Billy Ray

Do you see this beautiful boy here and his gorgeous, blonde locks? Isn't he amazing and perfect? So innocent... Ethereal.... Ok, I'm biased, but come on!

I love his hair. It's messy, curly, soft and wild like him. I have had so many people say things like "His hair is so great, but when are you going to cut it?" "Doesn't he need a trim?" "Does SHE get along with her brother?"

She? My precious baby boy, who is almost always dressed in blue to bring out his eyes, has been mistaken for a girl. More than once. I didn't want to cut it, but even Junior kept fussing with it, pushing it out of his eyes.

I don't do milestones. I am the sappiest person ever and it seems like it's even worse since having Junior. I mean, shoot, I've been known to cry at commercials.

So, I succumbed to peer pressure and here we are, the first haircut milestone. While I was getting Moose's hair cut, I asked the lady doing his, if she could just trim up a little around Junior's face and the top. She said "I could, but So-and-so is better with curls, let him do it. HEY, SO-AND-SO, she'd like you to cut her boys hair."

And just like that, before I could process what was going on, I was sitting in the barber chair with Junior on my lap and the guy coming at us with scissors. I kept saying, "just a little off the top." "I just want it out of his eyes." "Don't cut too much."

But Junior was on my lap, and I couldn't really see what was going on. As he was finishing up, he said, "oh this is great, he's going to look just like that country singer." I didn't know what he meant at the time, nor when we got to the car because of the way it was combed. However, after Junior messed it up some, I saw it... Billy Ray Cyrus. My sweet little boy was sporting a mullet. I cried. He's a toddler, there's no need for him to have business in the front and a party in the back.

I hate it and can't wait for it to grow out. I trimmed up some around the back myself to make it less mullet-like. That helped a little, but the guy cut one side so short that it's hard to hide it. If I comb it and try to "style" it, it's a little better, but seriously? He's 19 months, he immediately rubs his head on the sofa or car seat and messes it up again. I'm traumatized and not sure if I'll ever cut it again. I'm also not posting an after picture. Sad face...

Detox update: Today went well. I have had a dull headache all day and around 2:00, I crashed hard and had to lay down for a little bit. The food is still great. I made Sweet & Hot Ginger Chicken with broccoli bacon salad, coconut lime quinoa and even drop biscuits. They say that through day 5ish is the worst, so we'll see!

to the moon and back,

Perspective

I'm not a hugger. I'm not touchy-feely. Physical contact takes work for me, it doesn't come naturally. I even feel like I have a limit to how much physical touch I can take.

Well, last night at dinner, Moose was making it his personal goal to see if he could help me reach that limit. He could not stop touching, hugging, kissing me. He would rub my arm, climb in my lap, put an arm on my shoulder, place his head on my lap, and hold my hand. I love that he is so affectionate. I wish I was that way, but last night for some reason, I was about at my limit. I wasn't mad or upset, but I was feeling a little stifled. We were laughing and making a joke about it and he thought it was hilarious.

Then today it hit me, I need to cherish those moments because I am blessed enough to have them.

I would have been due with baby #2 this month if I hadn't miscarried back in March. That's a baby that I'll never touch, hug or kiss. I will never be able to rub his or her arm, hold them on my lap or hold their little hand. I will never be able to "reach my limit" on physical touch with that baby. You don't comprehend how attached you can get to someone that you never met. It's the loss of what could have been.

It's hard to think about that but it hits me every now and then and realize how luck I am to have a happy, healthy, beautiful boy. Not everyone gets that opportunity. My heart breaks for friends of ours who haven't been able to have kids and who are struggling through the ridiculous Florida DCF trying to adpot.

I realize that even if we don't have another child (yes, we are going to try again, but it's ultimately up to God), we are beyond blessed with what we have. I will relish every squeeze, every eskimo kiss, every butterfly kiss, and every smack to my (in his words) "beautiful spankable bottom" (thank his dad for that).

October 15th is Pregnancy & Infant Loss Remembrance Day. In October 1988, President Ronald Reagan Proclaimed October as National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month. “When a child loses his parent, they are called an orphan. When a spouse loses her or his partner, they are called a widow or widower. When parents lose their child, there isn’t a word to describe them.”

Here are events to get involved with and here are ways to show your support.

Most Days I'm OK

Most days I am ok, lots of days I'm great, but some days my miscarriage still gets to me. I guess that's normal, it's only been a few months, but some people seem to move on so easily. Or at least on the surface they do, I guess I don't know their heart.

Anyway, some days it doesn't even cross my mind, and some days I think, I'd be almost 7 months now which means we would have definitely known what we were having. Some days, I wonder what it would be like.

Those days are fewer and farther between than the beginning, but on those days I beat myself up a little more. Was it the theraflu that I took when I was 4 weeks along because I felt like I was dying from the flu? Did I work out too much? Was I too unsure about it? Was it because I wasn't bonding with the baby or was I not bonding because God wouldn't let me?

I have gotten to where I really love babies, but on those few days, I don't want to talk about babies or baby things. I don't want to hear people complaining about their babies (even though on a normal day it's perfectly fine, moms need to vent).

I don't like having to answer the question "So, are you going to have any more?" by someone who doesn't know. I then feel some absurd need to explain to them how we had tried but I miscarried and now I need a little time. They don't need to know that and I'm sure it makes them feel bad.

Mostly, on those days, I feel bad for feeling bad. I get this little voice in the back of my head that says "Why are you even sad, there was no baby? No baby even developed." Now, I know that regardless of whether there was a baby or not, I was almost 10 weeks at the time and my body was pregnant, but on those days, Satan, gets a foothold and tries to pull me down.

I know that some of these thoughts are still hormonal changes, and to help with that I am doing some natural remedies (acupuncture and Chinese herbs) that I'll blog about later. I know that these are normal thoughts (or at least I think they are) and yet, that doesn't make me feel better at the time.

I'm feeling this way a little tonight, but it will pass. Like I have said before, this blog is more for my therapy, than it is for anything else.

Thanks for sticking around even when I'm gloomy! :)

to the moon and back,

My miscarriage...

If you follow my blog because of my wit and satire... this post is not for you, as if you couldn't tell by the title. I just wanted to give fair warning that this will be sad, at least if you have a heart it will.

Before I get too far into it, I would at least like to give a few reasons for broadcasting this to the the 5's of people who read this blog. Well, first off, I have said before that I use this blog as a form of therapy for myself. Secondly, I found out the hard way that that keeping stuff locked up is no way to get over it. Finally, this is a subject that not a lot of people want to talk about, so if I can help someone else who can't talk about it feel a little less alone, then it's worth it.

It is a long one...

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On January 25th, before I was even late, I took a pregnancy test. We had been trying so I knew I was within a day or so. Drumroll... A plus sign... What? Pregnant? I have to say I was shocked. We really had only been trying for a month. Man, that was quick, I thought I'd have a few months at least. A flood of emotions overwhelmed me and I walked out to show Jon, he got the biggest smile on his face and I broke down and started crying... Not because I was sad, just emotionally overwhelmed.

The next week we went on a trip to TN to visit friends. We had a great time (other than I was recovering from the flu). However, I did have this nagging uneasy feeling. I told Jon and my friend, Sarah, about it. I really couldn't put a finger on it though. It sorta felt like that feeling when your boss says "We need to talk" or when you get called to the principal's office. I was just feeling off, but I sort of contributed that to the changing hormones.

Over the next few weeks, I still had the feeling but it kept lessening. However, now I was just nervous in general, even more so than with my first pregnancy. Again, I just blamed it on hormones well that and the fact that in my close circle of friends, 4 of them had issues following their 1st pregnancy or issues with their 2nd. Including blood clots, Gastroschisis, miscarriage, and Congenital Diaphragmatic Hernia.

I had my first appointment with the midwife and everything seemed to be going well. I felt good, other than the normal pregnancy symptoms; being nauseous, dry mouth, sore boobs, minor headaches and mood swings. She checked me and everything seemed to be right where it needed to be. She scheduled me for my bloodwork and my first sonogram.

I kept up with my eating healthy (as much as the cravings and nausea would allow), I did pre-natal yoga, I took my pre-natal vitamins, I walked, I didn't have caffeine, I didn't drink, I stayed away from artificial sweetners... all of the stuff you are supposed to do.

The day of my sonogram came (which happened to be the day before I had to fly to NY for a company trip). Jon met me at the doctor's office and we waited to be called back. We made small talk with the woman doing our sonogram (she was the same one who did them for us when we had Moose). I laid on the table, adjusted my pants and she applied whatever that gooey stuff is to my stomach. She placed the wand on my stomach and as soon as she did, I knew that there was something wrong.

With Moose, we had a sonogram at 5wks 6dys and we saw him. Even though he was tiny, we saw him. I was 9wks 3dys, We should be seeing something. I kept thinking, "Maybe this is just a really wide view, maybe she has to zoom in." Suddenly, I kept thinking, "that has to be it, right? Didn't they have to do that in the beginning with Moose?"

She said, "I'm going to measure the sac now," *mouse click* *mouse click*. "but I'm sorry to tell you that there is no baby there and I honestly can't say that there ever has been. I'm so sorry. I'm just so sorry" And just like that, I wasn't pregnant anymore... Only I was, or at least my body still thought so.

Instant tears, Jon reached for my hand, stood up and held me. Endless tears...

9 & 1/2 weeks... We had known since weeks, we had already started planning, I bought diapers to start stocking up, we had talked about names... How is it that there is no baby? What had I done wrong?? Then instantly I thought, "Oh God, we have to tell everyone that there is no baby... Why didn't we wait to tell until after 12 weeks?" 

Even worse... how was I going to tell Moose that he was no longer going to have a baby brother or sister?

She said that she had to call the doctor to come talk to me about my options. They walked me into another room and the doctor came in. He said that it's called "blighted ovum" (never heard of it? me either read about it here and here) Bottom line is that there was no baby, no fetus and no fetal pole. Apparently, it's very common, I don't know about you, but that's not very comforting. Option one: I could let my body take care of it on it's own or option two: I could have a D&C. A miscarriage is less controlled, could result in hemmorhaging, infection and you never know when it's going to happen. A D&C is more controlled, quick, sterile and fewer chances of complications.

Hmmm... decisions, decisions... And the doctor is standing there looking at me. I'm crying and Jon's fighting back tears. The doctor says that we don't have to make a decision now, unless we want to, but to me the D&C seemed like the right choice (if you feel differently, that's fine, please do judge or question my decision, it was not one that was easily made). Within a matter of minutes the procedure was scheduled for the next Thursday (March14th) and I had to do blood work for a type & screen on Wednesday because I am RH negative.

In one short hour, I had gone from expectant mother, to a woman who was scheduled to remove the "products of conception".

When I picked up Moose from my moms, I told him about it, I had to, he kept asking why mommy was crying and was so sad. So I told him that the baby in mommy's belly went away. He looked up at me with tears in his eyes and said "But mommy, I want my baby brother or baby sister." Just the week before he was talking about all of the things he could teach him/her like how to play, and not potty in their diaper and how to sleep and not cry, and how he could make them laugh by making faces at them because that always makes babies laugh. He started crying and said "Mommy, I am so sorry that the baby in your belly went away."

Don't forget, I still had to go home and pack for my trip. The next 4 days I would be away from my family and would have no time to really process because I would be working a tradeshow for 9 hours and day and I was rooming with a co-worker so I wouldn't have time to myself.

In the times I did get to think about it, my mind immediately started blaming it on something I had done:
   Did I not want it enough?
   Should I not have taken the Tami-flu?
   Did I work out too much?
   Did I not start taking my pre-natals early enough?
   Is the D&C the right choice?
   Could I have done something differently?
   Is it ridiculous that I am mourning a baby that was never there?
   Why do I feel embarrassed telling people that there never was a baby?

Sometimes I hate how a mind works... Sometimes no one is to blame. Sometimes things just happen. God knows that there was a reason for this, and whether I understand it or not, I except it and honestly, I'm with Jon in thinking that I am glad it happened sooner rather than later.

Wednesday came and I had my blood work. I hate needles and Moose knows that, he said "I'll hold your hand so you don't get nervous mommy. I don't want my mommy to be nervous." And when I started crying because there was a possible problem with insurance, while squeezing my neck, he said "Oh, it's ok mommy, I am here for you, I'll always be here for you. Don't cry, it's ok".

Thursday, day of surgery... Up at 5:20am to be there by 6:00am, surgery at 7:30am, no longer pregnant by 7:45am. They brought me back for pre-op and got me ready. Then Jon came back to sit with me. Lots of tears and pulling it together and tears and pulling it together. 

Then, the inconsiderate nurses (not mine, mine were really great) in the hall right next to my bay start talking about how on Tuesday a woman with no known allergies went into anaphylactic shock after getting the versed shot. She coded and then needed CPR and almost didn't make it. Really?? I've never had surgery in my life and this is the convo you have outside my room and the rooms of others having procedures today? Jon stepped out and politely asked them to be a little more sympathetic to the patients about to get the same shot.

After that, they gave me the versed, and hauled me off to the OR. I really don't remember anything after that except sliding myself to the other bed. The next thing I remember was waking up, trying to figure out if I was done or what was going on. They brought Jon back and the relief in his eyes was beautiful.

And that was it... we were done and discharged.

I know that I'm not the only woman who has had this problem nor am I the only one who has miscarried but that brings little consolation. Everyone mourns differently, everyone needs their own outlet, everyone needs support, but more importantly everyone needs to move on. I'm not saying that they need to forget, I'm saying that they need to find a way to look back with love and not with anger or hatred or emptiness.

It wasn't my fault... It wasn't your fault... God knew better that us that the timing wasn't right, no matter how hard that is to see right now.

I'm so thankful that I have an amazingly supportive husband, son, family and friends. Though this process is and will continue to be difficult, they have made it so much easier on me.

I love you all...

...to the moon and back,

www.hypersmash.com

Of love and loss and grieving....

Ok, I stole that title from my bosses blog, but it's fitting.

I could start this blog off with "Wow, it's, like totally, been a really long time since I last blogged. I've been sooo super busy with my crazy important life but I totally promise to be better about posting!" (please feel free to read that in your best Valley Girl voice circa 1983), but I won't. Truth is, life happens and while I love writing, and emptying my head of random thoughts (yes, thoughts, plural, I do manage to have more than one, however, trains of thought quickly derail), I also have family, friends, 2.5 jobs, running and the like that fill my days.

I have had a blog brewing in my little brain about the "Are You Mom Enough" article, but my luke warm opinions about most things coupled with the fact that I haven't actually read past the title of the article, have hindered me from diving into that topic further. I am fairly certain, though, that I am not mom enough when you take into account that my almost 3 year old watches TV, has had his vaccinations as well as tylenol & motrin, was only breastfed (and not exclusively, there was formula in the mix) until 14 months, has had (on occasion) a PB&J for breakfast and navigates my iPhone better than me. But that's beside the point, on to the task at hand.

Tonight, I write of love, loss and grieving...

Love... The love of a gracious God, the love of a remarkable mother, the love of humbled friends. First, there is the love of gracious God who gives peace to a family who needs all of the comfort they can get. He has laid out the plans for them and gives them strength though the pain. Then there is the love of a mother, a love that has no rivals. I don't think you can truly understand it until you become one. I'm not taking away from the love a father has for his child, but I am saying that it is a bit different when you have carried, nurtured and felt the child moving from inside you. We give them our bodies for 9 months and in turn they take a piece of our heart with them on the way out. Finally, the love of humbled friends, who no matter how much they do for their friends, no matter how much they give, they are humbled to have the friend who is in need trying to comfort them through her loss.

Loss... One of my dearest friends and her family is having to go through what no one should ever have to experience, the loss of a child. Just a few days ago, after giving birth, she lost her son (you can read about it here). Throughout the pregnancy and birth, she gave her worries to God and above all asked for His will to be done. God's will was done, and part of His plan for Emmett was unveiled as he was able to be an organ donor and has the opportunity to help save the lives of two babies. 

Grieving... I can never claim to know what she is feeling, but I know that since Thursday night, I have been wandering around in a fog with an emptiness in my chest. My heart aches for them and I hate that we (her friends) can't be closer to help her through this and to keep her mind occupied. It's a very helpless feeling to have so much distance between us and to not be able to be with her.

It's amazing how someone so little can fill your heart so much and how you can be filled with so much love so someone that you never got to meet, hold, talk to or cuddle with.

My prayers continue to go out to the Jackson family, I hope you will do the same.

to the moon and back,

Potty Time!

Wasn't this just last week?

My baby is growing up... it's bitter sweet. I am so proud of him and I am thrilled at how he is developing, but it means he's slowly becoming a little boy and less a baby. Yes, I am one of those mothers. I cried at his first steps, I cried when he didn't need his pacie, I cry when I even think about turning his crib into a toddler bed (yes, he is still in a crib, don't judge me, he's never tried to climb out). Heck, I bawl my eyes out at the thought of him being a teenager and not needing his mommy and some teenage chick replaces me as the love of his life. Wow, that's incredibly sappy and yet, I as I typed it, my eyes started watering. I know, I'm ridiculous. Let's just accept that and move on.

Where did this wobbling 1 year old go?

The milestone that he crossed tonight was going pee-pee on the potty. Since Monday we have been working with him and trying to get him him used to the idea of going on the "big boy" potty. He has been wearing "big boy" underpants at Mamaw's and she has been encouraging him to pee in the shower and in the yard (don't ask, she lives in the country, no one can see him). Well he has managed to soak her recliner, leave puddles on the floor and create a mess on the porch at which point he quickly told her that she had to clean it up. Still no interest in the potty.

I would pick him up after work and bring him home and put him down for a nap (in a diaper) and as soon as he would wake, I'd run him to the potty (all the while feeling the warmth grow in his diaper). In the 30 seconds it took me to get him from his room to the potty, he had already gone.

Who is this little boy?? Where has the time gone?

Well, today while at my moms, he actually acknowledged when he was going. Yay! He was so excited to tell me about it when I got there to pick him up.

When he woke up from his nap today, we missed it again and he went before I got him to the potty. So I changed him and we went to a friends birthday dinner. We left the house around 5:30pm and didn't get home until around 9:00pm (we had to stop by the store). When we walked in, I said "Moose, do you need to go potty?" and he actually said "YES!"

I said "Ok, lets get to the bathroom, quick! Quick!" we ran down the hall and I got his pants off and pulled his diaper off. It was completely dry! I set him on the potty and said "Ok, you can go!" He got a huge smile on his face and said "Ok"

**Tinkle Tinkle** "Oh Moose! What's that?" He said "I'm going pee-pee!" and then squealed and got an even bigger grin on his face! He yelled for daddy to come and when the hubby got there Moose screamed "I going potty!!!"

I think we all screamed and there were high-fives thrown around and then a naked toddler running through the house asking to call everyone he knows so he can tell them. It was the most precious thing ever. To see the pride in his eyes and to see how excited he was took my breath away. I know it sounds incredibly silly to say that my son peeing on the potty would take my breath away, but if you could have seen the look on his face, it was priceless.

We have an amazing little boy, who will one day be an even more amazing man and while I want it to take a very long time getting here, I am excited to see the person he will become.

I love you, Moose....

To the moon and back,

I'm very put together...

Anyone who knows me personally, knows that I am very "put together". I'm very even keel and very in control of my emotions. (Insert sarcasm font) I'm so not that. I cry at stupid stuff (like episodes of Ghost Whisperer and ASPCA commercials), I'm an emotional train wreck since I had Moose.

Last night in bed at about 11:30pm (when I most definitely should have been sleeping), it hit me, Moose is turning 2. Not just hit me, knocked me down and stomped on my face.

It was totally a emotional hormone filled attack and totally irrational, but here are the thoughts that ran though my head as I cried uncontrollably and DH tried to console me (poor guy):

~ It's going by too fast..
~ He's really not a baby anymore
~ He's closer to not needing me
~ I don't want him to fall in love and get married and move away from me
~ I don't want him to outgrow my hugs
~ What if he is as horrible to me as I was to my parents when I was a teenager
~ It's not fair that when he becomes an adult, he'll probably be closer to Jon than to me
~ And many more irrational fears and thoughts that I'm sure I am completely overreacting with but insanity emotions are hard to control!

Dumb, I know, but every once and a while I freak out about it. Jon thinks I'm crazy because Moose is just now getting to be really fun! Then he proceeded to tell me how he compares Moose's two years to running and went into a very lengthy explanation. I was super impressed by his analogy but could not repeat it to save my life. He's such a good man. I love him to death and he totally got my mind off my anxiety.

I'm crazy, I know...

But I miss it... being pregnant. That DOES NOT mean that I am ready to have another one, because I'm not ready for what comes after the whole pregnancy thing. (Screaming newborn, left over baby weight, hormonal changes, endless diaper changes, endless breastfeeding, sleepless nights...)

The one thing I didn't like? Being caffeine-free... Prior to getting pregnant I tried to get rid of everything that might not be good for baby, and caffeine was one of those things. I'm sorry, a large fat-free cinnamon hazelnut decaf latte is just not the same. I was thrilled to have my caffeine back as was my blood stream (I think that my blood needs a little, or a lot, of thinning out with caffeine).

I feel like I was one of the lucky ones. When I was pregnant with Moose I didn't have any morning sickness. The worst that I could say is that in the beginning I was exhausted ALL of the time, to the point where I could not keep my eyes open after about 2:00 in the afternoon. I did have waves of nausea, but it was nothing alittle food didn't fix! I only actually threw up once, but we were on a cruise (the roughest waters we had ever seen on a cruise) so I think it was actually a combination of seasickness and being pregnant.

I didn't have any back pain or hip pain (I went to a chiropractor my whole pregnancy, thank you Dr. Jackson). I wore heels up until about a week before I gave birth. My due date came and went and I was ok with that. As far as I was concerned, he could stay. People said I was crazy, but as long as he was inside, I knew for sure he had everything he needed, no guessing!

I really liked being pregnant. I miss the feeling of the baby moving and getting the hiccups. I miss the closeness. I must also admit, the vain side of me, misses the attention, too. (insert sarcasm font) I do miss the excitement of it all though. Not just the excitement of having the baby, but of knowing that my body was growing a person with fingers, toes, lungs, a heart and everything else. It was amazing and a huge part of me can't believe that it's been 2 years since I was actually pregnant. Crazy...

There is nothing in the world like being pregnant, good or bad. I think every mother would admit that. It's kinda sad that men don't get to know that, but let's face it, they couldn't handle it. Jon, for example, has to open the package of his new gadgets before we even get out of the parking lot of the store, there is no way he could go 9 months!

I have to say, no matter how much I miss it, I'm not ready for another one, yet. In the mean time, I have my memories... at least some of them... Have I mentioned I have a horrible memory? Which means that I will probably forget that I actually typed this and be pregnant next week... (HA...HA...HA...Definitely insert sarcasm font here)!!

Questions I Hate (yes HATE)

"Aren't you ready for another one?" So, aside from "do you think he's hungry?" that is my least favorite question out there.

People have no shame. I remember holding my two week old baby and someone asked me if I was ready for another one. "Huh?" I thought "I'm not entirely sure I knew what I was getting into with this one!" I mean really, does everyone in the free world think that just because you procreated once that you are suddenly ready to be the star of your own show "Jon & Jen Plus 10?" Some people only want one child, some want 19, some tried so hard for that first one that the thought of going through that again may be devastating. My husband and I waited almost 10 years (by choice) to have Moose, best decision we ever made, but we still have not decided if we will have another one. We are still having too much fun with Moose! Plus, let me, at the very least, get him potty trained!

As I mentioned above, my next least favorite question "Do you think he's hungry?" Now I don't get this one as much anymore since Moose is almost 2, but when he was little, he had about a 2 month period where he was extra fussy (mainly gassy)  and when he would start to cry, I would inevitably get the question "Do you think he is hungry?" In some instances he could have just eaten and they'd still ask. In other instances, I'd be thinking "I don't know, he can't tell me and I can't read his mind." Asking questions like that to a new mom only frustrates us (because we don't know how to fix the broken baby), no matter how nicely you meant it.

Another horrible and I mean HORRIBLE question is "When are you due?" I don't care if you can see a hand print of the unborn fetus protruding from her belly, don't ask... She may have just swallowed a small child, you don't know. I was asked that question (not once, but twice... ugh) and it was not pleasant. The second time I was asked was finally the motivation I needed to lose weight (at the time, I was about 75lbs overweight). The sad thing is that immediately after the guy asked me that question, he realized it was not appropriate and the life drained out of his face. I simply replied "I'm not, but, uh, thanks for noticing!?!" Stupid question, guys, erase it from your small talk library!

These are just a few to start off with, I have many more, and I am sure they will be the topics of future posts. None of these questions have been asked to me recently, they just popped into my head and I needed to release some pressure up there!

What questions tick you off?

No Pacie, No Pacie, No Pacie

Tonight, Moose went to bed with out his pacie and with out even asking for it. Last night was the first time we tried it with out the pacie because of his stitches and no fight then either. I know that most mama's would be thrilled if their babies didn't have a problem with giving up the pacie...

I am not one of those mama's.

You may be asking "Now, Jen, why aren't you happy?" Well, let me tell you. Moose is my baby, my only baby. I know he is almost 2, but he's still my baby and other than the fact that he still wears diapers, the pacie is the last piece of his babydom... I'm not ready for him to no longer be a baby. Boo... BOO, I SAY!

Moose has never been one of those babies that "had" to have his pacie, meaning if we left the house without it, it wasn't a problem, but he still liked it. My husband and I didn't mind him having it. Don't get me wrong, we knew one day we would have to wean him off of it, I just thought he'd put up a little bit of a fight. I mean, look at Maggie Simpson, she's been enjoying her pacie for like 20+ years now...

I should have known that he would be easy to wean. He has always had a time frame for things. He never liked to be held for too long, he was swaddled every night for six months and then one night out of no where was done, he picked up a sippy cup one day and never went back to the bottle. Guess that's how the pacie will be, too.

Anyone who knows me, knows that Moose's milestones are bitter sweet in my eyes. I'm thrilled that he is walking, talking, eating solid food... but seriously, it comes way too quick for me! He will be 2 next month (pause for a brief freak out) and I have no idea where it went. Didn't I just bring him home from the hospital last week?

Really!?! Pardon me while I get him all packed up for college, it'll be here before I know it.