O Happy Day!

Nathaniel is not quite at rest with the fact that I have a firm philosophy that states if I am the mother of one child, I am automatically going to be the mother of more children. While Auggi is AMAZING, I know that I am going to have more children, most likely through adoption. Nathaniel is content with our little perfect creation and feels no compulsion to add to our family. I, however, know something very special... and it's a secret given to me on this day 29 years ago.

I was born to a set of 22 year olds who struck genetic and dispositional gold when they had me. Figuring the first collaboration had gone so well, they boldly dreamed of the next corner of their punnet square. Thus, as I teetered about in a 19 month old body, my parents gave me a baby brother. He was born blue, struggling to breathe and already showing the tenacity that would be the earmark of his existence. That day, July 28, 1982, was a day that shaped my life in its entirety... for better, for worse, and forever...

My brother, Bobby, was my best friend. As young children in New York, we played together while my parents executed the seemingly endless task of home improvement. Once, we got locked in a closet with a "temperamental" doorknob that refused to open from the inside as easily as it had from the outside. Together, Bobby and I harnessed the power of our combined Glow Worms to keep each other calm and finally escape our dark cage. We often fell asleep on the foam, baby blue couch that we would roll out in order to watch "Smurfs," "Snorks," "Garfield and Friends," and "Voltron" on Saturday mornings. That couch would bare the stains of fruit juice and the crumbs of cereal for many years and witness many silly puns.

Once our lives moved to the other side of the ocean, Bobby's presence remained sustaining, as he would plan who we would be at the next school we attended. Once, we even conspired to fool everyone that we were twins and had an elaborate plan about skipping grades and failing to explain why we were 2 years apart in school. Bobby would make me (and the entire family) laugh with flatulent jokes anytime we encountered crumbling ruins in our travels and always released the pressure I felt as I uneasily navigated crypts, graveyards, and other old markers of famous (or not so famous) deaths. Even though our parents could always afford us separate rooms, we always wanted to stay in the same room. He was the author of the coolest hamster names every: New Hamster and MC Hamster. He could beat any Nintendo game. Period.

Growing up became more difficult as age and grade increased. Bobby's desire to be free and push himself drew him in much different directions from my compulsive parent/teacher-pleasing antics. There were days when we didn't recognize each other. There were other days when I would illegally allow my 14 year old brother drive the car my parents let me use as a 16 year old and we would conspire to "pull one over" on the mother who witnessed it by ducking behind a building and switching jackets. The awkwardness of growing up was a furnace that shaped our sibling relationship... for better, for worse, forever...

As adults, Bobby and I took very different paths. While I delayed adulthood with school and travel and moving frequently, Bobby got married early and became a full-fledged adult. The discrepancy made relating to one another very difficult. He graciously produced the most amazing nephew, followed by a niece and allowed me to love them in the tradition of our Italian relatives.

Now, Bobby and I are separated by many miles and, at times, what seems like endless emotional and experiential territory. However, I know that the love, humility, comfort, and encouragement that has come only from my relationship with Bobby is still available to me, as only can be from one sibling to another. I know that his presence and influence in our little boy's life is one that can never be replicated or replaced. I know that the little boy who played GI Joes while I played Barbies is still the adult who lives his life parallel to mine.

I want the same experience for our little boy. I want him to know when he infringes upon "sibling law" in a way that only Bobby was able to teach me. I want him to know that there is someone else who will be stirred by the same memories, as Bobby and I are. I want Auggi to experience giggling to sleep with someone who can sweet talk mom into forgiveness, as Bobby and I did. I want a bike riding partner for our boy, as well as a tattle tale for those other not-so-wholesome tasks, as Bobby was for me. In my life, Bobby has done those things and SO many more, I can't help but know that our family will be expanded to afford Auggi the same delight and sustenance.

Expressing love to my brother in a way that he can understand it is a work in progress. This post is the perfect example, as I want to show my brother love, but very seriously doubt he's read to this point, as "short and sweet" is his MO in communication... (are you still there, Bobby?)

We are, ultimately, very different people. The respect I have for him, however, is without hindrance.

I am so thankful for my brother. I am so thankful for the pain and growth experienced at his hands, as well as the acceptance and laughter that more abundantly came from him. I am thankful for the role he will take as Tio to little Auggi. I am thankful for him.

Thank you, Bobby... and Happy Birthday, Tio!

We love you... old man!

Tio Bobby meeting Auggi for the first time...

Sibling love... way before Auggi...

Repping Tio Bobby's mission in life... Yankees love!

Not my favorite pic... but continuing sibling love... after Auggi's arrival

Wasting away again...

As I have made no attempt to hide, it is common knowledge that adjusting to full time work with an infant who requires nourishment from my body every 2-3 hours while planning to start school in the fall and maintaining our household has been relatively difficult for me. I have wanted to do all things without a qualitative decline in any aspect of these activities, leading me to breaking points on a nearly daily basis. With the use of some significant coping mechanisms, I narrowly avoid those breaking points and move forward.

However, when God decided to add another stressor last week, I lost all ability to cope. When temperatures reached into the triple digits BEFORE the humidity was even considered, I found myself unable to cope any longer.

Thankfully, Nathaniel had good foresight and told me to keep some paid time off instead of using it all for maternity leave so that we could actually relax at some point this summer.

So, when the heat and stress became too much, I was able to call a time out and take a break.

The second part of this blessing was that my parents, similarly, had time and energy enough for us all to pack into a car and head to Atlantic Beach, North Carolina.

True, Atlantic Beach is more Redneck Riviera than paradise resort, but the sun, sand and absolute lack of demands, schedules, and additional stressors made it seem the most ideal place in the world. We were able to rent a newly renovated 2 bedroom condo at a complex we visited while Bobby and I were teenagers, which meant we were able to keep costs (and calories) well regulated by cooking our own food. Also, it meant that Mom and I enjoyed the water slide in honor of Bobby...

I got a tent-like beach shelter to protect my pale additions to the gene pool. Nonni and Papa got Auggi a bumble bee raft with a sun shelter so he could enjoy the water as well... all in all, it was a last minute perfect storm of factors that coalesced into the brief moments of regeneration which my body and soul craved so passionately.

I hope that Auggi is able to take sun and enjoys the water as my brother and I always did. I know he's going to be a hiker and outdoors man, as is his father... but, relaxing at the beach is a joy without parallel in the annuls of our Petro family history.

I think he's off to a good start, if this weekend is any indicator...

Not at the beach, but a picture too cute not to share... getting ready for family walking time...


Again, not from the beach, but too cute not to share... plaid shorts are SOOO in right now :)


"What is this 'beach' of which you speak...?"


On the way to the beach, decked out in cute beach garb from his Office Grandma...

Getting ready to beach comb with Daddy...

Auggi loves to "chat" with his Daddy... in fact, he does not carry on his "conversations" with anyone else for as long as he does with his daddy. Here, they are chatting about the flora and fauna at Atlantic Beach...

Family photo in the beach shelter... Mommy is still not at peace with her post partum body, so a smile in hiding is the best we're going to get for a family photo on the beach!

Nonni put Auggi to sleep on the beach... that Bumble Bee raft is so multi-functional!

My white men in the beach shelter!

Chillin with the Bee Raft...

Ummm... funniest face yet... His monkey agrees!

Sharing smiles on the car ride home... this kid is a road trip rock star!

Next to Normal...

In my former life - the one where I shared an idiosyncratic house with 3 other women (2 of whom I enjoyed), my biggest concern was a paper on Wagner and my dog's grooming schedule, and I freely came and went with the whims of a New England wind - I had disposable income I could devote to seeing musicals actually on Broadway. On one such occasion, a dear friend, Sarah Leer, came from Chicago to spend time with me and we decided to see Alice Ripley in the role that would win her a Tony. The musical, "Next to Normal," is about a family dealing with the fallout of a mother who struggles with Bipolar Disorder, with psychotic features. This family struggles to achieve a homeostasis - something that was just "next to normal."

I feel like that is what I am doing right now... just looking for a routine and standard for my current life that is just next to normal.

Sleep is completely different... It comes in patches... and my day becomes a quilt wherein I try to assimilate times of high productivity, meeting others' needs, meeting my own needs, preparing for school or other future endeavors and resting in as seamless a manner as possible. Typically, the sleep is that oh so beautiful cloth that is sparsely repeated in a quilting pattern, but never prominent enough to become the base of the whole thing...

My body is completely different... It is in patches. There are my arms, which have reverted to a "fluffy" status, as weight lifting took a back seat around week 33 of pregnancy. My abdomen is a patchwork quilt of the natural marks of what I've gone through (stretch marks) and the artificial reminders of my devastation (the C Section scar). Because I am breastfeeding, I have not been able to go back on the medications which regulate my body, so losing weight is futile for at least another 2 months... the well meaning doctor told me this week that I should be proud of my "pooch" because I am a mommy now... not comforting. My body is still not my own - my child and my hormonal irregularities seem to own my body right now. I think this particular domain is the furthest from even being close to normal.

My social life is completely different... I socialize in patches. Usually, I am able to initiate a phone call or text message conversation, but very rarely am I able to see it through to the end. I have people over, but very rarely can make my way out to them. My social interactions seem disjointed and irregular... nothing like my normal...

Our marriage is completely different... Our time management and discussions are completely different... the set up in my car is completely different... the set up in my home is completely different... my eating patterns are completely different... my priorities are completely different... my dog's patterns are completely different... it's all so completely different.

I will not lie and sugar coat and say that acclimating to these changes is easy. I am a stubborn women who had a grand plan that was changed. Changing to meet demands that change on a seemingly hourly basis is not what I had planned for this time in my life.

I will say, however, that this little boy is the only thing for which I can imagine changing. Even after the most sleepless night, his morning smiles are more than substantial repayment. His laugh is medicinal. His cuddles are miraculous. His whimpers are endearing.

His inability to care for himself calls to a deep part of my heart that has never been alive before. While I am utterly exhausted and feel on the brink of my own sanity regularly as I attempt to balance motherhood, work, and life with my (still-relatively-new) husband, I never resent his need or requests for a diaper change or extra feeding. This new role has taught me for the first time what selflessness truly is... what a pure love truly is.

I am looking forward to things settling down eventually. However, what I know of lifespan development and what I've observed in others' lives tells me that the first year of life, when things change predictably and quickly, is not the time to expect that sort of settling sensation. I am learning as I go and rolling with changes - I've got my cloth diapering rhythm established, an eat-wake-giggle-swaddle-sleep rhythm established, an exercise rhythm beginning to emerge, and other elements of a next to normalcy beginning to occur.

Until I can reach a state of normal... or even next to normal... I am just going to keep holding this little boy as long as he'll let me. If things can't be next to normal, at least they can be worthy of the irregularity I am enduring.

... and he is...

Chilling with his Papa in a Biergarten in Durham...

His monkey BFF

Baby's first fireworks... July 5th, thanks to the rain on July 4th...

Nonni has dubbed him the skinny guinea... this picture captures the essence of that moniker...