Close Call

We had a pretty good scare today - Ben, Stella and I - while out for our morning run.

I wrote the story, but decided not to share. No need to recreate the visual. In brief, we had a very close encounter with a car and it's nothing short of a miracle that we all walked away completely in tact.

Which we did. Thank God.

I share for a couple reasons...my immediate reaction really surprised me, as did the events of the rest of the day.

First, I FREAKED on the guy. Like crazy lady, out-of-body-experience freaked out. F bombs all over the place, arms flailing, insane. Ordinarily I hate conflict and find myself apologizing for things I haven't even done.

In this case, I was like one of those mother birds on National Geographic when a predator approaches the nest - wings fully spread, feathers puffed out, going bonkers, squawking.

Second, it wasn't until we were all home and settled down that I actually started processing what had occurred. And my mind shifted from wonderment and gratitude to really terrible what-ifs. Then I cried and started giving Ben life-threatening hugs every 5 minutes.

And as the morning went on, I found myself drowing in worry (my dear old friend worry). I was so consumed by it and couldn't turn it off.

I contemplated designs for a full-body rubber suit for him to start wearing every day. I wondered if we could successfully abandon the world and become recluse. Seriously.

It is so easy (for me) to see how one could literally go insane with worry.

Thankfully I think my mind is finally ready to stop running through all the potential scenarios, but man, everything is just so different now. I can almost guarentee if the same thing had happened while I was out alone I would have been pissed for 5 minutes, and then never thought of it again.

Master of the obvious, I know. But these little people change everything.

Blah, blah, blah

Ben's little guy vocabulary is expanding, and while recognizeable to only a select few (hubby, Paula and me), we're having a great time practicing our favorites.

Below is a list of his frequently used words and phrases:

ball
dad
Stella
dog
water
bus
uh oh
airplane
mickey (mouse) -- ok, he's only said this once, but it was clear as day
and of course the lion/bear growl

As an aside, there is a house a couple blocks away with two lion statues outside. Never fails, within a block of our approach he starts growling in his stroller, in anticipation of passing them. And it's funny every single time...

Where is "mom" in our list above, you might be wondering?? How does "bus" make the list before the ever-attentive lady tirelessly practicing every sound and picture association?

It's a thankless job my friends, a thankless job.

But the best is listening to him talk to himself...blah, blah, blah. Each morning in his crib, while we run, when he is playing. Blah, blah, blah. It's non-stop.

He obviously get the extreme chattiness from his father...

Waddle On

As a follow up to my post a few weeks ago regarding running, I'm thrilled to share that the our little morning circus (Ben, Stella and me) logged more than 80 miles in July!

I must admit, I'm pretty surprised. Given we are running just 3 or 4 miles, it really isn't much, but we've been out almost every day and it does add up over time.

And of course it's not like I look any different, as expected I'm bigger than a month ago, but so much happier to start my day this way. So. Much. Happier.

In fact, everyone seems happier. Stella has lost a few lbs and eagerly waits by the back door most mornings. Ben is a complete riot and seems to genuinely enjoy it - we pass the Metra AND the el tracks so on a good day we see 4-5 trains; he puts his milk and cereal dispenser-gadget out on the tray in front of him so he has snacks and refreshments; and once finished with his breakfast appetizer, he moves on to his books or calling out sights along our route and waving to everyone we pass.

Who knows how long we'll keep it up. I already feel myself slowing down. But it is so awesome to have the option back, and restore a little of my mental balance.

Cool Guy

I know I'm biased but tell me, have you ever seen anything cuter?

(Not sure how my latest post popped up below the previous...weird blogspot glitch)

Right (Rite) of Passage

We came home to a sick little bear tonight. I didn't even get a glance up from hubby's shoulder when I walked in the door, and he was a hot, feverish, limp noodle.

Really unsettling given he is usually pretty lively even when he's feeling his worst.

So we called the ped, repeatedly took his temp (102.4), and basically held vigil over him for an hour on the couch without much change. Even Stella was hovering, sneaking in kisses to try to help.

And then suddenly he sat up, look at me, and threw up every where.

All over himself, me, the couch, the phone. It was really pretty incredible.

And once the collective trauma was over for all of us, and Ben and I had stripped down to our skivies in the kitchen and washed off, things actually took a pretty quick turn for the better.

He appears to have his father's superhero ability to bounce back from sickness. Within an hour, he was wheeling toys around, laughing and eating a banana.

And somehow, the whole incident kind of felt like an official intiation into motherhood. You're not really a mom until you get thrown up on, right?

Let's hope he is back to normal when he wakes up tomorrow.

No Glow Yo

I was never a 'pregnancy glow' gal the first time around. I think I have a max of three photos of my belly captured during those 10 months (showers aside), and I always shuddered when people suggested the popular expecting mom photo shoot. Just not my style.

But I don't recall being so frequently exasperated with my personal appearance either. Getting dressed in the morning would be a joke, if there were anything funny at all about it. Inevitably, each day starts with no less than five outfit changes before ultimately I give up and hope for the grace of God no one is out there looking to judge a hot, fat, pregnant lady today (and if you are, shame on you).

Hubby reassures me with comments like "no, you were way fatter with Ben at this point last time..." which sadly actually makes me feel slightly better, if that gives you a sense of my state of mind.

I've done a little looking around online and talking to folks, the results of which also made me feel better. The unanimous sentiment is women feel sicker, fatter, more tired, uglier, and overall like a hot mess the second time around.

Misery loves company. Check.

So what's the point here? Who really cares besides me? And isn't it all bigger than this? I hear you. But that doesn't make it any easier to put clothes on every day, and certainly doesn't help that once that challenge is tackled, I can't find my freakin' car keys either.

Aliens Have Abducted My Baby

And replaced him with this crazy, crying toddler. Has anyone seen my sweet baby?

It's hard to say when they made the switch, because of course the replacement Ben looks just like the original. And while we'd seen glimpses of this terrible toddler the last few weeks (diaper changes have become an all out war of late), alien Ben has taken it to an all new level this week.

Thirsty translates to hysterical. Boredom is communicated by stomping feet. Fatigue is wailing and shaking no, no, no. And of course there is the random drop to the knees melt down for no reason.

I finally consulted the experts (Toddler 411) and was comforted to read this stage lasts until FOUR. They do have numerous handy suggestions on how to negotiate with these pint-sized pity parties, so off we go to test a few out.

I'll let you know how things go. In the meantime, if you see my perfect, happy, can-do-no-wrong baby, please send him home to his mom. She misses him desperately.

(by the way, making fun of the tantrum, as seen in this photo was NOT on the list of recommendations)