My How Time Flies….

I may have mentioned this recently but just in case, Pineapple has turned 2.


My baby is 2. Years. Old.


How did this happen? Where did the time go? Well, although she’s 2 – and clearly a very big girl now – she still does some “baby” things. What you ask?

Those big baby sighs. While she’s playing or sleeping, she’ll sigh deeply. It’s like she’s saying “everything is right with the world.” And for that little moment, everything is right with mine because I know she’s content and happy.

She also still uses a pacifier occasionally – primarily when sleeping (or falling asleep) – and when she does, she makes that little “squeaky-squeaky” noise that comes with sucking on a passy. It’s so cute. And it just reminds me of all those wee baby bottles…what a soothing noise!

She still wants to be rocked – the only difference is that now she can tell me so. We rock in her squishy chair and we sing songs and read books. She enjoys it – I enjoy it – and I know, deep down, that our time on that chair is limited. And damn…that makes me so sad…but it makes the time spent there all the more precious.

She still wants me. She calls for me – MAMA! – and she follows me around like a little duckling. She wants me…maybe not as much as I want her (who knows) but for right now…I’m the mama. And that is the most in demand position in our household. I just hope it stays that way for a long time. Because I’m afraid that before I know it…she’ll be 20 instead of 2.

I love watching her become the person she will be. I’m looking forward to all the new things we’ll do. But I feel a bit like I’m mourning those early days. Those first 2 years. I miss my baby…but I love my toddler.

She does some FAB toddler things. Like what? (you’re so CURIOUS today!)

Well, she knows what she wants…and she’s not afraid to tell you. Sometimes it lands her in timeout but she’s not a wimp and she’s not a pushover. She needs you to EXPLAIN why she needs to eat her dinner before she has her cookie. But she always eats her dinner after it has been explained. She’s a good, good girl.

She likes to “swim” in the bathtub. Every time I see her do this, it makes me happy because how many times have I wished as an adult that I could swim in the bathtub?! And how long has it been since I’ve been able to do so? I’m glad she’s at an age where she understands that she can swim in there but she’s still little enough enjoy it.

She dances and dances and DANCES! She loves to dance and she loves music. If we’re walking in the store and she passes a radio she STOPS…turns…and starts to boogie. And she has got some MOVES (granted, they unfortunately seem to be her Dad’s moves, but moves they are). We love to watch her dance and admittedly spend many an evening turning on some sort of house music or country or rock (whatever she likes that day) so she’ll get down. It’s the best!

She gets so stinkin’ excited about things. She’s at the point where you can tell her that we’re going to the park and she’ll run around yelling “POK” and squealing until we leave. Anything fun works her right up – Wonderpets? Check!, Bathtime? Check!, Riding in the car? Check!! It’s adorable.

She’s a fantastic snuggler and she gives kisses, too. And her favorite thing in the world is to hug both DH and I at the same time and pat our heads. She likes those “family hugs” and if she hugs only me or only DH, she’ll look at the other and say “come-on.” I wouldn’t trade her hugs for the world…and it makes me sad that I know I don’t have an infinite amount of them…but I treasure what Ido have.

Happy Birthday Little Pineapple. I can’t wait to see what you do with your world.

XOXO – Mommy

This is 1 Amazing Pineapple!

Wow. Just wow. My teensy, weensy, unbelievably amazing Pineapple is 1 year old today. Hang on a sec…*sniffs loudly – nose honking noises*…OK, I’m back.

In honor of this special occasion, I thought I’d share a little bit about what was happening at this time last year. I apologize in advance for any TMI moments in this post and I hope you enjoy this peek into a Pineapple’s beginning…

One year ago today, DH and I were informed by the doctor that he would be inducing me that evening. I was exactly 40 weeks pregnant and looked about 400 weeks preganant and I gotta be honest – I was just ready to get that prickly Pineapple OUT! We had to wait until midnight, so DH and I went home to kill time…by watching the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy – back to back – for the rest of the day. (Yes, we are giant nerds – if you haven’t figured that out yet, then you just haven’t been paying attention…moving on.)

At 11:45PM, we headed out the door, little suitcase in tow and car seat in hand. We pulled up to the hospital and I wouldn’t get out of the car. I was terrified. I knew I was in for a world of hurt but I was also just ready for it to be over. So I sat in the passenger seat with DH holding my hand while Nina Simone sang to us about sugar and bowls (we also have good taste in music). He finally encouraged me to get out of the car and I waddled my way to the door. He also insisted on taking my picture just outside of the ward next to the sign. *sigh*

Once we were in and settled and I’d been administered my IV (the nurse poked me 5 times before she got it in – my veins roll – it sucks) they started giving me meds to induce me. It was fine at first. And then it wasn’t. The woman that was inserting the pill designed to help move the process along was a masochist. I actually told her to please go away at one point.

DH was shocked. I have a general rule when it comes to people that take care of my medical needs and serve my food – I am overly polite, will memorize their names and inquire about their children. I worked in the service industry and I have family in the medical field – word to the wise, be nice to these people. They can make your life hell…moving on…again…

Several hours later, I was given some sort of lovely shot because I was in a bit of pain. It was wonderful. OH – I should have said before – I am not a natural childbirth kinda girl – *grin.* However, about 30 minutes later, I woke up – must have dozed off – with DH gently shaking my shoulder, to find my hands gripping the rails of the bed – in my sleep. I was in PAIN!!! This was when DH frantically ran out to the nurse’s station and asked someone to get my epidural.

That was an experience. Apparently two of my vertebrae are very close together – just so happens it’s the exact two where the epidural is inserted. Nice. So after explaining this to me, the anesthitist got started – and it was WEIRD. I could feel the extraordinarily thin tube rubbing against the bones or whatever. DH was holding my head and helping me stay still. This was the point he yelled out – “I need a chair…NOW “(he has an issue with needles – big old baby of a Marine). The nurse was so fast, I swear she was a Cullen, and the chair was under poor, poor DH because of course HE was the one going through this *ugh* and the nurse was holding onto me. Then it was over. And I couldn’t feel a thing. And God Bless numbing medication!

Several hours later, nothing was happening. It was almost 7PM – I’d been there 18 hours and was only dilated 1 centimeter. I sent the whole fam-damily out for food so I could rest. And that was the moment the doctor decided to tell me that there was no way this baby was coming out the way God intended and that a c-section was necessary…oh and they wanted to do that in 45 minutes. And everyone was gone. I figured, oh they’ll be back in time. Wrong. Half an hour later, I called DH – he was at Chili’s with the family – I informed him that he needed to get to the hospital because they were going to slice me open and pull the Pineapple out – and he asked me if he could finish his beer. No, we’re not divorced but my dad nearly knocked him out. Seriously though, DH was in a bit of a panic state. I think he was seriously freaking out.

About 5 minutes later, DH and my dad ran through the door – they’d run out of the restaurant – and the nurse informed DH that he needed to get ready by putting on the blue jumpsuit. He decided to wait. He sat in the rocker. His mom came in – she said “shouldn’t you put that outfit on?” And he said “I’ve got time.” Then the nurse walked in and said, “OK, let’s go” and he realized he didn’t have time. He changed – quickly. Did I mention he was panicky? And they began wheeling me out of the room.

They took me into the operating room and strapped my arms down to the table in a T form. I was later told that around this time, my doctor, who was 37 but looked 27, went out to tell my family the procedure was about to begin and not to worry – and my dad, who can be rather intimidating when he wants, glared at him and said “take care of my baby girl.” I know this happened because my doctor told me my dad was a little scary. (This is the same man who can often be found cleaning around the house while singing “I’m a Barbie Girl” – he was also a black belt – go figure.) So, after a moment of panic on my part during which I was afraid that I might feel the first cut, the c-section began.

It only lasted a few minutes. A few minutes of some odd tugging and pulling and feeling my body lifted off the table. A few minutes during which the doctors informed me Pineapple was wedged against my pelvic bone and wouldn’t have been able to be delivered no matter what they’d done. A few minutes during which I looked at DH, told him I was scared and he told me the same. A few minutes…and then a little, tiny cry. And my Pineapple was born. DH looked at her and looked at me and I swear he looked amazing. He looked amazed and amazing. Like he was literally lit up from the inside. I asked if I could see her and this tiny, squaling little thing was brought over. And she was beautiful. And she was amazing. And we were amazing. And we were a family.

The rest is unimportant. This was the moment. This was it. I had a new title. A new responsibility. A new opportunity. A new life. I was a mom. I am a mom.

I am a mom.

Happy Birthday, Pineapple. I do believe the world…it spins for you. Congratulations on your first trip around.