One

Dear Espen, 

You were about 48 hours old when I discovered it: when you cried, if I held you to my face, nose to nose, you calmed instantly. The touch. The touch is what makes you so darn endearing. The other day I was running errands with you and your dad, and when I came back to the car, you were both in your seats, but he had reached behind his seat and you behind yours to hold hands. You needed the connection and to be touched. We hold hands everytime you nurse. If you're restless at night, we put you on your stomach and hold your hand and you go right to sleep. You experience things through touch. This makes you the snuggliest.

I had no idea when you emerged from my womb one year ago today at 12:29 p.m., cold and furious to be out of the warmth of my body, how in love with you we'd fall. (That experience, watching you emerge from me and take your first breaths, was the most incredible experience of my life.)

Each night as we snuggle and I read you your night-night book, I smooth your hair, kiss your head and tell you how special you are. I couldn't have predicted the magic that you bring to us, the sense of balance and harmony you bring to our family. Your disposition seems to be No Biggie, to just about everything. You started drinking regular milk this week, no biggie. You're sitting at a toddler table at daycare, no biggie. You stole a piece of pizza from your father's hand this week, what?

I didn't imagine before we met how much you'd look like my late father and your namesake, James. Each time you bust out into a wide grin and your eyes light up, it's like getting a special visit from him. Also, someone today called you Bright Eyes, which is what your Big Papa's dad, also a James, used to call me. I thought that was pretty special and fitting for today.

I had no idea how special boys are compared to girls. I've said this a hundred times this year, but with your sister I feel compelled to raise her as a strong woman. With you, I just want to run away with you. We're having a love affair, I tell people. And we are. You and I are tight and I now understand why moms of sons are a little nuts about their sons. The thought of you leaving me and marrying someone had me in a tears a few months ago. Your father reminded me that was a few years off.

The last year has gone so incredibly fast. I would say I'm sad that you're not a wee baby anymore, but you're so much fun now and getting more fun each month. This week you learned how to play peek-a-boo with your sister and now hide from her and delight in jumping up and surprising her. You bring so much joy to our family.

Happy Birthday Espen James Wentzel. We couldn't love you more.

Big boy shoes

Here he is, in his first pair of shoes. 

Pics!

Some fun pics from my phone. Enjoy!!

What a Week

This week nearly brought me to my knees. Sunday night/Monday morning Espen spiked a fever, so I stayed home with him Monday. No biggie. I worked a bit (as much as you can with an almost-toddler who's in the phase of putting everything is his mouth). Tuesday I had a meeting to attend so I took him to daycare all hopped up on ibuprofen. Our provider was in touch that morning and said he was in bad shape; I came home at lunch to get him. On Wednesday, when he was still feverish and now starting to wheeze, I took him to the doctor, and after they took his pulse-ox, which measures the amount of oxygen in your blood, and it was 91-92, so they told me to get him to the ER. Thankfully, they had given him a breathing treatment in the office, so I didn't have to drive like a maniac, terrified. (Although I was still terrified).

We got to the ER and were taken in right away; he received two more breathing treatments and an oral steroid to calm down the inflammation and hopefully make it easier for him to breathe. We went home with instructions to give him the inhaler every 4 hours. The next morning (Thursday) I stayed home again from work, and I gave him his inhaler at the designated time, but he was still sounding horrible. So I gave him 2 more puffs, which is the max dose he can have. And when he woke up from his nap, he was STILL wheezing. So back to the ER. :( This time I had to wait 2 hours to be seen (they took his pulse-ox and it was 97), and we were there for a total of 6 hours. Breathing treatment and sent home. It was brutally tough taking him to the ER and handling it on my own; Pete's been working in Palo Alto so he couldn't get home easily. :(

It turns out he has bronchiolitis, which is a viral bronchitis caused most likely by RSV. I'm so very happy to report he got a "much improved" report from the doctor yesterday; I cried last night out of relief that it was over. He was so much more like himself today. We got outside and spent some time watching a drum circle and seagulls and dogs. He ate lamb and pork for dinner at a Greek restaurant and laughed and laughed at Lucia jumping around. Thank God.

Good day

M'lady. 

Joy

Our girl

How does she look so grown up now?? Sobbbbbb. 

Pics!

Here you go!!

She asked for a picture of us

Awwww. 

Wool or Copper

It's eight years today that Pete and I met, and seven that we married. The traditional gifts this year are wool or copper. Ha! We asked each other how it felt last night, and while it feels so strange to think that eight years have passed, I couldn't imagine them with anyone else. We don't pretend to have a perfect life or have it totally figured out over here, but I will say that we do two things well: 1. we band together when times are tough. We hunker down and hold on tight and figure out how to get through. This wasn't always the case, but we were forced to learn how to do this, and I'm so thankful. It's given us #2, which is that while we approach our lives and the world in diametrically opposing ways, we have an undercurrent of trust and faith in each other and an implicit agreement that we're both heading towards the same goal post.

I'm so thankful for him, our relationship, and the lives we've built together. Happy Anniversary babe. Love you beyond.