House of Boys

I am 28 weeks pregnant. I have less than 3 months to go. I've gained 19 pounds, 90% of which has landed in my boobs and my belly.  I feel, mostly, fantastic with the occasional interruption of a belly full of pressure and a contraction.  I don't sleep much, and my nesting has been a bit out of control.  I am slightly addicted to chocolate, which considering my desire for it when I am not pregnant, really doesn't come as a surprise. 

Last weekend we started registering- an exhausting, overwhelming activity made so much easier by knowing that baby IV is a boy.  My, how it changes things.  We also began painting his room. A work in progress that I look forward to finishing. 

We have a basement and a garage full of stuff for the little man, most of which was given to us , and it is is hard to believe that soon, very soon, he will be here....with us.

I do love being pregnant, all over again.  I love the natural high I feel from the hormones rushing inside of me. I love the smiles strangers give me- a silent congratulations on that wonderful miracle.  I love the privilege I carry around of being the sole provider of this guy.  And, mostly, I love feeling him kick and squirm within me, reminding me he is there, he is healthy, and he is ready to hit the ground running. 

I remember being pregnant with the twins and people were astonished.  "Oh my, twins!"  "How lucky." "How will you do it?"  A million different comments and questions, mostly of praise, of the miracle of two, as If they are so rare.  They're not. 

This time, it's different. The smiles are the same but when they ask "is this your first,?" And it is followed up by, "nope, my 4th" it's a look of sheer shock.  Concern?  Perhaps they wonder if they should call 911 because, clearly, I must be nuts?  Their eyes open a bit wider, their jaw drops just a bit more.  Usually, they will recover quickly and continue "wow, number 4, congratulations.  How wonderful" or some other similar nicety. Then, just to see the reaction, I follow up again, "yeah, it's my fourth son!"   This pretty much raises their blood pressure, I can see the veins popping in their eyes. "4 boys.  Wow. You must be disappointed it isn't a girl". (I am not!) and, "gonna try for the 5th and see if you have better luck?"  Again, I'm not, and I don't feel unlucky. Not one bit. In fact it is just the opposite. I am totally and completely blessed to be the chosen parent of these boys and wouldn't change a thing.  Sure, a girl would have been nice, but as I live my day to day, as I sit at my dinner table with the noise and the chaos and the constant motion, as I enter a bedroom equipt with a face mask to protect myself from the fumes of thisr rooms, I realize a little girl would never fit in here.  No way.  This is definitely a house of boys.  My boys. 

Nesting

I've felt high for the entire 6 months of this pregnancy thus far.  Ecstatic. Elated. Energetic. Sure, I've had my "moments" of frustration, anger, sadness- but overall, I feel fantastic.

This second trimester, however, has been, well, interesting on top of everything else.  I am a nesting fool.  Really.  I have felt the need to clean and organize , but mostly, my nesting comes in the form of craftiness.  And, in most cases, I mean by painting.  I am on my third room now. The dining room. Hardly a necessity. But, since I am not ready to do IV's room, yet, I chose a different project.  

Although it is a bit tiring and my arm feels slightly cramped, I've been enjoying it tremendously, and it's not like my house can't use an overhaul. 

I just hope the need, the desire, the energy, continues long enough to get the baby's room done next month. 

I had just nested through the organization of the dining room, and I must say, I was loving it, so neat and so clean. Now, it is in shambles, packed up, and rearranged, so that I can paint monotone- blue on blue stripes onto each of the walls.  

At this rate, every shade of blue should be well represented in my house before I give birth. 

Every pregnancy is different, just as every kid is different.  4th time in you realize that life doesn't stop 'cause your pregnant. It won't even stop 'cause I give birth. It may come to a quick pause, but that will be all.  I've learned I can't sit around waiting for March to come. It will, and quickly.  So, I continue on as if everything is the same as it was 6 months ago. Deep down, I know so much is different, better- but still so much is the same.  

I can't wait to meet you IV. I really can't.  But, since I have to, I am off...to paint some more.  

6 Months

I stay up entirely too late at night.  I should be sleeping, it's nearly midnight and I am 6 months pregnant. But, I have energy, pregnancy induced, of course, and my hours in the quiet, as the middle of the night approaches, are mine. All mine.  Finally, my feet are up.  Finally, I'm relaxing. I can put my hand on my belly and spend some time feeling my very active baby boy.

He kicks me all day long, let's me know he's there and ready to hit the ground running.  But, during these quiet hours, is when I can sit, and enjoy it.  Feel it. Experience it.  Love it.  

I love being pregnant.  I always have. I wasn't sure that being pregnant at nearly 40 would be this enjoyable.  But is is. Perhaps even more so. The surprise still lingering, the joys of the unexpected, and the wonderful feeling of being pregnant, this time- for the last time.  

Fourth and Final

Physically, I feel great. This pregnancy, as my others had been, has been kind to me. I know I'm fortunate that it is easy for me to forget I am pregnant. I also know what you're thinking, I forget a lot of things, which is true.  But, still, the way my body feels day to day, nearly six months in, is very, well, normal. Until I try to fit into a space between a wall and a chair, that I would normally fit into, and suddenly I am wedged because my belly has finally outgrown my boobs.  I chuckle as I am quickly reminded that I am with child.

And, for what it is worth, IV doesn't let me forget about him easily.  He causes me no aggravation at all but is very active and his kicks and jabs are constant enough that I can feel him when ever I want that special moment.  

I love the kicks and the jabs.  That is something only I can share with my baby boy.  Nobody else can have those moments, those special reminders of his being, of his soul, of him. I cherish it, knowing full well this is my last pregnancy and I won't have moments like those again. 

I know. I said that before. I did. And, I meant it.  This blessing was an unexpected surprise that I welcome whole heartedly.  But, there won't be another.  Todd is getting a vasectomy. I wouldn't have been as comfortable with that decision a few years ago. But, now, four kids in and just about 40, I know this is the right decision.  

IV- I can't wait to meet you. 

I love this photo! Alex's Bat Mitzvah- COUSINS

4!

Hi 4,

4.  That is what we call you, at least while you are in utero.  Only, I like it and wonder if it could stick when you enter this world.

Time is passing quickly, as it always does, and it won't be long before I meet you.   I grow more and more excited as each day passes, as my belly grows larger and larger.  Sure, there is still so much to figure out, so much to do, but, still, I can't wait to hold you for the very first time.

I am getting to know you as you live inside of me.  My pregnancy is smooth sailing thus far. I feel fantastic, like I am high all of the time.  I can only assume that is you, your pleasant manner and happy spirit, affecting me in the very best way.

You're an active little guy, I often feel your movements.  I love it, each kick, each tumble. It's those special moments that remain sacred between you and I and I am so very grateful to have them tattooed on my memory.

At first, in the beginning of this pregnancy, all I wanted to do was watch football.  And, I felt the need to belch occasionally. Or, more often.  This was how I knew you were a boy.  Then, I thought, this guy is another little athlete like his brother Chase.

But, half-way through my second trimester, I think you will be an artist.  Or, an artist also.  My creative juices are overflowing and I feel extremely ambitious in a number of DIY and craft projects.  Although I love the idea of that stuff normally, I wouldn't say I do any of it.  Yet, right now, it's all I want to do.


I just crafted two home-made halloween costumes, for the first time ever.  I desire to paint your bedroom and Chase and Ryder's myself, and I look forward to making wimpels for each and every one of my sons.  I want to cook.  I want to organize. I want to do art.

I don't know who you will be, nor do I know what will take place past March, when you are here instead of just in my uterus.  All I know is, as much as I can't wait to find out, I am going to enjoy these days to the fullest.

Face

Peace Out in Utero

Wonder

I lay here thinking about you. I do a lot of wondering.  I wonder what you will look like.  Will you have the captivating, almond shaped eyes of your brother Ryder?  Or, perhaps the charming, welled dimples of your brother Chase?  Maybe, you'll get the infectious smile, reflecting through your eyes, of your brother Turner?  Possibly, you'll have a whole new enviable feature that differentiates you.

I wonder what you'll be like?  An all-star? A super hero? A rock star? More than likely, you'll be someone totally new.  

I dream about our first meeting. When I get to hold you and see your face.  That is the very best moment in life and I'm counting down the minutes til ours 

The search for 4's room colors begins with a blue and gray grid

A field trip with Turner

Every fall there's an obligatory trip to the pumpkin patch that is always enjoyable, a reason to be outside during my favorite season.  Turner'a enrichment program had a field trip there where we learned about bugs, and bees and honey, and apples.   What a fun day!  

Ultrasound of IV

17.5 week baby bump

Apple picking fun

Oh Brother, Soon we will have another!

Another Pre-School Graduate

Turner graduated Pre-School!  I understand this is no big feat.  Every 5 year old, well most, transition through this same milestone, many without much praise.  But, still, my baby is done with pre-school and on to the big public school.  He could not be more excited.

For someone who can't remember what she did earlier in the day (you think I am kidding?) you may find it hard to believe that I remember the day Turner started pre-school.  It was just before his 2nd birthday and up to that point he wasn't ready.  Ok, maybe I wasn't ready.  But, then, he was ready.   And, he showed it everyday.  And, I had to give up 6 hours a week with my favorite little side kick.  He loved school right from the very first day.    He was shy, at first, and didn't speak for most of that year, yet he communicated with a smile that gave answers and eyes that told stories.

And, now, 3 years have passed.  My shy baby boy who quietly blushed and batted his eyelashes is a big(ger) boy who is, somehow, kindergarten ready.  He still has his shy side, his insecurities creep out, yet he has blossomed into a charming and delightful boy.  He is a friend, he is a brother, a leader, and an example.  He is caring, and thoughtful, and empathetic in ways that make me proud but I am unable to take responsibility for.

He had the best teachers, beginning with Miss Barbara and Miss Jodi, then Miss Kathryn and Miss Ilene, then Miss Robin and and Miss Beth, and finally, with Miss Randi and Miss Joyce.  I owe each of them a huge THANK YOU!

With his graduation came my departure from Ohev Shalom's Pre-School.  I am sad to be leaving the community, the experience has been wonderful.  I leave with many friends, lots of memories, and nothing but fond experiences and memories for all of my boys.

Turner is excited to be a bulldog.  He wants to go to school with his brothers.  He leaves Ohev with a smile and a tear.  He made his very best friends within those walls, friendships that will last a life time.   He learned his colors, his letters, his numbers, and how to write his name.  He learned jewish history, jewish songs, prayers, and the holidays.  He learned about dinosaurs, and body parts, and metamorphosis. But, mostly, he learned to be confident in who he is.  He learned he is special and wonderful and kind.  He learned that he is Turner and he should be proud of that. I  know I am.

I wish my baby boy all the luck in the world as he strips away the "baby" leading his name and becomes the wonderful big kid that he is.

http://tovskytwins.blogspot.com/2011/06/graduation.html

Happy Birthday to Me!

For a while I had a post every birthday.  Every birthday of mine and each of my children.  Then, as many things have in the last few years, they stopped.  So, here I am, at the very stroke of my 39th birthday, a little over 2 hours before I arrived in the backseat of a police car nearly 4 decades ago, I write myself a birthday post.

This was my last one, two years ago.

Life hasn't been all I dreamed of the last few years which may or may not be related to my lack of writing.  There is no real way to tell.  But, it is still life, my life, and documenting it, for better or worse, seems important.

I went back to work 15 months ago and truly enjoy my job everyday.   Mike is an awesome boss, my co-workers are pleasant, my commute is short, and I enjoy the work.  For these reasons I am very lucky, and I know it.  If I could just make some more money, I am all set.

The boys keep me as busy as ever and the hustle and bustle is actually something I enjoy.  Sure, I miss sitting on the couch here and there, and even more so, I miss writing on a regular basis, but I know that time is fleeting, that what seems long, is passing me so fast that I better embrace it before this period of my life is gone forever.  So, I do.  I love watching Chase play his many sports.  I love watching Ryder embrace his creativity and his passions. I love watching Turner turn everything into a happy, good time.   I really do.

The first half of this decade were some of the best years of my life and the second half have been some of, well, not my best.  And, that sure puts things into perspective, doesn't it?  Every rose has its thorn. Ying/Yang?  What goes up must come down.   Such is life and it's important that we all remember that.

With all the things I would change if I could, there are just as many, if not more, that I wouldn't.  It may be tough at times but it seems like a fair sacrifice to have the many blessings that I do.

If I could make one wish (and, well, since it is my birthday, I guess I can) I wish to get back to the core of who I am.  I have compromised my own beliefs and that is my biggest regret.  Mistakes will be made, learning from them is a must, but staying true to yourself should be a requirement.  A requirement I may have not followed through on.  So, that is my wish for myself as I begin this last year in my 30's.   Before I start a whole new decade this time next year I wish that I can do so as the truest version of Wendy, the essence of myself, as a 40 year old woman.

It's weird being 39.  I am not sure where time went nor how I got here.   I feel my age in that my hips hurt, I am tired, and I have spotted a few gray hairs.  But, in so many more ways I still think of myself as a kid at times, and many times I feel like ten years were just skipped over.

I try not to think about what 39 is supposed to be or even how I imagined it would be and just focus on what it actually is....which is not so different than 38.  Or, even 37.  At least not yet.

But, today is my birthday, I will celebrate it as we do, with my boys and my husband and I will look around, contented, knowing that this is my life.

We traded Ryder in for a ten year old version of himself.

Poconos

Colorful cousins

Best buds forever