I received an email from one of my fave PA's (personal assistants...nurses) from my extended stay at Spa Overlake (Hospital). Turns out they received a patient survey form back stating that the patients should be offered the opportunity for a bikini wax during their epidural and should be provided with better [non-chafing and exfoliating] towels. Those surveys are shared with the nurses and this particular survey got everyone's attention. Apparently it was taken quite seriously (as it should be) until someone pointed out that it was from patient Jennifer Martin. ha! I don't know why that should change the seriousness with which my suggestions were taken. I would like to know if they also added TiVo to the hospital rooms as well as mini fridges, bigger beds, and daily massages for the Labor and Delivery Nurses. I'm serious, people. Before I even consider checking into Spa Overlake for an extended stay, I insist on some changes. Other than the above mentioned ideas, the service (with a couple small exceptions) was exemplary, and I highly recommend it for your anti-partum bed rest needs.

Zachary is working on cutting his first tooth. There's a little hole on his bottom gum, but no little dagger of doom sticking out quite yet. (ooh, how fun the nursing will be)! Who'd-a-thunk that something like teething could throw an entire little person so outta whack?! He's turned into a vending machine of body fluids; poor guy.

Mike and Matthew are currently carving a pumpkin. Matthew chose to do a skeleton. Mike attended a jack-o-lantern carving contest on Saturday night and won. (Surprise, surprise). The man carved a picture of a John Deere tractor into his pumpkin. Pretty impressive! And boy, was our little farmer Matthew excited about it!

Apparently the Martins and the pumpkin patch just don't mix (view yesterday's blog update for strike one of the pumpkin patch outing). We officially give up! We're done! We can take a hint!
Today, despite the sinister dark sky and gusty winds, we headed South to meet up with friends at the pumpkin patch. After stopping for a quick bite for lunch, we pulled into the mud-soaked parking lot at the Carpinitos Brothers Pumpkin Farm. Our friend, Rebecca was in their car (wisely so as there had just been a down-pour of hail) and informed us that her husband had gone ahead to pick up pumpkins for all of us and we'd just head to their place for the carving festivities. We thought this was a swell idea, however Matthew seemed to disagree. He commenced to cry and within moments we realized the crying was not actually due to pumpkin-related sadness but another much worse malady -- he proceeded to vomit all over himself, the car seat, and the floor of the car. Again, I declare unto the Universe: you win! We won't attempt another pumpkin patch...at least not this year. We did come home with a pumpkin (thanks to Jason for stashing it in our trunk whilst we used paper napkins to clean-up mess 'o vomit). Needless-to-say, there will be no pumpkin patch pictures with the latest on our site.

Where has the time gone? Ahh, yes, I know -- wiping noses. I think that's all I've done for the last week since we've all been sick. 'Tis the season. And we've really kicked off the Cold and Flu season with a bang this year! Despite downing gallons of Airborne before Mike, Zachary and I flew to Houston last weekend [for the National Engaged Encounter Convention -- which was great!] we still managed to pick up germs from flying -- surprise, surprise! Mike came down with it first (darn him!) and then shared it (how sweet) with the rest of us. Matthew woke up one morning totally stuffed up and said, "Bombby, dere's someting wrog wid by dnose." Translation for those of you not fluent in snotty toddler: "Mommy, there's something wrong with my nose." So, sure enough, as predicted (perhaps a self-fulfilling prophesy), Matthew followed in the footsteps of both his parental units (most be genetic) and stayed home sick instead of attending the first field trip of his school career -- a trip to the Pumpkin Patch (tractor ride included). At any rate, he didn't seem too devastated as the day we were to go we were not only coming down with the cold but it was pouring rain. He even looked outside and said it was too rainy to go. So, we're making up for it and taking the whole fam to a patch with some friends tomorrow.

Zachary is six months old...today! Can you even believe it? And to celebrate this milestone, he had his first taste of "solids" -- also known as "totally runny, breast-milked-down, with yucky vitamins mixed in baby rice cereal. " He's a fan though -- totally chowed down. Also, today we all dressed up and went to the Halloween party of some friends. Matthew is a farmer (how appropriate with his latest John Deere obsession), Zachary is a cow (the cutest calf, you ever did see!), I'm a pig (huh! funny, I still feel like one!), and Mike is a horse. Now, Mike and I have a very strong relationship, if I do say so myself, and "Openness in Communication" is a topic that we teach to the engaged couples on the retreats that we lead, so I was sad to have to openly communicate with him that we did not see eye-to-eye on what kind of horse he should be. (A stallion, of course....) I had pictured a very Fabio-style flowing mane (of black fleece attached to the hood of his white sweatshirt) but what he made was a more stiff and short Trojan war-horse style mane. Not at all the look that I felt he would have should he be a horse -- a horse one would find on Farmer Matthew's farm, none-the-less. In the end, we managed to agree that he was a well-groomed show horse. I'm saddened to report that despite arriving at the party with a farmer, a cow, and a pig, some people still couldn't figure out what he was. (But maybe people are just a bit slow). [I'll work on Mike to get pictures up on the website soon.]

I just finished taping up the boxes of 0-3 month and 3-6 month baby boy clothes. Hmmm...don't really know how I feel about that. Sad, I guess. I really don't know if we'll have more kiddos or not, and I think about it every single day. I certainly had every intention of being a baby carrying machine (3 at least), but that whole hospitalized bed rest, preemies in the NICU thing followed by bed rest recovery with postpartum depression, taking care of kids and infant, sleep deprivation and nursing issues is...pretty lame. HOWEVER, with that said, God has blessed us with two AMAZING and healthy, BEAUTIFUL boys and both of them are totally and completely worth any and all moments of suffering that I may have endured.What mother wouldn't lie in a bed for seven weeks if it would help her infant? Well, sadly -- many. But I'm the kind that would do it (obviously), but I certainly know that it would be extremely difficult to do it again.

Then there's that whole girl thing. Now, I wouldn't trade my two boys for the world, but (there is a but and I wish there wasn't, but everybody has a big but -- or butt -- in some cases) going through a pregnancy being told that you're having a girl (by two doctors -- 90% sure and 95% sure, just to remind you), becoming attached to this little person (Abigail Madeline, to be specific) not to mention her cute wardrobe (which was already hung categorized by size in HER closet and included some of my puffy little party dresses), and then having to box it all up and know that it's in the garage, definitely leaves a person feeling like, "Gosh! It'd sure be nice to have a daughter in addition to our two amazing and wonderful strapping lads. " After all I was the girl in a 'two boys and a girl family' and I turned out exceptionally well -- it seems to be a great combo. It should hopefully go without saying that if we do decide to have a third bebe, I wouldn't even consider it until I knew that I'd be just as happy with a third boy as I would with a girl. AND I wouldn't ideally get pregnant again until I could hire a full time nanny and housekeeper to take care of my family while I lie in bed and finally get around to writing my novel.

I've been teaching my toddler music class -- "Little Ditties Music Academy" -- for a few weeks now. There's nothing like teaching the toddlers of today, the Mozarts of tomorrow. Two and three-year-olds have a whole other kind of attitude and energy than the puberty-stricken seventh graders that I used to teach. Both ages come with their own sets of issues and challenges, that's for sure. There are similarities though: both groups tend to sing off key and you do have about a one minute attention span in which to pack as much information and music as possible.

I'm only teaching two back-to-back classes right now (45 minutes each), and when I'm done I know I'M ready for a nap who knows about the kiddos! It takes a lot of energy to maintain the interest and attention of ten two-year-olds for 45 minutes. I always enjoy the "classes" -- which could always be referred to as 'somewhat organized musical mayhem' -- but it's always nice to be told (or shown) that the kids are really enjoying them too. I have one two-year-old boy, in particular, that I was a little concerned about. His mom, like me, is a teacher-turned-stay-at-home-Mom (which adds a little pressure), and he is a VERY active little boy. She had hesitations in signing up for the class as she wasn't sure he'd be that interested or able to sit still for that long. Well, thankfully, little Colby, showed us both how much he's enjoying class by bursting into tears at the end of our goodbye song one day. I was concerned that there was something wrong, but soon found out that he was just giving me the toddler version of a rave review. He was devastated that class was over for the week. It's a funny thought to imagine a toddler's recommendation: "The class is so good, I cry when it's over!" Never thought making a toddler cry would be a good thing.

Our boys are doing well. Matthew LOVES his one-morning-a-week Preschool and is currently very interested in the whole concept of Halloween. We've been listening to our "Halloween Howls" CD over and over (he sings along) and we always notice "Halloween Houses" (those with decorations) on our runs. He often asks "where is Halloween? Where did it go?" I'm trying to explain that it's a day, not a thing but I'm not sure he's totally catching on.

Zachary is such the mover and shaker that he's toying with a new move we like to call "The Inch Worm." He lifts his bum up in the air and scootches his torso forward, slowly inching along the floor. He's not even six months old yet! Much to my horror, Mike got down on the floor with him and was giving him instruction in the art of crawling. "What are you doing?!" I exclaimed unto him, "He's the easy one right now -- he doesn't move! Once they're both mobile, then I'm totally outnumbered!" And that's just plain crazy talk.

It's official. Since day 1, we knew that Matthew was just a little "Mini-Mike." But now word out on the street is that Zachary is "Jenny Junior." Ha! Poor kids. Well, we each left our mark on at least one little human.

Zachary is already five months old! Can you believe that? I can't. We have to start actually feeding him [solids] in a month. Man! But I think he'll definitely be ready for some extra nourishment the way he moves around. It's amazing that even at five months I can see such a difference between the boys. Zach is our mover and shaker. He always wants to be facing out, watching the action (especially whatever big brother is doing), loves being flown around like an airplane, usually wants to be standing (with help of course) and loves to jump. In the last week, we've introduced him to both the Excersaucer and the Johnny Jump-Up -- LOVES them. He's also found his voice and can now yell at the top of his lungs in a very happy but very loud voice! Matthew thinks it's pretty darn funny when Zachary does his 'baby talking', so our house is often filled with loud -- and yet happy! -- noise! Music to my ears.

I'm not sure if I should even share this one. It's definitely one for Dr. Phil. My disclaimer: I claim no responsibility for the behavior of my children -- they have free-will and creative, little, inquisitive minds and are no reflection what-so-ever of my parenting skills (exluding when their behavior is exceptional, of course, in which case, it's all my doing).

Zach was down on the floor doing tummy-time in the living room when I heard Matthew talking to him, so I stuck my head around the corner to be sure there was no overly affectionate brotherly bonding occuring. Unfortunately, there was. Matthew was lying down in front of Zachary, holding his shirt up, and saying, "Do you want to eat Zachy? From my nipples?" Oye. My three-year-old son was trying to nurse his baby brother. Not OK. Not at all OK. I'm sure Dr. Phil's expensive, but probably worth it. Better start saving now.

I didn't know that I signed Matthew up for a 'Children of Over-Achieving Moms' Preschool...or maybe all moms are like that and I'm just the only slacker mom out there. So, last week, was Matthew's first 'official' day of Preschool. To me this meant, you leave your child there and let him...uh...experience Preschool. Let me expand: We arrive on time, and Matthew runs right in and starts playing with his new pal, Theodore (also a truck-lover; they had an immediate bond). All the parents linger around for a little while (five minutes or so) and watch as the teacher, Ms. Susan attempts to pull the kids away from the toys and over to the painting table. I waited to see what the experienced parents would do (the ones who have already had older children go through the whole preschool process). Finally one of the other Moms says, "OK, Ms. Susan, I'm going to go...I'll be out in the hall if you need me." Huh? For two hours?! The whole time?! Then, the second experienced momma: "Ms. Susan, I'll be out in the hall." I watch as both moms file out and stand on the other side of the window watching their little ones from the hallway. I took a big breath, readied myself and said to Ms. Susan, "OK, so I'm going to go." Ms. Susan, "Great. You'll be out in the hall?" Me: "Uh, no, I'm going to go...go." Ms. Susan in total surprise: "Oh! Go...go? Do you think Matthew will be OK?" Me: "Yeah." (Also known as: "Later!"). So, it's official, I'm the slacker mom...ditched the kiddo and went to run errands instead of standing outside the hall watching my child through a window. Time to cut the umbilical cord and apparently neither Matthew nor I had any issues with it!

Now, confession: I did return a little early for picking Matthew up and watched from the window as he and Theodore established themselves as class trouble-makers. Theodore opened a storage cupboard and found a whole hidden stash of trucks which he proceded to hand out to Matthew as quickly as possible before Ms. Susan could put them back faster than they could take them out. Then, a bit later, all the children marched over to the corner for circle time...all the children except for Matthew, that is. Matthew discovered a fire truck up on a shelf and took it upon himself to get it down (which required climbing precariously up on a stool). While reaching for the much sought-after truck, Matthew lost his balance and slipped off the stool, scraping his leg in the process. He was about to cry, looked around to see who would give him attention, realized that all the other kids were in circle time with Ms. Susan, rubbed his leg and joined the group. In the car, on the way home, Matthew told me he had gotten an owie from preschool. I asked him how and he said, "I fell off the stool." I asked him, "Were you supposed to be on the stool?" And he confidently replied, "No, it was circle time. I made a bad choice." Oh well, at least he knows when he makes them, even if it doesn't necessarily stop him!

On Saturday, we celebrated down at 'Newcastle Days' -- our little town festival. We got Matthew all pumped up for his first pony ride. We attempted it last year and he backed out at the last minute, so we were anxious to see if '06 would be our year. And I'm happy to report, indeed it is. Matthew hopped up (with Daddy's help) on Snickers, the dark brown, somewhat rebellious pony. When I called to Matthew to look at me (camera on the ready) and to see if he was OK and not about to panic, he raised one arm up and said, "I'm the farmer!" When I went to take the picture, he did get briefly side-tracked by the pony in front of Snickers who was taking care of business before getting back to work. We had to talk about it a few times that evening, that "the pony went pee-pee."

Speaking of pee-pee (sorry, but this is my blog and I am the mother of a hopefully-soon-to-potty-train three-year-old, therefore, you must be willing to read a fair amount of potty-related stories. Also, as you know, we do tend to have a body-function curse on our house, so it is a common theme with the Fartin Martins)...Matthew has been totally anti-using the potty lately until Mike decided to treat Matthew like the little man that he is and let him attempt standing for his business rather than sitting. Potty time has turned into 'Target Practice Time' and Matthew gets to shoot Cheerios in the toilet. I'm just concerned that someday we'll be out in public and instead of saying, "Mommy, I need to go potty," he'll say, "Mommy, I need to shoot my O's." Just sounds a little bit odd if you ask me.

Today we went to the zoo for Matthew's birthday outing. There is no greater sound than the belly-laughter of a three-year-old while watching the antics of a sea otter! We had a great time.

Yesterday, both boys got to have check-ups with the Pediatrician. As a three-year-old, Matthew weighs in at 37pounds 6ounces ("solid boy;" 90-95%) and is 37 inches tall (75-90th%). As a four-month-old, Zachary weighs in at 12pounds 15ounces (10-25%) and is 25 inches long (50th%). Both boys did great in wowing Doctor Benda with their age-appropriate skills. Phew! All that cramming paid off!

Today was just another day in the Martin household: Matthew turned three, went to his first day of preschool, got his lampshade stuck around his leg during naptime, rode in the stroller during a run, played at the park and got his first bee-sting, choked on snack, laughed out loud at Curious George, ate some cake, opened presents, had a bubble bath while using his new bathtub crayons, and went to bed. Nothing like being a three-year-old. All in all, he reported that he had a good birthday, his favorite part of the day was "cake" and his favorite gift was the "big red truck."

New pictures for July and August! at http://mikenjennymartin.home.comcast.net

Why is our entire house slowly being taken over by bodily fluids? Sorry for the details, but we've got some serious issues going on that need to be worked out. Last Friday was CAT PEE 2006 -- (Mistletoe urinated on my wedding dress and in Matthew's closet, for those of you not in-the-know). Yesterday was kid vomit all over a bed, the walls, table and floor. And today -- whew! What a doozy! The morning started with a toddler pee puddle on the sofa and carpet, soon to be followed by baby explosive, blow-out-poo TWICE, and then I had the pleasure of baby spit-up dripping down my shoulder, arm and back. I have gone through almost an entire bottle of Kids and Pets Odor and Stain Remover in just a week! Buy stock now, 'cuz sales are sky-rocketing thanks to the Martin Household 'o Body Function. Somewhere in the middle of this I started thinking that it's time to double my dose of Zoloft -- for some reason I'm just feeling a tad overwhelmed, but thankfully I had a couple of great friends [love ya!] and my mom [love her too] reassure me that ANYONE would be ready for a pity party with all of that. Party on, friends.

Mike is a little concerned. Matthew's new favorite movie and his current obsession is one of my personal favorites: The Little Mermaid. I figure that it's good for two reasons: 1.) Matthew will hopefully pick up on the subtle moral of the film (obey your father or the sea witch will try to turn you into a weird little worm thing. Although Ariel still gets her way regardless of her parental disrespect and the risk of eternity in the mutant merpeople garden). And 2.) Now that Matthew is into The Little Mermaid, my dreams have finally come true -- someone actually asks me to sing Ariel's songs! At last!

We had one heck of a day today (and it ain't over yet)! I took the kiddos down to Mike's office so that his coworkers could finally meet Zachary (who's already four months old!) and see Matthew. We then went to lunch with Mike, dropped him off and went to Babies R Us to get a free birthday portrait of Matthew. Well, it would have been a two hour wait for the next available time, so forget that. We got back in the car at which point Matthew totally lost it -- full on toddler tantrum complete with abusing the mama and screaming at the top of his lungs. This tantrum continued all the way home, into the house, up the stairs, on the potty and into bed for naptime. The kid has stamina, people; there was no letting up. Zachary was starting to fuss due to that whole feed-me-every-two-hours thing, so I left Matthew to scream it out to his bears in his bed. Well, pretty soon I heard a sound which clearly indicated that he would soon be pushing his lamp and fan off of the bedside table in his fit of toddler rage. In order to stop this occurence, I quickly ran to his door and yelled for him to stop. He startled, stood up on his bed, and with fury in his eyes proceded to vomit all over himself, the bed, the safety bed rail, the floor and the wall. OH...MY...GOSH. We both just stood there for a moment transfixed with shock. Then Matthew realized that he was covered in grossness, so he picked up where he'd left off and howled even louder. Before I could get to him he worked himself up again in a serious sob and vomited some more. I repeat: OH...MY...GOSH. My first thought: Children really are a grandparent's revenge. I don't even know how many nights my parents spent washing sheets and cleaning carpets after I'd gotten sick before making it to the bathroom. Back to me though, 'cuz it's all about me, right? So, I've got a crying toddler covered in el puke-o and a baby in the other room crying for el boob-o. Thank God for Zoloft, people. Thank GOD for Zoloft! Oh well, gives me some material for my Blog.

Mistletoe the Christmas Kitty gave us a real swell thank you today for all of our love and support... She peed on my wedding dress. I thought that the urine situation was simply puddled on the plastic bag, but apparently during some of her stay in Matthew's closet (her new favorite hide-out since getting sick) she made herself a nice, cozy little spot by getting into the plastic bag and nuzzling down into the folds of the fabric back surrounding my dress. Anyway, pee soaked through fabric into wedding dress fabric, and we've got ourselves a cat-pee wedding dress, people. Now, the whole keep-your-wedding-dress-forever thing was a bit of a dilemma for me. See, I don't plan on ever wearing it again, chances are slim that any daughter of mine (should we have one) would want to wear that cheesy-so-outdated-thing, it takes up a lot of room in the closet, and quite frankly, my wedding day was not the most stress-free, magical, amazing best-day-of-your-life day that some people have. So, in the end, I think we're just going to have it dry-cleaned but not all sealed and boxed up. We'll either donate it or sell it and another bride can enjoy its cat-pee-free-quality.

Now, whilst on the topic of natural body functions. (Sorry). We had a break-through in the potty-training department! Matthew did his first poo-poo in the potty! Woohoo for the poo-poo! It only took an hour, seven books, and a perma-ring around his bum from the potty seat, but it happened! To give true celebration to the event, Matthew got an immediate prize from the Potty Bag -- a truck, of course. All day he was saying, "Do you want to play with my potty prize truck, Mommy?...See my potty prize truck, Mommy?" Hopefully this post-poo-poo proudness and pleasure do not pass and we continue successfully with the potty training process.

Zachary was baptised on Sunday, and thankfully he didn't pee in the font. Phew! That's always a worry with these nudey baptisms. I think it's appropriate that he get dunked the way that God made him. The water was a little chilly so he did let out a small complaint, but other than that he was the perfect little saint/angel baby that he always is. He was also a serious crowd-pleaser at our post-Church celebratory lunch, providing big smiles to all who held him.

On a sadder note, our wonderful Christmas kitty, Mistletoe is not doing very well. She hadn't been eating so Mike brought her to the animal hospital. She has liver failure and they're not quite sure what's causing it. They know that she also has kidney stones but don't know if she's not eating/has the liver failure because of those or something else. Unfortunately, we really couldn't afford to have her stay at the hospital any longer and they weren't going to do an ultrasound until Thursday. Even if they did determine that she has cancer we wouldn't be able to pay for Chemo and don't know that putting her through that would be just. Another possible issue could be Pancreatitis or Pancreitis...whatever. SO...in the end, we decided to bring her home and medicate for that, force feed her with a syringe and 'water her' (insert an IV needle between her shoulder blades and pump 100cc's of water under her skin once a day). So far, things look promising. She's gotten a little better each day, has started eating on her own occasionally and has stopped hiding in the closet so much. She's sleeping on our bed again and getting back to her old, purring, affectionate-seeking self. We're to give the vet an update on Friday and go from there. Neither Mike nor I have ever had to make that kind of a decision -- what kind of medical treatment you can and should pay for and at what point do you decide it's time to put the animal 'out if its misery'. Mistletoe's only six, so she should have plenty years left of lovin'. We'll hope for the best.

I should provide the update that I did decide to start the Zoloft perscription for postpartum depression. I struggled for so long with the decision and especially with feeling like I was a 'failure' if I couldn't handle things on my own and needed chemical assistance. In the end though, I am SO thankful that I came to that conclusion. I feel like a different person -- I feel like me again! I was so scared that the feelings that I was experiencing of being completely overwhelmed and not in control would never go away, so it's so unbelivably reassuring that it is just due to a hormone imbalance. Now when things get crazy at home, I feel like I can handle things in a healthy way. Someone who took Zoloft for postpartum depression described it as just 'taking the edge off,' and I'd have to completely agree with that. So, while I am sad that I did need the help, I'm happy that it should be a temporary problem, that I can cope now and that I won't spend the first year of Zachary's life miserable. I can enjoy it rather then just try to get through it. So, cheers! Here's to Zoloft!

"Sit down, Sweetcakes." Matthew said this to me the other day. Huh! I've never called him 'Sweetcakes' in my life, so who knows where he got that one! This little Sweetcakes of ours had a very exciting day -- we signed him up for an "Almost Three's" preschool class that will meet Tuesdays from 9:30-11:30 starting in September. I don't know who's more excited about it -- him or me. I think it'll be a win-win situation for all Martins involved. Matthew will get the good learning experience (which at this age is really learning to socialize with other kiddo's in a more structured environment) and time away from home, Zachary will get to have one-on-one Mommy time and I'll get to have one-kid-less break-time. It sounds horrible to be excited about that, but I suppose it's a bit like the Moms who say they're a better Mother for working full-time. Since they have less time with their kids it's more quality time when they are home. Besides, absence makes the heart grow fonder; a two hour break will be a very life-giving thing!

When I told Matthew we were going to go see his preschool classroom he got so excited. He assumed that the kids would be there and he started naming all of his toys in the car and saying that he would let the other kids play with them. He's also thrilled about riding the school bus. I've tried to break it to him gently that he's not going to get to ride the bus for some time. Guess he's just ready to grow up on me.

Mike had his yearly check-up with his Oncologist yesterday. We know that when our Anniversary rolls around it's time to visit Dr. Hersman. He loves to see our expanding fam as do the Chemo nurses. They, of course, were not entirely surprised with our "exciting" pregnancy experience. By spending our wedding night in the ER, I guess we started a bit of a trend. I told them that I'm REALLY ready to have a boring life for a while. They laughed at that. Hmmm...apparently there's no such thing as 'boring' with two little boys.

So, back to our Anniversary -- we just celebrated our fifth! We've done a lot in five years: a major illness, new careers, buying a house, a few more ER trips, two pregnancies -- neither of which went without all sorts of surprises, not to mention lots and lots of good times. Anyway, I finally figured out why I had both of our boys five weeks early -- to score on the birthstones. Matthew's is Sapphire and Zachary's is the Diamond. Not bad, huh? And Mike REALLY scored big on the Anniversary gift this year giving me some jewelry that had both of their birthstones. Diamonds and Sapphires may sound a little dressy for playdates, but I don't care!

Oh, loyal readers of mine (i.e. my phenomenal family and friends), you don't cease to amaze me with your support. I shouldn't have hesitated so long in coming out with my tails of woe as a postpartumly-bummed mom of two. Since I decided to answer the "How are you?" question honestly, I've gotten nothing but love (except maybe from the grocery store clerk who would have preferred the anticipated "Fine, thank you"). And here's the thing, really I AM doing fine, and I know how blessed I am and how much worse things could be ('cuz honestly they aren't bad); I'm just not quite me. But I guess I'm also realizing that maybe I need to better figure out who 'Me' is.

I was telling the girls at Book Club last night [Hi! And I still think that we should allow a new member to join, and I'm willing to write an entire blog session on why, if need-be and it's not just because our new potential member is a friend of mine and she's great :) ] that a few years ago, a much wiser (and yes, older) friend asked me how old I was. When I told her 22 or 23 (whenever it was), she said, "Oh! So, you don't even really know who you are. You haven't reached that mid-to-late-twenties-read-Self-Help-books stage yet." Of course, I immediately got defensive: "Please! Like I would ever need to read Self-Help Books. I have a totally, clearly defined sense of self." Um, so now that I'm the ripe old age of 26...anyone know any good Self-Help books? I'm in the market for one.

Part of it, I know, is the whole struggle of the Mom thing. I wouldn't change it for the world, I'm so glad that I get to stay home with my kids, and it's what I've always wanted to do, so then why am I not better at it? Man, it's hard. And people always tell you 'being a Mom is the hardest job in the World' and 'it's harder to go from one to two kids than zero to one," but until you live it, you don't actually know what they're talking about. Now, I knew that I wouldn't be the fresh, all organic ingredients, home-made meals on the table every night kind. Or the slippers waiting for Mike at the door type either. And I can't tell you the last time that I ironed. I also know that I'll never sew a Halloween costume. But, still! And then we (Moms) have all this weird self-inflicted mom-guilt if we do make or take time for ourselves. Although, I am willing (sheepishly) to admit that I think I do a pretty good job of getting that me time. And Mike is certainly great at helping me get those much-needed breaks too. I just keep thinking about the Oprah a few years ago when Mom's were finally 'telling it like it is' -- how much nursing can hurt and how (as one woman put it) "no one told me that being a Mom would suck 80% of the time."

Matthew and Zachary are both supposedly napping right now which means that I automatically SHOULD turn into Productive-Mom (picture a cape clad Mom -- home-made, of course, with duster in one hand -- I don't even own one -- and cookbook in the other so that meal menus can be planned out weeks in advance...all the while folding the mountain of laundry with feet or the magical extra limbs that all super moms must grow). BUT instead of being Productive-Mom, I'm 'self-medicating' with a fudgesicle (sugar free, at least) and my blog. I was thinking that I'd even try to squeeze in some Pilates before I release Matthew from his anti-nap naptime. And maybe I'll even do some self-helping by researching self-help literature.

Better sign off before I'm completely out of my Me time!

It's been a LONG time. I don't know if anyone even reads this anymore, but in case you're still out there -- thanks for visiting! We're doing...well. For a while there I really thought that things were getting easier, we were out of the foggy haze that is the first couple of months with a newborn, Matthew seemed to be settling down and adjusted to his baby brother, and I felt like we were starting to establish a bit of a routine. All of those things are true, but I guess I've also realized that it's OK to admit that I'm not doing as well as I'd like. We're thriving and surviving and all, but deep down I just don't feel like myself. I'm sure it's hormonal, blahblahblah, I even talked to the doctor about postpartum depression, but I really don't want to go on a brain chemical-altering drug that I'd have to be on for six months to a year and can cause 'suicidal thoughts' when coming off of it. I'm not suicidal now, so why would I sign myself up for the potential?! The thing that's reassuring -- and yet scary -- is that now that I'm talking to friends and family about my struggle and I'm hearing the same thing. Basically, "Yeah, life with two...especially in the beginning...it IS that hard." Not really what I want to hear. I was hoping that there would be a magic happy pill to make things easier, but I guess I'm out of luck. So, in the meantime, I'm trying to do the things that help me feel like ME; that bring me back to the Essence of Jenny, the 'Jenessence', if you will -- read, talk to friends and family, and exercise (even if it still isn't running), and drink a cup of coffee with a dark chocolate kiss every morning. Chocolate really can cure all ailments.

Zachary has had his first solid food. Yes, typically you wait until about 4-6months, but he's just so darn advanced we thought, why wait? And what did we feed him you ask. A gnat! We were having a picnic dinner at our local park (they have live bands every Wednesday night through the Summer) and a little, tiny fruit fly started buzzing around. I thought that I had successfully swatted it away, then a moment later I look down and see a small black thing in the corner of Zach's mouth. He was already hungry, so every attempt I made with my finger to pull it out just caused the kiddo to smack his lips and move his tongue (thus propelling the poor, unsuspecting insect further back towards its inevidable demise). Zachary was thoroughly unfazed by the whole experience, so apparently he's not a vegetarian. I think now that he's gotten some extra fiber, we'll go ahead and wait a few months before we start him on tamer solids...like rice cereal.