Brendan's Blessing

It's actually been a week since Brendan's blessing, but I thought I'd better post later than never.

Brendan Dennis Eschmeyer was blessed at church last Sunday on July 4th.  Kind of makes it easy to remember the date!  Come to think of it, Lauren was blessed on New Year's Eve.  Yay, another easy date to remember.

Looking at pictures, he's a lot more alert than Lauren was, but he's also a month older than Lauren was.  Papa Cannon said when he was in the circle, Brendan just kept looking around at everyone.

Kevin's side was the only family that came:  Grandma & Papa Cannon, Kenton and his family, and Kris and his kids.  I was sad that my brother (my only in-state family) couldn't get out of bed to make it.

It was a nice sunny (and hot) day, so we were able to get some pictures outside with our little family (despite Lauren being difficult) and with Grandma and Papa.  And to boot, I think our little family was nicely color-coordinated with the 4th of July.

Since it was the 4th, we decided that a barbeque would not only be appropriate, but easy, as well.  Well, easy, except for the fact that the previous week Kevin and I had been running around like chickens without a head to try and make the house somewhat ordered and hospitable.  By Sunday morning, we were still trying to clear off places to sit, so the prep work that could have been done beforehand for the food did not get done.  But thankfully, everyone pitched in to help.  Kevin had the easy job of grilling outside and chatting with his brothers.  Meanwhile, I was inside managing the chaos, coordinating the food preparations, and feeding a baby.  We had burgers and dogs, lots of fruit and vegetables, corn on the cob, and cookies and jello cake for dessert.  I even made the cake with red, white, and blue cool whip for the 4th.  We also sang Happy Birthday to Grandma Cannon, who turned 71 the next day.

I still can't believe we survived it.  The kids outnumbered the adults 10 to 7.  Someone said to me today, "Who's bright idea was it?  Here, you just had a baby.  Why don't you have a bunch of people over to your house and feed them?"  Amen to that sarcasm.

I can't believe my little boy is 2 1/2 months already.  Where has the time gone?  I may be a picture nut, but with the time flying by, at least I'll have something to cherish.

7 weeks

So Brendan is seven-weeks-old today.  In the little spare time I have, I've been working really hard to address the mountains of boxes still stacked around the house in preparation for the after-blessing gathering in July, as well as to introduce Lauren to swim lessons.  So other things have been pushed to the back burner.  But at the very least, I thought I'd post some pictures of the Little Man.  Time has flown.  I feel like my baby is no longer a newborn.  He smiles (though often at something just past me), and he's really started to coo and goo and gurgle in an effort to talk this last week.  I'm really trying to savor him as a newborn, but it just seems like the clock ticks faster and faster each day (except, of course, during those witching hours when you just want to put a muzzle on your baby and put him in a closet).

Forgive the randomness and excess pictures, but this turned out to be a mini-summary of the last seven weeks.

Here's our little Sith Lord, 5-days-old:

And here's my first Mother's Day with 2 kids:

One of my favs of Lauren and Brendan, once she decided that he was okay:

At 9-days-old, it was really evident that Brendan liked to track his new sister.  I can't remember whether she was singing to him or what she was doing to him, but it was really cute.  He definitely was engaged.

Lauren loves this shirt, though she insists she's not a big sister.  I sometimes have to hide it once I've washed it because she would wear it every day if she could.  I'm a big fan of this picture, too.

Brendan with Grandma & Papa Cannon.  I believe he's grandchild #26, and grandson #8.

Lauren loves to announce when she's kissing Brendan.  She's so proud of herself.

Brendan in the shower with Mom.  Lauren loved showers, and I think Brendan finds them pretty groovy, too.

Taken at six weeks, he seems to sleep best in the mornings (not at night, when he should).  His schedule is off by about four hours.

Sleeping buddies.  Brendan seems to really enjoy being on his stomach, which is completely opposite of how his sister was.  (Perhaps because he doesn't have nearly as big a noggin' as she did.)

After weeks of begging, Kevin finally consented to let me get a new swing (we already had one that was a free hand-me-down for Lauren).  I had a feeling this one would be better for Brendan because he really enjoys side-to-side motions--we might change his name to Martini, since he loves to be shaken, not stirred.  Now we have a pretty reliable go-to when all else fails to console the boy.  Kevin has since dubbed it "His Magic Chair."  I love it when I'm right!  (Though you'll never hear Kevin admit it without prodding.)  (The ears are because it's a "My Little Lamb" swing.)

This picture was too cute to pass on.  This is the other frequent position (though not usually with arms crossed) that I will find Daddy holding B in, since the little man refuses to sleep on his back in his bed unless it is after midnight.  (I think he has security issues, which is perhaps why he loves being on his stomach so much.)  And Kevin also prefers to hold Brendan at night, because that means he can get a nap in.  (I know--a nap at night?)

Finally able to capture a smile:

'Jama time on Mom & Dad's bed, both avoiding bedtime, of course:

I love my little seven-weeker!

Lauren's getting married

In my parents' bedroom where we now sleep, my mom has a wedding picture of Kevin and I.  In the past month, Lauren has referenced the picture several times and used the word "married" several times in random talk.  We never really discussed it in depth, though.  So today, Lauren said to her dad that she was going to marry him.  When he said she couldn't marry him, she came out and said she was going to marry Tyler (her 14(?)-yr-old BFF).  Then she said that girls marry boys.  I was pretty impressed with her understanding of the context.  (Must be all those Disney princess movies she got hooked on while I was pregnant and miserable.)

Brendan's debut

Yesterday, my little son turned one month old.  I looked at my blog and realized that I hadn't even posted that he was born.  Anyone who might read this blog probably already knows that he finally made his debut.  But for archival purposes, I'm just going to make a quick entry about his birth.

Brendan Dennis was born Thursday, April 22, 2010 (a birthday shared with his uncle, Christian), at 5:28 p.m.  He didn't seem to want to come out on his own, so he was forced out a week and a day after his due date via induction.  The doctor thought the ultrasound was overestimating when it approximated Brendan at 9 lbs 1 oz three days before birth.  But in fact, the boy came in at a whopping 9 lbs 13 oz and measuring 23".

After less than a day, Brendan was admitted to the NICU for intermittent labored breathing.  (Notice how big he is in the NICU incubator.  Compared to the preemies in there, he was GINORMOUS!  [I love that word! Thank you, Elf!])  He had to stay a minimum of 48 hours.  This was very hard for me to cope with in my postpartum hormotional & sleep-deprived state.  I was discharged a day before he was.  We ended up staying in a hotel by the hospital (for the third time in a week) so that I could be nearby.  Brendan was discharged on Sunday.  The neonatologists and consulting ENT chalked up his symptoms to excess residual mucus in his lungs and a mild case of laryngomalacia (immature cartilage surrounding the vocal cords).

I will write about this first month in a different post.  But I will close with pictures from the hospital.  Some of them are professional, and I'm VERY sad that I wasn't present for the session.  But at least we captured the guest of honor.  (Sorry, I wish I could figure out how to post pictures side-by-side to conserve space.)

This is the closest we could get Lauren to Brendan that first day.  Doesn't she look excited?!

This picture cracks me up.  It was after the ride home from the hospital.  Her neck is kinked one way, and his the opposite.  Let's hope we won't need physical therapy in the future.









Here are the professional pictures:

Just biding my time....

Waiting.  It's what we do.  We sometimes feel we spend half of our life waiting.  Just for kicks, I googled "time spent waiting," and the first result that popped up was that the average person spends 45-62 minutes waiting each day for various things--downloading something from the internet, pumping gas, waiting for an elevator, etc.


I feel I am in perpetual waiting mode, just biding my time for the next few weeks.  Waiting for my parents to leave at the end of this week so we can move into the bedroom we will be sleeping in for the next two years.  Waiting for the closing of our old house to occur in 10 days.  Waiting for the baby to come, whenever that may be.  Waiting to see what gender the child will be.  Waiting to see if my brother will move out and thus provide us with an extra bedroom of space.  Waiting for it to get consistently warm.  One would think all of this waiting would drive me crazy.  I would think all of this waiting would drive me crazy!  But somehow, I am slowly adapting to this waiting game.  I think it's because I have reached my maximal threshold for stress and I just don't have the energy to resist any more (amplified infinitely by being 9-months-pregnant).  Writer beware.  This is when Darth Vadar says, "Give into the dark side," and like a dam breaking, I could say, "Okay."  And yet, there would be no surprise.


And a John Mayer song runs through my head....

Lauren's a mini-me?

You know, when Lauren was born, I didn't think she inherited much from me.  I mean, sure, she has my big melon of a head (thus, the need for an episiotomy), and I figured she got the Schade chin and a singular dimple like me (on the opposite side).  But until recently, I didn't think she got much else from me other than my stubborn temperament.  But check out her likeness to a picture of me that my mom pulled out:

I was amazed at how similar we look.  Kevin now calls Lauren my clone or a mini-me.  And she also is turning into a control freak, though her excuse could just be that she's a toddler and learning to exercise her dominion.  What's my excuse, again?

On a totally different note....The other day, Lauren wanted to do "the animals" on the computer, which involves playing on Fisher-Price's website.  I had showed her before how to do the ABCs game, which is simply pressing the space bar to advance to the next screen.  But she likes the game matching the animal sound to the animal, which requires you to actually move the cursor to the animal, and then click.  Previously, I would always do it for her.  But I was not in the disposition to do it for her this day, and thought, "What the heck?"  So I showed her how to use one finger to work the touch pad on my laptop and then left click.  I didn't actually think she'd be able to do it.  But she was able to do it from the first try. 

I was half awestruck, and half full of pride that my little girl was growing up.  I guess I shouldn't be that surprised.  She is 3, after all, which is when I started playing the piano.  I guess I just got so used to thinking of her as a "baby", that now when she actually shows signs of growing up into a little girl, it knocks me off balance.  I'm amazed at how quickly these little sponges pick up on concepts, language, conversational skills, hand-eye coordination, etc.!!!

Well, we've gone and moved....

Well, we did it.  With the countdown on to baby Esch coming and my parents leaving on their mission in a month, we went ahead and moved into my parents' house.  This is NOT something I recommend doing while parents are STILL LIVING in the house.  We only moved a third of our stuff down, and there have already been quite a few rough patches, some hurt feelings, and lessons in eggshell walking--not an easy feat.  Of course, it doesn't help that one party is emotionally charged with leaving their home behind and departing the country for two years, and the other party is hormo-tionally charged with pregnancy hormones and anxious about juggling two kids.

 My parents' living room at the moment, which will probably see little change in the next 3-4 weeks until we can clear out room for Esch stuff.

But the good--make that GREAT--news is that the week we planned on moving anyway, we FINALLY, after two long years, were able to put our house under contract!!!!  Not the price we've wanted, but the timing is right to just cut bait and walk away.  And this buyer seems to be quite reasonable, in comparison to the neurotic buyer of '08 and the non-committal buyer of '09.  (Though I'm not a fan of this home inspector, who seems quite reluctant to share info on how to remedy situations.)  But barring unforeseen obstacles, we should have our house sold by the time the baby comes. (Preferably before.) 

I can't help but think of an Elder Oaks article that I came across last month as I was chucking old BYU Magazines.  It was all about timing and surrendering ourselves to God's timing.  He said you can have the best-laid plans for the most righteous reasons, but ultimately, it is not our choice in life how the timing of things works out.  Examples he referred to included finding your spouse and moving from place to place.  Hmm.  Both quite appropo in my life.  When I stumbled upon this article, I thought it was to help me more with the visiting teaching message of last couple of months on being emotionally resilient in learning self-reliance and managing resources.  But now, with the sale of our house happening just as we were planning to move, just before the baby comes, and just before my parents leave, I see that the article was to prepare me to again learn the lesson of Ecclesiates 3:1: "To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven."

I suppose I should have closed with just that, but I feel the need to vent a little.  If you want to stop reading, feel free.  But since this is my blog....I have to admit I do have quite a bit of seller's remorse.  I love my house and how we've really made it ours over the last 6 3/4 years.  I love the neighborhood, especially our new neighbors who moved in last year.  I love all the natural light that comes in through the south windows.  I love the new doors we put in.  I love all the snow we get up there (despite only 25 miles farther north).  I love feeling independent and self-sufficient, grown-up and responsible.  I worry that we'll never get that again.  I'm sure it's hard for everyone to leave their first house.  But if I had another house of my own to look forward to, I think I could adjust.  However, it's a bit depressing, as well as I feel like I'm regressing to move into my parents' home, the place I grew up.  Sure, we'll be saving a truckload of money each month.  Sure, we'll eventually have more room.  Sure, we'll be minutes from Kevin's work.  Sure, we'll have more family time.  Sure, we'll save money by not paying Cook County's insane sales tax.  Sure, we'll have access to a pool for two summers.  But with future housing so uncertain, and, as one person put it to Kevin, needing a shoehorn to make two households fit into one, it certainly makes the seller's remorse cut even deeper.