Tuesday, October 26, 2010

I am often accused of being childish. I prefer to interpret that as child-like. I still get wildly enthusiastic about little things. I tend to exaggerate and fantasize and embellish. I still listen to instinctual urges. I play with leaves. I skip down the street and run against the wind. I never water my garden without soaking myself. It has been after such times of joy that I have achieved my greatest creativity and produced my best work. ~Leo F. Buscaglia, Bus 9 to Paradise

I am a 10 year old trapped in a 27 year old body. I feel like my body has aged, while my spirit and mind still remain child-like. I clean my house to Disney movies, I listen to Christmas music when I need some cheer, I have rainbow folders and desk accessories, I love peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, I love playing pranks on people, and after every rain you can find me outside trying to "hunt" a rainbow.

Sometimes I wonder if this child-like side of me resulted from birth order. I am the youngest of four, and came as a "surprise," years after my older siblings. This meant that all focus was on me. My older sister's and brother helped my parents give me the most amazing childhood. They would put their five minds together and come up with the most creative ideas.


Here we are-my parents, sisters, brother, and grandparents circa Christmas 1983. I was James' age and already taking in so much!

I want to share some of the clever things I experienced growing up that someday I will share with my children. This will give you a "peek" into who I am and where I got my"young heart".

1. I didn't just lose a tooth and put it under a pillow like every other kid. Instead, my parents would have me sit with them and write a letter to the tooth fairy. The letter would be my way of sharing the story of my tooth-how I lost it, which tooth it was, what caused it to finally "pop" out. Once the letter was complete, I'd put it in an envelope along with the tooth, and place it under my pillow. Along with the letter, I would leave a little note inviting the tooth fairy to enjoy my doll house while she's stopped at my house. This way she could rest before flying out to other homes and collecting more tiny teeth. I'd set up my Barbie house for the tooth fairy-bed made, some juice and snacks in the miniature cup and plate, etc. It's one thing for a little girl to do this, but my parents would feed into it. This is where everything is taken to another level. My parents would move the blankets in the Barbie house, drink the juice and eat the snacks. They would sprinkle "fairy dust" around (magic) ,and leave me a letter from the "tooth fairy". One time they went so far as to leave a clear, glittery, Barbie shoe in the house for me to find-kinda Cinderella like. I remember bringing it to my first grade classroom bragging that I had the tooth fairy's shoe! Sounds nuts, but wow was that cool for a little girl to experience!

2. St. Patrick's Day-most families might have their boiled dinners and a Guiness or two, but my Irish parents went all out. I'd wake up to green glitter sprinkled around my room letting me know the leprechauns had come. My clever mother would go to the bank the night before and ask for rolls of "brand new" pennies. She planted the pennies down a path in my woods. When I woke up and got dressed in my green outfit, she'd give me a baggie and we'd go on a walk through the woods collecting the leprechauns gold. Irish music would ring through my house as my mom made her boiled dinner. I'd sit at the table and draw pictures of leprechauns, pots 'o gold, and rainbows.

3. Christmas Eve-I come from a large, Irish family and every Christmas Eve we all gather together at my parents house. We'd eat a feast, sing Christmas carols (for real, I have witnesses), and exchange gifts. After our guests left, we would help my mom clean the house and my father would order Chinese food. My mom would take out her best china and set the table. We  would eat dinner together, as a family, at midnight, by candlelight. I can still hear the soft Christmas music playing in the background-Mitch Miller or Perry Como. Just writing about this memory gives me such a warm feeling inside. It was always a bonus when it would snow and it would feel like we were placed in a snow globe, safe in my home with the people I loved most. My mother would have me peek out the window to see if I could see Santa. I'd get such butterflies in my belly as I'd run up to bed. Christmas morning was just magical-I don't know how my parents did it, but we always got everything that we had wished for all year. Presents would be stacked to the top of the Christmas tree. Once we were done opening and our stockings were empty, my mom would bake cinnamon buns, in the shape of Christmas trees, and we'd drink hot chocolate. Perfection!

Here are the Conway kids on Christmas Morning 1983. My mom always dressed us in the cutest pajama's. Love the tree!

4. Music-I can't begin to explain how much music has shaped who I am. I come from a very musical family-not only talented, but musically driven. My earliest memories are of my mother and father, on the other side of my crib rails, singing me lullabies. They love folk music, and they shared this with me. "Morningtown Ride," by the Seekers was my lullaby. They would sing it all the way through, and I would say, "again" and they would keep singing until I fell asleep. Where most parents rush their children to bed, I've learned to always take my time. Knowing how much these early memories impacted me, taught me not to rush these precious moments. Before bed, my father would play records on his record player-all folk, Irish music, and oldies. He would let me dance around the room and would laugh with me. My earliest bonding moments with my dad. Here he was using a sly antic-listening to music he loved, while letting me dance the toddler energy out of my system. Musical instruments were also common around our home. My brother is a musical genius and plays everything by ear. He would play the piano for me while I would dance and sing. He even composed a "Wizard of Oz" medley for me that makes me smile and cry at the same time. My father plays the guitar and loves to sing. He wrote me a silly little jingle that made me feel so cool (it was to my name). The rest of us sing-maybe not perfectly, but we give it a try. Every family party results in us gathering around my father and brother playing instruments, and the rest of us belting out songs. My parents always taught me to listen to the words-probably why I don't care much for new music. I love songs with a story. If I don't like the story, I usually don't care for the song.

Love this picture. My dad was probably singing, "Puff the Magic Dragon" while all of his kids gathered around and sang along.

So here I am with 27 years of amazing memories and my 15 month old son. He is my blank canvas. I want to take the gifts my parents have given me and try to make his childhood as magical as mine. I will carry on these traditions I cherish, and introduce some of our own. I'm going to use my child-like spirit to help give him the best childhood I can!

Sunday, October 17, 2010

The only difference between a puppy and a baby is two extra legs.-Author Unknown

Although James was our first "biological" child, we consider Watson our 1st born. Watson "Dots" McKenna is our 80lb. yellow Labrador Retriever. He was born on 8/8/07, and we welcomed him in our home on 12/1/07. For those of you who have dogs, especially labs, you know how much work they can be. They are considered the eternal children in the dog world. They are hyper, clumsy, and goofy. They shed more than any other animal I've seen. This weekend while sweeping, polishing, and vacuuming I wondered if this was his master plan-to cover everything with fur that he possibly can.

December 1, 2007-Watson's first night home with us!

Watson broke us into parenthood long before James. If we could get through the puppy years with a Lab, we could get through anything. To be a Lab owner, you must have patience and a big heart. They are, in my opinion, the happiest and most energetic creatures God put on this earth.

We treat Watson like a human. For you non-dog lovers, (which I'll never understand), this might appal you. He has the run of the house-including our bed. The highlight of his day is jumping into bed with us and settling in his spot-right in between Andy and me. He sleeps with his head on the pillow and spoons my husband. I, in turn, spoon him. The three of us are a cozy sight to see. He snores like an 80 year old man, sometimes "talks" in his sleep, and on many occasions I've seen him chasing something in his dreams. Come to think of it-I do believe he was someplace in our bed the night James was conceived...

So their relationship began.....

Watson is THE most non-aggressive dog in this world. He never even let out a somewhat aggressive bark until I was pregnant. This is where nature blows my mind. How would a dog know that I'm pregnant? Its not like I can tell him-well I did actually tell him (see my first blog), but can't believe he somehow understood. He must have been able to sense the hormones or the change in the house. I remember the early days of his protective bark, when my belly was just beginning to pop. He'd let out this low growl followed by a loud bark. I knew he had stepped up and decided it was time to protect the nest.

When the time came for me to start pacing around the house and counting the minutes between contractions, I had told Andy to get some sleep. I knew it wasn't long before I'd be waking him up to get me to the hospital. Watson kept me company. I waddled around, up and down the stairs, around the house, in the shower, you name it. Anything to keep me moving and the contractions regulating. Watson was my labor labor coach. I hugged him and squeezed him with each pain I felt, he didn't talk, didn't force any of his own stories on  me, and didn't interrupt any of my contractions. He gave me kisses and helped ease my fear and pain. I finally woke Andy up and told him it was time for us to get to the hospital. He got our things in the car and helped me out of the house...then it hit me....

Watson wasn't going to be our only child anymore. In fact, I wasn't even able to give him any real warning like other parents do with the cute "Big Sister" or "Big Brother" t-shirts. I was going to blindside his world with this miniature human. I looked through the windshield and saw him watching us drive away, through the window of our house, with a "Where are you going?" expression on his face. I lost it. I cried the entire way to the hospital-not tears of pain, but tears for Watson and our time we had with him being our only child. I couldn't even explain to Andy why I was crying so hard because they were those tears that don't even let you talk-the ones that are combined with the awful lump in your throat. It was awful.



I had packed a picture of Watson in my suitcase to hang up once we got there. I needed to be able to see him while we were away. This comforted me.

Finally it was time to bring James home to meet his furry brother. Andy got out the video camera and we taped their first interaction. It was absolutely adorable. We put James on the floor in his carrier and watched as Watson approached him and sniffed him. He bent down in the doggie "play" pose and started running in circles barking. He'd creep back up to James and sniff him again and run away again. It was cute and the bond officially formed.

Here is Watson coming in for a closer look. The first interactions with James.
1st Kisses. Too precious. Such a gentle giant!
I love this picture of Watson and James. This sums up his role as the "big brother." Love at first sight!
Here he is keeping an eye on things. He perched himself on the couch next to James at all times!

Some of the highlights over the past 15months have been moments with James and Watson together. From the early days when James was too little to even understand what Watson was, Andy and I would watch Watson sit beside him or watch his every move. The nights when James slept in our room before moving to the crib, Watson would sleep as close to his bassinet as possible. He would wake to any coo James would make and lock his eyes on the bassinet until the noises stopped. I think Watson lost more sleep than we did. When James first learned how to laugh, Watson could get him to laugh louder and harder than anyone else. When James started crawling, Watson was right beside him. Now that James walks and runs, Watson runs circles around him. Its quite a sight to see. James can now really interact with him by throwing toys or the ball. Watson retrieves it and brings it back and James bursts out in laughter.He has also toughened James up. Due to the difference in size, James tends to get "pummeled" by Watson. He's like a personal trainer for the little guy. James has even learned to reprimand him when he does "freshy" things. Seeing the little finger pointing at him followed by a "Boh Boh Dots Dots" cracks us up!!
I managed to find room for both of my babies in my lap.

You can find candid pictures of Watson in a lot of the early pictures of James. He's always someplace, keeping an eye on things. Here is one of my personal favorites-trying to figure out if this swing thing is safe!
Watson used to nap on my belly when I was pregnant. I wondered if he knew there was somebody in there. I love this picture because he's sleeping right where he did for 9months, but that person is right beside him now!

Bath time is always interesting with this furry nanny. It's hard to wash James when I have to squeeze by this goof. This is his protective stance.
This is what happens when I try to push Watson out of the way during bath time. Instead of him backing off, he jumps in the tub. There is no separating these two.

I truly believe that Watson is a furry soul mate for our family. He has brought us so much happiness throughout his 3 years with us. James has a built-in best friend, a big brother. My heart feels so happy just thinking of the memories that they will make together.
James got RSV last December and was very sick. Watson was right beside him the whole time.

Look at the size of that snout vs. that tiny hand. He couldn't be more gentle if he tried. He loves kissing James and James loves his kisses!

Friday, October 15, 2010

The moment a child is born, the mother is also born. She never existed before. The woman existed, but the mother, never. A mother is something absolutely new.~Rajneesh

So today I jumped onto the "blogging bandwagon."

I find this to be very necessary, since old fashioned journaling just doesn't cut it anymore. If I can find my journal, I can't find my pen. Usually one or the other is in the grip of 10 chubby little fingers, that are often times covered in something super sticky.

Two years ago I started this crazy journey toward motherhood. Andy and I felt that we were "as ready as we'd ever be." I can still remember the moment I looked down at the test and saw the positive results. I was in the company of my yellow lab, Watson. I looked at him and started screaming and crying and laughing (you know the deal). Andy was at work, so Watson got the brunt of my happiness. I cried in the shower and quickly got ready to go to a health fair for work. At the health fair I was smiling so wide I thought my cheeks were going to burst. I also thought that everyone who looked at me must have known I was 5 weeks pregnant...I mean "obviously." I told a few strangers to get it out there. I needed to share it with someone and refused to tell Andy over the phone. When the fair was over, I ran to the store to get a cute bib that said, "I love my daddy." (cheesy, but necessary). I wrapped it up along with the positive tests and sat on the couch for a few hours anxiously waiting for Andy to get home. When he finally got home and opened the test we hugged and kissed (maybe gave each other a high five) and then just sat in silence....for a very long time. I finally broke the silence with something like, "so we're going to be parents......"



I loved EVERY second of my pregnancy despite the 7months of intense morning/all day sickness. I believe I wore a pale shade of green quite well. Unlike my friend/co-worker (who was due a month before me), that managed to rock high heels almost her entire pregnancy, I started wearing flats and stretchy pants by the end of the first trimester. I believe 1/2 way through my second trimester people started asking if I was due "next week." This was very disturbing since I still had a trimester and a half left. I got some distinct characteristics from my mother-the ability to cry at the drop of a dime-whether it be happy tears, sad tears, tears over something because its so beautiful, proud tears, laughing hard tears, painful tears, etc. and a very short torso. Very short torsos and pregnancy do not mix very well. By the time summer came that led to the constant cookouts every weekend, I was a fixture at every buffet table. I would graze like a cow...somehow hoping if I ate one more cookie maybe James would decide to come out and meet us. This did not happen-I gained 55lbs, carried 41 weeks...got painfully induced, labored for 43 grueling hours...and finally delivered via c-section.

Andy and I decided to find out what we were having. Twenty weeks was long enough in our minds to wait for this surprise. We were convinced it was a girl. I have four nephews and figured my family was ready for a little girl. Andy on the other hand, was hopeful for his baby boy. We got to the appointment, nervous as can be, and waited for the news. I loved ultrasound days and had quite a lot of them. I am a higher risk candidate for pregnancy, so the doctors kept a close watch on my growing little bean. As scary as it was being labeled "high risk" I was thrilled to find out that this  meant I got to have bi-weekly ultrasounds. I'm as paranoid as they come, so having this two week check point kept my nerves somewhat at ease. Anyway, I still remember the moment the tech asked, "Do you want to know what you're having?" Both of us, eyes wide open, barely breathing, managed to shout out in unison, "YES!!!" "Well you're looking at his penis." This wasn't exactly how I had imagined it would happen, but it worked. I think I sat there, completely shocked, while Andy (I'm getting a bit teary even typing this) started shouting out, "BOY?! BOY?! IT'S A BOY?! WE'RE HAVING A BOY?! I'M GOING TO HAVE A SON?!" I think this memory might be one of my favorites along the way, and one I'll cherish forever. We looked at each other, with tears running down both our cheeks, and fell in love all over again.




We had already decided on baby names, so we left the appointment knowing that James Andrew McKenna was growing in my belly. James is a family name from both the McKenna's and from my family. We had agreed that we didn't want to do an Andrew Jr. because it would get too complicated. We went to Babies R Us and registered for our first baby items-all "boy" themed. Andy was in his glory.

My due date was June 30th but due to me being high risk, the doctors said that I could go as early as 5 months along. You can imagine my shock when June 30th came and went, and I was as preggo as ever.  Throughout the month of June, my Braxton Hicks contractions were pretty rough, but I officially started labor July 3rd. Although my contractions were all over the place, they were there and strong. I "early labored" in the company of family and friends and 3rd and 4th of July cookouts. They kept me entertained as my belly was cramping and James was getting ready to make his appearance. Andy and I decided it wouldn't be smart to attend the Plymouth firework festivities since I knew things could move quickly at any given moment. We watched the Boston fireworks on TV and I waddled back and forth out on the deck listening to the Halifax fireworks in the distance. By midnight, I was ready to get to the hospital.

Labor-no one ever truly prepares you for it. They tell you it hurts like nothing else, but until you actually experience labor, you don't really grasp what that means. For me, whose child was coming out sideways, it was Hell. I felt so tough through the first 12 hours. They gave me some sleeping medications and I slept through the night. I called my close friends in the morning and cheerfully said, "I'M IN LABOR LA LA LA." Little did I know that I was about to meet my enemy-Pitocin. They put that stuff in, and I became like the girl from the exorcist. My epidural did not work, I was feeling every catastrophic contraction. I kept locking eyes with Andy across the room. All I could do was glare since my mouth could not even form words. The nurses (who were so nice, but at the time seemed like enemies) kept rolling me from side to side. I had a death grip on the bed. I remember focusing on the whites of my knuckles. I distinctly remember saying, "He's coming out my butt-this can't be right!" Poor Andy. By 9a.m. on July 6th-yes, another 24 hours later, I had spiked a fever. Andy came to my bedside to put some cold cloths on my head. I looked at him with terror in my eyes and said, "I'm going to puke." Unable to react quickly enough, he grabbed a tiny basin and held it near my mouth. I proceeded to projectile vomit all over him and myself. This was the end...I was tapping out. They had officially left me for dead-or so I thought. Finally this adorable pixie looking doctor came in and said, "We are going to look at alternate methods-he doesn't seem to want to come out." At this point, my head was down near the floor and my feet were up in the air (the nurses were trying anything at this point-I think they said something about gravity helping in this position). I remember looking at the pixie through the space between my feet and shrieking with joy. NO MORE PITOCIN!

Within minutes I Andy and I were ready to go deliver the baby. I think I was so exhausted I was pretty much numb. I wish I had gotten pictures of Andy in his scrubs, but everything happened so quickly. Having a C-Section is quite a ride. The medical team was amazing. They were laughing and joking and made Andy and me feel so comfortable. My nerves were calmed completely. I remember feeling the intense pressure and the release of James from my body. Thinking of his first cry makes me cry all over again. He was here-in a minute or two I would meet my son for the first time. The unfortunate part of a C-Section is not getting to see him immediately. Andy rushed to the other side of the curtain to see him. When he came back, I remember seeing his watery eyes over his mask-'HE'S PERFECT! HE'S SO PERFECT! OMG ELIZABETH HE'S PERFECT!" (another memory to put on my all time favorite list). Andy brought James to me. Looking at that squishy little face for the first time is indescribable. There are no words. I had wondered and dreamed of what he would look like for almost 10 months and there he was. I could see him and touch him. I could close my eyes and picture his face perfectly. I had never been able to do that with anyone before in my life. That face was the one that, whenever I am feeling unhappy, stressed, exhausted, I can close my eyes and picture and feel instant relief. How perfect! He was my 8lb 10oz 21" miracle; My dream come true. At 12:10p.m. on July 6, 2009, my journey though motherhood had officially begun.

This is me holding James for the first time. Unfortunatley I was one of those women who had extreme shakes after delivery. I was holding on to him for dear life while my body was convulsing. After an hour of being in a heated blanket cacoon, I could finally hold him again.


I love this picture. The first of Andy and James together. Look at Andy's eyes. He was exhausted from watching me labor so long. :)


Here is the first family photo. I had secretly hoped I'd be one of those fabulous women that would look like a celebrity post-delivery. Not so much.
Welcome to fatherhood, Andy. 1st diaper change!


...and let the kisses begin. This poor child has probably gotten more kisses than any other baby. I can't help it. Sometimes I pin him down and kiss him so much he can't catch his breath. Mean-maybe, but I believe I've earned this privelege.


I think this is such a "new parent" pose. Whether its your first baby, or eleventh, the first few weeks consist of lots of "study sessions." Parents just sit, stare, study, and poke these new little beings. In return, your semi-cross eyed child stares back trying to memorize what ever blurs and sounds they can.


Tiny and fingers and toes-anything minature is adorable, but when its something you made? Its unreal!


Ready to hit the road. Let the fun begin!

If your baby is "beautiful and perfect, never cries or fusses, sleeps on schedule and burps on demand, an angel all the time," you're the grandma."