Jennifer Woodbury

Happy Mother's Day

Thank you to my husband for taking these photos (I think they turned out better than last year).

Thank you to my girls for being patient during the photo shoot, even if one of them was only working for a chocolate reward.

And thank you to my next door neighbor for her gardening talent, which I have taken advantage of as a photo backdrop on many occasions (and will probably continue to use until you all threaten to gag if you have to see the white picket fence one more time).

I am so humbled that I have been given these two beautiful girls to call my own. Sometimes it is hard to believe that they are really here and are really mine. Happy Mother's Day to all the moms out there, including those who are only mothers in their hearts right now.

A Night in the Bronx

**I'm pretty sure I have all of one male reader (hi Dad!) aside from Matt. So ladies, even though this post is about sports, please give a warm welcome to my husband. He requested to be a guest blogger for the day.**

I've always been leery of guy bloggers (gloggers) and yet find myself asking permission from Jenn to post about a night to remember (not what you think).

As lifelong Yankee fans, my father and his sons (myself included) have ridden the roller coaster ride of fanhood. It started in the early 70's when my parents packed up the family and moved to New Jersey from the baseball deprived hills of Salt Lake City. What's followed has been countless hours of over-analyzing every roster move, trade and managerial decision ever made by the famed Evil Empire of the MLB.

When I realized that my Dad would be staying at our house while the Red Sox were town, I couldn't help but think how great it would be to have all the Woodbury men together for the game. The last year in Yankee Stadium, the best rivalry in sports, and my dad with all his sons in the Bronx was simply too much. We had to make it happen.

It took little arm-twisting to convince my brother traveling the longest distance (Vegas) to complete the foursome and minutes later the tickets were purchased. It was immediately afterward that I realized we'd see Mike Mussina against Josh Beckett. It was then that I adjusted my expectations. Moose vs Beckett is like asking Spud Webb to post-up Shaq - it can't be done.

Still, the night did not disappoint. We met at Grand Central and took the subway to 161st street. With three of us adorned in Yankee gear (One brother, who shall remain nameless, somehow forgot to bring his Yankees hat to the game. This is the same individual who openly admits to weeping after being told Yankee captain Thurman Munson died in a plane crash in 1979. This is the same individual that was in the stands for both the first and last games of the 1996 season when the Yankees ended their longest World Series drought in history. This is the same individual that considered growing a groomed mustache while in junior high to match that of Yankee great Don Mattingly. Somehow, this guy forgets to bring his Yankee hat on the night the Woodburys raided the Bronx. Disgraceful? Yes, but I digress.), we "tooled" the streets and perused the vendors selling fantastically vulgar t-shirts about the Red Sox and their fans. The vulgarity of the shirts was only rivaled by the $300 price tag for a Phil Rizzuto autographed ball, "Holy Cow!"

Once through the full cavity security search we started our walk to the top of the stadium (did I mention how good the seats were?). The hike didn't matter to us. You couldn't have beaten the smile off our faces if you tried. We found our seats (front row, top tier) and took in the sights, sounds, and smells of the stadium. Awesome! It just felt right to be there with my dad and brothers. What ensued was an overindulgence of carbs and calories. While my brothers favored the spicy Italian sausage, my dad and I played it safe with the grossly overpriced Yankee Frank.  Washed down with soda from our one-gallon sized memorabilia cups, we were ready for the game.

Even though the Mussina vs Beckett duel played out as expected, we truly enjoyed the experience. Between scoring the game, booing all things Red Sox, and watching fights in the stadium, the night went by too fast. Before too long, Frank Sinatra's "New York, New York" was played on the PA and the game was over. While the Yanks lost, it felt like a win. It was a great night. One I'll remember for a long time and hope to replicate in the years to come.

(By the way, I'm convinced that first picture was taken by Al Pacino's brother. The face was the same, the voice was the same, and the bling, while slightly cheap looking, was all Pacino.)

You're Invited!

Ella turned three on April 20th, and even though the real event was almost two weeks ago, it's never too late for a virtual birthday party! So let's start the festivities. Happy 3rd birthday Ella! 

Say hello to the adorable birthday girl:

Has she told you that she's turning three? (Trust me, that's supposed to be three fingers she's holding up.)

Grab a cupcake! They are from our favorite NYC cupcake spot, Billy's Bakery. (We've made it our mission to try out all the best cupcake places in New York, so trust us when we tell you these are really good. They were tops on Martha Stewart's list too.)

Here comes the birthday girl's cupcake!

Time to sing "Happy Birthday"! Don't forget to add in the "cha cha cha"s. Ella loves that. (Thanks to Uncle Todd for his fabulous videography skills here.)

HappyBirthday from Jennifer Woodbury on Vimeo.

She needs a little help with the candles. Daddy to the rescue!

Time for presents!

What did she get? A Littlest Pet Shop set, a microphone, tricycle, finger puppets, a Tickle me Elmo, and some wonderful homemade gifts from her cousins Ryan and Lauren (they stayed up late the night before making everything). But the best reaction of the day is when she opens the toy vacuum cleaner from my mom and screams, "It's a vacuum!" Funny kid.

Thanks for coming! I really like these virtual parties. The cleanup is so much easier!

It's Not Every Day...

Sometimes I think to myself that my life must seem pretty boring to the outside world. And yes, as any mom of small children knows, life at home consists of a lot of mundane activities. A lot. But it's the unexpected little moments that happen in the midst of all the monotony that make my life really interesting.

For example, yesterday I was giving Claire a bath and I'm pretty sure she smiled at me for the first time. I can't be totally sure, because early on it's so hard to distinguish between those newborn grimaces and an actual smile. Anyway, I got to thinking that it's not every day you get to witness a human being's very first outward expression of happiness on this earth (or their very first unintentional smile-like grimace, whatever the case may be).

And it's not every day that your three-year old shatters your eardrums as she shrieks, runs into the bathroom, and slams the door when you tell her it's time for bed. Oh wait...

Bring on the Chunk

When I look at Claire, I still see a tiny newborn. And then I compare these pictures...

Who knew I actually had a little sumo wrestler on my hands? Now if only I could lose the baby weight as quickly as Claire is putting it on.

Big Sister

Lately, I've been thinking that me and age three aren't going to get along too well.

Ella is still a mostly charming and adorable child. She's extremely imaginative, spontaneously tells me she loves me, always knows how to make me laugh, and still thinks I can fix anything with a kiss. But what makes me nervous about her turning three is the child I see emerging who constantly and defiantly tells me "No!", makes me start counting to three before she'll even think about doing anything I ask her to do, throws things, kicks and screams when she doesn't get her way, and somehow just picked up the new catchphrase "I don't care" (where do they learn these things?).

So what makes me confident in the core goodness of Ella's soul even when she's refusing to lie down and go to bed for what seems like the hundredth night in a row?

She is a great big sister.

Ella has been nothing but sweet towards Claire from the minute she laid eyes on her. When Ella came to the hospital the day after Claire was born, she held Claire and just stared at her in amazement. Ella doesn't sit still for anyone, so this was truly a sight to see. The best moment of all was when Ella leaned over and told Claire, "It's okay. It's okay. Don't worry about it." It was as if she was letting Claire know that her big sister was there and was going to take care of her. Every time she hears Claire cry, Ella still says, "Claire, it's okay," followed a few seconds later by, "Mom, will you get her?" And today, she leaned over and told Claire, "I love you. You know that?" I'll pause for a second so you can all say a collective "Aww" over that one.

Ella loves to rub Claire's head using her own strange definition of "gentle" (it usually looks more like she's giving Claire a noogie), give her hugs and kisses, and help out during Claire's bath time. She thinks it's hilarious when Claire sucks on her cheek. Poor Claire is usually sorely disappointed that the cheek doesn't produce any milk. Ella also loves to sing to Claire at the top of her lungs. I'm not sure if Claire really appreciates Ella's vocals, but it is a sweet gesture nonetheless.

I am really proud of how well my big girl has unconditionally accepted Claire into our family. I can't wait to watch their relationship develop.

Our Claire Bear

I know it's not an original nickname by any means, but we've all started to use it (even Ella), and "Claire Bear" just seems to fit our wee little one perfectly. She's been here for two weeks now. I know how fast time flies when you have kids, but it is still hard to believe it's already been that long. During her first week, all Claire did was sleep and eat. I don't even think she cried for more than a minute or two at a time. She's made her voice heard a bit more during week two, but so far she is still a very easygoing baby.

I have tried hard to soak up every precious newborn moment. I've held her, stared at her, kissed her all over, and smelled her sweet baby smell as much as possible. Honestly, I just can't get enough of her. When Ella starts acting like the quintessential almost three-year old, it is nice to be able to go into my room, close the door, and just spend some quiet time nursing and cuddling this sweet baby who can't talk back to me (yet). I know when Matt goes back to work on Monday, I won't be able to escape anymore, which is why I'm trying to make the most of the opportunity while I can.

I am definitely more relaxed the second time around. I was a bit of a nervous first-time parent with Ella. For example, when Ella was born I kept track of all of her feedings for at least the first two weeks on an Excel spreadsheet. I recorded the exact times of all her feedings, how long she nursed for and on which sides, and the number of wet diapers she had.  Yes, even in the middle of the night, I made sure to write down that she started eating at 3:37 am precisely. Why I thought this was crucial information, I don't know. Thankfully, there are no spreadsheets this time around.

Speaking of Ella, today I was reminiscing about when she was a newborn and went back to look at the very first photo shoot I did with her when she was two weeks old. I set up a black flannel blanket as a background and starting snapping away with my little 3.2 megapixel point and shoot camera. I'm pretty sure this was the same day I e-mailed my dad (who was always the photographer in the family) asking him if I could try out his fancier digital SLR camera. Two months later I purchased a digital SLR of my own. I don't claim to be a great photographer by any means, but I have definitely come a long way as you will soon see. Sometimes I get sad thinking that Ella won't have the same kind of newborn photos as Claire. But then I remember that Ella was the only child for close to three years, and I realize that everything really evens out in the end. Anyway, I leave you with one of Ella's two-week photos (with lots of help from my good friend Photoshop):

The Play by Play

Has it really been 10 days? I suppose it's finally time I get this birth story written and recorded for posterity before I start forgetting the details.

On March 19th, my due date, I went to my doctor's appointment very nervous and anxious that my body was still not interested in going into labor and that my doctor would not be willing to give me an induction date. I was really hoping to talk him into inducing me on Monday the 24th, and wasn't very hopeful that I would have this baby anytime before then. So I was totally unprepared when he checked my cervix, told me I was dilated 1-2 centimeters, and asked if I wanted to be induced the next day (Thursday) or Monday. Even though I probably could have used a few extra days to get ready, I chose Thursday because I was just too impatient to wait. Also, I figured there was no better day to have a baby than the on first day of spring! Of course, now a part of me wishes I had waited until the 24th because then Claire would only be six days old instead of a ten days old. It sounds crazy, but keep in mind that I also cried as we were bringing Ella home from the hospital because it was all just going too fast...after only two days. I had to work so long and hard to get my babies here that I would really appreciate if they would be kind enough to stay tiny for just a little bit longer than the average newborn!

Anyway, back to the story. I arrived at the hospital at 8 on Thursday morning, and they started the Pitocin right at 9. From there, it was slow going. I dilated to a three and I stayed there for what seemed like forever. A little after noon, I felt like I might actually be starting to get somewhere so I asked for an epidural, which I got around 1 pm. Still, for the next four hours I barely made any progress. At a little after 5 pm, my doctor arrived at the hospital, checked me, and told me I was at a 5 and should expect to dilate 1-2 centimeters per hour from that point forward. Matt estimated a delivery time of 10 pm. I gave a slightly more optimistic estimate of 8 or 8:30 pm. My labor nurse, who had been with me all day, was disappointed that she wouldn't be here for the birth since her shift ended at 7.

At a little after 6, I started to feel some pressure. I was hopeful that this meant I was dilated to at least a 7. I told the nurse about this new development and she had the doctor come in and check me one more time. I was shocked when he announced that there was a good reason I was feeling pressure. I was fully dilated! I had gone from a 5 to ready to push in only an hour. At 6:35 my doctor said I could try a practice push with the nurses before we started the "real" pushing.

Now, ever since Ella was born I have been convinced that I am a horrible pusher. I pushed for an hour and a half with her, and by the end my doctor told me I had three more tries to push her out and then I would need to get a c-section because her heart rate kept dropping with each push. On my very last push and with the help of a vacuum, Ella was finally born with the cord wrapped tightly around her neck. In reality, the resistance from the cord around Ella's neck probably had something to do with my pushes not being very productive, but for the past three years I have just been convinced that I was a terrible pusher. So when my nurse asked me if I remembered how to push, I just mumbled a bunch of excuses trying to prepare her for my inadequacy.

Much to everyone's surprise, on my first practice push the top of the baby's head was already showing. So after that first push my doctor got all suited up and ready for the birth. I wanted to tell him this was probably going to take a while and he didn't need to get ready quite so quickly, but just two pushes later the head was out. One more push and Claire Sophia came out perfect and crying with a full head of dark hair at 6:47 pm. She was so alert, and we spent the first hour or two after her birth just staring at each other. 

I'll follow up in another post with more on life at home with Claire, and I'll try really hard not to take 10 whole days doing it.

P.S. Many of you were nice enough to say that I looked somewhat better than death warmed over post-delivery. Let me share my secret with you, aside from only having to push for 12 minutes as opposed to 90 minutes (I don't dare show you what I looked like after having Ella). The night before I went to the hospital, I had my hair cut and styled. Now, this won't work if you are someone who goes into labor on their own two weeks early, but since I was induced I was able to time it perfectly. It was a bit risky since I wasn't able to get an appointment with my normal stylist on such short notice, but even though the lady who did cut my hair apparently heard "three inches" when I told her to trim my hair one inch, it still ended up looking decent. And there is something about having your hair professionally blown dry that somehow manages to make you look somewhat presentable even after labor and delivery. So if you're having a baby anytime soon, that's my tip for the day.   

A Few Photos...

...to tide you over for now. I will share all the details of the birth once I am home from the hospital and have more time to write everything down.

Sleeping baby:

Ella was so taken with baby Claire when she came to visit. She wanted to hold the baby constantly and was so gentle. It was too sweet.

Mom and Claire. Here you can see all of her hair!

Thank you to all who have sent their best wishes and congratulations!

She's Here!

Pictures and details to follow...