First birthday!

My younger son, Henry, turned one year old today. Wow. Since we don't plan to have any more children, I guess this is the last first b'day I'll ever celebrate for one of my own offspring. The actual party is on Sunday, but I spent all day today with Henry, enjoying his cute little self. I even broke out the camera, which I am usually too lazy to do. He wouldn't sit still with the little sign I made, so I would get his attention, hit the button on the camera, and then shove the sign into the frame. Not a perfect way to get good pictures, but DH was out tonight and it's the best I could do. There will be many better pictures taken on Sunday, I am sure. Pip (my dad) is an awesome photographer. Used to do it professionally.

The house is still less than guest-worthy, but we're just having the four grandparents, two aunts, and a smattering of neighbors so it's no one who hasn't seen it this bad and worse. I'm not entirely sure how one is supposed to keep a house clean with two little kids and two dogs, anyway. Especially when DH and I are freaking exhausted every day of our lives. Something about getting up at 5am and getting two little ones ready for day care and then not getting to bed until 11pm after doing just the basics (some laundry, the dishes) makes us a little less motivated to launch into huge cleaning projects.

Well, my little one-year-old is tucked in for the night in his crib (OK, not really tucked in since he doesn't use blankets yet), and his big brother, who is officially three-and-a-half tomorrow, is almost asleep. He takes forever to go to bed, but then he sleeps like a rock so it's a tradeoff, like a lot of things are when you're a parent. Since they are finally settled in and I am exhausted as usual, I'm going to say good night!

Who are we?

I guess before I get too ahead of myself, I should introduce my guys and myself.

I'm Sara, and I acquire books for a technical publisher in Philadelphia. My job requires travel about 6-8 times per year, during which times DH either is a single parent or has grandparents on tap to help him out.

DH is Ken, and he's a highway designer who's working on getting his PE (professional engineer) license. He's into rebuilding cars (though he hasn't had time for this hobby since Padraic was born), canoeing, camping, fishing, riding his motorcycle, and other manly pursuits.

Padraic is our 3.5yo son who exhibits definite traits of a first-born child. For example, his hands CANNOT be sticky, dirty, dusty, etc., without a full-on freakout. If he drops or spills something, same thing. It's gotta be cleaned up NOW! Still, I wouldn't say he's totally off his rocker or in need of therapy just yet. He's otherwise a very awesome kid. He loves me and Daddy and his little brother ("That's MY Henry!" he'll say when he sees H in photos), and he is into playing with dump trucks, sand, and bubble soap.

Henry (aka Noodle) is about to turn 1yo, which is a startling fact. At this point last year I was sitting at home waiting for him to arrive at any second, but he waited until my induction on July 11. His birth was so easy it made me want to have about 100 more babies, except that just with having two kids we're broke! Henry is a happy-go-lucky baby like Padraic always was at this age. He's lactose intolerant, which is a hassle but we're managing, and he seems to want to nurse until the end of time. We're working on that not happening. He doesn't walk yet, but then again, Padraic was a late walker so I'm not surprised.

Our household is rounded out by two beagles: Bailey and Tully. Both named for Irish alcoholic drinks and both a little nutty. Bailey is our "princessa" who demands the best of everything, including a pillow for her head at night...in our bed. Tully is our lover. He overdoes it with the affection, but he's cool. Except for his habit of eating poop. But no one's perfect, right?

Well, that's our little family here in the surburbs of Philadelphia.

Remembering childlessness

DH and I spent the afternoon and evening at the home of friends of ours who are newlyweds, and it got me thinking about how we spent our time when we were newlyweds and childless. It is hard to recall exactly how I used to fill the hours, but I recall two things: (1) a lack of direction with occasional pangs of loneliness and (2) the ability to do whatever I wanted w/o encumbrances. I never took advantage of (2), and (1) really sucked.

Now that we have kids, I sometimes yearn for the times when we could sleep in late and then goof off all day, running errands or not as we so wished. These days we need a schedule to keep our household operational, and errands must be run because while DH and I might not have minded living off the last, unrelated food products in the cabinets when we were too lazy to go grocery shopping on a particular day, it turns out that kids need to eat real food every day. Being lazy and being a parent are practically mutually exclusive ways of existing.

Do I regret having my days dictated for me, though?

Not as much as my griping might lead you to believe.

I think the exhaustion and somewhat limited ability to do various things are but small, barely significant side effects to endure in exchange for helping two incredible little boys have a great childhood and learn all about the world. When Padraic helps hand Henry his lost pacifier, or when Henry giggles at Padraic's antics, I find it hard to believe that there was a time in my life that didn't include both of these enchanting little guys. And I take heart knowing that even long after DH and I are gone, they will have each other.

So I'll still pull my hair out from time to time. Perhaps even daily for years at a stretch. But behind all the angst and turmoil that might be visible on the surface is my realization that in having these children, I found the purpose I'd been lacking and the direction I'm meant to move in.

Parenthood requires heavy lifting

Literally: I have chronic back and neck problems from carrying around "baby" Henry, who weighs in at close to 22lbs just shy of his first b'day (July 11) and probably away from taking his first steps. If he takes too long, I'm going to need physical therapy and lots of ibuprofen.

Figuratively: I'm often worn out by the psychological and physical demands of being a working mom. I make sure we all eat food, wear (clean!) clothes, feed the dogs, buy gifts for people, make it to those people's special events, get to the dr when needed, live in a house that L&I won't condemn, etc., all while striving to be an exemplary employee at a job that I love and living off the same too-little sleep that most parents get.