After my miserable, hormonal ranting about being 40 and ultimately 41 weeks pregnant I want everyone to know that I understand how blessed I am. Truly. Now that I am removed from the tearful haze and the discomfort of 40 weeks, I am counting my blessings.

Yesterday was World Prematurity Day. One in nine babies in the US is born too soon. Read more from the March of Dimes here. Ya’ll, that is a lot of babies. I bet you know children and adults who were and are preemies. Recently I have found myself praying and thanking God over and over that my son was more than 8 lbs. of squishy sweetness, I was able to nurse him in the delivery room and he was my little APGAR rock star. Both my children were born full-term and as anxious as I was for them to make their arrival, I am SO THANKFUL for healthy pregnancies.

Last year I told you about sweet little twins, Avery and Raegan, who were born at 25 weeks, 6 days. My friend Nicole is their mother and I am so blessed to know her. She is smart and brave and has seen her family through a rough year of more hospital stays for her son, Avery. Through Nicole I have learned about the strong parents and skilled medical professionals that are in NICU’s around the world. More than anything, I learned the strength a mother has for her children and it is inspiring.

Avery and Raegan, age 3

These little miracles have exciting news! Nicole is expecting again! My heart nearly burst when I heard the news and I left an overly-excited, rambling message on her voicemail.

Me and Nicole at the March For Babies this year

Doctors don’t know why some babies are born too soon, but through research, they are learning more. Please consider donating to the March of Dimes. My awesome family and friends donated in honor of Henry for his baby showers or “sprinkles” this year. Let me know if March of Dimes is a charity you support or if there is another charity for babies people should know more about. Give for all the expectant mothers and little miracles you know.

Today I committed a shameful parent faux-pas that could possibly get me banned from future toddler social gatherings. I didn’t show up for a birthday party I had RSVP’d “yes” for.

I know, I know. That is really lousy. But, I have an excuse. See, this was a first birthday party. The festivities for this sweet baby started at 2:00pm. When I got the invitation I cringed. Ooph! 2:00pm on a Sunday. There is only one thing my child is doing at that time. On the weekends 1:00pm-4:00pm are what I refer to as “the golden hours.” Two hours in that time frame is nap time. Period. Sacred and pure. That is the time our child must sleep to maintain child status and not transform into a monster. Nap time at school is from 12:30pm-2:30pm. On the weekends we are looser with that for activities, but I can assure you that between the hours of 1:00pm-3:00pm, she will likely not be awake for the majority of the time.

So, you may be thinking, “Why was the party at 2?” Well, think about it. The sleep schedule of a one-year-old infant and a 2 1/2 year old toddler are VERY different. Charlotte was still taking 2 naps a day at that point in her life. 1 or 2:00pm would have been the perfect time for a party and I’m quite certain that is when I scheduled her first birthday party. Also, it was Sunday and you can’t do a party on Sunday mornings because of church. This is the South, people. That time is reserved for Jesus, football preview shows or lying around the house like the lazy heathen that I am.  Another thing, this party was at an incredibly popular kid play spot in town. When it comes to reserving rooms you get what you get and you get it EARLY. That may have been the only time the parents could reserve the room.

So, then you may be asking, “Amy, why did you RSVP ‘yes’ if you knew this was during the golden hours?” ::sigh:: Because I’m impossibly optimistic and absolutely refuse to miss out on any fun, ever. I tried to get her to nap early. No luck. That child slept long and hard from 1:30pm-4:00pm. There was no waking her. If I had woken her up she would have been miserable and had no fun.

Lesson learned. Leave the golden hours sacred and sometimes just say you can’t make it, even if it means becoming a mommy faux-pas.

Maybe it’s  because it’s Shark Week. Maybe it’s because of that scary story that came out this week about Usher’s son. But, water safety has been on my mind this week. We have decided we officially have a water baby. I swear our child is part fish. She LOVES being in the pool. She loves summer and our little daredevil is happy to push away from us as she learns to jump off the side of the pool into our cautiously open arms. I in no way want to squash this enthusiasm. I love the fact that my 2 1/2 year-old  loves kicking, blowing bubbles and dunking her whole head in the water. I remember to my younger sister wailing during swim lessons at the pool because she didn’t want to get her face wet. I was far from a super swimmer myself, even though I was on the swim team for a few years.

As my daughter grins and giggles, inside I am reeling with anxiety that she will go under and we will not be able to get to her. I have horrible flashbacks to my early days of motherhood with Postpartum Depression when I was forever worried that she would drown in a pool, the ocean 2 hours away, lakes 20 miles away, the bath, a puddle or a heavy rain. I often let my husband take the lead on swimming in the big pool. I usually relax after a little while and we have a great time. The pool we joined rocks and we always have fun with neighborhood events on Friday nights.

It seems to be a trend that every toddler wears a Puddle Jumper. Have you heard of these? They’re like an arm floatie/life jacket hybrid. I felt like a sorry excuse for a suburban pool mom for not having my kid stuffed in one of these.  I held off on buying any type of floatation device because I heard it stunts their swimming progress or whatever. I’ve also heard “No! You can’t buy those because then they might not know when they aren’t wearing one and jump in and sink!” Huh? I mean, I think she’s going to know when she’s wearing one.  We don’t own a pool because of my anxiety. (Okay, right. We don’t own a pool because that shit is expensive and we would never clean it.) I feel like that’s a problem for pool owners. She’s never going to wander into our backyard pool and sink, nor will she ever be at the neighborhood pool by herself.

I bought a life jacket anyway.  Why?  Because it made me feel more secure. It reduced my mama anxiety, which made it worth every penny of $24.95. I didn’t get a Puddle Jumper because we tried arm floaties and she hated having something on her arms. I went with a Speedo life jacket for toddlers. She calls it her “puffy vest.” We had a very serious conversation about how she can float above the water with her puffy vest on and how she needs to always hold on to Mama and Daddy when she doesn’t have it on. I think she has a pretty good grasp of this concept and it has made pool time much better for me.

What do you do to ensure water safety with your little one? What do you think of my life jacket decision?  Any thoughts?  Did I do the right thing?

Alright, let’s get through Shark Week with no water injuries, shall we?

For the past four days we have had uninterrupted time together as a family over the July 4th holiday. Aside from Instagram and Twitter, I strayed from the Internet and lived my life slightly unplugged.

I often found myself staring at my daughter. I tangled my fingers in her curls and listened to her imagination unravel in tales of princesses, and Little People farm animals. I heard her stories of microscopic, half-imaginary boo-boos that had appeared on her legs and arms. She was quick to regale us with opinions of what foods are yummy and which are yucky. She pushed us away in the water and tested her bravery as she explored jumping in the pool.

I noticed that more and more, my daughter is no longer a baby and I can’t stop her from continuing to grow up. We are along for the ride. Her ride. A ride through fairy tales and daredevil feats. I’ll be here to admire every curl and kiss every boo-boo.

Greyson let me sleep in while he got up to make me a spectacular breakfast.  Before that, he had to deal with a massive out-of-Pull-Up explosion Charlotte had overnight.  (Remind me of this before Father’s Day.)  We watched Kristen Wiig on Saturday Night Live on the DVR.  We took some time to blow some bubbles in the yard before I took off to get a much needed pedicure and made a Target run.  

After a family nap my mom came over to play with Charlotte and we ate dinner.  Mom and I left to see Carol Burnett perform at a theater.  My mom was always a fan of the Carol Burnett Show and we knew her being in town on Mother’s Day night would be the perfect gift.  The loud cackling across the theater?  That was us.

I figured this would be a good day to debut the bump at 15.5 weeks.  I hope your Mother’s Day was this awesome!