Blogger's block

Keeping with my usual pattern of starting a journal and not finishing, I've been neglecting even the blogosphere.  Frustration has set in which makes it even harder to get back into it.  Everyday, there is always at least one crazy or precious thing that happens that I want to always remember--but somewhere in between all the chaos and details that have to be addressed just to be able to sit down and type, my motivation to do anything other than veg-out on the couch during naptime is an overwhelming temptation. 

I need one of those voice-activated keyboards and just narrate my day for the record....maybe even include a soundtrack in the background for effect.

Take today, for example:
feeding Aidan inevitably led into a few rounds of "apples and bananas", which caused Connor to erupt into a fit of laughter after he yells, "what's a ban-ii-n-ii?", and then Aidan laughed, which led to me and him being covered in fruit and oatmeal.

And, seeing Richard give me one of those "I love you so much and I'm so glad your here" looks before he kisses me and walks out the door could be dubbed over with "just.you.know.why....why you and I....know true love ways" (love love love Buddy Holly).

What about later today, when our power went out for a few hours--Connor started running around the house flipping all the light switches and opening and closing the refrigerator door, amazed that no light came on....and a little weirded out that the "mens will have to come to [our] house to fix it"....I could totally hear REM chanting "it's the end of the world as we know it".

My favorite songs, however, on this life album are the cacophonic, yodel-ly, and often hear-splitting "music" that my two little budding composers perform for me on a daily basis. 

My Big Boy is 3!

March 31st, Connor turned 3 years old.  I can't believe that it's been three years.

 I can remember those little fists and feet pushing against my growing belly.   And, I was so proud of my pregnant tummy when I got to start wearing those maternity clothes.  It was like a badge of honor.  My baby.  I couldn't believe that God was giving us a baby.                                          

The picture below was taken the day before I went into labor. 
I can remember that night Richard took my cellphone with him to the Poetry Festival that was going on that

weekend at Baylor. Richard still doesn't own a cell and, then, he really didn't even know how to answer the thing when it rang. 

Well, I got a call from a patient--I was on call--and had to go out to their house to fix an IV pump.

I tried to call Richard on his cell phone to let him know that I'd be gone if he tried to call--no answer after three tries.  I figured that he couldn't hear it ringing at the loud reception or either he just didn't know how to answer it.  I waited a minute or two for him to call back, just in case. 

When I got back, he met me at the door with a paniced look on his face.  He'd seen the three missed calls and tried to call home; but, when there was no answer, he'd left the reception and raced home expecting to find me "passed out on the floor in labor" or "bleeding out, trying to get to the hospital alone". 

He was so nervous about how he would "perform" in his first role as "daddy".  That night, getting home, he burned about a half of a tank of gas zooming from Baylor to our house (about a 6 mile trip)!

                                                                                                                                                                                                  

Lo and behold!  the next morning at around 7am, my water broke!  I'd gotten up around 4 am, couldn't sleep--nothing unusual at that point--and had dozed back off on the den couch when it happened.    

Honestly, I thought that I had become incontinent!  

Richard jumped up from the bed when he heard me frantically run into the bathroom.  When I, embarrassingly, told him what (I thought) had happened, he wasn't so blind to the situation.  "You're in labor!" 

I wasn't convinced.  It was two weeks early.  First babies are never early, right?  And, besides, I didn't have any pain.  I didn't want to be one of those women who showed up to labor and delivery NOT in labor.  I am a nurse, after all--I should know exactly the minute I am in labor. 

Finally, I ended up on the phone to the wonderful ladies at the labor and delivery nurses station and told them what happened.  The nurse I spoke to told me to "just come on and let us check you" and "not to worry about it".  So we did.  And I was.

It was about 9am when we made our way into the main entrance of Hillcrest.  The sky was so blue...a carolina blue sky... and the air was nice a crisp.  It was just a week before Easter and everything was beautiful.  I can remember looking up and making a point to remember that moment, how beautiful the day that my baby boy was to be born--I was so thankful for ...everything.

 At 6pm, Connor Gray Russell was born.  Richard remembers that "Don't Stop Believing" by Journey was playing on the radio in the delivery room...how fitting.  We will "hold on to that feeling" forever.