She visited me during Ian's hospital stay, and I always admired her peaceful and kind nature. The details fell into place exactly when we needed them to.

During the second week of her assistance, I was starting to feel more and more like myself. I had been on my medication for a couple of weeks at that point and I had also started therapy. We were finding a rhythm, and life felt less overwhelming.

This past weekend our friend Daniel and his two boys were able to come for a visit. There was no way I would have been able to handle it a week ago, but I felt confident that their visit was at the perfect time to be fun and enjoyable for everyone. While they were here we had a wonderful time. We were able to make it to the local farmer's market, check out the zoo, and even take a day trip to the Strong Museum. We were all exhausted by the end of their visit, but it was the best kind of exhaustion. I was thrilled to be participating in life again.

Monday morning they were planning to leave, and I had a doctor's appointment. I left Levi with Daniel so I didn't have to wrangle two kids in the office. While there, Daniel called to tell me that our landlord informed him that we needed to vacate the house for the day while painters worked to remove the paint on our house that most likely contained lead. Fortunately he was able to talk with the landlord to advocate for us since I was busy and unable to deal with it at the moment.

We ended up staying in a hotel for two nights and came home this morning. What transpired in those two days was nothing short of stressful and chaotic. And it knocked the wind out of my sails. While most people could have taken it in stride, I was just getting my footing and it was simply too much.

Things are worked out now (as far as I know) and it should be smooth sailing from here as far as the painters go. I am hoping that tomorrow will be a better day.

I cry a lot lately. I need to ask for help much more than I am comfortable. I struggle sometimes to take care of my children, but their needs are being met and I am the best mom I can be right now.

This week has taught me that postpartum depression doesn't disappear overnight. I will make progress, and have set backs. There will still be moments that the only thing I want to do is run away and never look back. But there will also be moments that I get to enjoy the sound of my toddler laughing. I know that there will be a time that those good moments will be much more frequent than the hard ones, and that soon I will be able to savor them properly.

Labor, Delivery, and Ian Petty

On Friday of Memorial Day weekend I started having extreme pain in my stomach. At first I thought it was heart burn, but after a while I knew it was something more going on. I called my midwife in the middle of the night and we decided I should go into the hospital. A friend brought me in and after several hours they decided it was gall bladder related. My midwife suggested a low fat/no fat diet to get the pain under control and they sent me home. Through out the week, things were still not right. Despite my best attempt to avoid any food that could trigger the pain, by the end of the week I was still in a lot of pain and becoming more and more concerned.

Saturday, June 4, the pain was unbearable and I spiked a fever. Once again, I went back to the hospital and I was admitted that evening. This time my blood work had confirmed that I had developed HELLP Syndrome (a specific, more rare and more serious version of preeclampsia). My platelet count was low, my liver was enlarged and not working properly, and I had epigastric pain. The only cure is to have the baby, so we started inducing Saturday night.

By late Saturday any hope I had of a home birth was gone, and now my focus was to have a safe vaginal delivery. They started me on magnesium sulfate to prevent seizures and also put in a catheter, saying I was unable to leave the bed. I was also told I would not be able to eat or drink anything. They started me on Cervadil with the hopes of starting labor.

Sunday morning the OB that works with my mid wife (due to the high risk situation I was in I was no longer under the care of my midwife) came in to see me and made the really difficult situation better. I was able to have the catheter removed, was allowed to eat and drink and could now walk from the bed to the bathroom. They continued to draw blood every six hours to check all of my levels, which were progressively getting worse each time.

By mid-sunday I was started on Pitocin to encourage labor and I was moved to a new room. I was on Pitocin all day with no progress. My mid wife came in that evening and we tried a variety of things to get labor going, with no success. We decided to stop the Pitocin for the night and put in another Cervadil overnight. As my midwife was preparing to leave, I started having another really bad attack with the epigastric pain. It was intense. We decided to give me some Nubain to get me through the night. As soon as the medicine was in, I felt much better. It took the pain away and allowed me to sleep. It is a narcotic and knocked me out.

Monday morning I could tell things were not looking good. The entire attitude of the nurses and staff had changed, and I was nervous about being able to deliver vaginally. They started the pitocin again and I started having some contractions. Nothing regular, but contractions. My cervix was making some changes as well. We decided to use a foley ball to encourage my cervix to dilate. My chiropractor also came in to the hospital to do some adjustments that would help labor progress. At 6pm my midwife and the OB came in and were very discouraged. They said if I didn't have Ian by 6am the next day they were going to have to do a c-section. We decided to break my water and hope that would get things going. At this point I was willing to do whatever I needed to in order to have a vaginal birth.

Because my platelet counts were so low (in the 25,000 range), having a c-section was extremely risky. I would have to have general anesthesia and they would do a blood transfusion before they even started. The chances for bleeding out or developing a brain bleed were high. I was determined to avoid this.

They were able to break my water at 7pm, at which point I was dilated to 4. That started my contractions and they were now intense and regular, just as we were hoping. At 9:10pm (just over two hours from breaking my water) Ian was born. I was able to deliver Ian med free and without tearing.

It was amazing. Wonderful and joyful. Tony caught Ian and we were able to spend a few minutes enjoying this beautiful baby boy. He was laid on my chest, still attached to the pulsing placenta. Those few moments of getting to know my baby, savoring the victory that my body just won, and welcoming our son into the world were precious. And short lived.


Ian was brought to the NICU because he was having a hard time breathing and they were concerned about a rash as well as an enlarged stomach. Those issues all cleared up quickly and he was released from the NICU.

My platelet counts were still extremely low, but everything else was resolving itself.

I was able to go home on Wednesday (under strict orders to not be alone and to be extremely careful- any bump to the head could have resulted in a bleed).

Things were going well, but my milk still hadn't come in. Which is to be expected considering the trauma my body went through.

In the middle of the night Thursday (3:30am Friday morning) Ian had a really scary episode during which he appeared to not be breathing and other disturbing signs. We called 911 and went to the ER.

They did a spinal tap, put in a catheter, and took blood and urine samples. They started antibiotics and fluids. He was to be monitored for 48 hours. They did and EEG as well. All of the tests ended coming back negative. The best guess as to what happened is that he was dehydrated and undernourished (due to lack of my supply). We supplemented with formula friday night and I went home to rest. His blood sugar and output perked up to where it needed to be, and he was doing great.

We were sent home on Sunday and Ian is doing really well. My milk has come in and he is done with formula.

My mom came to help us for a few days, and when she left my dad and his wife came. They were extremely helpful. We were alone as a family on Tuesday and have been struggling since to work through everything. I am now working through postpartum depression, and things are tough.

We are working on getting me to a healthier place- until then we are taking it one minute at a time. I am so grateful for my son and our family. This has been an extremely challenging time for us. We are not through it yet, but I know we will get through it together. One day at a time.

My Baby Sister

Most of you reading this know I have a not so baby, baby sister. She is now twelve and we unfortunately don't get to see each other nearly enough since we live eight hours away from her. After several conversations with parents, figuring out logistics, and a quick trip MI, we were able to bring my sister to Buffalo. She has been staying with us for the last week and will be here until Friday when we leave for Muskegon.

We have really enjoyed her being around and I am going to miss her when she goes home. We've learned it is difficult to find activities to entertain a 12 year old that a one year old will also enjoy, but we've been doing our best.

Levi has enjoyed her too, although I have noticed some jealousy from him. He didn't like it when Bethany sat on my lap. He climbed on top of me, squeezing between the two of us, then pushing her away from me. He has also been extremely clingy to me and has started throwing full blown temper tantrums, which most likely has nothing to do with her- she just happened to be here when it all started. (lucky for her)

I am enjoying getting to know more about my sister- understanding her likes and dislikes and what she enjoys- and hopefully she is having a bit of fun.

Summer Fun

There are times that we have relatively little going on. We fall into simple routines that work for us, and the days blur together with little distinguishing one from the next.

Lately, however, it feels as though each day has been crammed to the brim with out of the ordinary events, some more exciting than others.

A little over a week ago Tony had his wisdom teeth pulled and he has been in pain since. This has led to sleepless nights, some missed work, and a few trips to the dentist and pharmacy.

Last Monday, we bought a new car. A 2006 Pontiac Vibe with 42,000 miles on it. We were reluctant to make a purchase that required a car loan, but the Dodge Stratus became too unsafe to continue driving and not worth putting any money into. We did our homework and got a great deal that works for our budget. We turned in our car and picked up the new keys on my birthday.

With the weather perfect for outdoor adventures, we try to spend more daylight outside than in. We've found new parks and playgrounds, hiked trails, and found a beach for swimming. Levi seems to love exploring and we enjoy learning even more about our new home of Buffalo.

All of this outdoor playing has led to a messy, messy house. The dishes were out of control, laundry needs to be done, and there is clutter everywhere. And it never ends. It is a one step forward, two steps back process at the moment. I am determined to get it under control. Tomorrow.

Levi is sick right now- croup is making him miserable. He has a fever, runny nose and watery eyes as well. Nighttime has been rough.

This weekend my dad and his wife are coming to visit. I am excited to see them and hoping to get some free time with Tony.

Our weekends are basically planned through the end of July. We are trying to make the most of this summer and enjoy every minute. I guess the house might be dirty more frequently than not.

Worth Celebrating

Levi had a much better night last night and woke up smiling, mostly back to normal. He woke up to find the front room full of about 50 inflated balloons. Some were still floating, but most had fallen to the ground. He loves balloons. Later we filled a pack n play with the balloons and stuck him in it- he loved it.

We had him open his gifts and let him play with them- the fridge magnets were an instant hit. I am not sure how long they will stay on the fridge, though.

Levi had a difficult time napping and was rather needy so we decided to postpone the trip to the butterfly conservatory.

All in all, I think he had a pretty great birthday. I enjoyed it. The best part is the celebration continues. Tomorrow his grandma arrives in town- the next day more family, and Saturday we party!

Levi is definitely worth celebrating. He is an amazing child, full of joy and laughter. He amazes me each day with his curious nature and gentle demeanor. To be his mother is truly a gift.