Category Archives: Motherhood

I’m Lovin’ It

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If you’d have asked me in mid-July how I felt about being pregnant (finally), I wouldn’t have sounded very positive. Yes, I’ve been hoping to be pregnant for quite some time, and I was devastated by the miscarriage I had. But still, in July and August, I was pretty miserable being pregnant. I did not have a lot to say in regards to joy. I was sick multiple times a day. I was exhausted. I was constantly worried about another miscarriage, and I couldn’t tell anyone I was pregnant yet because I didn’t want to have to backtrack if I did miscarry.

Fast forward. Today I’m one day away from 19 weeks, and I’m not so worried about miscarriage. I find out if Monkey is a boy or a girl in just two more days. I feel the baby move at various times of the day and I no longer wonder if it is just indigestion. (I felt the first movement at 13 weeks, 6 days, and Ryan and others suggested I was just imagining it….now I”m pretty sure that was Monkey all along.) I’m still very small and wearing regular clothes. This made me very nervous for a few weeks there since people have been saying I”m “too small” and otherwise acting surprised at my pregnancy news. I kept worrying if Monkey really was okay. But, given the regular movement I’ve been feeling for the last week or two, I’m no longer in any doubt. Baby is okay. I get reassurance every time there is a poke inside of me.

I have been feeling so good that I find myself saying to Ryan daily “Oh, I feel so sorry for you that you can’t feel this! It’s so amazing! I’m so glad I’m a woman so I can be pregnant. You are missing out.”

Ryan’s response? “Doesn’t it kind of gross you out that there is a parasite growing inside of you?”

Sigh.

I’m just so glad I’m feeling so well, that I have those reassurances that everything will be alright. I know by the end, my hugeness will once again make me not feel so great, but for now, I’m lovin’ it.

“Why Is the Flag Coming Down?”

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Paul asked me this as we passed a flag on our way to church this morning. I told him that ten years ago today some bad men stole an airplane and killed a lot of people. We fly the flag half way up to remember that lots of people died.

“Who were the people that died?” he responded. “Tell me their names.”

I didn’t have any names for him. I didn’t, in fact, know any of the 3,000 people who died that day. I didn’t even see the television coverage until after I returned home from campus a few hours after the fact. I found out about the towers as I walked in to my economics class at 9 a.m. Mountain Time, just 20 minutes after I’d finished reading the New York Times and heading out for class.

It struck me, though, that his first reaction is to connect with the people who died. He could have said, “Why would bad men do that?” but no, he knows that some people are bad in the world. He just wanted to remember along with me and all the others that put our flag at half mast. I had just told him that we lower the flag to remember. He was remembering through me.

(Ten years is, he informed me a few days ago, the definition of “old.” One is not “old” until they are ten. Then they are old. He is still not old. Apparently, the attacks in NYC are now “old.”)

It was somewhat reassuring that this year I didn’t have to have a discussion with him about the bad people. “Terrorist” is still not in his vocabulary. But “remember” is. We can all do that each September 11. Let’s focus on the good. Let’s remember.

 

Introducing…Curious George

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We’re happy to announce that baby #2 will be joining our family! Attached are some ultrasound pictures of the little leap frog from August 4, age 10 weeks. I am now 12 weeks 4 days along.

I have been absent from the blog because baby is busy making me sick and tired, as well as getting us all excited for the future. I should just leave the description of my summer at “sick and tired.” I’ve been feeling bad since about 5 weeks along, but I’m starting to feel human again!

Estimated due date: February 29, 2012. Grandma and Grandpa S. nicknamed the baby “Kermit” since I”ve been calling him/her my little leap frog. However, Paul is adamant that baby’s name is Curious George.

“That’s a really good name for baby boys and for monkeys!” he says.

I ask what the baby’s name should be if it’s a girl and he appears stumped. (He does say frequently he wants a baby sister.) Nevertheless, he’s busy calling baby “Curious George,” so until we know if it’s a boy or a girl, that name will be the name around our house!

Paul really likes the idea that there is a camera that can see inside mommy’s belly; he really wants one for Christmas so he can see inside his belly too. Maybe, he says, he’ll be a doctor when he grows up because he really wants that cool camera!

Since the ultrasound, he’s understood the concept of a baby in Mommy’s belly a little more concretely. The other day, he told me the baby was crying; he went and got a pretend bottle of milk and “fed” it to Curious George through Mommy’s belly button. And then yesterday, he let baby Curious George take a turn in the game we were playing. (He yelled through my belly, “Do you want to take a turn?”) He helped move the piece after baby said, “yes.”

Yes, he’ll be a wonderful big brother come February or March!

What have you been up to this summer?

Unwrapping Your Children

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Well, about these girls. They came as they were, unique, wonderful spirits and my blessing was to just unwrap the package to see who they were and to help guide them into who they could be.  I didn’t ever feel like I had to mold them or make them into somebody different than who they were because they were so great when they came. It was a fun discovery to learn who they were. They are different, different people, but they are delightful fun daughters and I always enjoyed our children.

Julie B. Beck on her two daughters

I want to say that about my own children. I never want my son to think I don’t appreciate his own personality. I don’t want him to think that I expect him to be something he is not. That would be a painful thing, to feel like a disappointment. I don’t want my son to feel he disappoints me for being himself.

This means I need to never talk about his faults, or things I disapprove of, in front other people. I need to avoid criticism when he does things differently than I would do them. I need to make sure I don’t manipulate him into doing something I want, when his personality would do something differently. I need to always remember that he came to me a precious spirit, with his own personality. He will make choices different from those that I’d make, but that’s a part of his precious personality.

As his mother, I can help guide him into who he can be. I can help him discover his potential.

I don’t need to mold him: I need to unwrap him.

To listen to the entire conversation between Sheri Dew and Julie B. Beck and her two daughters, visit Mormon Channel.

How it Works

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Mom: “I’m going to make dinner!”

Paul: “What are we having today?”

Mom: “Spaghetti.”

Paul: “No. I want Macaroni and Cheese.”

Mom: “We’re having Spaghetti tonight. Maybe we’ll have Macaroni and Cheese tomorrow.”

Paul: “No, Mommy, this is how it works. I tell you what I want to eat, and then you cook it.”

The Perfect Age

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As we were driving to church the other day, I was struck by how perfect Paul’s age is right now. Although he sometimes has tantrums and he’s certainly opinionated, overall, it’s so delightful being his mother and seeing his blossoming into a human being, and not just a baby. I need to do a better job of recording the adorable and perfect age things Paul says and does. I am going to miss this age so very much!

Imagination

If he wants something, he simply creates it. He’s had a hard time grasping the concept of Christmas being a very long time from now. So instead he creates his own: “Did you know that tomorrow it is Christmas underground?” (His imaginary friends live underground.)

If I can’t play with him, suddenly the imaginary doorbell rings and there is an imaginary friend to play with him. And then there is the fact that he can create anything, you name it.

Games

Paul is in a serious board game streak right now. He loves them. He loves following rules and he loves making up rules. His turn usually takes him about five minutes, so I read a book waiting for my turn. Seriously. But he’s learning about taking turns, about winning and losing, and about counting and money (Monopoly). He loves to play games.

And the greatest thing is that he loves to make up games all the time. “Let’s race!” he says when it’s time to get dressed. “Let’s find shapes!” he said as we were driving to church. And when he said he saw “funny ovals” I was at a loss as to what he was talking about. “I see a lot of them!” he clarified. Cars, it turns out, are funny ovals.

Stories

Along with his great imagination comes his impressive ability to tell stories. I am reminded of my creative story writing when I was six and seven years old. Somehow, I lost that urge to write, to record creative inventions that I imagined in my mind. I hope I can nurture Paul’s story telling abilities so he doesn’t lose it. I’ll be so sad when he grows up too much for stories. I hope that never happens.

Learning

The other day, he brought me the guide book I had about NYC and said, “Mommy, this is about New York!” and I was amazed that not only could he read and understand it, but that he knows New York City is a place, that’s it’s far from here, that I went there. And I know most three year olds don’t read yet, but even without the reading, I love watching his discovery of new things. We’re learning about the moon and about outerspace this week and I love watching his fascination as we read a picture book.

Honesty and Sincerity

Sometimes I don’t appreciate his honesty. (“Yuck! I do not like this soup!”) But other times I find it so sweet.

“I love you,” I say.

“I already know that!” says Paul.

Reflections

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  • In Paul’s primary talk, he said, “Jesus rose for us.” He then, in a different context, saw the  picture of the Risen Lord appearing to Mary and said, “Look, Mommy! Jesus rose-ing!”
  • Normally during Sacrament Meeting, Paul sings “mah blah blah mah!” as loudly as he can in time with the music, as he or I points to the words on the page. Today, the speaker introduced the song, “Behold, the Great Redeemer Die!” Paul sang along with the correct words for the first two lines. I was amazed: he knows that song. I know that is because we go to church every Sunday.
  • Regularly, Paul stops playing to say, “Mommy, I say unto you, I love you!” This is how I know he really does hear the scripture study we do together, even though it seems he’s not paying attention.
  • Paul is regularly teaching me a lesson in humility and generosity, from his sharing his fruit snacks to his outpouring of love. From his example, I better understand the Savior’s injunction to be as a little child. I’m to approach life with sincerity, to love and give without thoughts of “scarcity” and selfishness, and to be honest in my thoughts, words and deeds. (Although I should mention that Paul has learned to lie, he is still for the most part a very truthful, loving, sensitive child.)

What Makes a Prayer a Prayer?

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The other day, Paul, who is obsessed with the ABCs and sings the “ABC Song” a dozen times a day, said he’d say the prayer for lunch.

“This is the new prayer, Mommy.” And then, in the melody of the ABCs, he continued, “ABCDEFG, Thank you, God, for everything.”

“That’s not reverent, dear.” I responded. “We don’t joke about prayers. That sounds like the ABC song to me.”

“But that’s my prayer,” he insisted, frowning when I asked him again to say a proper prayer.

Today, when I dropped him off at preschool, I was telling his teacher about the ABC Book he made, and how he just loves the ABCs.

“Oh, we have a new snack prayer they just love,” she said. Then she sang the song I’d heard from Paul, except at the end it said, “Thank you, God, for feeding me.”

“Oh, I get it now!” I responded, “Paul had told me that but I hadn’t believed it was a prayer.”

“Oh, well, it has the ‘Thank you, God’ so it is the snack prayer,” she responded.

And since then, I’ve been pondering prayer. Does really saying “Thank you, God” make something a prayer? To me, a casual “Thank God” sounds like taking his name in vain. People say that all the time, and how often are they sincerely thanking him?

That said, everyone prays differently, and I certainly don’t believe God ignores sincere prayers. The Lutheran service that my son sang at during the fall was a “contemporary” service, with a rock band. Yet, I still felt the spirit as I listened to the pastor talking about how we can all be more loving to each other. Just because something is done with a different degree of reverence does not mean there is no spirit or sincerity.

But to my sensibilities, it is irreverent. In my home, I don’t want my son praying by singing an ABC Song prayer that sounds like it’s using God’s name in vain. I want him to bow his head, close his eyes, and pour out his own words of thanks to his Heavenly Father, speaking to him as the son of God that he is. I don’t want my son sitting at the piano, making up a melody for a song with the only lyrics being “God, God, God.” (He wanted to sing that for Family Home Evening this week.) To me, that is irreverent. I’d rather he sing of his relationship with his Heavenly Father through primary songs.

I just signed him up for his second year of preschool at the Lutheran preschool he’s been going to. Now I’m wondering if he’s just going to be confused. He’s already learned the distinction that, “At home I pray to Heavenly Father, but at preschool I pray to Jesus.”

Is learning reverence for our Heavenly Father, especially during prayer, something I should worry about? I do want him to learn the gospel of Jesus Christ correctly, and maybe the Lutheran influence will only confuse him.

Train Restaurant at Home (aka, Making Leftovers Fun)

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It’s only for two nights. It’s nothing, but I still miss my husband tonight! I keep thinking of things like “oh, I have to take out the trash” and “Oh, right, I need to make sure all the doors are locked before I go to sleep.” Etc. It’s amazing how quickly I got used to having him home! (And I just talked to him and he apparently <sarcasm>really missed</sarcasm> all the fun that is O’Hare Airport.)

I was feeling sad as dinner came around. Trying to cook for two (and Paul doesn’t like to eat my dinners so it’s mostly for me) does not feel worthwhile. Plus, we had leftovers in the fridge, so I decided the lazy side won out and went for those.

Then I had a brilliant idea. Paul loves going to a restaurant, and he always orders Mac and Cheese. As soon as I say “restaurant,”  he yells out “I want Mac and Cheese!” So I told my son we were going to a restaurant for dinner. I welcomed him to the restaurant, sat him at the table, handed him a “menu” (really a piece of junk mail that was sitting on the counter) and asked him what he wanted: Mac and Cheese (left over from the other night when we did go to a restaurant) or Chicken Nuggets (other leftovers I had in the freezer for just such a night). He had a big smile as he pretended to read, then said, “Mac and Cheese!” I gave him two crackers to eat while he waited and a cup of milk with a straw (since restaurants always give him a drink with a straw), and he happily waited.

Then, out of the blue, Paul said, “Mommy, it’s a train restaurant!” A few months ago (a year ago?!) we went to a restaurant with Grandma and Grandpa in Naperville that did have trains. We sat around a counter and a train “delivered” the food to us. He loved it. So tonight I agreed our restaurant was a train restaurant, and got some GeoTrax from the basement. Soon, we had a small circle track for our battery-operated train. But I wouldn’t turn it on until he took a bit of food!  Turn off, and repeat for each bite.

I had mentioned that maybe after he ate we could have dessert. After a little while, he asked me for the “menu” again, and then he said, “I want some blueberry yogurt for dessert, please.” I hadn’t even suggested it, and I had been thinking of ice cream, but it was fun to know that for him it was a treat to have yogurt.

I noticed a lot of interesting things about this. I was treating him as if I were a waiter (“Hello, young man. What can I get you today?”) and acting all polite. As a result, instead of demanding as he usually does (“MILK! NOW!”), he mellowed out. “Can I please have some more milk please?” Was it the fact that we were in a restaurant (where he normally is more well behaved since it’s in public) or the fact that I was treating him nicer than I normally do? Probably both. I should treat him nicer more often.

At any rate, it made for a fun dinner and it got him to eat more than he would have eaten if I was grouchy as I had been when I was feeling sad that my husband was gone!