I'm baaaaa-aaaack

Tonight, I witnessed one of the most amazing things ever: my boys, playing together, completely unaware of my presence.

That's right, my boyS. I've been promoted. Since I last wrote, a lot has happened. Namely 9 months of a difficult pregnancy followed by a comparatively easy 36 hour labor and birth, followed by 2 months of bliss and 5 months of pure H-E-Double Hockey Sticks.

And here we are: Today the Tatiman is 2 years and 5 months old, and his little brother, Finny Bo Binny Binny Boo Boo (not his real full name, although his real full name is almost as long) will be 8 months old next week.

I haven't written because I spent 4 months heaving. Not dry heaving, because I was always sure to eat my daily dose of Mrs. T's Perogies (they come up as easy as they go down—lessons learned during my first pregnancy), but heaving nonetheless.

I haven' t written because I spent the rest of my pregnancy running to high risk docs twice a week to be monitored for a whole bunch of things that turned out to be nothing.

I haven't written because I had a beautiful and peaceful newborn.

I haven't written because that beautiful and peaceful newborn caught a virus at 7 weeks old that required a hospital stay that left him with the horrible 24/7 reflux cycle that goes something like this: SCREAM-eat-barf-SCREAM, rinse and repeat for 5 months.

But really, I haven't written because I felt like I was out of things to say. I was in love with my life. It was easy. It was exciting—in the 'shall we go to the playground, boardwalk, or woods to play today' kind of way. It was perfection. And, who wants to hear somebody ramble about perfection all the time?

But tonight, I saw my boys playing together, and I felt like I had something to say again. So, allow me to ramble. We'll get caught up, and then hopefully I'll keep up. Or not. Such is the life...

We didn't 'plan' on my promotion to Professional Stay at Home Mom of Two (Under Two). My pregnancy with the Tatiman was horrible. I never knew one could vomit so much in a 24 hour period, for so many months on end. The 44 hour labor was the icing on that cake. I was not eager to repeat that experience ever. We considered adoption after I swore I would never, ever, ever serve as a gestational vessel again. But, when it came down to it, we both felt that the Tatiman met our every parenting need. We felt complete. Our little family of three. Bliss.

But we both have siblings. And we both feel special connections to our siblings. And we both started to think about the Tatiman's best interests, and how one day he would have to deal with us as old people, and it would be nice for him to be able to share that load.

And though I had decided I would NEVER choose to get pregnant again, we also decided to leave it up to fate. Apparently fate thought we should get pregnant that week....38 weeks and 36 hour of labor later (an improvement!) we welcomed Finny Bo Binny Binny Boo Boo.

Thus, I accepted my promotion, and began a wholly new adventure.