Magic, Motherhood, and Mullets

The time to clear the cobwebs off my old cyber nook and start putting stuff in it again has arrived.  My most recent bit of big news (which is not so recent anymore) is I am pregnant again.... 28 weeks pregnant to be exact! Little 'magic', of unknown sex, is the size of a Chinese cabbage this week.  No- the name Magic is not referring to the steamy night on which Magic was created, nor was there any witchcraft involved in the making of this baby.  We have been calling Hammer #2 Magic ever since our friends asked us about boy names we liked while the song "I've got the Magic in me" with Rivers Cuomo was playing. I responded, "Actually we have been thinking about this one, " referencing the artist, not the song title.  The Jones' could not hide their shock at the awesomeness (or awfulness) of the name Magic.  So ever since then, my littlest Hammer has been donned, Magic. 

 

In keeping with the custom of second children, I have dilly-dallyed until my third trimester to announce the arrival of my sweet little baby.  I really have been so excited about my new little person, but it is crazy how many good intentions never come to fruition because you are chasing around a little pint size man who seems to be using up any energy you have that is not directly allotted towards growing a fetus.  So all those things like like blogging, belly pictures, journaling, and sharing ultrasound pictures have fallen by the wayside.  Even though my little pumpkin looks like a man in the above picture, more specifically Darth Vader, I am quite sure that Magic is a girl. This, of course, holds very little weight since I am almost always wrong with 50/50 guesses.  It just makes me feel a little bit justified in being even more emotional this pregnancy than last time.  

 

It probably didn't help that all the Olympic commercials were directed towards making moms cry. Then there are all the worries that pop into my head that come with making room for a new baby;  Will I still have time to date my husband?  Will Liam think I don't love him as much because my time will be divided?  Will I ever have time to things I like to do in more than 15 minute increments?  Then come the less rational thoughts that I will share with you another day, or never...for fear that you may think I am crazy.  On top of being emotional, I have been much more interested in shopping, make-up, and fashion (not necessarily being more fashionable, but appreciating the fashion of others).  That means girl, right?

 

 

Recently, I have done a few baby rescues which has served to remind me how scary and dangerous this world can be at times and how moms can't always rescue their babies....which also makes me cry.  As soon as it started getting warm here this spring (in May for my Floridian family, where springs comes in February), I realized my cats were murderers.  I wasn't too upset because, at first, they were just doing their job as New England cats.- catching and killing a ridiculous amount of rodents, keeping our old drafty homes free of murine mayhem in the winter.  Almost every day when Liam and I went out to play, I would hear him say "night, night mouse" because he stumbled upon, what appeared to be, a slumbering baby mouse.  It was really sweet.  Then we would transplant it to the big brush pile where all the mice slept.

One night as Adam and I were lounging in bed getting ready to fall asleep, we heard a crazy bird commotion right outside our second story window.... lots of squawking, flapping, and rustling.  Adam peeked out our window to see what was going on.  He did not see any bird activity, but did notice that his irresponsible wife left her dome light on in her van.  Being the sweet husband that he is, he went down to turn it off for me.  Adam re-entered our house with a groan of frustration because our crazy cats would not come in for the night again.  Then he told me how he tried to catch Monty because he had something in his mouth that he couldn't see and it sounded like a scared or hurt baby.  I wanted to run back out there and rescue whatever it was, but Adam said it was probably fatally injured and we would just have to kill it anyway, if it wasn't already dead by the time we found it.

I tried to keep reading after that but my brain wasn't processing the words.  I kept reading the same sentence over and over again, picturing a poor baby something desperately calling out for it's mom to come save it.  And I started to cry (no surprise there).  So I decided, even if I couldn't save that baby, I would end the killing spree for the night!  I went outside to go find Moose and Monty, and promptly locked myself out of the house.  They both emerged from the back of the yard when they heard to door shut and that is when I heard what Adam was talking about.  It was horrible!  I cried even more.  It totally sounded like a poor, scared baby.  It only took a lap or two around the yard to catch those a-holes (which was either the mama bear in me or I really am faster than my marathon-running husband). I grabbed both cats by the scruff of the neck and went to our window to call for back up.  

Adam came down to let me in.  I threw the heathens inside and told him where I thought Monty dropped the poor animal and made him come with me.   He went into our boiler room and emerged with two head lamps, an old rag, and a hammer.  "Oh God!  I can't watch this!"  I thought.  But I went with him to evaluate.  We finally found the small lump of feathers (which explains the bird commotion from earlier), but couldn't see any obvious wounds or really tell what we were looking at at all.  Adam poked it with the hammer.  It wiggled, rose up and did the classic baby bird, mouth wide open move....to which Adam and I both responded, "Awwww!"  It was so cute!  We kept Baby Bird warm and dry all night and kept him nourished with some wet cat food.  After Liam and Baby Bird had some bonding time in the morning we took him to our local bird sanctuary, where he was treated with some antibiotics for his exposure to cat saliva (toxic to birds) and has made a full recovery.  Woo woo:)

 

Liam and I have spent the last few days still recovering from missing our family!  Liam has been saying "Hannah, Zoe, Aunty Kana, Uncy Troy," on repeat since we left them. We were able to meet our family from Japan in Florida.  I have been worried about Liam having a hard time when Magic comes, but after seeing how happy he is living with other toddlers I know he will love it.  We just have to get through the baby stage, where someone else is in mom's arms all the time.  

Although we did have a break through with baby Daisy.  I have held a few newborns in the fast few months and every time Liam has gotten very whiny, hanging on my legs and demanding that "mommy hold Liam."  But with Daisy, he actually showed some interest in her... bringing her toys to play with, asking to hold daisy (which of course I did not let my 21 month hold this sweet little, floppy girl - I saw the fear in her mama's eyes), and even helping me to sing the Daisy Sour Cream jingle to her.  Even though he doesn't look very happy in the above picture, I am hoping we have turned a corner with liking infants.

 It was tough to come to Florida not planning to see many friends, but my amazing sister and mom threw me a surprise shower, where I got to see so many people.  It made me feel so special and loved!  And it was so fun just to do something to celebrate Magic.

 

 I will leave you with some amazing picture of Liam's mullet blowing in the breeze.  That has been  my latest parenting dilemma....to cut or not to cut the mullet.  I am sure I would make fun of him if he was someone else's kid, but I have fallen for his long locks.  I think they are so sweet and he plays with his mullet to soothe himself to sleep (Kelly says that doesn't help my case).  Who am I to take that from him? 

 

Feel free to give me your opinion, but I ask you, if a mullet doesn't belong on a sweet little baby neck in the mountains of Vermont, then where does it belong?