She Likes Purple

Cheating

I promise not to become one of those bloggers who finds it perfectly acceptable to throw up a picture of her kid and call it a day, forgetting to post again for a week. Actually, let me rephrase a bit: I promise not to stay one of those bloggers who finds it perfectly acceptable to throw up a picture of her kid and call it a day, forgetting to post again for a week. 



He's three weeks old today. He hasn't gotten his own place yet or even learned to feed himself, but, my oh my, we're still fairly impressed with him on a daily basis. Just yesterday he managed to hold his pacifier in his mouth WITH HIS OWN HAND, and we wouldn't shut up about his obvious brilliance for a good 20 minutes. 

Now that I think about it, with those kinds of stories filling up my day, you'd probably just prefer the pictures. Alright then, here you are:

My little guy, getting bigger every day. We must figure out a way to stop that. 

Two weeks

So, if you're having a baby and you've never had a baby before and you get home from the hospital and lock yourself in the bathroom at one point (or, hey, at perhaps 27 points) because you cannot understand why on earth you decided to do this, to invite a screaming, needy, ridiculously small thing in DIAPERS into your home (and into your used-to-be-normal sleep schedule), I have only this to say: give it two weeks. Two weeks is going to feel like an eternity when you're in that locked bathroom, I KNOW, but you'll get there. You'll slowly and painfully make it through those first 14 days, and then you'll somehow surpass those 14 days and things will be so much brighter and easier and lovelier on the other side. Things won't be perfect -- can't offer you that nugget of hope, sorry -- but in comparison to those first few nights, you will feel so good and so powerful at the two-week mark that you will actually understand why people have more than one child.

Kyle is in his third week now, and we're settling into a routine and a schedule (albeit a schedule he regularly offers his middle finger to) and we're (finally!) starting to figure him out. We've figured out that he would much rather lay on his dad's chest than anywhere else, and he gets irritated if we tightly swaddle him, which prevents him from sleeping with his hands where he prefers them: draped across his face. He is constantly looking around suspiciously as if he's trying to work out his thoughts on this world and how he feels about being forced to live in it. He hates the changing table and hates having a bath, but he gives in after a minute or two and stops screaming. He can lay in his bassinet for up to an hour, wide awake, before he gets angry and begins crying for someone to Do Something. He has never once cried in the car seat or car, and something tells me we may find ourselves driving around the neighborhood at 4 a.m. He is still so tiny -- so much tinier than we ever expected, which makes me want to hunt down every person who told me he was going to be GIGANTIC and force them to buy us a few newborn articles of clothing -- and we have an entire dresser full of washed clothes that he can't fit into yet. He already seems to have the personality of his father, which does not shock me ONE BIT because this is a child who spent all nine months in the womb making me sick one way or another. Oh, and his full head of dark hair seems to be lightening up a wee bit, as in, SEEMS TO BE TURNING A SLIGHT SHADE OF RED. This may be me wishfully thinking, but let's all go ahead and cross our fingers, OK?

I'm sure you do not care even a little tiny bit that nursing is going much better for me, as well, but look at that, I went ahead and told you anyway. I have graduated from spending the entire half hour in the rocking chair to hanging out on the couch with him while I watch "Friday Night Lights." I've already inhaled a season and a half, and I could kick myself for AGAIN finding a little-watched show too late, knowing that it will probably be canceled just as soon as I've caught up and then I'll be forced to watch fan videos on YouTube until I find another show to become obsessed with. This is what happened with "Veronica Mars" and so, help me out here, are there are any other shows I should begin immediately watching?

We've been lucky enough to have a steady stream of people in our house, bringing us meals and doing our dishes and just offering us support. It's great to have so many people love our son already, and Mike and I have even been able to get out of the house on our own more than once because of all the people who are so eagerly willing to watch our screaming, particular, adorable child.

Now that I've returned to the land of Feeling Somewhat Normal, I plan to start returning emails and phone calls and finishing up our thank you cards and sending out birth announcements and, yes, blogging regularly as well. And, fine, perhaps showering every day instead of whenever the smell becomes noticeable.

Two weeks. It's made all the difference.

Us

A meme inspired by Linda all about Mike & me. I'm doing this because it's nice to keep the blog updated and it's even nicer to have someone create a post idea for me.

What are your middle names?

Mine is Noel and Mike's is Joseph.

How long have you been together?

We began dating early January 2004 and got married May 2007.

How long did you know each other before you started dating?

Technically we "knew" each other through our friend Crystal for a few years but hadn't had a real conversation until about a month before we began dating.

Who asked whom out?

Well, that's a very hard-to-answer question because we never really had a first date. He offered to buy me a drink first, so I like to think that means he made the first move, but let's keep it real here, I kissed him first. 

How old are each of you?

Mike is 31, and I just turned 27.

Whose siblings do you see the most?

Mike's sister. Unfortunately, my sister lives in Canada and I don't get to see her often at all.

Which situation is the hardest on you as a couple?

We've been parents for all of five minutes, and it's already been the most challenging adventure we've taken on together, but other than that, I think money (or, lack thereof) has been consistently difficult for us. Strengthening, sure, but hard, too.

Did you go to the same school?

Yes, and it's one of the things I love most about our relationship: our deep, cult-like love for Texas A&M.

Are you from the same home town?

Mike was born in Hollywood, Florida and moved to Keller, Texas when he was just a kid. I was born in San Francisco and moved to Garland, Texas when I was 11. So ... no, from opposite coasts and opposite sides of the D-FW metroplex.

Who is smarter?

Mike stuns me with what he knows and in between South Park episodes and fart jokes, he can explain the mysteries of the Universe to me and also teach me how to properly make poached eggs. He can also fix a car's transmission while negotiating the best insurance rates and rigging a contraption on our backdoor so Molly can go in and out as she pleases. He's just an overall impressively smart person, but I know way more about Jennifer Aniston and John Mayer's relationship than he does and, also, I spell much better.

Who is the most sensitive?

Me, hands down. 


Where do you eat out most as a couple?


Taco Bell, which isn't a joke, sadly.

Where is the furthest you two have traveled together as a couple?

I'd have to bust out the map to be sure, but either Toronto or St. John (U.S. Virgin Islands). 

Who has the craziest exes?

I'd have to say I do, although I don't stay in touch with any of them, so the crazy has never been unleashed on us as a couple.


Who has the worst temper?

Mike has a much longer fuse than I do, but when it goes off, it's much worse than mine.

Who does the cooking?

He's the better cook but our oven is probably ignored by us equally.

Who is the neat-freak?

Mike is particular about things, but not a "neat-freak" in any sense of the word. I'm not that particular about things and also not a "neat-freak." You can just imagine how "company ready" our house is at any given moment. Thankfully, we usually have beer to soften the shock of our dirty home.

Who is more stubborn?

Mike, easily. 

Who hogs the bed?


The morning after the first night Mike and I spent together, he turned to me and said, "You're a burrito roller." Meaning, I wrap the covers around me and roll around so he has to freeze or figure out a way to unroll me without waking me up. So, I guess I'd have to say I hog more of the bed than he does.

Who wakes up earlier?

These days, we're both awake far too often and far too early than we ever hoped to be. 

Where was your first date?


Again, didn't really have one. The first time we made plans to see each other, with no one else around, we watched a Disney movie at his house and drank a crazy amount of red wine. 

Who is more jealous?

Mike is the least jealous person I've ever met. It's infuriating and incredibly attractive all at the same time.


How long did it take to get serious?


In hindsight we were fairly serious right away. We spent an insane amount of time together, traveled together, did very serious-type things together, but for months we pretended we weren't serious at all. I'd say it officially took about five months for us both to verbally admit we were in it for the long haul.

Who eats more?


I just had a baby, which means I just spent the last nine-ish months growing that baby. Safe to say it's been quite a while since Mike has been able to sit down with a plate of food and not have to worry about me reaching over and stealing most of it.

Who does the laundry?

I am not exaggerating about this even a little bit: Mike has not folded or put away a single article of clothing since we began dating. I truly believe he's allergic to many parts of the laundry process, and although I hate the chore myself, I prefer to have my clothes in my closet/dresser and not piled around the house.

Who’s better with the computer?


Mike builds computers in his free time, so what do you think?

Who drives when you are together?

Mike, almost always. See, when I drive no one fears for their life, and apparently that's just not acceptable to him at all.

Love and a slice of pizza

Last night Mike and I left Kyle with his grandparents for a couple hours and went out for pizza, a tradition we started our very first Valentine's together -- more than five years ago -- when the romantic dinner Mike had planned to cook me fell through, and we only had time to grab a quick slice of pizza.

We've had pizza every year since.

Our lives have changed dramatically and forever now that we have a son, and these first couple of weeks have been tough for us both, adjusting to a new life, new roles, fewer hours of sleep and less glamorous weekend plans. I am envious of the people who speak about coming home with their baby and fitting right into a schedule and adapting to the responsibility without a moment's pause. I think we're doing pretty good, but it hasn't been easy and it has taken some getting used to. There have certainly been a few times I've glanced over at Mike and wondered if this is what we signed up for, if we perhaps lost our respective minds because our boy sure is cute, don't get me wrong, but he is also insanely unpredictable, especially at 3 a.m.

My promise on this site has always been to be as honest as I possibly can, and so I'll be honest with you that, so far, being a mother is probably the hardest thing I've ever done.

I have doubted myself a trillion times the last 10 days, and I think I'll doubt myself a trillion times more before the sun even comes up tomorrow morning. I know very few things for sure these days. One such thing is that I love him more than my own life, absolutely. There are times I literally have to catch my breath when I look at Kyle because, my god, is he beautiful and fragile and all mine. The other certainty, one that grows stronger and deeper with each tick of the clock, is that more than five years ago I shared a slice of pizza with the best man I've ever known. And, now, he is the best father I've ever known, as well.

Having him as my partner through this -- through everything, really -- makes me feel like the luckiest. Happy (belated) Valentine's, Kyle's dad.

Aftermath

I know. I know. I had a baby and gave up the Internet. I have been meaning to get online a dozen or so times to put together some coherent thoughts in order to update everyone on what life has been like this first week with our son. But, here's a little piece of information every parent probably knows too well: this parenthood gig? Kind of time-consuming. Also, it's official that coherent thoughts are best offered on a full night's sleep, something I have given up along with the Internet and caring what my hair looks like.

Let me say, though, that with this face around, anything and just everything seems worth it.

Labor was actually much better than I feared, but that's only because I was given drugs and the drugs, my friends, WERE GOOD. I know everyone hates being subjected to the birth story of a stranger's kid, but I will post one soon for my own record and for Kyle to roll his eyes at one day. Sorry, kid, there were stitches involved. I get to post whatever I want about you for at least a month.

We left the hospital Saturday afternoon, and as we were driving out of the parking lot, I thought: They are just letting us leave with him. WE DIDN'T EVEN HAVE TO PROVE WE KNOW WHAT WE'RE DOING. But, we left with a healthy baby boy, and there's not a moment I haven't thrown up thanks for that.

Now that we're home, we're adjusting, trying to figure this tiny little thing out. What put him to sleep one night royally pisses him off the next and, OH MAN, does our kid detest having his diaper changed.

It's hard, and although you hear it's hard and assume it's hard and rationally understand it will be hard, I don't think there's anything in this world that can prepare you (or could have prepared me) for just how hard it really is. I once read somewhere that when you come home with a new baby all of your emotions are slammed into the "on" position, and I've repeated that to myself over the last week because nothing else comes close to describing how emotional and overwhelmed and humbled I feel. I feel so much, and I feel it constantly, and I can't believe all of these feelings took the place of my awful acid reflux -- the feeling I most obsessed over just a short week ago.

I know it's normal, to be this overwhelmed and this emotional after the birth of your first kid. I finally get why anyone does this again -- because it must be easier to relish in the beauty of it when you know you'll make it out the other sleep-deprived end.

So, in all honesty, I spend much of my time with my son's cheeks in my mouth because I cannot think of anything in this world so beautiful and the rest of my time crying because what if something were to happen to those cheeks, to that boy?

I find with each day (and each glorious nap) my hormones balance out a little more, and I start to find some confidence in this new role of mine. I'm assured that confidence and stability only grow, and I look forward to that progression, all the while trying to remember each moment of of this time, this fleeting, precious time that we'll never have again.

 

On a post from about a month ago, I had many, many people suggest I stock up on DVDS, books, magazines, etc, to get me through the time-consuming act of nursing. I'm somewhat anxious for the days when the pain subsides, and I'm more interested in an episode of "Lost" than if he's eating enough, but for now we spend our time nursing in the rocking chair, no noise, no background television show. I play with his hands and ears and feet and I always, always play with his dark, beautiful hair. And even though the breakdowns (yes, plural) of the last week may tell you differently, my god, there is no place else I'd rather be. There is no one I'd rather be than his mother.

***************

Oh, and he has a middle name. He is Kyle Parker.

Kyle

Kyle was born at 6:32 p.m. yesterday, February 5 after about 12 hours of labor and 30 minutes of pushing. He doesn't have a middle name quite yet, but he does have his dad's nose and a dark head of hair (!?). He weighed in at a 7 lbs, 2 oz and measured 21 inches. A longer post is to come, once we're home and a little more used to the idea that this cute little thing is ours.

Thank you for all the kind words and warm wishes. The love and support has stunned us and, also, has meant the world.

My son is here, and that has got to be the strangest, coolest, wildest thing I've ever said.

Progress update by Mr. She Likes Purple

We got here at 5:00am and the first 3 hours the contractions were drug free and no fun. For some proof, just ask my left hand. Then, busting through the doors like an EMT coming to rescue me, the anesthesiologist came in with the goods. And to add to all his glory, his name......Dr. Needleman (you can't make this stuff up). Since then, Jennie has felt 1000% better. She took a quick snooze and is currently licking her lips, watching the Food Network and dreaming of things she can't have.

I'll keep y'all posted on our progress.

On a side note, my wife is amazing! She's been a trouper since we got here and I have no doubt that she's going to power through this delivery without a hitch. What a fantastic woman!

~Mr. She Likes Purple

First letter

Son,

I'm days away from seeing your face, and soon enough I won't remember life without that face in it, so I'm writing this for the both of us -- so you will know what your mother was thinking the days leading up to your arrival and so I will never forget.

I used to talk to you, before you ever existed, when you were just a hope. I used to tell you how much I wanted you, how I would try forever to get you, and how I would love you even if you wanted to vote Republican one day. Then, when we got the news you were growing inside me, I held my breath, desperately hopeful nothing would take you away from us. I'm sorry if I wished away those first few weeks of pregnancy, always wanting to get a few more days under my belt, convinced you'd be safer tomorrow. Your mama is working really hard to stop wishing the days away, to stop holding her breath so much, certain the good is reserved for tomorrow. I know the good is right now, and I'm going to do my damnedest to stay in each moment with you.

I didn't love being pregnant every moment of every day, and I'm not going to lie to you and say I did. In fact, there will be days when you're a crabby and moody teenager when I will remind you -- in great detail -- just how sick you made me. I love you, baby boy, but using that against you one day is what we call a perk of this job. But, I must say, life doesn't get more beautiful than feeling your child move within you. People said it would make all the other symptoms bearable and they were unequivocally right. Even though I still have two precious days to feel those movements, I guarantee I have missed them every day since.

I like to think that because of these last nine months, you and I will always have a secret between us. Although I don't know what the future holds or if you'll ever have a little sister or brother, this inside secret is one of the main reasons I hesitate to ever do this again -- not because pregnancy royally kicked my ass but because I like that it's just us in this club, that, for now, no one else is a member. I would put my hand on my stomach during my pregnancy and you'd never stop moving, sometimes you'd even kick a little harder. But when anyone else would come near me, you'd freeze, as if you knew it was a different hand. I could be making that up, but I like to believe you already know me and that you'll recognize me for the rest of your life. Even if you don't tell me about the girl (or boy!) you have a crush on or the parties you're sneaking out of the house to go to or the light pole you ran your dad's Mustang into, I hope you'll always recognize me, that you'll always know my hand from another's. (But you can tell me about the light pole. We'll figure it out together.)

Speaking of your dad, I did good, didn't I? You can thank me by not rolling your eyes at me 9 million times a day in about 13 years. Although I am a lot of really cool things your dad is infinitely cooler. I think you're really going to enjoy life with him on your team. It softens all the falls, multiplies all the joys and makes everything that much sweeter. I am sorry about what he fills our DVR with, though. Unless you enjoy those same shows, and if you do, I have failed as a mother. It's official.

I want a lot for you, as I think all moms do. I want you to have more than I have, I want you to be smarter and kinder and funnier. I want you to find something you're passionate about and go after it. I want you to feel great love and great hope. I want you to be grounded and self-assured. I want you to read more than I have made the time to. But, mostly, I want you to follow your heart and be true to yourself above all other things. I want you to know that I will never waver in my support of you, and I will stand up beside you endlessly, but, baby, if you want to try out for American Idol and you cannot sing, I am going to try and prepare you for what may happen. Nothing breaks my heart more than those poor, awful singers standing in front of the judges, CRYING ON NATIONAL TELEVISION and managing to say, "But my mom says I'm a great singer." I will go with you to the auditions. I will bedazzle signs. I will also pull you aside and talk about a little thing we call a back-up plan. I love you enough to be honest with you, and I hope that in being honest with you, you'll be honest with me right back and let me know when I'm wearing mom jeans.

I'm not sure what our life is like in the future. I don't know if I get my act together to cook us all dinner more regularly or if I tackle the laundry before the laundry, literally, tackles me. I do know that our life before you was sweet and simple and beautiful in all the most important ways, and it's because of how happy we were before you that we wanted you so badly. You weren't a solution or a Band-aid or a quick fix. You were something we prayed for and tried for and even though I am just terrified about Thursday and how exactly getting you out is going to go down, there has never been a day that I haven't thought adding you to our family was one of the best ideas your dad and I ever came up with together.

We had this slight little scare halfway through my pregnancy, and because your mother is CRAZY, I spent a good few days unsure of what was really going on with you and instead of just relaxing and breathing and watching reality television, I Googled every possible outcome. I had myself so scared and worked up, I was positive we'd never see your birthday, and I began doing what I imagine all mothers do at some point: bargaining. I don't really care how religious you are or aren't, I think there comes a time in everyone's life when they say, "Screw it, I'll give praying a try," because they are so desperate to avoid a certain outcome. You can't really appreciate that yet, I know, and it'll be years before you do, but halfway through my pregnancy, when I thought you weren't entirely safe inside me, I began offering myself up in order to assure you'd be just fine. I haven't held you yet, seen your eyes, heard your cry, but, baby, my life already seems like a small price to pay for yours. Yes, yes, your mother is so dramatic, but, love, it's true. I'd do it all for you and then some. And, really, I think all that alcohol I avoided over the last almost year does more than prove that.

I can't wait to meet you.

Love,

Your Mama

A mix of you and me

I've been looking at old pictures of Mike and me over the last few days and wondering just what this boy of ours will look like with our combined genes. I guess we'll see soon enough, but here are a few pictures to glance at, so you can guess along with us. 

Me:

 

Mike:

(Mike & his dad.)