Who is Peanut?

Well, here I sit 5 days from my official "due date".  My cervix is dilating, my mucous plug is coming out (too much info?), my baby sits just an inch and a half from the spot where s/he will soon make the Great Escape.  My mom has arrived to help and my hospital bag is packed and waiting.  I'm in that funny zone where every plan I speak of ends with the words "...unless I'm in labour."  I'm ready.  I've switched from willing my body to hold onto the baby until my mom arrives, to willing my body to let go.  I visualize flowers opening and I welcome contractions. 

The only thing we haven't prepared is a name.  I never realized that naming a baby was such a pain.  I was never one of those people who had their baby names picked out from high school, though I sometimes wish I was.  When I was pregnant with Boodge, I assumed that somehow the perfect name would just come to me, maybe in a dream where my baby appeared and introduced him or herself.  But that didn't happen. Instead we pored over lists of names on the internet, with one of us usually vetoing each name, and the odd name going on a list of possibilities.  Very quickly each of those sessions degenerated into ridiculousness, wherein Sean would become fixated on a particular name as great for a future dog, or insist that "Maglocunus" was the name, we need look no further. 

So, when Boodge was born we also had no name.  We spent a few days in the hospital with "Baby Boy" and I wanted to make sure we had a name before we left.  My mom brought our book of Celtic baby names to our room and we looked through it.  Halfway through the A's, Sean read out a name that none of us had ever heard or considered and all of us (the two grandmothers and us) said, "Oh, that's nice."  The meaning listed was "young warrior", and we felt that Boodge was one since he had just come through a difficult start to life.  And that was it.  Boodge was named, and the name now fits him perfectly.  It also means "eager" or "ardent", which we didn't know at the time but which Boodge certainly is.

With Peanut, we haven't really put much effort into searching.  I find baby-name lists overwhelming, and eventually they all just blur into one.  And Sean has found enough names for all our future pets.  Instead we've just observed names as they come up, on TV credits, road signs, in conversations. We've hit on a couple of boy and girl names that we like, so we're not totally lost, but we also don't have anything definitive.

Our experience in name-searching has given me a lot of appreciation for other cultures who have traditions of "naming ceremonies" which occur well after the baby is born.  For me, it just feels necessary to meet the baby before I can be sure of a name.  The transition from womb to Earth is so significant, and babies seem a bit out of it at first, still floating between the two worlds.  Giving them a name seems to be a nice way to ground them in their new life, after they have had a few days to adjust to that reality. 

The only inconvenience is in making the birth announcement, since people generally like to know the name along with the other vital statistics.  On this blog, Peanut will always be Peanut anyway, so that won't matter much. But in the age of facebook and twitter, the stats can be sent out right from the hospital room, mere hours after the birth.  I'm pretty sure Peanut will still be Peanut then, and I'm OK with that. I trust that the right name will arrive to light itself on Peanut's little life when that life has settled here on earth.  I look forward to learning what my new baby will be called. 

An Ode to the Boodge, a Terrific Two

I know that the age of two is supposed to be terrible.  I know I've complained about the whining and the contrariness coming out of my little dude.  Sure, he pushes the boundaries sometimes, but when I do the right parenting thing and get down to his level and speak to his face, or gently physically remove him from what he is doing (instead of shouting orders from across the room), he is pretty cooperative.  Maybe it's because he's pretty good with language and that helps cut down on his frustration, but we haven't seen a full-on tantrum since before he turned two. 

I was just talking to a mother at a drop-in yesterday who said her son also was pretty agreeable until he got to about two and a half, and then he switched.  Her son is now over 3, and when I told her I feared three more than two she said, "Yes, be afraid."  One of my fears is that Peanut's arrival will be the catalyst to Boodge turning into more of a terrible than a terrific.  I hate to think that the arrival of a new baby, which will already cause a big shift in our relationship, could coincide with what my mommy-mentor has told me is a sort of "falling out of love" that can happen when your child gets over the age of two.  I am so in love with my little dude, it breaks my heart a little to think that our relationship may become more confrontational.

For right now, I'm doing my best to enjoy him and love him up as much as I can.  And knowing Peanut is on the way and will detract from my appreciation of him, I just want to take a moment to celebrate all that is great about Boodge.  For instance, he comes out with some one-liners that have Sean and I in stitches, pretty much every day.  The other day when Sean was singing "Welcome to the Jungle" at the table, and when he paused Boodge piped in his own lyrics "And welcome to all the babies that are coming to the jungle!" (That's you, Peanut).  Or my current favorite, when he found his testicles and declared, "There's a ball in there, Mummy! There's a little ball in there!"

And sometimes, he's downright amazing, like the other morning when I announced that I was going to vacuum the living room and he said, "I'm gonna clean up my toys!" and ran ahead of me to clean all his little toys off the floor so I could vacuum. Or when Sean was angry at him for switching off the PVR in the middle of the football game it was taping, and he said so sweetly and quietly, "I didn't mean to hurt you, Daddy." Or when he holds my head in his hands and kisses me, over and over and over, or kisses my tummy and pats it and says "I'm patting Peanut gent-awy." (gently) It's moments like this when he surprises us and melts our hearts with how tuned in and caring he can be.

But the best part is his singing. He loves music, and he is starting to know a lot of songs as well as make up his own little babbling songs as he goes about his business. I guess part of why I love this is because Sean and I are the same way, always singing around the house and making up little jingles. But also, his exuberance when he sings cannot be beat, and it never fails to lift my spirits. I wish I could share some video of it, but I'm having a hard time getting a good video in which he also has on pants.  Once you find a ball attached to your body, it's hard not to want access to it 24/7.

I know having two kids will be twice the blessing and twice the cuteness, and that my love will expand, rather than diminish for one to be there for the other.  But my ability to give attention to Boodge, and to hug and cuddle him and indulge him and be patient with him, will change.  And he will struggle with sharing me, and the baby will change his routines and probably even disrupt his sleep sometimes, and all of this will create behaviors and feelings that are hard for both of us to deal with.  With the big number "38" gracing this week on my calendar (that's weeks pregnant, y'all), part of my inner work is to come to terms with the grieving of my exclusive love affair with my little man.  The hardest part of it, in some ways, is knowing that I can't prepare him for it.  I just pray that I can be there in the way that he needs me to be, to make him feel secure and happy in the change. 

It has been such an incredible gift,  these 2 years and 5 months with you, little Boodge.  You are such a special little boy, and you fill me with love and gratitude and joy.  I know by the time you read this, none of these sad feelings I'm having now will matter all that much.  We'll have adapted and we'll be just fine.  And sometimes, I wonder if I underestimate you, and you will actually adjust better than I imagine.  Just now, I woke you up from your nap and you cuddled into my belly and said, "Hi, Peanut." and then "Mommy, get that Peanut out of your tummy."  Maybe you're ready to share me, even more than I'm ready to share you. I hope so.  We can only trust, and let go, and keep on loving.  With you, the last part is so easy.