Thursday, May 31, 2012
This morning, Maxwell let me read him two entire books. From start to finish. With voice inflections.
I know that's nothing special for most mothers, but my little son got tired of me reading to him before he turned one and, whenever I'd try, he'd steal the book out of my hands and do this:
All while babbling (reading) to himself, of course.
In all honesty, reading to my kids has always been my one of my biggest hopes for motherhood. I know that's kinda cheesy, but I love stories and, when I pictured myself as a mom, I always pictured bedtime stories and picture books and everything else under the sun combining pictures, imagination, and words. So, when Max turned out to be the definition of the word "independent", I was happy for him but sad that he wouldn't humor me with typical mama things like sitting in my lap and letting me read to him for ten minutes.
Anyway, I'm sure it sounds silly, but I really needed those twenty minutes this morning. Here's to hoping he lets me read to him again tomorrow!
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
I am so excited that Andrew picked out a name this morning and that, immediately after, he asked me to announce it to the world. Our little babe is named after my dad (his name is Randall William) and we'll most likely call him by his middle name because Max saying "Huck" is the cutest thing I have ever heard. We've talked about naming a boy Henry ever since Max was born, but it wasn't brought to the table officially until this morning after Andrew told me he'd decided on the name William and was trying to fit it with a middle name. It was a quick decision, but Andrew had already decided he wanted to name the baby Henry and was waiting for me to suggest it so I couldn't call him out for creating an entirely new name. I love him and I love how, when the right name comes along, you just know it.
Of course, it doesn't hurt that two months ago I had a dream about giving birth to a brown-haired boy named Henry that was as chubby as a marshmallow. I wouldn't mind that come September. In fact, it's kind of my plan (brown hair optional, of course).
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
This pregnancy, we have been pretty impartial to what kind of baby we wanted. I mean, I thought we didn't care with Max, but the truth was both of us wanted a boy first, even if neither of us admitted it until after Max flashed us on the ultrasound screen. With this little one, though, we didn't have any assumptions or any dreams on what our family's birth order would be after the first one. That being said... I really wanted Max to have a brother two years younger than him so that they could be the oldest in their grades together, drive a beater car together, be in priesthood class together (basically like Sunday School, only different) for Max's senior year, share friends and maybe hopefully have a few of the same interests. Plus, I wouldn't have to buy as many clothes.
Then again, I have a boy so I wanted a girl, especially whenever I wandered through the baby clothes section at, like, any store. Plus, six or seven weeks ago, I finally strung together the perfect little girl name. During the first half of Max's pregnancy and nearly all of this pregnancy, I had been trying to fit Penelope with a one-syllable family name that would be a good alternative name and not just a filler name and I finally made it work in early April. So, I wanted a girl. I mean, I really wanted to use that name. I'm not ashamed to admit this.
As soon as I saw him on the screen, I knew he was a boy. And then when I saw a little something-something waving around a few minutes later before the technician said anything, I was absolutely positive he was a boy. Our boys aren't super modest (Max's nineteen week ultrasound opened with a booty shot) and are ridiculously energetic, so we are going to have an awesome time chasing them around for the next twenty years. Honestly, I have never seen a baby perform all the acrobatics our newest babe performed on-screen for us this morning. He waved, stuck his feet out at us, posed for the camera, stretched so far it looked like his head was going to touch his back, and looked absolutely content with the entire world around him. We love him and are so excited for him to join us. So! Tonight, we spent some time at Kohl's and Target (I know, we're big spenders), ruffled through their baby clothes, and came home with some brand new additions to the huge wardrobe our babe is going to inherit in September.
Oh! And that's another thing. My due date has been moved up a week. I walked into the room at 20 weeks and 6 days and came out at 21 weeks 5 days. He weighs a pound already, so I'm hoping he's going to be a whopper, just like his brother. Fat baby boys are the cutest, especially from ages three to eight months. They slay me. Ah! I cannot wait for him to get here!
P.S. He doesn't have a name yet. We whittled our boy names down to three lately and I'm letting Andrew have the final say. Call me an anti-power-woman, but Maxwell was my favorite boy name so, this time, I'm letting Andrew pick his.
P.P.S. It's possible our boys are going to look nearly the same.
I'm totally back blogging but whatev. It will probably be happening for the next several years. This year for Mother's Day, we hung out in my parents' back yard with some of my siblings and other mothers (namely, my mom. I love my mom). I honestly don't think I moved from my spot outside once church was over. We even ate outside and it was the perfect way to celebrate the beginning of summer. After he dropped my dream lens into my Easter basket earlier this spring, I made Andrew promise he wouldn't buy me any presents for Mother's Day so earlier in the week he took me out to dinner and then watched Max all day long once Mother's Day rolled around. I didn't even have to point out a poopy diaper, let alone lift a finger to help!
It was magic.
Monday, May 28, 2012
Andrew and I just got back from Venice, Florence, and Rome. I don't even know how to start to blog about it.
But! I do know how to blog about this:
Fifteen days ago, Mr. C. and I wrapped up a wedding, went home, and packed up our bags, our little spitfire, and our puppy. Four hours later, we were at my parents and two days later, the two of us were on a plane to Italy and I was a mess. I don't come from a family that travels a lot. Growing up, we went to the beach every couple of years, the lake every couple of years, and to visit family. We didn't do Alaska, Europe, Asia, or even cruises. The Chandler family, though, does all of the above (and more!). I have never met anyone who has traveled more than my mother-in-law. She's taken a morning helicopter ride around Mt. Everest, snorkeled in the Red Sea, flew a kite on the Great Wall of China, and has accidentally shut the power off of an entire city block in Saudi Arabia. Crazy, right?
So, when my in-laws suggested an adult-only trip to Italy immediately after Ben (Andrew's youngest brother) finished his mission, I was really excited and really, um, nervous. As a photographer, I have always dreamed about photographing Venice. As a wife, I thought it would be awesome to wander city streets hand in hand with my husband. As a mom, I turned into a leaky faucet every time I thought about leaving my baby with my mom in a different country than I would be in. But! You don't turn down a free ride to a once in a lifetime opportunity, especially when it comes nice and handy with one of your lifetime photographic goals, so I gave my baby to the lady who raised me, boarded a plane, and called home every single day.
It was sad, but it was wonderful.
I mean, let's be honest. I cried nearly every single day because I missed my son and felt like a selfish brat for leaving him, even though he went to California with my family and played with his cousins nearly every day he was at my parents' house and he wasn't forced to take a nap at a set time like he would have been if he were home with me. And let's be honest some more. Italy was magical, but my nose still looked funny in my new glasses and my maternity jeans still gave me love handles and I got really sick of Italian food really fast and I made my husband eat at the Hard Rock Cafe twice, even though it caused him to get hit on by one of the (male) hosts, and there was human poop in one of the streets in Venice and it was cold and rainy nearly every day, and my feet smelt really bad every night and, in Florence, my husband broke every bed he sat on (ha!).
But! It was incredibly fun and funny and an awesome experience just the same.
Thanks again for taking us, Mom and Dad C.!
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
It's true... most of these are from a year ago and then the other few are from last month but, y'know, I still love 'em just the same! Hope you're having a great Tuesday!