Eviction Notice

We've been patient. We've been logical and pleased that this little stinker is getting bigger and stronger by the day. But now, I'm beyond ready. He/she also seems rather cramped; I know because sticking both feet as far into my ribs as he can while simultaneously shoving against my bladder with all his might must be a sign that there isn't enough room. My suggestion was to come on out. His seems to be to have me explode.

So now, we've given an eviction notice, although, our OB hasn't gotten the memo yet; however, I am confident she'll be on board. So far, nothing has worked. I tried making a birthday cake last week, in the hopes we could inspire a birthday.

No dice. At least we got good cake out of the deal. Lemon chiffon. Yum.

Then we tried spicy food. Chorizo chili with hot peppers in homemade bread bowls.

Nothing. But again, it was a tasty dish.

Over the weekend, we tried walking the baby out, acupressure, yoga moves, and just about every other thing I could think of. Except castor oil. I'm not that desperate. Yuck. I even had the priest do a little prayer to start labor after mass on Sunday.

This morning, the brisk run to the bus stop with my perpetually late firstborn didn't do anything but wind me. And I'm fairly certain, that while tasty, the large quantity of pineapple I'm currently eating will do little more than give me heartburn.

This child is stubborn.

And I am huge.

And ready. And excited to meet this baby. Whenever that may be...

Nap Time

Is it bad that it is only 9am and I've already had two breakfasts and am gearing up for a nap? I am hugely pregnant and not sleeping well. Between the fatigue and the hormones and the discomfort, I'm ready for this child to come! I want to be comfortable and sleep on my belly and not have to wear Hubs' sweats everyday because I've outgrown everything else. I was joking with the Dr. that I'll probably get more sleep after the Newbie arrives. She looked at me like I was crazy. Which I probably am, but that isn't news. Honestly, after Jameson, any baby will give me more sleep. He needed to eat every two hours and it took him 45 minutes to finish a 2 oz bottle. And he was like this until he turned one. So yeah, I think I should be okay with the night feeds this time around. And I really, really hope I'm not jinxing myself here.

But how could I not enjoy all of those extra snuggles when he was this cute???

I'm taking it easy as much as possible on these frigid, exhausting days. Dinner is in the crockpot(orange chicken!) and I'm sipping a mug of warm water, which may sound gross, but our house is too cold(62 during the day, 58 at night) to drink cold water, so I've been doing this since October. Tomorrow is supposed to be a high of -6F, which makes us wish we were living in Seattle and having a fun few days of "Snowmaggedon" instead of the measly 1" and bitter, bitter cold we have here. I am still so surprised that we are nearing the end of January and we have no snow here, in Northern Minnesota. Crazy.

I wanted to share a few food pics from the past few weeks. From my birthday dinner we have homemade classic baguettes, two yummy bruschetta toppings- white bean and sun-dried tomato and sauteed spinach and mushrooms with garlic, goat cheese marinara, and zabaglione for dessert. It was such a great dinner. And lunch the next day!

I've been cooking and baking a lot. The bagels were spinach and sun-dried tomato bagels and delish. We had a butternut squash and goat cheese pasta for dinner one night, loads of good breads, and caramel apple sharlotka and Double Musky carrot cake for desserts. It has been a dynamite food year so far. Really, the only bad meal we've had this year was when we went to a restaurant. Go figure.

Alright, it is absolutely nap-time. Have a nice afternoon and stay warm!

Falling To Pieces

It really is like a wave, like an unexpected tsunami. The way it can just come out of no where and knock you down and pull you under. Grief can still level me in a second.

It all started on Saturday with a seemingly harmless and inspiring news story about a super cute new Target model with Down syndrome. But I took one look at the picture and all I could think was that should be my son. My son should not be be dead, he should be in that advertisement. He had done a shoot with Target and the week he got sick he was supposed to shoot an ad. That should be my son!

My son should not be the boy who lived in a hospital bed through four months of suffering and hell on earth. My son should not be dead. I should not look up on my mantle and see a memorial picture and an urn of ashes every day. I should not be pulling out sets of three plates and three bowls from the dishwasher every morning. I should not be installing an infant car seat where another car seat should be. I should not be reminded every.single.day that my house is so quiet because my son is not here. My son is not here.

And I fell to pieces. I sobbed through the morning, through lunch, through cooking dinner. Side note- chopping food with a big knife is not a great idea when you are blinded by tears, but I do still have all of my fingers. And Little Man came home from school yesterday and he fell to pieces, too. He just lost it and ended up crying himself to sleep at 4:30 in the afternoon. And this morning when he woke up, he cried himself through breakfast. Is it contagious?

This grief thing sucks. The way it can quietly sit in the background until you don't even notice it anymore and then BAM! It just hits out of nowhere and pummels you again and again and again. It is hard to breathe again and not from the baby. It is hard to breathe and hard to sleep and hard to remember and terrifying to think that I might be forgetting little things. It's like trying to carry sand in your hands, holding on to a billion memories of the way he walked and danced, the sound of his laugh, the way he threw our shoes in the trash, down the stairs, out the door. And I can't keep every grain -some just fall away without permission. But it isn't okay to lose any of them, because they are all I have left.

I have memories and a still very broken heart. I still want to go back. Go back to life before death came to our door. Back to when everything was still shiny and bright. Before my life, my dreams, my hope became tarnished. I can't polish this away and I don't really want to, because that takes away Jameson, too. And there is some relief when the grief is this strong. That after a year, it can still bring me to my knees and unhinge me so effortlessly. I don't ever want to be okay with the fact that he is gone, because it will never be okay. It is not okay that my son is dead.

And yet, I have to keep going, have to keep believing that life is good and that my future is hopeful. I can't let Little Man or the Newbie think that my best days are already over. I can't think that myself. But how can anything ever be as good as it was with this tarnish on my life? How do I reconcile this? I feel torn, as if I have to chose my old life or my new life. But there really isn't a choice, because no matter how badly I want it, the old life is never coming back. I can't undo what has been done. I can't bring him back and make this right. I can't do anything but muddle through the dark days and hope to God I'm not making it worse for my family.

Sigh.

There are good days and bad days. There are days when I've got it all together and days when I fall to pieces.

Off To A Good Start

We are off to a good start this year! We celebrated New Year's Eve by all falling asleep on the couch together and going to bed shortly before the ball dropped in NYC. It was great. I love to sleep.

I also love a new baking challenge and attempted Povitica for the first time. I changed up the filling in it and it was a little too wet, so I have to try again.

It was still amazingly good and we ate the whole loaf in less than a day, but I've got to get it right. Maybe I'll try again today.

My little chef has been busy in the kitchen, too. He loves to cook with me and was so excited the other night to help with dinner. We had red curry coconut shrimp and he got to stir and add ingredients. It was pretty exciting. Someday, he's gonna be a great cook, just like his mama.

We'll have to start working on more seafood recipes, though. And soon. Because my guys have taken up a favorite winter pastime on the lake. Ice fishing.

The first catch was a little small. We may not need recipes quite yet...

I'm just glad they are having fun and enjoying the great outdoors together.

The dogs enjoy it too. Flick found a girlfriend down the road. She is older, grayer, and has a tumor on her right hip, but love is blind, right?

It is my birthday week. I'm going to celebrate by making a starter for my Italian baguettes, attempting another loaf of Povitica, and having an early dinner of spinach and cheese omelets before heading out to Little Man's basketball practice. Tomorrow night, I am making a special birthday dinner for myself and I can't wait. We are having a bruschetta bar -homemade baguettes with loads of topping options. Baked goat cheese marinara, classic tomato, basil & olive oil, white bean & sun dried tomato, and mushrooms & spinach sauteed with garlic. Can't wait! For dessert, I'm making zabaglione with fresh berries and whipped cream, of course. Yum. For my present, Hubs is going to take me out to dinner sometime after the baby is born. I don't know where we'll go, but it will involve red wine, possibly a rare steak, and creme brulee -all things I have been craving for months.

But that can wait, because right now, there is dough to be made. Happy New Year, friends!