It was really weird being on national news for something unrelated to the Badgers – or Scott Walker’s possible run for president.  But there it was, dark and early this morning as I sat in my reclining rocker with my six month-old son, Roman.  As I stared at his sweet little face, back asleep after being fed, I just can’t even imagine what a mom does after losing her child.  The news was on a very low volume, but it seemed to get louder and louder as the story went on.  I hate that this went down in my city.  I hate that a 19 year-old lost his life and that his family and friends have to try to keep going.  I hate that an officer fired his gun killing someone and now he has to try and figure out where that leaves him.  But, I’m proud of the peaceful protests I’m seeing.  I’m proud of the response and leadership from Police Chief Koval and Boys & Girls Club of Dane County CEO, Michael Johnson.  I hope that good comes from this.  Meanwhile, please be respectful because – bottom line – a mom who once was up rocking her six month-old child, staring at his sweet face, now has to say good-bye.  

So many amazing blessings to count!  One of my dearest friends, who wasn’t even supposed to have one baby, just had her second … and calling Ellisyn beautiful is the understatement of the year.  Another lifelong friend just found out that TWINS are on the way.  And after a heart-breaking pregnancy loss, my cousin is due in July.  My nephew, Nate, just celebrated seven months old.  He and his parents will be visiting next month.  My nephew, Carter, is now more physically able than ever, communicating constantly and even hugging his sister!  He’ll be six on St. Patrick’s day which is mind-blowing.  I’m convinced life without my 3 ½ year-old niece, Ella, was boring as all get out.  She’s a riot.  And my two boys … oh my.  I can’t even begin.  Everett was three in December and Roman is six months-old tomorrow!  If we could just get and stay healthy for more than a millisecond, I would be very happy.  They’re my world.  Period.  There’s also my mom and dad who willingly and lovingly watch the boys every single day, and my husband who smiles while participating in my crazy world. 

The sky is blue, the sun is shining.  Some days, you just need to count your blessings and be thankful.  Today is one of those days.  

The internet is an awesome thing…except when it isn't.  When I was pregnant with Roman, I Googled, read about and made lists of all the awesome date nights Marc and I were going to have.  Just because we had two kids was not going to be a reason to not keep the romance alive. Now, I'm not exactly sure where I was getting these spectacular thoughts from because since Everett was born, we've been out sans kids – twice.  (Yes, I know my kid just turned 3.) 

All of these women were writing about how to make sure your marriage doesn't suffer because of the kids.  And here is a list of places you can go and activities you can do for all of your date nights.  The thought of it made me so happy.  But then it was like, 'For REAL?'  Exactly when was this going to happen?  And who was going to pay for it?  So if you're in the same spot that we're in, first of all don't feel bad.  I think we're actually in the majority.  Secondly, there are much smaller things you can do that don't require money, a babysitter or trying to fit into clothes you wore pre-baby.  And they won't take away from any possible sleep time which is key.  No, this is not where I write a list for you and you go ahead and just do them.  Think about it for a sec and do what works for you.  My mom said that if my brother, sister and I went to bed easily and quietly, they would make dinner together, candlelight and all. 

Now that I'm back at work, Marc and I are trying to meet for lunch at least once a month.  Little things go a long way at this point.  Don't forget that texting doesn't always have to be about dinner or picking up diapers and dog food on the way home.  And the most romantic thing you can possibly do is to help your significant out with something they'd rather not do.  Honestly, if my husband cleaned a bathroom for me, it would knock my socks off. 

I just got an email from a friend that said, 'Lanette … update your blog.  Otherwise it looks like you're dangerously overdue.'  It took me a second … 'Oh yeah!  I have a blog!'  Lately it seems as if my mind and my body are in two different places at all times, but it's all coming back to me – I think. 

I was back in the office and on the air the week of Thanksgiving.  I left the house that Monday morning with my workbag, untouched since August 26th, a breast pump and a gigantic lump in my throat … none of which are things that lead to a successful workday, but I did it.  I got in my car and drove away from my babies.  In jeans three sizes bigger than before, breast pads stuffed in my bra so I don't leak all over everyone and a Tupperware container full of the family meal I had gotten used to making while on maternity leave.  (It was chili – and it would later spill all over in my workbag.  Awesome.) 

How on Earth will I keep life in order while working full-time, trying to run a household and keeping up with appointments and events?  With a Command Center of course!  Yep, a dry erase calendar in which everyone in the family has a different color marker and a 'Notes' section filled with things like 'turn crock pot to warm at 3pm please.'  It's definitely an attempt at making sure everyone is on the same page.  And we get to say we have something nifty called a 'Command Center.' 

Now for the things we CAN'T control.  Both boys are sick right now.  Everett with his fourth cold in three months and Roman with his third.  I've gotten a total of about three hours of sleep the last couple nights and although I've never had a sty in my eye, so I can't say for sure, but I think I have one now.  Showering a couple times a week is the new norm and I'm so thankful I have two dogs to eat everything from dropped Cheerios to spit up off the floor because cleaning the house seems to keep falling further and further down the list of importance.  BUT…I'm smiling.  I'm smiling big time.  I have two boys that knock my socks off.  My husband and I go to sleep at night, usually a few feet apart because of the three year-old between us, knowing that we wouldn't have it any other way.  So I'm back!  On the air, in the office and … whoops!  Gotta go.  My breast pump is calling my name. 

"No baby yet?"  This is a question I never had to hear with my first born, because Everett decided to make his grand entrance a month early.  It makes me smile how everyone walks slowly around the corner – hoping to not see me at work – and then when I'm here they say something to the tune of, "Nothing?"  It's such disappointment to see their dear co-worker, Lanette. 

It's okay.  I'm very aware that with each child – heck with each dog and cat – I fell lower and lower on the Totem pole.  As we round the corner to my due date,  I'm thinking I should put a jar on my desk that says, "Yes I'm still here.  Put some chocolate in this here jar for even thinking about asking me when my due date is and how I'm feeling."

PS: If you happen to bring wine instead of chocolate, I won't be disappointed.  I can't wait to share with you the amazing news that Roman is here! 

I am feeling so blessed to be able to share with you the arrival of my sweet nephew, Nathaniel James.  Notice I didn't use the word 'little' in his description?  This gorgeous boy was born on July 20th weighing 10 pounds, 8.6 ounces and was 22 inches long.  I've looked, but there are no greeting cards that say "Congratulations, you have a six week-old!"

I'm just beside myself with love and gratitude for him and my brother and sister-in-law.  It's been almost two years since they allowed their son, Sammy, to earn his angel wings and fly.  I'm sure Nathaniel will hear all about his brother and feel his presence often.  And come the teenage years … none of us will mind that he'll have quite the guardian angel when he makes the dumb choices that teenagers 'sometimes' make.  ? 

My husband stumbled across an awesome playground in Cottage Grove.  It's the Phoebe Bulman Bakken Memorial Park … and this place is cool.  There's lots of great climbing and running and sliding and swinging.  And it got extra cool when I found out that it was a park built just a few years ago solely on donor money and volunteers to actually put it all together. 

You always hope your kid will get along with and be accepted by other kids, so I was just a beaming momma when Everett ran up to a boy and a girl and said, "Hey guys!  Look at me!"  The little girl said, "Wanna play tag?"  Now whether Everett truly knows what tag is or not, he lept up and screamed enthusiastically, "YEAH!"  And off they went playing tag and running around.  When he decided the big, covered slide was too big, this sweet new friend said, "That's okay, we can come over here to the smaller one."  I wanted to scoop up this brother and sister, who we later found out were named Emma and Devin, and give them big, huge hugs.  Then they all decided it was time to swing.  Everett and Devin sang the Thomas the Train theme song together while Marc and I tried to keep up and push all three of them on the swings. 

It was a great morning for so many reasons:  Everett was a sweaty, hungry mess – so we got home, ate lunch and he crashed for a couple hours.  And also because I got to see what great kids are capable of.  These two kids didn't have to play with Everett, but they did and with such sweetness that I can only hope that this will be the kind of people that Everett will befriend along his way in life. 

Thank you to the parents, too … job well done!

So, here we go.  Rounding the corner into the last two months of this pregnancy.  I have to say that I've felt much better than when I was pregnant with Everett.  I'm not swollen.  I have much more energy and overall the experience has been wonderfully uneventful.  Now I'm not one who loves being pregnant and thinks it's a beautiful time in a mother's life.  No, but I'm so humbly honored to be able to be a mom again, so I'll take it. 

Maybe you heard that we've named our son, Roman Frederick.  The name floated around a bit with a couple others, but alas, this was our final choice and I'm totally in love with his name.  I like to find out the sex of the baby  and then I like to name them before they're born … and I have no issues with other people knowing the name, hating it, loving it … it's all okay.  But last night, I saw his name pop up on a list of "Hipster baby names" for 2014 .. .along with Salinger, Lennon and Gulliver to name a few.  At first I was annoyed that it was being categorized as "hipster," but then I remembered I don't even truly know what a "hipster" is … so carry on. 

Anyway, in these last eight weeks, I'd like to request your positive energy, your mojo, your prayers, your whatever for these last two months to go smoothly and remain uneventful.  Everett decided to make his grand entrance a month early.  I'm hoping that isn't the case this time around.  And in my hormonal state, I could blame you if that happens again … so get going on those good vibes.  GO!
 

Sometimes we do things we're so embarrassed by … like this past weekend when we were at the park.  Everett was swinging and swinging and swinging.  Every time I'd slow down he'd say, "MORE SWINGING!"  I'm sure it was a good hour until he finally decided heading home was a good idea.  So I pulled him out of the swing and we raced to the car. 

When I put him in his car seat, I realized he was wet on his butt.  Now it had crazy-rained the day before, so I didn't think twice about it at first, but then I checked his diaper.   It.  Was.  POOP.  Oh my gosh, poor Everett and his double ear infection are about halfway through the antibiotic …and if you've had a kid on an antibiotic … you know the runny, yucky, horrific stuff that comes out of their cute, little butts.  So I first thought of grabbing a wipe, paper towel or anything I could get my hands on to go clean the swing, but then I saw that there was already a little girl in the swing and her daddy was smiling and pushing her up high in the sky.  Who would I be to ruin that special moment for them?  So I closed the door, started the car and raced home. 

I can't stop thinking about that dad lifting his daughter out of the swing and being extremely stumped at first at how his daughter got poop on her butt without having a dirty diaper.  Then slowly realizing that it had to be another kid's poop and getting extremely grossed out and angry.  I'm SO ashamed and mortified.  And I really wish I would've been wearing a less memorable color than orange.  Dear Diary … please don't tell anyone.