Hello again

Whoopsy daisy. Looks like I took a bit of a break from blogging. It wasn't because I didn't have much going on. In fact, it was quite the opposite. I had too much happening and not enough time, energy or motivation, really, to blog it. But I plan on resolving that posthaste.

So, allow me to catch you up with what's been happening.

When last we spoke, I was pretty pregnant. There is no photographic evidence of this, which is no accident. I felt so cow-like this time around, I didn't want any photos taken. I kind of regret that now, especially for Charlotte's sake. If ever she wants to know what I looked like pregnant with her, she'll just have to picture my face on a blimp. That's pretty accurate.

However, it's too late for pregnancy pictures now because in October, the little lady arrived.

Our family went from three to four with the birth of sweet Charlotte. And life is grand.

We're slowly figuring out this "two kids" business and loving watching them get to know each other.

We've also celebrated seven years of marriage ...

... and Christmas.

Poor Preston got sick in the midst of all that.

And suddenly two months had passed. (More on that later. I can't drop the ball on doing monthly updates on Charlotte like I did with Preston. Then she'd really have a second child complex.)

Things are wonderful, busy and a little more spit-up covered, but we're so happy and slightly sleepy. It's a good little life we're living.

Actually pretty in pink

Let me be the first to say that I never ever ever thought my daughter would have a pink room. I have been waging the fight agains the frilly since the ultrasound nurse said "Girl!" As a young girl, I never liked pink. It's not so much the color itself, just the super girliness it seems to represent. I distinctly remember sitting in church, face red from crying and arms folded tightly, because my mom had made me wear a pink dress that day. And I was probably 12 — a little too old for such pouting. While I wasn't coordinated enough to wear the title of tomboy, I definitely wasn't a girly girl.

And this anti-girly girl mindset came into play when making decisions for baby girl. In my mind there would be no poofy dress that looks like a cupcake trying to swallow my child, there would be no Carmen Miranda bows the size of grapefruits adorned with feathers and sparkles strapped to her head, and there would be no glitter, no rhinestones, and no tulle. Sure, I want her to be feminine and sweet, but styled like a contestant on "Toddlers in Tiaras." I wanted the same style for her room, and to me that meant little to no pink.

Who would've thought that it would actually be Scott who selected the color and changed my mind about it. His way of preparing for baby has been planning her room, and it's been so sweet to watch him searching the Web, pinning what he likes to a secret pinboard (The boy's on Pinterest! It doesn't get much cuter). When he sent me what he had in mind, I was surprised with how much I liked it. While it did have pink, it was a pale pink, and paired with a kelly green in her bedding and curtains, it was just too perfect to say no to.

Thanks to our friends Katie and Nate, baby girl's room got painted this Saturday. Scott and Nate worked hard while Katie and I entertained Preston with sidewalk chalk, golf, and the sprinkler. Our part was much less difficult.

Now with the paint, it really feels like baby girl's room is beginning to take shape, even if it is only a pink room with a white dresser/changing table in it right now. And even though I've accepted the pink, I still stand firm on my cupcake dresses policy.

The mom who knew too much

Scott and I met up with my parents in Memphis over Memorial Day weekend. We found a little park for Preston to play on before we went to dinner, so my mom and I sat watching Scott and my dad show Preston how to go down the tube slide. While I watched Preston cross a bouncing bridge and peer down the slide, I asked my mom, "How did you ever let us play on a playground? That side is wide open for kids to get to the monkey bars, and it's a three-foot drop down! And we used to climb along the tops of the bars and jump off!" "There was a lot of gasping and jumping on my part," she said. "But you were always OK."

While it seems impossible now, at some point Preston will be climbing and leaping and swinging from those bars all on his own, like my sister and I and millions of children before us, and he'll get blisters or scrapes or fall and get the breath knocked out of him, like my sister and I and millions of children before us. And he'll be OK — like my sister and I and millions of children before us.

And those aren't even the scariest things he'll do in his lifetime.

Lately, I've been thinking a lot about the balance between protecting my children and teaching them independence. I keep dwelling on a scene from "Full House" (that beacon of parental wisdom) where Uncle Jesse and Aunt Becky are at odds with each other about which parenting technique is better for their twin boys. They flash forward to the future, and one — influenced by Becky — is a whiney, teenage nerd who still needs cornstarch sprinkled in his pants for diaper rash while the other — lead by Jesse — has multiple tattoos and is too wild to control. While I know there's an in between that is better, sometimes I prefer the idea of the teenage nerd with corn starch in his pants. At least I'd know he's not getting into trouble!

All this thinking was spurred on further by this article I read on Salon.com. The title, "The day I left my son in the car," had me sickeningly panicked from the beginning, afraid something terrible happened to her son. But it didn't. The four-year-old wanted to stay in the car and play a game on the iPad while she made a quick run into the store. It was an overcast, 50 degree day; she cracked the windows and locked the car and was in and out in less than five minutes. But a bystander saw her leave her son and reported her to the police. Now she was faced with a warrant for her arrest and a trial for endangering her son.

The main thought presented was that society has moved into a school of thought where children are completely unsafe when not under constant parental supervision and how that way of thinking is unfounded. How many times as kids were we left in the car and never thought about all of the ills that could befall? How many times were we free to roam the neighborhood or parks on our own? But now that seems completely reckless. The author speaks with a lady who points out that the most dangerous thing she did was not leaving her child in the car but putting him in the car at all — as more children die in wrecks than in parked cars. But we hear the bad, the one in a million stories, and we as parents feel that we must protect our children from everything. We know too much.

Anything could happen is a common refrain voiced by such parents. And I know what they mean. We’ve seen the television movies about abducted children. We’ve heard the heart-rending stories of kids injured in carjackings, or forgotten in sweltering cars. And once you imagine something, imagine what it must have been like for that parent or child who suffered it, it’s not a great leap to imagine it happening to you or your child, and then, if you’re like most parents, you will do anything in your power to prevent it. It’s not a matter of likelihood or statistical significance, but the terrible power of our imagination.

That hit home with me in a powerful way — because I completely get that. Stories about people who fall, break their nose, and the bone shard penetrates their brain race to the forefront of my mind when I see Preston running with reckless abandon. Stories like Natasha Richardson's fall on the ski slopes and undiagnosed concussion that lead to her death echo alongside the thud of Preston's head when he knocks it on the bath tub faucet. Snake bites, West Nile Virus, food-born illness, broken bones, car wrecks, abductions, drowning … I've thought long, hard and fitfully about them all, not to mention all of the school shootings and other general crazies out there. Forget the nerdy, corn starched teen — Preston's going to be a bubble boy at this rate.

My friend Hannah posted about dropping off her eldest at camp. She mentioned one girl had fallen on day one and broken her leg. "Sooo sad! Poor girl. And poor parents of all children, having to learn to let our kids spread their wings and explore and break bones," she wrote. And there it was: Not only is it important for children to learn independence, but it's important for their parents to learn to accept that independence and allow it to happen. I feel like I could break out into hives when I think about Preston going to school, being around kids I don't know with a teacher I don't know making decisions without my supervision. But I have to trust in the kid I've raised that he won't do anything truly stupid and that, if he does, one part of learning comes from acquiring bruises, broken bones, broken hearts and other uncomfortable consequences. I can impart what wisdom I have, but another big part of children's learning comes from experiences all their own.

It's a difficult thing to learn … that "Let It Go" is more than a catchy, now overplayed song from a Disney movie.

Making room for Baby #2

Yes, we're making room for baby #2 who is expected to arrive in late October. My sweet friend Cassie took this picture (as she usually does) to help us share our exciting news with the world. As a couple of side notes: 1. Who has ever looked that happy to be reading What to Expect When You're Expecting? and 2. Preston's look of concern is for Cassie. He really wanted her to sit on the bed with us and show him the back of her camera.

When I first found out I was pregnant, I was pretty shocked. While we planned and prepared for Preston a few months before I ever got a positive test result, this one wasn't so planned in that it wasn't at all, and all those things I felt we had a little time to think about pre-Preston came rushing forward that early Friday morning because I had to think about them — now! It was a little overwhelming. Poor Scott, I woke him up before 6 a.m., and before he had time to become fully conscious, I dropped the "I'm pregnant" bomb on him. "You've got to let someone wake up before you say that!" was his response.

Now, if you know Scott, you know his plan of one child. As an only child himself, he liked the idea of continuing that tradition. But he actually handled the news much better than I initially did (at first I was crying because, oh my goodness, we're having another baby and then I was crying because I felt bad for crying about the baby). He said there were a lot of things we didn't know about becoming parents the first time, and that God worked it all out. He'd do that for us this time, too.

Having had some time to adjust, we're all very excited about what's to come. We never made a big to-do about telling Preston because, at not quite 2-years-old, he still doesn't quite get it. But we talk about the baby, and at dinner in his roll call of people he thinks we should pray for, he'll mention "Baby Tummy" (because, in my attempts to explain the baby is in my tummy, he thinks the baby is in everyone's tummy), which melts me into a puddle every time.

I've noticed some similarities and some differences between this pregnancy and my last. With Preston, the nausea came in waves. When it hit, it hit hard, but it didn't last long. With this one, I feel perpetually queasy. Food helps some, but overall I feel blah a lot of the time. My earliest craving with Preston was lemon and carbs, and in keeping with the acidic theme, this go-around all I want is tomatoes and carbs. Both times, sweets sounded disgusting. With Preston, that went away in the second trimester as I formed a deep love for milkshakes and Cocoa Puffs. So, we'll see if these are any indication of another little boy in our future soon enough.

Thank you all for your congratulations and well-wishes. We are excited about what the future holds for our growing family and appreciate your prayers and encouragement along the way!

Freedom from worry

"I don't want him to develop my fears," I told Scott as we were sitting outside with Preston; we were enjoying the slightly fall evening, and Preston was chucking rocks in the flowerbed. This was said as I was simultaneously checking the the flowerbed for spiders ahead of Preston, telling him to "wait until Momma knows it's clean."

"Yeah, then don't do that," Scott replied.

OK. Good point.

But how do I keep from doing that? I remember being a child and rolling in the grass and walking along the top of the monkey bars and hurtling myself out of a swing at the peak of its path. I did this without fear of spiders or injury or falling. My biggest fears where the imaginary ones — the Boogieman under my bed or the police sketch of the Unabomber.

There was a time a couple of years ago where I couldn't go to sleep for fear that I would die in the middle of the night. This fear gradually built up over time, and my anxiety won over many battles to the point where I would have a panic attack most nights. My childhood Boogieman fear was replaced with a sudden, suffocating worry about my own mortality. It was miserable.

Thankfully that is in the past, but it doesn't mean that I'm still not a huge worrier, whether it's about my family, work or school; big things like my faith, middle of the road things like Preston still not eating finger foods, or small things like what shoes are the best for a fledging walker.

In our class at church on Sunday, we were talking about how a lot of our worries are based on things that aren't real. A lot of those worries are unfounded. I had no major health problem that would cause me to die in the middle of the night, and a lot of the things I stress about will get done or ultimately resolve themselves. I want to give Preston that same feeling of freedom I had when jumping out of the swing and not have him anxious about spiders in the flowerbed. Heck, I want that feeling of freedom, too!

I think about that when I read that Jesus calls us to be like little children. Preston is unaware of little made up worries. Instead he trusts that I'm there and going to take care of him. I'm a reassuring presence nearby, so he is blissful and happy in whatever he is doing. I know that God is there, watching over me, so why should I worry when I have His reassuring presence nearby? He's offering me that same, simple happiness.

God is always teaching me something new through Preston — how I should be and the love that He feels for me. It's a humbling responsibility to be given and an amazing blessing to see every day.

Iron chef: Baby edition

I decided early on that I wanted to make Preston's food versus buying it pre-prepared. Some of the pre-prepared offerings have weird ingredients and additives (and have you seen those weird Gerber meat sticks? Eww). Plus, it's cheaper to buy the stuff and make it myself versus buying 21 pouches or jars at $1-1.50 a piece. As a note, when we travel, I do get organic pouches (I like Ella's Kitchen or Peter Rabbit) because they are much easier than lugging a cooler of the kid's meals around. But in the day-to-day, he eats what I make.

I've been making baby food for Preston for a while now, and I feel like I've gotten into a good routine with it, so I thought I'd share my little process and a few helpful tips I've learned along the way.

I do most of my baby food making on the weekend, tackling two or three foods at a time. I tried making it all on one day, but that was too much to take on. Here's a run down of what he usually eats.

For breakfast:

Blueberries and pears

Peaches

Mangos

Apple

He gets one of these get mixed with his oatmeal, and he eats yogurt along with it.

For lunch and dinner:

Carrots and apples

Sweet potatoes and apples

Peas, spinach and pears

Green beans and apples

Butternut squash and apples 

He eats one of these combinations along with a mixed grain cereal or a pouch of a protein food, like chicken or lentils. (The kid's got texture issues that we're working through, and he much prefers the pouch blends to my blending chicken.) 

Pears, blueberries, sweet potatoes and green beans were on the list this weekend. I use my Beeba Baby Cook to steam most of the foods and to blend all of them. I take a mish-mashed approach, using some fresh foods and some frozen, some that get steamed, some that get baked, some that just go in as-is. 

For the pears, they get steamed in the Beeba. I usually steam the apples and carrots in the Beeba when preparing them, too. It took two batches to steam all of the pears, then I blended them, leaving half plain and half mixed with blueberries that I had defrosted. 

I baked the sweet potatoes in the oven, let them cool, then scraped out the insides and blended that. I use the same method with the squash when making that. 

I buy green beans, peas and spinach in steamer bags, so the green beans were cooked in the microwave before blending. Like I said, it's a mish-mash. 

When Preston was smaller, I pureed his foods to be very smooth to help him eat them. I've gradually let the blends get chunkier, though, to help him transition into foods with more texture and get him ready for finger foods. While his battle with finger foods is another post for another time, he has gotten better with the aforementioned texture issues, tolerating blueberry skins in his breakfast and actually eating chunky green beans. Like Scott and I say, it's a victory no matter how small.

Once blended, I fill up the Beeba freezer tray with the purees and put it in the freezer. Since I only have one, the remaining purees are put into other containers and into the fridge until it's their turn to be frozen (takes about a day to get it all in the freezer). I pop the frozen pods into labeled, gallon-sized Ziplocs to store them.

I like to freeze the fruits and vegetables separately and combine them when they're going to be eaten so I can vary the combos to change things up for Preston and so I can keep track of the size of each serving so I know that he's getting all the fruits and vegetables he needs for the day.

The Beeba also defrosts the frozen blends when meal time rolls around. I put one or two pods in a little bowl on the steaming rack, add water, and let it go. Once they've cooled, it's chow time!

Yum!

The best laid plans ...

I mentioned in my last post that there is quite a list of parenting ideals I had pre-baby that have not withstood post-baby reality. It's easy to be that person when you're pregnant, droning on about all the things you're going to do (Organic baby food! Sleeping in his own bed!) and not going to do (No TV! No ugly plastic toys!) like you're some parenting pro. But then you get this person with his own opinions and ways he thinks work best, and you find yourself hopping around the living room singing "Roll the Gospel Chariot" for the 53rd time if it means he'll close his eyes for two minutes. 

Yes, the reality of parenting is far different from the ideal of parenting. Here are some of the things I wanted to achieve and how they actually panned out.

Ideal: Breast feeding only
Reality: Success!

I knew from the beginning that I wanted Preston to be a breast fed baby, and I knew the commitment that would take with being a working mom. My first goal was to make it at least six months. I was fortunate to get three months of maternity leave, so nursing was well-established when I started back, and after six months of pumping, I haven't had to supplement once (not that there's anything wrong with that), making it past that first goal. My new goal is at least a year, but I'm willing to go as long as he wants.

Ideal: Make my own baby food
Reality: So far, so good.

In addition to breast feeding, I knew I wanted us to make Preston's solid foods, too. I was going to go all out, too — making the rice cereal in addition to the vegetable and fruit purees. A regular Martha Stewart of baby foods. I gave up the rice cereal pretty quickly, though, because 1) it was pain in the buns and 2) the pre-packaged stuff is iron-foritified especially for babies unlike regular rice, but I am making the fruits and veggies (with the Beaba Baby Cook). Usually Sunday is baby food day, making and freezing whatever food is low that week. (This week was sweet potatoes and bananas. Now you can get off the edge of your seat.)

Ideal: Baby will sleep in his own bed.
Reality: Not if he can help it

For the most part, he sleeps well in his crib, but it's on his own terms. And we haven't helped much with that. After being away from him all day, Scott and I both like to hold him once he's fallen asleep and watch TV while cuddling with him. Until recently he transitioned well once we finally laid him down. Teething put a major kink in this, too, waking him up in the middle of the night and wanting to be held again. For the past month he's taken to sleeping on me at some point during the night because, when you're tired and just want two hours of unbroken sleep, you'll do anything. Snuggling with an adorable baby isn't that hard of a choice.

Ideal: No screen time until 2 years old.
Reality: Lasted until he opened his eyes

After taking a child development class in grad school, I had studied how the brain develops from infancy into adolescence. The book suggested that the best thing was that infants have zero screen time (exposure to TV, smart phones, computers, etc.) until 2 for optimal development. But the TV's flashing lights drew him in like a moth to a flame. We avoid it as much as possible, but he'll still crane his neck to see what's going on or reach out for any phone he comes in contact with.

Ideal: No battery operated toys
Reality: Lasted until Christmas

This plan was more for my sake than anything — trying to avoid too many loud, clanging, sing-song objects from overrunning the place — but come Christmastime Preston got a few new toys that required a sackful of Energizers. I worried that a toy that did everything for him would stifle some creativity, too, but I've noticed that he interacts with the toys whether they're on or not, plus they're introducing him to things I've neglected. (For instance: the ABC song. I had never sang that to him until his little baby "iPad" did. He was seven months old! Shame on me.) The preservation of my sanity is that all of them have volume control. Happy day!

Ideal: Scott and I would still have regular date nights.
Reality: Three in nine months

While out to dinner pre-baby, Scott would always ask, "How are we going to do this when he comes?" I'd always joke, "There's this thing called a babysitter. I think it's new ..." But now on the flip side I see how hard that babysitter option is. It's kind of hard to ask someone to watch your most cherished possession because you don't want to inconvenience them (a date in Little Rock consists of 2 hours round-trip travel time, an hour for dinner, and a 2 1/2 hour movie — so about 6 hours!) plus to be away from him after being at work 40 hours a week plus a 3 hour night class at some point just seems to be too much. But, enough with hour math. We're starting to get back out there and realizing the importance of keeping those date nights established.

Ideal: We wouldn't let baby keep us from going places.
Reality: Decent job

If possible, Scott and I knew beforehand that we wanted to still go and do the things that interested us or that we found fun once Preston arrived, and for the most part we've done that. Not to the same level we were at before, but we've never felt tethered to the house because of Preston. We took him to Florida at 6 weeks, traveled for Thanksgiving and Christmas, spent days shopping in Little Rock and Rogers, plus gone to a few sporting events. All in all, we've been blessed with an easy going kiddo, so we are free to do as we please — provided we bring plenty of back up pacis.

So, there you have it. For you current parents, what would you add to the list? What were some of your goals that proved to be unrealistic when set into motion. I'd love to hear them!

Contact

Don't get in a staring contest with a baby. You'll lose. I learned that lesson the other night while I was holding Preston. Cradled in my arms, he was looking up at me with his hand on my cheek locked in a stare down.

As I was looking back at him, I realized the beauty of childhood innocence. He doesn't know to be self conscious. He doesn't feel awkward or feel, like many adults do, that prolonged eye contact is an uncomfortable thing. How often do you find yourself looking into someone's eyes before you visually dart them in a new direction. There is something very intimate about eye contact, and too much can freak you out.

But not for Preston. He just stares back at me, studying my face while I study his, sweetly patting my cheek. He doesn't feel embarrassed; he just loves and shows it. He has no concept of hiding his feelings. It feels good to be loved so unabashedly.

It's such a blessing to be his momma.

Slobber in style

At about the two-month mark, Preston sprung a leak. Gallons of drool have been pouring out of the kid's mouth ever since. His shirts look like he's entering himself in a one-man wet T-shirt contest. When we were dealing with the drought, I thought about sitting him in the yard to single-mouthedly water the lawn (Just kidding, CPS).

The unfortunate thing is that most bibs are pretty ugly. I mean, if he's got to wear it all day, shouldn't it be cute and not terry cloth with a lizard or some saying about the dirtiness of his diaper. ("iPood." Really?)

I discovered these bandana bibs on Etsy in my search for cute bibs, and I love how they look like little scarves instead of a snap-on towel. The $24 price tag is keeping me from throwing them in my virtual shopping cart and clicking "Buy now!" — plus, I think they'd be very easy for someone with limited sewing skills (me) to make. (Here's a nice little tutorial, too!)

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go mop up after my baby.

Images via Francesca Baby on Etsy

Newborn essentials

Registering was a daunting task. What do I really need for this baby? Well, four months in, these are the items that have been indispensable.

1. Aden + Anais muslin swaddles: I originally registered for these because they were cute, but I quickly found out they are the best swaddling blankets. Since they're thin, they're easy to wrap up your little baby burrito nice and tight without making them too hot or unwrapping as they wriggle around.

2. Nuk pacis: Preston is a paci man, and these are the ones my dental hygienist mom recommended. They're essential because, without them, crying chaos ensues, and nobody likes crying chaos.

3. Cloth diapers: These make thick, absorbent burp cloths. I got a ton of these, cutely embroidered by my mother-in-law and others — so many, in fact, that I joked that Preston would be taking burp cloths to college. But these are no joke, and you need a ton of them. Seriously.

4. Dreft stain spray: This removes baby poop from anything. I'm sold by that fact alone. We use it on all of our stains, even the non-baby related ones.

5. First Years infant-to-toddler tub: The best thing about this tub is the little mesh hammock it comes with — perfect for keeping a can't-be-submerged-yet-because-of-the-belly-button-stump baby in the water but not in the water. Once he could be fully in the tub, we still used it until he got steadier with his head control.

6. Fisher-Price Infant-Toddler rocker: Without this seat, I would have never showered, eaten or used the bathroom while on maternity leave. It's light weight enough to drag all over the house (which we do) and keeps Preston happy and within eye-sight. I wanted to start off simple, too, avoiding a swing or a bouncy seat until I knew who he was and what he liked, so I didn't buy something he hated. When he was smaller, it's vibrating feature would put him to sleep just like the car's motion does when we're traveling. Now, he's interested in the little creatures dangling above him.

Things I didn't need after all:

The Boppy pillow: I thought this would be a great dual use piece — a nursing pillow and pillow to prop up Preston. I never used it as a nursing pillow because I'm too short torsoed to make it work, and Preston hated sitting in it. I'm going to revisit it, though, now that he's a little bigger and can sit up a little better.

SwaddleMe adjustable swaddling blanket: I'd read that a tight swaddle would help a baby sleep because their movements wake them up. Well, to Preston, this was more of a straitjacket. He likes his hands out, so he would fight this until he was so angry and frustrated that it made going to sleep even harder. Even when I kept his hands out of it, he hated it. So, stick with the Aden + Anais blankets.

This baby

A year ago today, we were in Nashville for my birthday weekend, and I got the best birthday gift I've ever received.

I found out I was pregnant.

I'll never forget standing there in my old bedroom, looking at that pregnancy test, in shock of the plus sign — like a little X marking the spot where our lives changed forever.

That day we found out we were having a baby, but it would be seven months before we found out it was this baby.

This baby, with his bright blue eyes and sweet grin. This baby, who laughs at the word "hiccups," who manages to rotate 90 degrees in his bed every night, who never says no to "Do you want something to eat?" This baby, who loves to cuddle, kick and coo, splash in the bathtub, and be sung to. This baby, whom I can't imagine loving any more.

Yes, we were excited on that day because we were having a baby, but I'm so glad we got a Preston because he is just what we needed — the perfect addition to our little family.

Mom at work

Last week was my first week back to work since having Preston. While I love my job, I had been dreading July 23 since May. I enjoyed the lazy little routine we had gotten into — our morning naps during Kathie Lee and Hoda, folding clothes while singing children's church songs, and all the cuddling, cooing, slobbering and smiling that comes with a baby. We had a good thing going, and I miss being able to be with him all day.

My first day back, everyone was so sweet, sending me texts and Facebook messages, bringing me little gifts and words of encouragement. They were all a great comfort to me. But during that first week, there was one thing that changed my whole perspective.

Coming back was something I struggled with. It broke my heart that I wasn't going to be the one to take care of him. And then one of Preston's sitters sent me a picture of him that said, "Thanks for working hard for us, Mommy!"

As strange as it sounds, that was something I hadn't realized. I was back at work for him. I was going to work to help support our family, not because some mean, outside force was dragging me away from my baby. At this time, for this season of my life, this is the best way I can take care of him. And that changed my entire attitude on going back to work.

Do I still miss him during the day? Painfully so. But I know that when Preston reaches a time in his life when he needs me at home, God will provide that means. For now, I find comfort in the fact that this is how I can take care of him — and squeeze in as many drooly kisses as I can in between.