Rename that Blog

Over the last few months, we have received comments that our blog title "Life With Mikie" won't be very appropriate once Nibbles arrives. Now that she's here, we're stumped as to what to call the blog. My original thought was "Double Trouble". But, that implies that Hannah will be as much trouble as her big brother, which both Mike and I sincerely hope is NOT the case.

Since my creative juices are zapped, and Mike hasn't had any suggestions I deemed befitting our blog, he suggested a blog naming contest. To enter, submit a comment to this post (or e-mail me by clicking here), including your name and what you think the new blog name should be. The winner will be recognized in a future post, unveiling the new site name, and sent a lovely gift (most likely Crabtree product). No limit on entries. The winner will be selected by me (although I may allow Mike a vote, depending on my mood).

And, to all the closet blog fans we have out there, feel free to enter as well.

We look forward to reading all the entries.

Love, The Trahans

More Mikie-isms

Spending six weeks at home with Trouble means I have a lot more exposure to his witty remarks. Here are just a few of the more recent examples:

1. My mom is spending the week with us, helping me acclimate to life as a mother of two (and allowing me the opportunity to nap). At one point this week, Mikie decided he wanted a snack. But rather than say, "Can someone please get me a snack" like the polite child I am TRYING to raise him to be, my child says, "Earth to Pookie. . . I want a Scooby Snack!" As with most of his comments, I am again dumbfounded as to where he learned the expression "Earth to" anyone. Although, if he were to sarcastically say, "Hello! Am I talking here?", I would accept full responsibility for being a bad influence.

2. This morning, while Nibbles was napping, I volunteered to play Yahtzee with Mikie. It's somewhat complicated for a 4 year old; we basically just take turns trying to roll Yahtzee, and don't waste our time keeping score of the other types of rolls. Whoever rolls the most Yahtzee's is the winner. After winning the first game, Mikie informed me that he would always be the winner because he is a "genius". When I sarcastically commented "and modest too", he responded, "No I'm not." At least he's honest. . .

3. This afternoon, I offered Mikie a snack (knowing it was still a while until dinner). Once again, Mikie wanted Scooby Snacks. Although this time, he wanted the cookie snacks, not the gummy snacks (yes, there are multiple types for you non-Scooby Snack connoisseurs). My mom was amused to see that the cookies are shaped like dog biscuits. And, seeing that they were graham cracker flavored, asked Mikie if she could try one. His response, "Sure, Pooks. But you can only have ONE!"

As much a help as he has been, he is definitely testing my patience with his new attitude. Let's hope we all survive the remaining weeks together.

Love, The Trahans

And Then There Were Four

For anyone who hasn't heard, Nibbles has arrived. . . two and a half weeks early. And, as with this entire pregnancy, she made sure to complicate life along the way.

On Tuesday, I went for my 37 week doctor appointment to find out that my blood pressure was elevated. Honestly, I wasn't surprised; I was more surprised that it took 37 weeks to appear. I mean, my hands, feet, legs, were swollen to epic proportions for months. And, when I was pregnant with Mikie, I had high blood pressure for the last four weeks before he arrived.

Unlike my pregnancy with Mikie, my obstetrician ordered me to "modified bed rest". Which meant laying around with my feet elevated, resting, working only if I could do so from the comfort of my bed or couch. This of course was complicated by the fact that Mikie attends preschool near Crabtree - 45 minutes from our house, nearly 2 hours from where Mike works.

So, on Wednesday, Nibbles and I planted ourselves on the couch, surrounded by phones, bottles of water, and the laptop and worked. I was nauseous and having contractions all day, but they were still 10 minutes apart, so I didn't expect too much. At 5pm, it was snowing, so we hopped in the car and drove to pick up Mikie.

Yes, an hour and a half of driving along bumpy back roads through me into labor. Full on painful contractions spaced 1-3 minutes apart. I drove home, and waited patiently for Mike to arrive (knowing that if he thought I was in labor, he would be driving 90mph on the Mass Pike in bad weather). When he arrived, we debated whether or not to go to the hospital. I was sick of going to labor and delivery for monitoring, only to be sent home pregnant. And, I was only 1 cm dilated the day before. But, since I was in too much pain to sleep, we decided to go in.

Show of hands, how many pregnant women have driven themselves to the hospital while in labor? Oh, and while it is snowing? Yeah, I did. Before everyone attacks Mike, I refused to let him drive. I was very nauseous and motion sick, and Mike tries to break records during the 11 mile drive to the hospital. Not wanting to die on the way to the hospital, I thought it best if I did the driving. Not only did I drive us, I dropped the boys at the entrance to the ER, parked the car, and walked back IN THE SNOW to the hospital.

Sure enough, I was still only dilated 1 cm. But, thanks to my OB being on call and my blood pressure being elevated, they decided to keep me. After all, my contractions were close together and this was my second child. SURELY I would deliver quickly.

WRONG! 14 hours later, Nibbles arrived. I'll spare everyone the gory details and switch to what everyone really wants. . . pictures:

Hannah Reilly Trahan arrived at 12:23 pm on February 19th. She weighted in at 7-lbs, 14.7-ozs (on target for 8-lbs 13-ozs if she went to 40 weeks, I might add). And, we defied the genetic odds and got a red head! Hopefully it stays that color.

Mike and Hannah.

Mikie is tickled by just how little his "little sister" is.

Coming home from the hospital (Go Bruins!)

Mikie demonstrates what a good big brother he is by helping feed Nibbles.

Hannah and Grand Da.

Love, The Trahans

My Name is Lauren Trahan. . .

and I pinch people's hineys.

Yes, it's true. Evidently, my problem is severe. Every evening, Mike gets Mikie ready for bed. Mikie can dress himself (he does most mornings), but frequently chooses not to. He will take off all his clothes and run around the house naked. Enter mom, the butt pincher. The threat of a squeeze, and Mikie goes running for cover. And, clothes.

Recently, however, Mikie refuses to even change for bed if I am anywhere near the room he is changing in. Because he doesn't want mom to pinch his butt.

In my defense, I only started this ritual as motivation to get the kid dressed. Nine times out of ten, the threat is enough. But, because it bothers him, I have started making myself scarce as bedtime approaches.

This evening, Mikie came upstairs to our bedroom (where I was PLANNING on working in peace), with underpants and PJ top, looking for his pajama pants. Mike couldn't find the match, so he started to dress Mikie in a new pair of pajamas. Mikie started freaking out, so I assured him that I only squeeze naked butts, not ones wearing clothes or underpants. Not to mention, I move slowly these days, so the idea of moving the laptop, rolling myself out of bed, and walking around the bed to get to him had ZERO appeal.

What did my son do? HE MOONED ME! I mean, I told him I don't squeeze clothed behinds, so he pulls down his underwear and shakes his naked behind in my face. So, I warned him, "It's a good thing I don't move very fast these days, or you'd be in for a squeeze." Did he pull up his pants? NO. He giggled as he continued to taunt me with his naked butt.

How else was I to respond? I mean, he totally asked for it. I hauled my Shamu sized gut out of bed, and was off, encountering no resistance along the way.

I don't know how the 12 step program would work, but I'm guessing I need a new support network if I want to break myself of this addiction. Namely, family members who don't come looking for trouble (or a squeeze as the case may be).

Love, The Trahans

Story Time

This was just too priceless not to capture for posterity. Mikie "reading". To no one in general (I walked in and saw him reading to an empty room). I'm sure if asked, he would have been reading to his imaginary friend, Mousey. What is he "reading". The Lego instruction manual (yes, he take after his father). Interestingly enough, the Lego instruction manual does not have words. It's just a series of pictures, one building on the next. Not that this bothered Mikie in the least. Evidently, the pictures form a whole story that we as adults were too blind to see. And, for anyone who didn't appreciate the "And Then" post, you can see first hand what I meant. Luckily, the clip is only two minutes long, so you shouldn't feel the need to pull your hair out.Love, The Trahans

Daddy's Little Princess

When I was pregnant with Mikie, Mike did a fabulous job decorating Mikie's nursery. Two different paint colors, chair railing, ripping up old carpet, building and painting a toy box and shelves, etc.

With Nibbles, I wanted her to have her own nursery. Different bedding, different artwork. Of course, anyone who knows Mike knows that he would hate this idea because it meant spending even more money. But, he went along with it, because it was important to me for her to have her own experience.

And so began our nursery design. What would the theme be? Nothing too girly, flowery or pink. We somehow came up with a circus theme. Mike found cute, not overly girly bedding at Target with fun circus animals. We picked yellow and purple paint. And, when I insisted on stripes on the wall, he agreed (even though he would be stuck painting by himself).

For the last three months, he has been painting and decorating while I laid back, critiqued, and shopped online. He bought and stained bookshelves, hung chair railing, assembled and arranged furniture. All while working full time and taking care of me and Trouble. After all his hard work, I thought it only fair that I showcase the fruits of his labor. . .Mikie chipped in too. He did help Mike paint the light colored purple on the wall (although Mike may have had to go back over it to fix drips). He also donated some of his baby books and toys to his sister. He helped us pick out Nibble's bear, Maddy (Mikie and I both had Steiff bears since birth; so we got one for Nibble's too), and put her in the crib.

All in all, I think it's safe to say that all the hard work the two Mike's put into this nursery definitely shows how much she is loved already.

Now, we're just stuck waiting for her to show up. . .

Love, The Trahans

And Then

While I know I should be proud that Mikie understands sequential events enough to tell a story, his newest catch phrase is driving me CRAZY. Every phrase is strung together with the words "and then" to form one huge run-on sentence. He can go on like this for a good 20 minutes. And, if you attempt to interrupt him, the "Mom, mom, mom"s start, making me regret I ever taught him my name. And then I agree to listen to "just one more thing" at which point the cycle of "and then"s repeats.

Before locking myself in the bathroom after a recent "story", Mike attempted to show me that I am not alone in the world with an obscure movie reference. For the record, I never liked the movie "Dude, Where's My Car?". In fact, I hated it to the point that I have tried to block out all memories of it from my brain (before they killed the healthy brain cells). But, this scene with Ashton Kutcher PERFECTLY illustrates how I feel by the 5 minute mark in a long string of "and then"s.

Rather than punch something, I once again resorted to "incentives" by informing Mikie that his Valentine (me) might actually buy the toy he was talking about as a gift if he would be nice to me and PLEASE STOP TELLING THE STORY.

As of right now, bribery has bought me 30 minutes of unadulterated silence. Only 40 more minutes until bedtime. . .

Love, The Trahans

The Hug

Or, another futile attempt by Mikie to make me feel beautiful. . .

After Sibling Class, we decided to go to Friendly's for dinner. Mostly because I didn't have the energy after the class to cook, but also because I bribed Mikie with "dinner out" in a futile effort to keep him from destroying the hospital.

As seems to be par for the course lately, the service at Friendly's was less than stellar. Our waitress (who sadly knows us because we eat there so frequently) was great. But, the "cook" left mid-shift, the manager sent another employee home, and the staff started turning away customers at the door, as those of us who already ordered were stuck waiting an hour for food. During this time, Mikie wore on my very thin nerves by headbutting me in the side. That, combined with Nibbles kung-fu kicks me in the ribs, made me realize it was in everyone's best interest if I sat in the car to cool off before losing my temper.

By the time I came back inside, Mikie was apologetic (probably because Mike lectured him while I was outside). Mike told him to give me a hug and kiss. Mikie stood up on the booth, and loosely wrapped his arms around my neck.

Mike: "That was the worst hug I've ever seen."

Mom: "In his defense, it's not easy to hug me, especially when we're cramped in a booth."

Mikie: holding his hands in front of him to form as big a circle as he possibly could "Yeah, I would have to stretch sooo much like this and squeeze and squeeze and it would be so hard."

Mom: "Yes, thank you for the visual demonstration."

Obviously, Mikie thinks that I have more in common with a beached whale than I do. Thankfully, my hormone levels weren't so high that I started crying. And, hopefully, Nibbles will arrive soon, and he will realize I won't be this large forever.

Love, The Trahans

Sibling Class

In addition to our "Childbirth Refresher Class", Mike and I decided to sign Mikie up for "Sibling Class". For $10, I wasn't expecting my four year old to walk away knowing how to change a diaper. I mostly just wanted him to feel special, and, ideally, reinforce in his head that the baby wouldn't come out walking and talking.

It's a good thing my expectations were low, because I'm not sure Mikie absorbed ANYTHING from the class. Granted, it didn't help that the teacher gave the goodie bags containing stickers at the BEGINNING of class. Because Mikie spent the entire time she was talking sticking stickers on his face, the table, Mike, etc. And, when I took them away, he spent the remainder of the class fidgeting, kicking his feet, and trying to wrestle the bag from my grasp to look for more things to annoy me with.

Maybe I should have known better. After all, he'd been at school all day. So I shouldn't have expected him to want to sit quietly and listen for an hour (especially since it is hard enough for him to do that at school.)

After the teacher gave him his certificate officially declaring him a "Big Brother", she asked Mikie and Timothy (the only other child in the class) if they had any questions. Timothy had a question, which was more of a statement (he blurted out that the teacher was a "silly head".) Not realizing that she should quit while she was ahead, the teacher then asked what everyone learned. After an hour of not listening or talking, Mikie stood up and announced that he learned something. Yeah! I'm amazed. I didn't think he absorbed anything. Boy should I have known better. Because Mikie announced "I learned that she doesn't have a penis!"

Note, there was no mention of anatomical parts AT ALL during the class. I was in tears, laughing so hard. The teacher announced that this was by far the most interesting comment she ever heard. And, the other mother was trying to console me with the fact that if Mikie hadn't said something, she was sure Timothy would have embarrassed her with a different comment.

With Mikie as her big brother, Nibbles is in quite for quite an interesting life.

Love, The Trahans

Amusing Anecdotes

Lately, my life consists of working, eating, sleeping, and emptying my frequently full bladder. I don't anticipate that this will change much in the next four weeks, so I apologize for my continued laziness when it comes to blogging. . .

I figured I would take a night off from working and post some amusing anecdotes before my brain turns to mush.

SATURDAY, JANUARY 30TH

Mikie was building with Legos, and wanted me to build him a firetruck. Having little motivation, I reminded Mikie that he had a firetruck in the basement. Of course, volunteering that information meant I earned a trip to the cold basement to look for it.

While I was searching, a little voice yelled down to me:

Mikie: "Mom, you need to stop getting so big because you won't be able to fit in the door."

Mom: "Mikie, I'm not THAT big."

Mikie: "But, Mom, if you get bigger, you will have to live in a different house because you can't get in the door."

Mom: "Seriously, I'm not that big. I'll still be able to get in the door."

In my head, I'm picturing the people they show with Richard Simmons being lifted out of their house with a forklift. . .

Mikie: "Okay, but Nibbles better come out soon so you don't get any bigger."

LATER THAT DAY

Mike, Mikie and I stopped at Wendy's for lunch on our way to the store. Mikie had just finished his lunch, and was keeping me company while Mike stood in line to buy him a Frosty. Out of the blue, Mikie turns to me and announces, "Mom, that meal was exquisite."

Don't get me wrong, I love Wendy's as much as the next guy. More even. But, never has the word "exquisite" come to mind when describing my meal.

Mike later explained to me that the alphabet book Steve Martin wrote uses the words "extraordinary" and "exquisite" to describe other words beginning with E.

Love, The Trahans