A.B. Kagledom

Dear Little George,

Late last night, while your brother wasn't sleeping, I finally found the right crib for you. What a relief! I've been looking for online deals for at least a week. I took the plunge and ordered it.

This morning I was looking through pictures of Simon in the old crib so I could advertise it on CraigsList. It was then that I realized that metal bar (you know the one holding it together? the one they call the "stabilizer bar?") we don't have that metal bar - it never made it to Chicago. Simon was using the crib for a year without the stabilizer bar holding the sides in place.

I ordered the part.

I canceled the crib.

Oops.

Love,

Mama

Posted by kagledom at 08:57 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Dear Little George,

You must stay in for at least another 14 weeks. And, besides, no fetus ever made an escape through the wall of his Mother's womb by pushing and kicking alone. It won't work. Is it really boring in there?

The more active you become the more we are forced into the realization that you may turn out to be exactly like your brother. Our feelings alternate between thrilled and terrified at the prospect of TWO of you silly sleepless happy hungry extremely physically dangerous little monsters. If you could only see your brother right now you would know what I mean. He barfed up his lunch only two hours ago (I suspect from drinking pond water or ingesting something else equally disgusting) and yet is currently dancing and jumping naked in front of the air conditioner to a song he is making up on the fly. There are hand gestures and there is drama, falling, and much flailing about of arms and legs. And this? THIS IS NAP TIME.

And now you're dancing too.

Your father and I look at each other across the room. Neither of us needs to express what we both understand. How will we survive the next four years?

Love,

Mama

Posted by kagledom at 02:07 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Dear Little George,

Daddy and Simon and I were all there to hear your healthy galloping heart beat at today's 24 week check-up. You are taller than your brother was at the same point: measuring 25 weeks instead of 24 (Simon started showing height at 28 weeks). Looks like our instincts to keep your potential great height in mind when making purchases are, so far, justified. No one has quite figured out what about Mama and Daddy leads to tall offspring: Mama is 5'4" and comes from a long line of shorties. Daddy is 5'11" and has some height in his family but nothing extreme. Also, all of Simon's height is in his torso while Daddy's family has a genetic predisposition for long legs. It is still possible Simon's height is a fluke. You may "even out" as this pregnancy progresses.

Love,

Mama

P.S. The mailman is short.

Posted by kagledom at 01:18 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Dear Little George,

You won't find many pictures of me pregnant with you. I feel terrific. I've gained 13 pounds in 24 weeks which is right on target for my pre-pregnancy weight/height ratio). I keep thinking I should do the pregnancy photo thing that I did with Simon. However, every time I see a photo of myself I become depressed and it doesn't go away until I can get the image out of my head. A really nice lady at work said I looked small for this point in my pregnancy. I don't believe her for a minute, but it was still nice to hear.

I'm carrying you low and in front. My waist is gone. My boobs are enormous. When you move I usually feel it really really low. I'm pretty sure your head is on my left side - that is where your little fingers tickle me. I imagine you are facing inward and down because of your propensity for kicking my bladder. I wonder if you will look like me, your father, or the mailman.

Love,

Mama

Posted by kagledom at 08:42 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Dear Little George,

We went crib shopping for you today. We ended up with nothing but a mutual understanding that some people are looney when it comes to spending money on baby furniture. We will not be buying you an expensive crib. This isn't because we love you any less; it is because you will only be spending two years of your life sleeping in the darn thing before we buy you a twin and give the crib away. We also imagine you'd rather have a "fun" big boy bed than a dramatic wooden crib-to-toddler-to-twin transformer.

We did find an interesting stroller (that we didn't buy). Simon's stroller seems to be falling apart. The very light stroller we found would give Simon the option of sitting or standing in the back while you ride in the front. We're considering the purchase. There is no rush.

Lessons we've learned:
Standard crib life: 2.5 years (or a maximum of 2 cross-country moves)
Stroller life: 3 years, 2 months

Love,

Mama

Posted by kagledom at 08:22 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Dear Little George,

Your brother had an exciting day yesterday. After his normal "bring down the ceiling" Thursday restaurant adventure with Calvin, he went to school for the first time since we left Chicago. He loved it. He had a fit when it was time to leave (he was exhausted). After waking him from his nap we took him out for fish dumplings followed by a chocolate ice cream sundae (because he completed a line of his "good sleep" chart).

When we got home I put him on the toilet and read to him from a new book. I was called away to help Daddy with something and when I returned, 10 minutes later, Simon was still on the pot "reading" to himself. Even better, not only had he gone #1 but he had also passed #2! He's getting so good at this toilet stuff. Pretty soon he may be ready to wear underwear full time.

I helped him into his pajamas and you kicked and kicked while we read a bedtime story. Don't worry, you'll be able to participate soon.

Love,

Mama

Posted by kagledom at 10:46 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Dear Little George,

Last night I remembered to pick up some old fashioned head phones from the store. You are currently having your first classical music lesson. I'm starting you off with Mozart from the iPod. I've never felt you move this much or for this long. Your toes are tapping, your fingers are wriggling. I think I've found something you like.

Love,

Mama

Posted by kagledom at 09:51 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Dear Little George,

Your favorite time of the day is 9 pm. Simon is asleep. Daddy and I are watching a show together or Daddy is reading us a story. You kick in rhythm to my heart beat. I just wish you kicked outward instead of inward. My trips to the bathroom have become frequent and your inward kicking isn't helping matters. I'm just beginning to have a hard time getting up from a squat. I can't tie my shoes without moving one foot to the side. I want snacks. I want snacks a lot. Next week (according to the pregnancy calendar) we'll have been together for six months.

Love,

Mama

Posted by kagledom at 09:20 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Dear Little George,

My bladder is not a trampoline. Please stop.

Love,

Mama

Posted by kagledom at 07:17 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Dear Little George,

This morning your brother said "I want a new ear." And, suddenly, it all made sense. He hasn't been sleeping for more than a few hours at a time. He has been rubbing the right side of his head. Last night he asked for "a thing" to clean his ear. He has had a minor cold.

We finally suspect that he has an ear infection.

I hope you don't mind that it takes days for your parents to figure these things out. We're a bit slow on the uptake.

Love,

Mama

Posted by kagledom at 08:52 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Dear Little George,

Last night I finally opened up all the boxes and organized your room. You have SO MANY TOYS. Holy cow. We need to announce to the world right now that you are entirely set for the first few years of your life. NO MORE TOYS. If new ones come in, we will have to purge the old ones and Simon never used any toy long enough to even make it appear "used." We also need a fourth bedroom to house the stuffed creatures we've accumulated over the years. I'm not quite sure how we will solve this problem until we know you and your interests.

Someone guessed your first name this week. It was this person's very first guess. I was shocked. It isn't a first guess type of name. I was pretty sure your middle name would be guessed by a large number of people and that hasn't happened at all. I didn't let on that the guess was correct. Our secret is safe. I think of you by your real name not "Little George" - one of these days I may slip up.

We have two weeks to go until your next appointment. I'm interested to see if I am measuring large or not. Daddy and I fully expect to have another tall baby. We even have a brand new car seat waiting - a car seat specifically designed for tall babies. Simon grew out of his first car seat by the time he was four months old. We gave it away around that time. It wasn't until Simon started sleeping regularly that we entertained the idea of doing this all over again.

I'm glad we are. So is Daddy. Simon's happy too. He likes the idea of bunk beds.

Love,

Mama

Posted by kagledom at 02:57 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Dear Little George,

Last night, just after he finished reading us the final installment of Harry Potter, I put Daddy's hand on my belly. You gently kicked twice. He felt it.

Love,

Mama

Posted by kagledom at 07:34 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Dear Little George,

I think you grew over the weekend. Or, rather, both of us grew and I always hope I'm growing because of you and not because of the cherry pie, the mud pie, and the cheese cake resting in our refrigerator. They taunt me. I gained two pounds last week. In any case, if I stand up straight and look down I can no longer see my toes.

I bought a cookbook over the weekend. It was one of those cases when the cover was so impressive that I had to support the author by procuring myself a copy. I've looked it over. I think you'll like the results. This woman and I have a lot in common. Who knew I didn't invent cauliflower mac and cheese and vegetable laced marinara? Certainly not me.

Daddy, Simon, and I are all very very tired. Simon's imagination is quite impressive and we're usually so proud of him for the things he comes up with but apparently he can't turn it off at night. Since he doesn't have exposure to anything really alarming he is worried about the pipes. There are pipes in the walls and the floors, you know. Pipes that one day will come out. You could be flushed down such a pipe and away you would go.

It is possible that our potty training of months ago was thwarted by such pipe dreams. We've explained to him that he can't be flushed away and he explains it to Minnie Mouse (she is worried about it as well). Luckily, we seem to be back on the potty track. Your brother has used the regular toilet one or more times five days in a row and even wore big boy undies to bed (his diaper was scratching him and he refused to put another on) and kept them dry until morning. He still won't tell us when he needs to go but he'll go if I take him to the big toilet. Our hopes that he will be potty trained before you arrive have been dashed so many times. This time, we're just happy for progress.

Love,

Mama

Posted by kagledom at 08:02 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Dear Little George,

You had your first all night party a couple of nights back. Maybe it wasn't your first. I'm not usually one to attend festivities between 11 pm and 7 am. I'm old and prefer sleep. Since my legs have seemingly stopped separating from my pelvis when I lie down, sleep has been nice and slumberous.

I ordered a rug for your room. It will be very soft and has patches of primary colors. I must have stared at the dinosaur valance and crib bedding set that would go SO WELL with it for at least an hour the other night. We don't need crib bedding. Simon's old stuff isn't cute and it doesn't match, but it is functional. We should be spending our money on more important things.

Still, I long for that dinosaur crib bedding. I guess the hormones have kicked in.

Love,

Mama

Posted by kagledom at 12:18 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Dear Little George,

That nasty burning stomach of mine went away a few days after it arrived and I've promised myself that I will stay away from sickeningly sweet, super sour, and extra spicy foods from this point forward. Don't worry, dark chocolate is not included in any of those categories.

You remain an Extra Gentle Fetus. Daddy has given up trying to feel you move for at least another few weeks. Heck, I hardly feel you move unless I am very still and concentrating. My weight gain continues on target and I don't think I've been eating much more than usual so I assume you're growing well. The baby calendar says you should be about 10 inches long head to toe at this point. At our hidden-salmon-and-broccoli-meal yesterday Simon asked: "Is the baby eating?" When I replied in the affirmative he asked: "Eating a lot?"

I worried so much that Simon wouldn't be ready for a sibling but now I think that once you are big enough he will force you to sleep in his room - right next to him. He isn't the kid that will mind sharing his toys or his space. He craves the company and is currently distraught at our refusal to sleep in his bed. Which brings us to sleeping.

Of course we want you to be happy and healthy - those are the most important things we wish for you - but a good sleeper? WE WOULD KILL FOR A GOOD SLEEPER. And by good sleeper what I really mean is someone who doesn't *mind* sleeping. Your brother? Not so good at that and we've spent over three years now tip toeing around afraid that we'll wake him up and have to put him back to sleep. We still think he is really really great and I'm sure we'll think you're really great as well but if you want to hear us gushing about you? Sleep.

Sleep. Sleep. Sleep.

Love,

Mama

Posted by kagledom at 08:45 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I've uploaded a group of photos of the house (post remodel) to Flickr. Little George's room is still a mess - we're getting there.

Posted by kagledom at 04:23 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Dear Little George,

Holy cow. Everything was going so well. So well that (here I guiltily admit) it was really easy to forget for long periods that you're around. Having been through this before, I knew this was the honeymoon of pregnancy - I've had all the energy in the world, I've been able to eat just about anything and I've been no hungrier than my usual non-pregnant self. I expected the honeymoon to last until sometime in the third trimester. However, on Monday Simon and Matthew made a fresh blueberry lemon pie that I greedily consumed (not the whole thing of course, only one slice). Thirty minutes later it felt like I'd swallowed a burning briquette and the feeling hasn't dissipated - three days later. I "slept" sitting up on the couch last night. I've swallowed the maximum dose that Tums recommends and it hasn't helped one bit. Please make it stop. I need more time!

Love,

Mama

P.S. Your brother thinks it is hysterical when the fish shaped potholders talk to you. Also? He's named you "Poo Poo." I think that is actually a compliment. "Poo Poo" is the greatest word on earth.

Posted by kagledom at 08:47 AM | Permalink | TrackBacks (0)