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R&R

Five days was just long enough to achieve thorough relaxation. Any longer and we would have been comatose. Seriously, the most activity we engaged in was the walk to the buffet line every two hours. We got through several library books, decided on baby names and ate enough chips and salsa to last us through Cinco de Mayo, 2016. The timing was perfect. We left just as the tequila jokes had started to lose their luster...but really, who can't get enough of "One tequila, two tequila, three tequila, Floor!"? Ha, I laugh even as I type this. The charter flight back to Chicago smelled like stale alcohol and bitter resignation. We were surrounded by painful sunburns and Bo-Derek braids. But Jerry and I got everything we needed out of these five days and were ready to return to our sunshine, Ella. We missed her dearly. The pictures posted were virtually the only ones we took. Jerry, dapper as ever in a Lucha Libre mask we purchased for Ella. Me, in my one requisite "pregnancy" shot. If all goes as planned, it will be the only time I am caught on camera until six weeks post-delivery.

Undercover Mother

After a thorough interrogation, Jerry divulged the location of the ultrasound results. I promise to turn a blind eye should someone decide to break in, head to the cabinets above the telephone, tear open the envelope found in the milk glass vase and nonchalantly spill the results in our next conversation.

Finally some warm temps break through; promising to put an end to all of the grey. The grass was even taking on a grey hue. Ella broke in a new box of chalk, accelerating my anticipation of spring color.

Ladies Who Lunch

I'll admit, I all too easily allow myself to get sucked into the vortex or work and home. I know no other way of being, at least not right now. My focus on work and home, although good intentioned, leaves me feeling a bit one dimensional. I know this is the theme song for so many parents. Too tired from a long week to even begin to think about plans outside of the mandatory.
I hit a new low after running into an old friend at the Costco food court on Saturday night with kids in tow. Here we were chatting over $1.50 hotdogs, simultaneously wiping hands and mouths and it felt GREAT.
Thankfully, on occasion you get pulled out of your vortex by friends, who praise Jesus, have enough energy to piece together an outing. You have lunch, you laugh, you reminisce about the ridiculous and you leave feeling energized, alive and ready to make more plans. You leave feeling that your life as a parent is both chock-full and isolating all at once but you are not alone. You leave knowing that the next time you see them, although it may be months, you will pick up right where you left off and you will leave feeling whole again.

Mud Bath

This weekend's children's resale event at the DuPage County Fairgrounds is legendary amongst local frugal parents. How I've escaped attendance these last 2 1/2 years is beyond me. This morning I braved the weather, heading out with a wallet full of cash, high hopes and wheeled luggage to help me schlep my loot. With a departure time of 6:45 a.m. I was either fully committed or crazy. What's not to like about the idea of reduce, reuse and recycle? Particularly when it comes to the short-lived items in a child's world. My sedan certainly stuck out in the caravan of minivans leading to the fairgrounds. Lines of rain-soaked mothers toting laundry baskets and hampers sporting a steely look of determination pushed past. Once inside, it got ugly. Elbows were being thrown. It was like Gizmo had been fed after midnight. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for the hunt and I love a good bargain...but I ended up leaving thirty minutes later with $7.50 in merchandise and my dignity. It turns out I left just in time. The parking lot had turned into mud, mini vans were spinning their wheels and I was thankfully headed home.

Ultrasound Results: It's a...

healthy baby! This was of course music to our ears. Particularly for a mama that has hung around way too many hospitalized bambinos. As for gender...the results are tucked away in a sealed envelope in an undisclosed location. Jerry clearly does not trust his wife. I guess after the Brody Jenner incident, who could blame him? The baby's identity will be revealed on Mother's Day. How the heck am I going to top this for father's day? PRESSURE IS ON.
By the way, new due date is July, 16th. This little one may be sharing a birthday cake with Jesse Ventura, Linda Ronstadt, Tita Jo or Lola!

TMI

Some time in our early twenties, Jerry and I found out about how we came to be. Both stories involved a night of light imbibing with the padres, just enough to discuss such topics without total discomfort and indigestion. I remember sitting in the back seat of the car, after a night out with the Biags and learning about how Jon came into being with Jerry soon following. To preserve Jon's dignity, let's just say that he really, really wanted to be here and leave it at that. Josh and I learned about the lengths my mother went to insure that he was a boy...she emphatically says that she wanted one of each...but I can't hide the suspicion that the thought of two of Sarahs was too much to bear...smart woman ; ) Her plot involved some household products and techniques that sound like they came right out of a medieval cookbook (but I guess it was the 70's)...and hey, Josh is proof. Ella you were very deliberate. A trip to the Yucatan peninsula and Jerry and I returned with memories of Chitzen Itza, a mini sombrero ornament and you.
Now as you may recall from earlier postings, this little one, the one that currently holds residence in my belly, has a story much like Tito Jon. One could assume that suffering from the plague, a heinous work schedule, business trips and a home closing is darn-sure birth control. In fact, according to latest research, more than 99.9% effective in preventing pregnancy. Really...I just saw this on a commercial...more effective than the pill they say ; ) But thankfully, just somehow, your story began. I laugh that you were conceived during some crazy dream that I had involving a make-out session with the rich and famous-for-being-famous, Brody Jenner. I swear Jerry, this was the one and only time...I promise. You can't blame my subconscious, can you? It may not be the most romantic entree into being, but you are here, and we are so very, very excited.
Today is our mid-pregnancy ultrasound and we can't wait to get another peak at you. In fact, it's before sunrise and your father and I are both downstairs ready to get the day started.
And hey, I think I've got a new idea to pitch to television network TLC. Why not add "Conception Confessions" to their already baby-rich line-up? I can see it just preceding "The Baby Story" and "Bringing Home Baby".

Aquatic Update

Captain Underpants

An indication on how potty training is going? Nah, she's doing great!

So what do we get at the finish line?

I recently read a bumper sticker that read, "Childhood is a Journey, not a Race". This message has stuck with me and I'll often repeat it to myself. Jerry and I are perpetually trying to find balance between the journey and the race in regard to Ella. It's so hard not to get a number and reach for the Gatorade on the sidelines(Like that Honey? A little work plug?) as you push your child to "greatness". But what is it, do you suppose, we'll end up with at the finish line? Will we be happy? More importantly, will Ella be happy? I've come to the decision that this is Ella's race to run. She can moderate her own pace and Jerry and I will be on the sidelines making up cheers embarrassing the "s" out of her. By the way, I'm convinced he and I will totally excel in this area. I've also decided that the race-course is not always the best route. I read about schools shutting down their arts, their music and their sporting programs. Kids are no longer getting recess and kindergarten has been stretched to a full day to accommodate growing academic pressures. I just learned yesterday that kindergartners are graduating to first grade knowing how to read, write and complete basic math problems. But what is the sacrifice? We may be churning out kids that can perform better on standardized tests but how are they in life? Tomorrow I will likely be working on letter recognition with our poor girl but today I'm a mother taking a stand. No block stacking and number reciting tonight!

Under Construction

Last Friday I came home from work and Ella's crib had vanished and in it's place was the much discussed, "big girl bed". Jerry sat confidently on the couch ready to embrace this next step. I, on the other hand was a bit more tentative. I hesitate to even write about it should I jinx our six successive nights of sleep success. That's not to say it didn't take some heavy re-direction and a thick layering of ground rules. That first night, Ella immediately began dress rehearsal for the opening of the off-off Broadway hit, "No More Monkeys Jumping on the Bed". Luckily though, we have been concussion-free and she, her new fuschia bedspread and a myriad of stuffed pets have become fast friends. We are now awaiting the arrival of a new bookcase, dresser, rug and art. It's a big step. But I think we're ready.