Happy Holidays!

We celebrated early this year because we will be traveling for the next week (follow me on Instagram @annawhistondonaldson for trip pics!)

It is fun to put out cookies for Santa again and see it all through the eyes of a child, although I must admit it has been a while since I've had a kid who thinks Santa does EVERYTHING. I'm like, "Hello, where's the Mom-credit? That toy is from Santa, but that game, hat and book are from moi!" Nope, according to Andrew, it's all Santa.

My favorite part was having an indoor snowball fight with all of us, including my grown nephew who was visiting, and spending the majority of the day in pj's. My days are all mixed up now, because "Fake Christmas on the 22nd" really felt like Christmas! An unexpected benefit of Fake Christmas was being able to find a Mexican restaurant that was open when we got a hankering for queso.

Here are some photos from the past few days.

Sending you love and light this week, whether your holidays are full of joy, sadness, or a mixture of both.

Why I Just Ate 1/2 of a Sheet Cake

Yesterday was sweet Andrew's 3rd birthday.

You may be thinking how fast that went.

For you.

For me, it has been both lightning fast and excruciatingly slow as I've re-learned the ropes of parenting a baby, toddler, and now preschooler. Being a geriatric mom has been miraculous, difficult, and unusual while also seeming like the most natural thing in the world.

Our day didn't have the best beginning because Andrew was so excited he woke up well before 6 ready to party. Problem was, the casual gathering I'd thrown together for a couple of our neighbor kids wasn't scheduled until 5 pm. Explaining to a newly minted three-nager that he'd have to wait 11 hours to eat his dump truck cake went over about as well as you can imagine. He was wailing by the time I wrestled him out the door to preschool, at which point I accidentally bonked his head against the car.

But what I thought would be a rough day for him, was more so for me.

My sister texted me an album of photos she'd taken the day of his birth. I scrolled through frame after frame of unflattering photos. I'm not saying that birth photography can't be beautiful. Black and whites, filters, and professional equipment yield artistic gold and capture the beauty and intensity of the moment.

My sister's i-phone 6, clicking second after second during Andrew's birth yielded a bunch of grainy, poorly lit photos of interest only to those of us who were there. They showcased my many chins, strained blood vessels in my eyes, and stages of undress that you care not one whit about mid-labor, when you're convinced you are about to poop on the bed, but that probably don't belong floating around on the cloud after that. Even baby Andrew didn't look so hot. He looked distraught and very, very sticky. As I browsed, I couldn't remember the proper terminology for all the gunk that covered him, but the words "womb cheese"popped into my head and stuck. I decided that if I somehow became miraculously pregnant at 50-something, I'd hire a professional photographer.

I quickly decided to post the one photo that passed muster: Tim holding newborn Andrew, cozy, clean and swaddled-- cheese-free and pinkish.

After a few hours of blissful alone time (i.e. a deep, deep dental cleaning in which my lack of flossing was evident) I headed into preschool to drop off birthday cookies. Ding. My sister texted, asking if I knew that one of the photos I'd posted showed boob.

Photos?

Photos?

BOOB?

Dear Lord, I'd somehow posted the entire album, boobs, triple chins, womb cheese, umbilical cords and all.

Nervous texts flew back and forth as I frantically deleted, and she checked and re-checked my wall.

Still there.

Still there.

Still there.

Gone.

Thank God.

"Don't worry," she said, lying, "no one clicks through those albums."

By the time the neighbors came over with their little ones for pizza and a moon bounce, I was still feeling like a doofus.

First to arrive was my friend Kelsey. We all know how amazing it is to have a friend right across the street with whom you click, and whose kid is the perfect age for yours. Visions of child-swaps, carpooling, short-hand conversations and girls' nights out pop into your head before the moving van has even turned the corner. I've spent the 6 months since she and her young family moved in getting to know Kelsey and trying not to come across as "too anything": too old, too eager, too weird. I'm cognizant of not trying to scare her or my other wonderful neighbors off. But each time I think I won't tell her another long-winded story about what's going on in our lives, I do anyway, because she's just that easy to talk to.

So I plunge in, needing to unburden myself about my screw-up with the album.

She said,"Oh, I saw it and clicked through. I saw the boob picture and was like, 'Go, Anna!'"

Can you tell why I adore her?

"Don't push it, Anna. Don't try to be funny,"  I told my relieved self, yet seconds later these words popped out of my mouth, "Ok, but you didn't see any VAG did you?"

That, my friends, is why I have 1/2 of Andrew's sheet cake to keep my fork and my emotional eating company tonight.

I'll report back soon on whether I have any friends left.

And don't worry that I took too much of Andrew's beloved cake. After wailing about it for 11 hours, he decided one bite would suffice.

Playing Cars

I am very much in demand to play cars, morning noon and night.

I've never quite known how "playing cars" works, so I do a lot of zooming in a circle, hoping not to get dizzy.

There's a process and there are rules, but I'm not sure what they are. Sometimes it seems as if they are in flux. I only really know the rules when I break one.

If I stop moving for too long, such as to sip my tea or check Facebook on my phone, I get reprimanded. Not sure if this is how Keanu Reeves felt in the movie Speed, but I won't stop long enough to find out.

Whew and Woah

So how did Andrew's first 4 HOUR stint at Mother's Day Out go yesterday?

He cried...when it was time to come home.

Whew!

I had to pry two little trucks out of his hands because he wanted to keep playing.

A happy morning for him was a WIN, made even more awesome by the fact that he fell asleep on our long drive home and TRANSFERRED to his crib for a nap.

I forgot how much these little things feel like such big things when you are in the thick of it.

Way to go, Miracle Baby!

In other news, we ordered a homecoming dress for Margaret online and it came with only a few days to spare. It is more revealing that she'd anticipated. To give you an idea:

So, I may be learning to sew between now and Saturday.

p.s. I promise I did not buy Margaret a dress like J. Lo's (above)

Toddlers are Weird and Fabulous

From the Toddler Files:

Andrew woke up from a nap and was pretty attached to his Lovey and Pacifier. He wanted a snack, but didn't want to relinquish either. In the absence of pockets, he found his head to be a great place to store Lovey:

This continued outside as he played with the dogs and explored the yard.

I can't even deal with the cuteness.

Summer 2017

Summer is winding down. 

School starts for Margaret on Monday, and Andrew will go to Mother's Day Out (yay!) in mid-September. For those who aren't following An Inch of Gray on Facebook, and who may feel a little neglected in the Miracle Baby Photo Department, here are a few to catch you up. We didn't have a very active summer. I'm really not sure what we did except chase Andrew around, eat a lot of ice cream, and watch Netflix, but we did make it to Connecticut for a week to see cousins and grandparents, and to WV for our annual camping weekend. Another highlight was Margaret's getting her braces off just in time for back to school.

Family time in CT. Andrew was in the front yard when a BEAR lumbered by!

This year we included Jack in the group cousin picture. I wonder how tall he would be.

 After a loooong break, the grandparents had to buy baby equipment again.

 Happy 4th!

Camping trip. Too young to tube on the river, so he tubed on the grass!

 My big brother made sure I had ample fried food, as usual. Andrew slept well in a tent for the second year in a row. Bonus: Our new tent took about 2 minutes to set up!

 Big hike up the mountain! Tim carried Andrew on his back. Whew! I stayed back and read a book.

 My dear aunt and siblings

Braces off! 

Back-to-school and off-to-college pictures are filling my social media feeds right now. Thank you for praying for me and for others who are missing someone special in the photos this year.

Love and Hugs, Anna

Ghosting in Babyland

Have you heard of ghosting?

It's a dating practice where one person just suddenly disappears with no explanation. It seems inconsiderate and more than a little shady.

ghost·ing

ˈɡōstiNG/

noun

1. 1. 

   the appearance of a ghost or secondary image on a television or other display screen.

     2. 

the practice of ending a personal relationship with someone by suddenly and without explanation withdrawing from all communication.

I'm not sure if I've ever been ghosted. There was that time right before college when my boyfriend started avoiding my calls, but he eventually had the guts to show up on my front porch and break up with me, probably prodded by his mother into doing the right thing.

As parents of a newly minted toddler, Tim and I both feel the pull toward ghosting. No, we can't leave our home or relationship with no explanation, but we do disappear without a word sometimes.

A few weeks ago we were in the small living area of our house. Tim and Andrew were playing on the floor, with Tim clearly in charge of childcare. I had my back to them as I sat at the dining room table a few feet away.  At some point, I heard whiny cries from Andrew, turned around, and saw no one. Tim was gone. I soon found Andrew stuck under the couch.

Later, I was like, "Dude, what happened to you?" Tim said he had gotten really, really tired and withdrew to take a nap, saying nothing to me.

I'd been ghosted!

Now before we judge Tim too harshly, I'll admit that yesterday I said, "I need to run and go pee," before Tim drove Margaret to school. I deposited Andrew in Tim's arms and ran up the stairs. Once in the bathroom, I started thinking that a quick shower would hardly take any time at all. By the time Tim hunted me down to hand back the baby, I had peed, showered, and dressed.

One of the biggest challenges to having a baby at this stage in life is that we have experienced at least 10 years of some degree of personal freedom and now it's gone. I feel the pinch the most when it comes to my writing and personal hygiene. Tim feels it at work as he must rush to come home and relieve me, and he misses running and playing on a soccer team. Oh, and sleep. We both miss sleep.

I ghosted Tim recently when, after pulling into the garage after an errand, I just stayed in the car. And stayed. I may have dozed off a little. It's just so tempting to try to carve out a little more alone time when we can find it.

After almost 25 years together, our relationship has a lot of give and take. These days we just have to be able to find the other person in order to give back the baby and take a break.

Andrew is ONE!

We celebrated Andrew's first birthday last weekend. 

Family came in from Cleveland on Friday. 

On Saturday we hung out:

Then went to D.C. to see the sights and catch the kite festival:

On Sunday we did a little decorating, and welcomed grandparents and cousins:

Andrew opened his presents and played while we caught up:

Then, it was time for the CAKE SMASH!

He was so quiet and tentative at first, but I think he did a fabulous job! Yummy.

While Daddy gave Andrew a quick bath in the tub, the rest of us ate cheesecake in honor of our friend whose heavenly birthday was Sunday.

Then, the clean bean was ready for hugs from mom and more playtime:

Happy Birthday, Andrew Luke. We are so glad you are here.