Dancing in the Park

I'm one of those people who pack their days with chores and activities, live by my routine and rarely take divert from the schedule. And while this process works really well for a toddler who expects consistency and routine, I learned that an occasional divergence can be a lot of fun.
Each summer out town sponsors a weekly concert series on the green. (Doesn't every town have a "green"?) We just happen to live a half mile away and each summer I walk (or run) past it since it fell during my workout time. Last summer I spyed on the band members setting up as a jogged by with Izzy in the stroller. I never felt like we could stop and enjoy because I had a workout to finish and Izzy had a bedtime to be punctual for.
I was reminded about the concert series on my way to daycare by a sign proclaiming "Free Concert Tonite". At first I was just irked that they misspelled tonight, then I lightened up a bit and thought, hey I could juggle some stuff and Izzy and I could enjoy a nice concert. After all, what toddler doesn't love to the bounce or off rhythm sway to music?
Juggling meant an early dinner for Izzy and a lunchtime walk for the dogs. Normally Izzy doesn't eat until just before bed, and Willow gets her walk with Izzy and I. Fortunately, Izzy must have been super hungry and chowed down everything I gave her. I did have to coax her into the highchair with the promise of a juice box, but seeing her eat everything was totally worth it. Unfortunately, we left the house without Willow and suffered through her howling of misery while I got Izzy situated in the stroller. The guilt from leaving my dogs behind is unbearable when they cry and paw at the door, but I wasn't sure I could handle a toddler running around and an energetic 90lbs lab by myself.
We made our quick trip down the hill just in time to hear the Star Spangled Banner and we were seated in time for the concert to begin. It didn't matter that the band had, noticeably, only learned some of the songs the week before, or that the conductor was so winded after each song that he could barely introduce the next. All that mattered was the big smile on Izzy's face as she did the toddler sway, rocking side to side and she'd pick up one foot at a time completely out of time with the music. Her contagious smile, and adorable giggles made me the happiest mom in the world. She'd clap and yell "yay' whenever a song finished, and run to me and give me big hugs and kisses as if to say thank you mom for a fun night.
We left at intermission since it was already past her bedtime and I knew the climb up the hill would take much longer then the way down. At 33 weeks pregnant I may still be mobile, but with an extra 22 lbs to carry around, and a baby squashing my lungs, it certainly takes me longer to get places. Bedtime was quick. A little kiss and a hug and off to sleep she went.
What a night. I learned that switching up the routine isn't earth-shattering and can have really positive effects. It was great to watch Izzy enjoy an activity for a change. We don't normally get to do that during the week. I was also able to appreciate what my town offers. Normally there is no time to meet neighbors or visit with the community, but we had a chance to be around other families and it was so easy. It was just a 5 minute walk (15 minutes back, it's a really big hill) to a delightful evening and I didn't pay a dime.
I can't wait to do it again.

Freaking Out!

OK, so I'm not in full freak out mode, but close enough that I have to get it all out.
Baby G2 is due in eight weeks. That means that eight weeks from today I'll most likely be in tears hoping this kid doesn't pull an Izzy and show up after an induction and nine days late. It also means that I have only eight weeks to get ready for his arrival. And it's safe to say that I've done close to nothing. (Intro irrational fear that I will have nothing ready in time for baby and will be completely unprepared.)
Maybe I've been dragging my feet because there isn't as much pressure with baby number two? When I was pregnant with Izzy there was an urge to have everything absolutely perfect upon her arrival. A painted room with lovely pink and green details to welcome our newest blessing. Truth be told she didn't enter that room until she was four months old. So maybe I don't feel that it's necessary that his room is ready before he gets here? Or maybe it's that I've been so crazed chasing after Izzy and working full time that I haven't wanted to add to my mental stress load? Currently I feel like the worst sister ever because it's been a month since my sister Sarah  had a birthday and I've yet to give her a present. If I can't focus even 20 minutes to get her something nice, why should I pour energy into prepping a room for a baby who won't be in it for another six months. And this also hints at the notion that I'm terrified to take focus away from Izzy or work for fear that Izzy would feel left out and work would spiral out of control. (Just yesterday I finally had a conversation with my boss about handing work over, with Izzy that conversation happened during the second trimester, not eight weeks before due date.)
Besides being overwhelmed with the daily routine or the knowledge I have from my first pregnancy that not everything has to be perfect, I still find myself nearing the edge of panic. It's the same feeling I get as I'm pushing myself to go out and play in the ocean. If you've been to the beach with me, you've probably been embarrassed to be with me as I try to will my body towards the crashing waves. I start gasping for air the second my toes touch the cold waves. My eyes are darting around wondering what obstacles are lurking, masked by seaweed, that I can't predict. Then the shrieking starts. I think something touched my toes, must have been a carnivorous fish!
That's how I feel right now. I've done this before, but I'm still scared. I know how to prepare myself, but the farther I wade into the blue, the more I want to turn and run to the safety of the sand. It's almost as though the less I do to prepare, the more I don't have to face what could be overwhelming and challenging. I know it's time to face my fear of having another baby because that must be at the root of my apprehension. Fear is what stops us all from progressing. So maybe it's like running into the ocean when you're terrified of what could be out there. Sure I may shriek and want to bolt for the safety of what I know, but I need to keep pushing until I find the freedom in letting a wave swallow me up. After all, nothing beats the exhilaration and sense of accomplishment of playing in the ocean.