Swimming without floats!

Untitled from jasmin hutchinson on Vimeo.

11 weeks

Being pregnant is crap. Not quite as bad as the first time, but awful none-the-less. I feel nauseous, tired, depressed, and anxious. Yay me!

Four

Four. Today you are four. Sometimes I think you are 4 going on 14 because you are so grown up. You have an incredibly sweet nature. You are happy, affectionate and playful. I really think we bypassed the “terrible threes” altogether with you. You do have your moments though. You storm off to your room yelling “I hate you” and slam your door like a teenager. We can’t help but laugh at this because it seems so contrary to see chubby kid legs stomping up the stairs. You have a wicked sense of humour, and you make us laugh every day. The poop jokes are wearing a bit thin though.

Knock knock

Who’s there?

Snow White

Snow White who?

Snow White pooped in her pants! (Cue screams of laughter)

You have this really funny way of putting on some get up or other (sunglasses, beads, my shoes, etc.) and then walking in and striking a pose waiting for a laugh with a certain look on your face. I love that. You like to play “Witch”, where I have to be a witch and lock you in a cage, and you miraculously escape (over and over and O.V.E.R again). You also like me to act out with you every princess movie ever made. I do a pretty good Ursula! I think your absolute favourite thing to do is swim. You don’t care how cold the water is, you jump in and your face lights up with joy. You adore being in the water. A few times this week we’ve had to haul you out of the water when your lips turned blue and you were shivering, but still you protested “I want to swiiiiiiim”.

You are possibly the most competitive person I’ve ever met (and yes, I do know where you get that from). You turn everything into a race or a competition. When you swim or ride your bike you like me to time you to see how fast you go. If I finish my breakfast cereal before you, you get in a huff. When I get to the last few cornflakes you speed up with your spoon, one eye constantly on me, and shovel in the food until you can yell “I beat you!!” I’m trying to teach you the art of losing gracefully, but it is not going so well.

You still love to sing and dance, as you always have. We sing the Disney songs together, you sounds considerably better than me! You had your first big ballet recital this year. So brave, up on the stage, in front of all those parents. In our eyes you stole the show. You looked so beautiful. You tried your hand at soccer (Go Beavers) but that really didn’t go so well. I’m not sure that you ever kicked the ball the entire season. You far prefer solo sports, it seems.

We took a few trips this year. We went to see Grandma Madeline in Florida. We swam in the ocean and took a trip to Disney. We went to England where you fought with Mia for 2 weeks straight and picked up an English accent. And of course we had that God awful trip to Baltimore. Thankfully you were oblivious to the craphole that is Baltimore and seemed to have a great time.

You might seem so big to us, but some things remind us that you are just so little. When I hold your hand and it is so small and squishy (you still have those dimpled knuckles which I love). When I paint your little toenail, which is so small it may as well not be there. When you wear your backpack to school and it takes up your entire torso, threatening to tip you backwards at any moment. And when you mispronounce things. Biscetti (spaghetti) is still going strong. You also say “My knight in shining almond”, “I’m draining” (instead of drowning), and "Hannah Botana".

This year has been a year of big changes. You have moved 1000 miles away from the only home you’ve ever known, and you are going to be a big sister! Wow! You have taken this in stride amazingly well. You didn’t like seeing your old room bare, or the house empty. And you miss your best friend, Lauren Greer, terribly. But, you have thrown yourself into your new life with gusto. Our new house has a pool, so that is all you need to think it is the best house ever built (side note, it is not). You have made friends with the kids next door but one. They are a little older and tougher than you. It is so endearing to watch you interact with them, and then glance over at me for approval. Like your eyes are saying “check me out, I’m totally hanging with these big kids”. The first night we moved in you played football with them and got beamed in the face with a ball. It caught you square on the nose. Your eyes immediately filled with tears and it looked like you were going to cry. You looked over at me, I could see you fighting the urge to run to me and sob. You hesitated like this for a split-second then gave me a look that conveyed “I got this, Mum”, so I restrained myself from running over and scooping you up. You shook off the injury off like a champ and played on. Your friends were suitably impressed. It was a turning point. They sounded you out, you weren’t a baby, you were now part the gang.

You are beyond excited about becoming a big sister. You are far more excited than your parents who are alternating between joy and fear of sleepless nights, endless poop, and financial ruin. You tell everybody you see “there’s a baby in my Mummy’s tummy”. You kiss and hug the belly, and ask to speak to her (it is a girl, you are sure of that). You whisper into my belly button “I love you baby” and tell me all the things you are going to do with her. You will feed her ice cream, but (sternly) only after she has eaten her healthy food. You are going to wipe her butt (cue laughing at the word butt), you are going to sing her a lullaby until she goes to sleep. I have tried to suggest the wild idea that it could be a brother but you put your ear to my belly and listen and say “no, it is a girl, I can hear her voice”.

I wrote last year that I couldn’t wait to see what this year brought us. I didn’t imagine such changes would come our way, but the love, and laughter, and bursting pride in you were all that I imagined and more. You simultaneously exhaust and invigorate us. I hate to quote Tom Cruise of all people, but you complete us. You really do. You bind this family together in a way I couldn’t have envisioned. The focal point of this little triangle of us, the apex, is you. Good luck when we become a square, kiddo!

Love,

Mama xxx

We DO love you, baby number 2!

Poor kid, you might think you are getting the short end of the stick if you ever read this. No belly pictures, no updates, you are just growing away, doing all these cool things like forming eyelids and nerve endings with nary a mention on here. We haven’t forgotten you (believe me, you remind Mummy you are here every day, who then makes sure to pass on the misery and remind Daddy). It’s just that you came along at a very hectic time. You know this, of course, you really wanted to be a New Englander so you waited a good year or so to join us until we dug a path out of the South. You can hold this over your Southern Belle of a sister one day. By all accounts you are doing well. Because you were such a ‘miracle child’ you have had many many more checkups than your sister already. We’ve already got to see you twice and hear your heartbeat. You are pretty cool. You are a hungry baby. Mummy has to eat all day long or you make a fuss. There isn’t much you don’t like. With Ana, Mummy had aversions to almost every food, but not you. If it is edible, you want it. Ana went on to be a bit of a picky eater so it will be interesting to see if you are this way when you are eating your own food. You want to let the world know you are here too. Mummy didn’t want to tell her new employers about you until she was 12 weeks along, but given that she already looks about 4 months pregnant, I think the secret could be out!