Learning Limits...

The other night, a woman approached Tee Jay in Lowe's and asked his many opinions on what type of drill she should buy, if each drill was battery-operated or electric, if extra bits would need to be purchased. During this exchange, Casey provided her own thoughts (usually just a shy, turning-her-head-away "no" when the woman directed the conversation her way). When Casey asked, "What's your name?" the woman responded with "Linda - but you know, you really shouldn't talk to strangers..."

Okaaaaaay, LINDA. Technically, you're correct. Casey shouldn't talk to strangers. And as her parents, Tee Jay and I should definitely be teaching her that lesson. But where are we supposed to draw the line? Where do we go past the limit of being friendly and enter the realm of "this person is a stranger who shouldn't be spoken to"?

I mean, first of all, it was Linda who started talking to Tee Jay in the first place - it was she who came up to a stranger and asked for his advice. Secondly, Casey with with her father. It wasn't like she was wandering by herself through the hardware aisle, asking folks their names. Lastly, strangers are constantly making small-talk with the parents of young kids - they "ahh goo" at our baby and question our toddler on how old she is. They like to smile and say "hi" in pretty much every setting, from the park to the supermarket to church and so on. Tee Jay and I have always taken the stance of being polite, so I've heard us often encourage Casey to "say hi!" to these people. When do we teach her that that's not okay?

Which brings me to another "what is the limit?" matter in our lives: homeless people.

When I was in high school, my then-boyfriend and I spent a lot of time in downtown Providence, and when a homeless person would ask us for money, we'd often take them into the nearest fast food restaurant and pay for a meal -anything they wanted- instead of giving them cash outright. We'd also frequently purchase a dozen Dunkin Donuts (they were half-price after 8:00PM) and hand them out. We thought we were doing some good while also not feeding the beggars' possible guilty pleasures.

Now that I live in Philadelphia, I obviously encounter homeless people and/or panhandlers at times. Granted, they're not in our suburban'ish neighborhood... but we certainly run into them when we're on the subway, downtown, and driving around in the car. In particular, there is one homeless man whom we've seen standing in the middle of a busy boulevard every time we've ventured out to our nearby BJs store. A couple of times, I have rolled down my window and handed him a $1 bill or a handful of change, to which he always says "Thank you, God bless you." Casey asks me who the man is and "what's he doing, Mommy?" when we have these encounters, and I do my best to explain that he doesn't have a job, he is probably hungry, and he is in need of a little bit of money. Then I usually find myself back-pedaling a bit, explaining that we can't give away everything we have because we need to eat, too, but that sometimes it's best to help people out - and that most of all, I guess we should just say a quick prayer for that man so that Jesus will watch over him each night and maybe help him to find a home and work soon.

Am I supposed to teach my child that this homeless man deserves some of my money - or that he is a stranger she shouldn't speak with or give anything to? Am I supposed to ignore the man when we sit at a red light right next to him, knowing in my head that he may be using folks' loose change to purchase alcohol or drugs or cigarettes? Or am I supposed to follow my heart, which tells me that no matter what his story is, whether it involves addictions or not, whether he is homeless "by choice" or not, whether he could work harder to find employment or not, he would NOT be doing what he's doing without there being some serious hardships in his life?

Let's face it. When my traffic light turns green, I take a left-hand turn, pull into BJs, spend a couple hundred dollars on some necessities (but also on many "splurge" items like brie cheese or craisins), and then drive back home - in my car, with the gas I could afford to put in it - to my home, which has air-conditioning and heat and a bathroom and cozy beds and too many toys and games and movies and other nonsensical items. No matter what, even if he could maybe make some different choices in his life, this man doesn't have the same luxuries I have right now.

I'm not writing this post to sound like a good person or to invoke anyone else to "get out there and do something." I seriously do struggle with which message I'm supposed to feed to Casey, and which actions I want her to see me taking.

This morning, we handed our homeless "friend" a little bit of change I found in my wallet and went on our way. But an hour later, as we loaded the car with our BJs groceries, I grabbed an old gift bag lying in the back and filled it with some of the goodies we'd bought - 10 packs of peanut butter crackers, a few rice krispy treats and chewy granola bars, a bottle of water and can of Diet Coke. We stopped at Wendy's next door and added a 20-pack of chicken nuggets to the bag, and then we pulled onto the boulevard and delivered our gift to the man. He didn't know what was inside as we drove away, but he said, "Oh my goodness, oh my goodness" at the heavy bag - "Thank you, God bless you."

I know we did a "good Christian deed," but I'm still unsure of what to teach my kids about limits, safety, charity and cautious cynicism. Any thoughts?

Remembering...

In memory of the horrible acts of terrorism we witnessed on American soil 10 years ago today, and in honor of the men and women who gave their lives, some of whom bravely made that choice to put other lives ahead of their own, and in support of the thousands of people who mourn that loss every day, here are some little glimpses of patriotism in our household.

GOD BLESS AMERICA!!!!

Alleluia...

Casey loves our church, St. Tim's. We pass it on days when she goes to daycare, and she has a wonderful after-Mass-hug relationship with one of our priests, Father Pat. She often asks to go to church (and yes, we sinners tell her to just wait for Sunday instead of taking her midweek!) and loves to talk about the church, the priests, the parking lot (yes, the parking lot!), and who she might bring to her church somedays ("I bring Auntie Heather there somedays, Mommy").

If you know Casey, then you probably know that she likes to sing about EVERYTHING. When she was a little younger, we started out by singing the "Elmo's World" song. Once we turned it into "Casey's song," she began requesting "Papa's song" and "Auntie Erin's song" and "Jack the doggy's song" and so on. If she knows and loves you, I can GUARANTEE that we sing about you on a regular basis! (Yes, that includes all grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, friends, pets, and animals we've met along the way.)

If she asks me to "la la" something that I'd rather not make up a song for, such as "La la supermarket, Mommy?" I tell her that the supermarket doesn't have a song. To which she responds, "Happy Birthday supermarket, Mommy?" and then we move on to quickly wishing the something a very happy birthday.

If she asks us to "la la" something that might already have another song in existence that could work in place of the Elmo tune, such as "La la city bus, Mommy?" I will go right into its own song (for instance, "The Wheels on the Bus").

Sound confusing? Believe me, it can be!

ANYWAY (as this short little story gets farther and farther away from me), getting back to the church bit, when she first asked us to "La la church, please?" we sang a version of the pre-Gospel "Alleluia." For the Psalm verse, I made something up (which I'm sure is NOT actually a Psalm) by singing, "Jesus has risen today, Alleluia we sing our praises, for the Lord has risen to-oo-oo-day" and went back into the "Alleluia" part of the chant. The next time she asked us to sing the church song, I began to make up another verse, to which she promptly sang the original (yet made-up) version and told me, "Like THAT, Mommy." So the girl has a good memory, I s'pose... (smile)

And speaking of church, as I previously mentioned, we had Finlay Baptized into his Catholic faith back in July, during his second month. Instead of being Baptized at our parish here in Philadelphia, we traveled up to my sister's house in New Hampshire (yes, we slept over their house - meaning that four adults, seven kids, and two cats were under one roof!), and Finlay received his first Sacrament alongside his new cousin Eliza Marie. Eliza's parents Tree and Shawn are serving as Finlay's godparents, while Tee Jay and I have proudly taken on the role of Eliza's.

It was a GREAT day, filled with family, friends, and many beautiful moments.

The Godfathers:




I just love the little smirks in this picture (and it amazes me how different both babies look now, one month later!):



After all the excitement of the day (and probably singing many rounds of "Alleluia"), Casey was a very sound napper!

C'Mon, Irene!...

I show you this picture, thankful that Irene didn't do nearly as much damage as we thought she might... but at the same time, I still have family without power! Prayers being said...

Caught Up...

I just came on here to check out my granola bar recipe, as it's been awhile since I made them, and I can't seem to find instructions in paper form here in the house.

I found the appropriate post (I'm adding flax seed to the dry ingredients today, but won't know what else until I get into the kitchen), but also started reading the ones around it...

about Casey turning 11 months old...
about silly things we've said to each other...
about birthdays and Christmases and Red Sox seasons...

And in reading those posts, I began to feel guilty that when she asked for more hugs the FIFTH time today when she was supposed to be napping, I gave her the requested hugs, but somewhat begrudgingly. I told her sternly that Finlay and I were NOT coming into her room again - we were NOT going to give another hug until after her nap. And NO, Daddy was NOT going to give her a hug, because YES, Daddy was at work. (She continued to insist that I send him in, and I lost my temper momentarily and said, "Daddy is NOT here!! He's NOT HERE! Take. Your. Nap!")

I have to remind myself that the little girl who sometimes drives me crazy is MY little girl. My smart, sweet, loving, wanting-to-give-too-many-hugs daughter. Our only child before Finlay arrived and before we lost a lot of our patience. Poor thing. I think I'll make the granola bars extra awesome, just for her.

Two Months...

As promised, though late, here are Finlay's two month stats:

Weight: 11lbs, 12oz
Height: 22.5in
Head Circumference: 14.25in

These seem like good measurements to us, especially because we can see Finlay's growth happening each day. He looks completely proportional to us, and yet...

The doctor's office gave us the percentiles for the above numbers, and I guess he's not quite proportional after all!

Weight: 50th percentile
Height: 40-45th percentile
Head Circumference: well... he's not even on the chart!

Dr. T was not at all concerned about the size of Finlay's little head, saying that he's been growing at the same rate since birth, and some kids just have smaller sizes.

Personally, I think that head circumference measurements must run in such a small range, since Casey always fell around the 10th percentile, her friend was way OFF the charts (as in, he had a big enough head that he was actually checked by a specialist as a "just in case"), and yet they both looked pretty much the same to everyone. I guess that (so far) Tee Jay and I produce kids with bitty noggins... but man, are those kids ever cute!!


In Finlay's second month, he began to smile and coo at us. I was anxious* for the first real smile, and it came while I was bathing Finlay by myself (a job usually reserved for Daddy) when he was 6weeks, 2days old. It was an adorable sight to behold, but a fleeting one. Finlay appears to be our "Mr. Serious" and his smiles are few and far between. (In fact, I'm pretty sure that ceiling fans have coaxed far more grins out of him than family members!)

The cooing is another story all together, since that is something we get to hear plenty of. It began as a tiny little "O" lip formation, but has progressed into many different sounds, two and three syllables at a time, some trilling of the tongue, and so on.

Just in case you were curious (and I can probably assure myself that you weren't), Finlay's bowel movements have slowed down significantly, and he presents me with a stinky diaper once every 5 or 6 days. People are always amazed by this information, but it's completely normal for his age and as a result of being exclusively breastfed. I remember when Casey started a phase of pooping once every two weeks! (Can you imagine?)

Sleep patterns have really become wonderful at nighttime over the second month. After he eats before bedtime (about 7 or 8PM), Finlay then sleeps for 5-6 hours before waking for the next feeding; then he goes back to an every-3-hour schedule. Casey did not steadily sleep for a long stretch like this until she was well past a year old, and Finlay's decision to do so has been met with much Mommy-approval.

On a special note, Finlay was Baptized alongside his cousin Eliza when he was seven weeks old, and we'll add a post about it with pictures.

We're loving our family of four and will share more soon!



* Look up the proper grammatical usage of "anxious" and you'll learn that I'm using this word incorrectly - Tee Jay is a stickler about it.

The House of Crafting Insanity...

The Boudreau family gets together each year on the Sunday preceding Christmas to enjoy each other's company and sing carols in Grandma's basement around the up-and-decorated-all-year-long tree. Around the same time that I was ushered into this tradition, my two fellow admin assistants and I decided to homebake Christmas goodies for the executives in our department. I figured that because there were so many Boudreaus to celebrate the holidays with, I would bake treats for them as well... and crafty Christmases began.

After a few years of baking, my nephew Jamie asked for a superhero cape for Christmas, and I told the rest of the family, "Do not buy him one - I'm going to make a cape!" It wasn't easy (or pretty!), but I managed to turn out a doable (and very homemade-looking) cape with Tee Jay's help. (Each of his siblings have since asked for capes, and this year, it's finally Violet and Casey's turn to receive them - I cannot wait!)

Two years ago, when finances began getting a lot tighter in our household (where they unfortunately remain, especially anticipating having two kids in daycare!), Tee Jay threatened to give everyone just hugs for Christmas, but we managed to be thrifty in our shopping and present gifts as well.

Last year, the craftiness took over and many less-than-perfect items were given...

Like my first (and only, thus far) attempt at a purse, made from a hodge-podge of gorgeous fabrics, including an adorable pocket on the inside, and adorned with the most awesome button EVER (lifted from my Granny's button collection - with her permission, of course).


Like pillows for newly-renovated bedrooms.



Like funky scarves (which are soft but maybe not practical?).


Like nifty fabric coasters.


The men in our family didn't receive handmade presents, nor did Tee Jay's brothers, who will continue to be at tough-to-sew-for ages (14 and 10) this Christmas. But nearly everyone else received at least one little token of Boudreau craftiness.

Over the past several months, my head has been spinning with ideas of gifts for this Christmas, some which seem like they will be easy, others which will require my attempting techniques (and using special tools and materials) for the first time ever. My excitement grows each time I come up with yet another project to undertake, and yet...

...well-ell...

none of them are even started yet!! (Not even the aforementioned capes, which I've known for three years would be due to the girls Christmas 2011.) What's worse, none of these crafts are going to be as "simple" as the scarves and coasters from last year.

But I'm still determined, especially since Tee Jay's grandmother turned towards the homemade route last year and graced everyone in her family with a hand-knitted scarf, and I now cherish these, along with one done by his stepmom the Christmas before. It was like supporting evidence for the homespun-is-best (though not always easiest or cheapest) argument.

Thus far, Finlay is still a MAJOR cuddlebug, and he doesn't like to "play independently" for any period of time longer than 4 minutes. But I'm hoping and praying that before my maternity leave ends, I've got him taking at least one all-by-himself nap each afternoon - so that I can get cracking on these many ideas!

Tee Jay will read this and groan, I'm sure, as today I'm busy making tutus (more on that soon), we've still got work to complete for our entryway coat rack and shoe bins, Casey's bedroom (which has been a work-in-progress since her birthday in February), and of course, the kids' Halloween costumes! (You know what? I'm going to groan at the Halloween realization, too - it's coming so soon, and I've done ZILCH for it so far.)

At least I've got good intentions... even though I feel we're almost always living in the house of crafting insanity (and projects-never-quite-finished).

I leave you with this, a picture I stumbled upon when looking through the Christmas set. It's of me, Teresa and Erin - three sisters each holding a sketch of ourselves (in childhood) done by my Aunt Sara Garska. These are homemade treasures at their best, and I'm appreciative that my parents bestowed us girls each with the original last year, making professional-type copies for their own homes. (And of course, I'm forever grateful to Aunt Sara for loving us and wanting to draw us in the first place!)



... and OH, help me God, it just dawned on me that I still haven't finished Casey's Christmas stocking (made from her newborn coming-home-from-the-hospital outfit), and she's finally at the age where I should have her stocking made, as she'll remember it year to year. And, at nearly three, I'm pretty sure she'll want to know where Finlay's is, too. Prayers, people! Crafting prayers are needed!

Measuring Up...

Finlay is now over two months old, but since I haven't yet posted any one-month stats, I figured I'd start there first... and see how many days it takes me to getting around to the two-month ones!

At birth, Fin was 7lbs, 15oz ~ 19in long. At his one week appointment, even though we were dealing with some slight jaundice (enough to make me a slobbery mess the last day in the hospital, petrified we'd get readmitted the way we were with Casey), he'd gotten himself just over the birth weight, tipping the scales at 8lbs. It was thrilling to me, as you might remember that we waited three weeks for Casey to hit her birth weight!

For his one month appointment, I continued to be pleased, as he weighed 9lbs, 8oz ~ and was 21.5in long ~ with a head circumference of 13.75in. I didn't write down where those measurements fell in the "average baby" percentile ranges, but the nurse practitioner at our visit assured us that he was falling within very normal limits and was doing great. She actually wrote in his little book that "Mom, Dad, and big sister are doing a super job!" (rah rah sis boom bah)

As previously mentioned, we have decided to capture Finlay's growth in a different way than Casey's (photographs done monthly in the glider), and here's our little reveal:


Finlay is being shot weekly on a different fabric, so that by the end of the year, we have a whole "quilt" of growth pictures. Hopefully, we keep up with it (so far, so good)!

At one month old, Fin was still a very sleepy baby with few alert moments during the day. When his eyes were open, they were definitely focusing on the people staring at and admiring him, but there wasn't much interaction or personality shown.

In the first month, he met most of his extended family members and many friends, and he endured countless hugs and kisses from big sis Casey.

By the end of the month, I was just barely falling into some sort of comfort with how to handle two kiddos at once - and I was doing so on predictable (though not long) intervals of sleep, since he woke every 2.5-3 hours for nursing.

Posting two-month stats soon!

Another Month Bites the Dust...

My last post was on June 29th... which means it's been a month of no-blogging. Not surprising, I'm sure, to any readers left. (Are there any of you left??)

This month, just like the one before it, has gone by quickly. We're somewhat settling into a better routine here at home. Casey is attending school just three days a week (Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday) while I snuggle with Finlay and try to devote a lot of one-on-one time to him (though I'll admit that I often use these days to catch up on cleaning house, starting projects that will inevitably never be finished, and so on). On Mondays and Thursdays, I try to plan at least one fun out-of-the-house activity for Casey's sake (even if it's sometimes as simple as walking to the playground or having "splash day" in our own yard), and we both make time to sit and relax together in the moments that Finlay demands our (my) attention. I dreaded Mondays and Thursdays for the first few weeks of Finlay's life, simply because I wasn't use to juggling two children at once - and wasn't yet skilled at getting Casey to independently play (instead of getting into trouble) when necessary. (I also wasn't prepared back then for how to react when she'd hit Finlay. Yes, we dealt with a two-year-old hitting a two-week-old once or twice.) But I think that all of us are getting the hang of our new family.

Even Tee Jay has had to adjust, of course. His responsibilities have shifted somewhat (though certainly not lessened!). Before I had Fin, Tee Jay would arrive home around 4:15, relax, play on the computer, and then cook up a delicious dinner while watching his little kitchen TV. Casey and I would arrive home near 6:00 and be ready to eat, play, bathe, and hit the hay. Now when Tee Jay gets home, there is zero "alone time" available to him normally (except for the rare occasion when Fin and I have already headed out to pick up Casey on our own). He sits for about five minutes (usually holding the baby) before driving to NJ to get the girl. They arrive home and eat a meal that I have cooked. So though he's off the hook in the kitchen for the next few months, Tee Jay is still doing an incredible amount of housework (because my "housecleaning" moments on days alone with Finlay are pretty small, despite my feeling of accomplishment) and co-parenting (because two kids are a LOT of work, I tell ya!).

Finlay has been doing great, and we're finally seeing a little bit of "chub" developing on him. I wouldn't say he has rolls yet, but lines are starting to show on his arms and legs and I know those delicious, want-to-gobble-them-up rolls are coming soon. Though he looks completely proportionate to me, each time he's next to another baby near his age, Finlay's head looks so much smaller. He certainly doesn't have the hanging cheeks that Casey had... maybe they're still to come. He usually drinks from a bottle (of pumped milk) once a day so that when I return to work, he'll be a seasoned pro at switching from the breast to the bottle and back again.

I almost don't want to post this, in case it jinxes us in the future, but Fin has not yet hit a colicky phase, which Casey entered into at 6 weeks old (and didn't get out of until 12 weeks). He is more alert during the daytime (we had several smiley staring contests today), but is still a big napper. It makes me nervous that maybe he should be awake more, because I honestly cannot remember what Casey was like at this age, but then I think that he's probably exactly where he should be at this point. In the evenings, Casey is normally asleep (or at least in bed) around 7:30, and I nurse Finlay around 8:00 or 8:30. At that point, he goes down pretty easily into his co-sleeper and snoozes for about 5 to 5 1/2 hours. I nurse him again, and he's up next about 3 hours later. Let me tell you, this is a welcome routine! Casey didn't sleep this soundly until she was WELL over a year old. Granted, I know things are bound to change any day, but I'll take what I can get at this point.

I'll write more soon about our recent trip to RI and NH, as well as Finlay's one month stats (just in time for his two month checkup) as well as our "monthly" photos... which have a different spin from Casey's monthly in-the-glider shots.

Perspectives...

I posted on Facebook yesterday that as terrible as it might sound, I've sort of been hating my maternity leave so far.

Sounds bitter. Mean. Not very nice-mommy-like. And ever so slightly "postpartum blues," right? I really don't think it's the blues at all. Just a real statement that probably a lot of moms feel (whether it's kiddo #1 or #2 or more).

I mean, I love love LOVE Finlay. He's super cute, makes all kinds of squeaking noises and little smiles, and absolutely lights up his older sister's world. (His errant hand will graze her face as she literally plants down on top of him, and she'll squeal in delight, "Mommy! Finlay touched me! FINLAY TOUCHED ME!!!")

When we first arrived home from the hospital, I was moving slow and taking things easy, due to the c-section and normal after-birth recovery necessary to any mother. We had family here in town, and when they left, along came my mom (and her fiance) and my sister for the weekend. Finally alone as a family of four the following week, I developed a sinus headache but figured it would go away soon enough on its own. Tee Jay was off from work that whole week, and we enjoyed our time together, despite my occasional complaint of "Why can't my head stop killing me?"

At the end of that week, on my first night of sleeping on Finlay's side of the bed, I strained my neck in wanting to watch and attend to him... and therefore pulled a muscle, which has resulted in nearly two weeks of subsequent pain. And I'm not just talking a little dull throbbing here and there. I was experiencing massive, major pain that would radiate up into my skull. The kind of pain that you can't just sit around and "take." The kind that definitely warrants some medication.

I put myself back on a regular dosage of Motrin (having been on it initially for the c-section healing) and booked an appointment at the doctor's office, where I was also prescribed an antibiotic for what was confirmed to most probably be a sinus infection. My doctor also wrote a script for a c-spine x-ray (as a "just in case" if I continued to be in severe pain by the end of this week) and taught me a couple of ways that he'd like me to sleep to best support the neck. (Tee Jay has subsequently moved back to Finlay's side of the bed for now, and he dutifully wakes up to hand me the baby for nursing throughout the night, bless his heart.)

Among the antibiotic and its corresponding acidophilus, pain medication, Colace, and prenatal vitamins, there were days when I was taking 17 pills in total. Casey has begun counting my dosages for me when I take them, and she asked in the car this morning, "Your neck and head hurt?" because there's no escaping Christina-complaints in this household. Everyone knows that mommy hasn't been up to par.

Tee Jay began to feel ill (stomach-wise) at work on Monday and ended up having a co-worker drive him home after he made a couple of failed attempts to venture there himself. Within two hours of his being snug on the couch, I too was sick, and I spent the better part of that evening vomiting wherever I could make it (the utility sink, Casey's potty, and thankfully often the toilet - where normal people choose to do such a thing). I felt a deep despair that night, crying, praying that God would send one of our mothers to our doorstep, wondering how on earth we'd manage to take care of two children while sick. Once the stomach bug passed (we are very appreciative that it seemed to be a 12-hour thing), I moaned that my neck and head still felt like they were literally exploding. I complained that I didn't know how I'd manage to keep two children happy all by myself on Thursday (when Casey is not in day care). I cried that I felt like I was failing as a mother and not being able to truly just enjoy my children and my time home with them.

And while I know my feelings were all valid and normal, especially when you add post-pregnancy hormones into the mix, last night I made a conscious decision to try to put things into a different perspective and just "offer it up."

Growing up, my mom often told us that when times seemed really hard, one of our options was to "offer it up" for someone or something else. As in offering up our own pain to God (essentially just "dealing" with it) for the sake of a suffering friend, the unborn children in this world, a special intention, or so on. It may not have always been easy, but there is a power in the human brain that allows us to focus our energy away from our own trials when focusing on prayer for another's tribulation. So it usually worked, and it's a phrase I've heard myself and both of my sisters mention in our adulthood.

I didn't need to look far in "offering it up" last night.

First off, my baby boy turned three weeks old on Monday, and that day it dawned on me that he'd officially lived for one day longer than my friend Lori's baby Sofia (for whom I requested prayers back in February). Lori and her husband, while they'd never brought a baby home before and probably didn't know all the mess and emotion they were in store for, anticipated their daughter's arrival with joy and excitement. When a labor-and-delivery complication cut off Sofie's air supply and left her in a vegetative state (for lack of a better term), they prayed with all their might that some miracle could happen and reverse the effects of the disastrous delivery. They stayed in the hospital for 20 days (Lori literally never left it, and I'm not sure if Mike did either) and watched their still little daughter with all the love and determination they could muster. When they brought her home to let her pass peacefully surrounded by the love (and nursery) they had prepared for her there, they were able to experience what was probably the most beautiful but excruciating event any parent ever could imagine. Since that day, Lori's online posts reflect a lot of pain, a lot of slow healing, and a lot of honesty. And while she hasn't had to deal with chapped breasts, or been drained by a baby waking up all night long, or tried to juggle a toddler and an infant at the same time , or worried about what a particular cry might indicate, I know that she'd trade her situation for all of the new mother woes in the universe. So I offer my pain up for Lori.

I also found out last night that my cousin Justin will soon be deployed to Afghanistan, leaving his wife, their 20-month-old son Jackson and their 3-week-old son Griffin (born just three days after Finlay) in their housing in Germany. I cried last night for Justin and the boys, but mostly for Ali, who will too soon be handling single-parenthood while also worrying about her husband's well-being. I told Tee Jay that for all the head- and neck- and stomach-aches in the world, I cannot imagine his leaving me in another country to take care of both kids and fend for myself. I absolutely don't think that I am a strong enough person to do it, and I wonder where Ali will get her strength. So I offer up my pain for her, too, hoping that by doing so, a little bit of the courage she'll need is coming from my prayers.

I guess it's all about perspective... and I think I'm finally ready to embrace my new one and learn to enjoy all the blessings I have, no matter if my head is pounding or not.

He's Here!...

Well, 13 days later (and what else is new with such a blog slacker?), I'm happy to announce that

Finlay August Boudreau

joined our family! He arrived on Monday, June 6, 2011 at 8:12AM, weighing in at 7lbs,15oz and measuring 20in long. (My heaviest baby so far, but not my tallest.)

Finlay was delivered via a scheduled c-section (a decision that Tee Jay and I made several months earlier due to the fact that I'd had a c-section with Casey and preferred a repeat surgery to aid in having childcare and other details arranged ahead of time).

The evening before his birth, Tee Jay's mom, my dad, and my stepmother were all here in Philly with us, and we had a lovely dinner with them. Casey knew that her baby brother was going to be born the following day (she'd known for months that a) he was coming in June, b) a doctor would be taking him out of Mommy's belly, and c) that Grandma would bring her to the hospital to see us), and there was a definite excitement in the air.


I also experienced some apprehension that night, scared that something could potentially go wrong, that Finlay might not be healthy, that my relationship with Casey would never again be exactly like it was. Somehow, both Tee Jay and I finally fell asleep for a few short hours before we began our 4:30AM journey to the hospital.

There, I was hooked up to some monitors, administered an IV, and asked many questions. We met with the anesthesiologist and were finally ready to go. The surgery was scheduled to begin at 7:30AM, but due to some complications with another delivery (an unplanned c-section being whisked into the room next to ours), we didn't make headway until 8:01AM... and as you now know, Finlay was born just several minutes later.

Our poor little guy was scrunched way up high in my belly, and the two attending physicians manually pushed him down (pulling on my entire body basically) and then even used the vacuum briefly on the crown of Finlay's head. But he was delivered successfully and healthily, and to be honest, I felt better than even after my past c-section. (Yahoo! for that.)

I'll post more soon, but in the meantime, here he is!

Giddyup, Cowgirl!...

I hate that I haven't blogged in so long. I hate that my sister, mother to four children (and one on the way!) is far better at keeping up with hers than I am with mine. I hate that I make promises to "catch up" on the blogging... but don't seem to ever deliver on the promise.

Excuses excuses excuses - including the fact that our computer has been "putzing out" on us for several months' time (requiring lots of backing up to an external hard-drive, which in turn then leaves me without my photos readily available) - they just don't really cut it.

So now while Tee Jay and Casey are napping (and my churning belly lets me know that Finlay most definitely is NOT), instead of waiting to get two-year-birthday and Easter and Christmas and other photos off the other hard-drive and uploaded to this newly working PC, I'll just share with you our little outing from today.

CANTER YOUR HORSES!

Casey and I share really nice rides to-and-from her daycare five days a week, and along those trips we get to see two sheep (in the same enclosure) and many, many horses (among a handful of farms). Lately, she's becoming more and more insistent, with her finger pointed in the air like a scolding parent mind you: "I want to go in there." This request/demand is always made when we pass one particular farm, and it's followed by, "Mommy, talk to Daddy. I want to go in there with the horses."

So I did talk to Tee Jay to find out if he thought there was a place we could go nearby that has horses just-for-the-seeing, since it's not like I'm ready (or have the money) to get my two-year-old into riding lessons (though I'd venture to say my first time on a horse was probably earlier than Casey's age now, having been raised by a Mom who took a "trail ride" with my grandfather nearly every Sunday when we lived in West Virginia). While he and I started looking online for possibilities, I stumbled across the website for the exact farm that inspired Casey to want to "go in there" and realized they were having an Open House TODAY!

We ventured out to Majoda Stables and spent a good two+ hours there, mostly spending our time snacking on hot dogs and hamburgers and walking to-and-from the barn and the bench near the riding ring. We learned very early in our day that Casey did NOT want to be anywhere near the horses themselves (not even the goats or the adorable soft bunny rabbit named Cheezit), but she LOVED watching the horses and the children riding them... from a safe distance. (That is, she loved watching them once she got over her fear that one of the many horses behind a fenced enclosure might come eat her hot dog out of her hand. A five-year-old'ish girl next to her explained all about how horses are vegetarians...)




Casey took a special liking to one horse named Cinnamon while I spent most of my time petting a horse named Jack inside the barn. The whole ride home, our sleepy girl asked us to sing songs about horses, sheep, Cinnamon and Jack. As afraid as she was at times there on the farm, I think she'll be begging us to go back soon!

Seeing Blue...

So, in chronological order (of exciting news in our household!), I'll try to play "catch up" with back-blogging.

The first exciting thing we have to announce is that many, many weeks ago (egads - it was two months ago!), we had an anatomy scan of our little BouBerry, and... it's a BOY!

We are excited to be welcoming Finlay August Boudreau into our home at some point in early-June.

Finlay (pronounced Fin-Lee) is a name of Irish/Scottish descent, and we chose it simply because we've liked it for quite some time.

August, on the other hand, carries more sentimental value, since we chose it from my (Christina's) family tree - on my dad's side. August F. Grummich was born August 28, 1833 in Aushca, Bohemia (now Ustek, Czech Republic) and died June 25, 1911 in St. Louis, MO - he is our little guy Finlay's maternal great-great-great-great-grandfather.

Just this past weekend, we encountered a most pleasant surprise when Tee Jay’s grandmother (on his dad’s side) told us that the only grandfather she ever knew was Auguste (the French spelling) Bernier. Auguste Bernier is Finlay’s paternal great-great-great-grandfather.

Therefore, while Casey’s middle name represents her grandmothers (Susanne is her middle name – for Susan and Leslie Anne), Finlay’s middle name represents his grandfathers’ families.

In an even better twist of fate, Tee Jay has been working diligently on his 2011 Philadelphia International Flower Show exhibit, “Rediscovering Rodin” (which began this past Saturday). Tee Jay didn’t personally create the interpretation for his display this year, so he paid little attention to the details about Rodin himself, focusing mainly (and understandably so) on the design, the plant forcing, the creation of his “Thinker” topiary, etc. When his grandmother, sister and I arrived at the show on Saturday, we were all stunned to read the signage about the famous sculptor, Auguste Rodin. (It’s meant to be!)

We'll post more about our boy Fin when he arrives, of course!

Fervent Prayers...

I know we've been MIA for like longer-than-ever... and we'll be back soon, I promise.

But for today, please please please PRAY YOUR VALENTINES' HEARTS OUT for an old friend Lori, who with her husband Mike, are bringing home their 20-day-old daughter ~sweetheart Sofia Isabella~ so that Sofie can pass away peacefully in the comfort of her parents' arms and warmth of the beautiful nursery they prepared for her so long ago.

My hardest task this morning was picking which pants Casey should wear to her Valentine party at school, and I therefore cannot imagine the terror, anguish, and anger that will be present in Lori and Mike's day or upcoming days (and their families' as well).

Our prayers are intended for them, fervently, and I ask that yours be also.