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This week, I made a very happy announcement on Facebook - there will soon be another little Moecker baby in our family. I’m due at the end of May with our second child, and I couldn’t be more delighted to be a mother for the second time!

My happiness was echoed by dozens of family and friends who posted congratulations and well wishes on the Facebook post of my sonogram. The picture may have been fuzzy, but the image was unmistakable – a little mystery of a person that I absolutely can’t wait to meet.

There’s something truly amazing about making a sonogram photo available to hundreds of people all at once, from all over the world. I still respect technology because of the way it can bring people together. I have shared hundreds of pictures of Max on Facebook in the last two years, but it’s another thing entirely to share such happy news!

I’m excited for what the next six months will bring, but sometimes instead of looking forward, I find myself looking back to my last pregnancy. Max turned two in September, but the timeline seems skewed.

On one hand, I feel as if he’s always been a part of me, and in a way, my life began when he came to us. I don’t remember what we did with our time before Max, but it sure wasn’t important.

On the other hand, it seems like just yesterday he was a newborn. I still call him a baby, and I have begun to understand why some moms still call their teenagers babies. Or even adults!

But right now, Max is growing like a weed. He is hopelessly funny, learning every day and never failing to surprise me.

One night last week, Tony was working second shift and Max and I were enjoying some pizza while watching a Thomas movie on TV. I heard him say, “Ta da!” When I looked over, he had somehow speared his pizza with his little index finger and was holding it up for me to see. I must have laughed for fifteen minutes.

Max is at a fun age, very curious and surprisingly brave. I treasure our time together, especially when all three of us are at home at once. With Tony’s schedule, it’s different from week to week.

I wonder if I treasure the time so much because I feel like I’m missing out on his life when I’m at work every day. Sometimes I wonder - how will it affect Max to have his limited mom-time disturbed? How will it affect the new baby and me?

And then I think, people have been having babies for many, many years. And although my attention may be divided, it will not be lost.

Although Tony and I had discussed the idea of having only one child, I held onto my wish to give him a sibling. I am fortunate to be very close to my younger sister, Kelly, and my younger brother, Jay. I want Max to have that opportunity.

Where I am the oldest of three, Tony is the youngest of three, with two older sisters, Sarah and Paula. Tony quickly saw my conviction when he thought about how much he enjoyed growing up with siblings, and we decided to add to our family.

Although there is no guarantee that Max will be close to his little brother or sister (especially when they are young), I am excited to give him the chance and grateful that we are able to expand our family easily.

The Moecker side won’t have to wait much longer for a new baby, though. Some time in the next few days, Paula and her husband, Scott, will have their first baby. They have chosen to keep the sex a surprise, and I am proud of them for it!

I doubt I could hold out that long, knowing how easy it is to find out. In fact, I already think my new baby is a boy, although we won’t know for weeks.

We’ll find out eventually.

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Max and I spent Halloween night in Warrensburg, which has become something of a tradition in our family. Unfortunately, Tony was working nights, so he missed out on all the fun.

Mom spent hours sewing a Luke Skywalker costume for Max, and with his blonde hair and light saber toy, he looked incredibly authentic. Last year, she made him a Bam-Bam costume. I put on Tony’s old hard hat and a flannel shirt and went as a construction worker.

Since the parade was scheduled to start at 7, I made “German Potato Soup” Saturday afternoon to take along with us. It’s an old recipe of Mom’s and a family favorite. Lucky for me, it turned out great, despite my cooking curse.

As our family grows, I find more reasons to travel to several houses to trick or treat. (We haven’t ever gone door-to-door.)

So after a brief search for Max’s Elmo candy bucket, I packed up the soup and my little buddy in the car.

Just after 5 p.m., we made our first stop, at Uncle Steve & Val’s house on the east end of Decatur. They had an incredible scene already set up for the evening’s festivities, complete with coffins, several intricately carved pumpkins and dressed skeletons. They had elaborate costumes and scare tactics planned for the trick or treaters.

Next year, I plan to visit later in the evening when it’s dark!

After some hot cider and candy, Max and I shuffled off to Warrensburg to visit Dad and Pam. We ate more candy and a lot of laughs watching Max dance around the room in his costume.

Next, we went to Mom’s house for a quick dinner before the parade and costume judging in the firehouse. Max ate a surprising amount despite his several pieces of candy.

The weather was pretty cold that night, so we opted to drive to the parade site in downtown Warrensburg. We sat on the tailgate of my SUV huddled under a blanket. There was a buzz of excitement in the air as we looked at the families lined up on the streets and listened for the sound of sirens.

The parade consisted mostly of police cars, fire trucks and a few floats. My mom and I knew most of the people in the parade, and a good amount of the people lined up to watch. There is something comforting about that.

Max pointed to each vehicle excitedly, often asking “What’s that?” I drank in his childhood enthusiasm, trying to remember the last time I was that animated about something.

Everything is so much more enjoyable when I see it through Max’s eyes.

After the parade, the whole crowd migrated over to the firehouse a few blocks away for the costume judging and free donuts. It felt warm in the open building with all of the people inside, and we ran into several old friends and acquaintances. I had a great time showing off my little boy!

They judged costumes by age groups, and Max won second place in the toddler “comic” category. He stuffed the two dollars into his little leather belt and started asking for his Elmo candy bucket.

We had great fun with our family and friends that night, and we will definitely be back next year. I’m a small town girl at heart.

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I began the second day with a little more confidence, but a little less relaxation. I felt the sense of duty in my chest, and hoped that the course of the day would provide me with answers to some of my lingering questions.

The defense finished speaking, rested, and we were up and down several times, leaving the courtroom and entering the claustrophobic jury room.

The waiting was somehow different now – in a cramped room, with eleven other jurors and one alternate. I felt confined suddenly, both by physical space and by others’ opinions.

I paced the room, read, or listened, but rarely spoke. A few of the others spoke enough for everyone. Small talk is painful enough. What would the difference be, I wondered, when we started to discuss this person’s life and their actions?

The court let us out for an early lunch, so I set out to run errands. I had already formed an opinion of the verdict in my mind, although we had not yet heard the closing arguments. Would it change in deliberation?

The case continued to weigh heavy on my mind as I walked back to the courthouse. The weather was unseasonably cold, so it matched my pensive mood.

We filed back into the courtroom, and I kept my eyes to the floor, putting on my best poker face. We were seated, and the judge read several pages of jury instructions to help us understand the law and our role in it. And then the closing arguments began.

Once again, I did my best to remain focused; the judge had warned us to remember the evidence, based on fact, and to only consider the closing arguments when they do not conflict with the evidence. Although I had taken a few notes, I tried hard to keep the facts straight in my mind.

Time moved more slowly as the closing arguments and our case came to a close. As we walked back into the small room for deliberation, I felt like the room had shrunk. I had a verdict in mind, and hoped we all could easily come to an agreement.

As steady, slow and formal as the process had felt up to now, the deliberation was the opposite. We agreed immediately on a verdict and all conversation after that was unnecessary speculation.

After the surprised courtroom was gathered back into the room, we filed into the jury box one last time with our verdict. The judge read it aloud – simply, and without fanfare. She then proceeded to thank us for our service, and told us where to go next.

It seemed like such an anticlimactic ending for an intense process, especially because I stewed over the case for days afterward. I absolutely believe that we followed the law – discovering through evidence where the line of “reasonable doubt” was in the case.

But I will always wonder – did we get it right?

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Call me crazy, but I love waiting rooms - the ultimate luxury of being on someone else’s clock. Sure, I may have better things to do, but I feel like it’s out of my hands.

That’s why I was actually excited to participate in jury duty last week.

Once I was seated among what felt like hundreds of other prospective jurors, I felt completely at ease. No phone, no contact with the outside world (other than a shared telephone at the front of the room). I was surrounded by strangers and magazines, coffee and candy.

And right in front of us, dead-center in the front wall, sat the clock, ticking away methodically.

Several minutes into a good book, Judge White entered the room to tell us what would happen during the day. Her pleasant demeanor and respectful tone only improved my mood.

Surprisingly, I found someone I knew when I got up to get coffee. But I didn’t feel much like talking.

A few more minutes passed then the first group of 28 jurors was called to action. I thought this was a good time to stop at the restroom. I returned moments later to find the entire group looking at me – apparently, my name had been called already!

We were whisked away in a single-file line, soon broken by choice of transportation to the fifth floor, only to be lined up again. We were shuffled from one room to the next, finally seated in a jury box of a sparsely-filled courtroom.

We were asked several questions in small groups by the prosecutor and defense. For the first time, I began to feel nervous as they occasionally asked us individual questions.

Time began to drag as I found myself absently watching the secondhand on the clock. I almost forgot to answer one of the many repeated questions, hesitating slightly as I returned to reality. The prosecutor spoke in monotone and I fought to stay focused.

In this place, time is everything.

Aside from a few chuckles regarding my occupation and place of employment, I came through the interview unscathed. That is, except for a strict warning from the otherwise sunny-faced judge McCarthy to stay away from local media. “Especially you, Bridget.”

After a lunch, the rest of the afternoon was a steady stream of explanations, and every single person was sure of their story. Sometimes, there were raised voices or eyebrows, but by and large, the process was a methodical, steady ship – in water, but unaffected by the waves and unwavering in its course.

The judge was nothing less than pleasant, calm and respectful – to everyone. I left feeling as if I could trust whatever decision we came to – because everything so far was nothing less than thorough.

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I caught a video and article on Yahoo!’s featured news last week that really threw me for a loop.

Julia Grovenburg, of Fort Smith, Ark., was reported to have become pregnant a second time - while she already was pregnant.

This “double pregnancy” is called superfetation. Although this was the first time I had heard of it, apparently it is a very rare but possible condition in humans and usually only occurs in animals.

After a web search, I found another article string from 2001. It was reported by CNN that an Italian woman was due to give birth to a girl, yet six months pregnant with triplets.

However, in March 2002, BBC news published an article saying that the entire story was fabricated, and this double pregnancy was nothing more than a hoax.

Let me just say this - whether this condition (phenomena?) is true or not, I don’t like having my fundamental truths messed with.

Although the more recent Grovenburg case seems plausible given the doctor reports, the 2001 story seemed plausible, too.

The best thing about the Internet is the quick, easy access to news, but it’s unsettling to think that even the most trusted news sources can sometimes get it wrong.

These sources, not unlike the Herald & Review, do their best to deliver the most accurate information to the world every day. If not because of ethics and integrity, then because no one likes a lawsuit.

The media reports on the testimony of people, and, while there is a responsibility to dig deep and expose the truth, sometimes these things happen.

So wrong or right, true or untrue, information is disseminated throughout the world in a matter of minutes over the Internet, and searchable for days or years. All information is available to be picked over, found sometimes out of context, or maybe even no longer relevant.

I found myself asking, is the entire Internet becoming a Wikipedia?

I don’t think so, but I will say this - I don’t believe everything I read.

***

Just when I said that the “terrible two’s aren’t so terrible,” I found myself getting more frustrated with little Max than usual this week.

Saturday morning, Tony was sleeping in after a hard night’s work on second shift, and Max and I were enjoying some toast while watching morning cartoons.

Max is known to get a little spirited during cartoons, so we went downstairs in the family room to avoid waking Tony.

I was still a little tired and spacey, so I didn’t notice when Max got up from his little table, walked across the room to our new, brown microfiber couch, and dumped his plate of crumbs out like confetti.

I started to raise my voice, and then stopped when I saw the plain curiosity on his face.

Max just wanted to know what would happen.

This was all little funnier later in the day, when I accidentally spilled a drink; Max yelled “Mess!” at me, little finger pointed.

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I blinked, and the spring and summer have flown by. Fall has begun, and this Friday the 25th, Max will turn two years old.

Preparing for our new Web site that launched Sept. 8 has kept me busy, and unfortunately, blog writing was a casualty of that. It took the entire online team months of work to prepare for the transition, and we are pleased with the results.

Although a Web site is never “done,” we have fixed most of the glitches and hope to now spend more time creating new, exciting online content for our visitors.

In addition to the main site redesign, we have a new obituaries site and a brand new community web site called MyH-R.com. This is the place to share your thoughts, photos and video with other people from Decatur, Macon County and Central Illinois.

The new site has some functions similar to other networking sites like Facebook, but with one big difference – it’s easy to get in touch with people and businesses from your neighborhood or town. You can start or join a group which shares your special interests, customize your profile or write a blog.

So while I’ve been concentrating on new projects at work this summer, we’ve been just as busy at home. Here’s just a few of the highlights of our summer:

*Max is talking more every day, and yells “Boat!” when we pass by Lake Decatur. He is as good as gold on the lake and never tries to take his life jacket off.

* Max jumped in a bounce house for the first time at the Arthur Cheese Festival, and that same night figured out how to jump with both feet off the ground.

* Max frequently says “Whats that?” and asks me to name several things in a row, then he repeats the words as best he can. It’s exciting to see him so interested in the world.

* With just a little prompting, Max is open to giving hugs to everyone in the room, even family members he doesn’t get to see that often.

* We introduced a potty chair, and he regularly feigns interest for me. We’ll probably make it more routine in the coming weeks.

* When Max notices text in a large size he will start to say the ABC’s as if he’s reading it. He has an exciting interest in books!

Most importantly of all, I’m finding that the terrible two’s aren’t all that terrible. Max is a sweet little boy, and his charm and humor make up for the occasional outburst.

One evening a few weeks ago, I was cooking dinner while Tony and my brother were talking with me in the kitchen. I had my back turned to them, putting the finishing touches on a homemade pizza, while they watched Max play on the floor.

All of a sudden, I heard Max say “All done!”

I turned around quickly, a little scared of what I would see.

While the three of us were talking, Max had pushed a kitchen chair up to the sink, grabbed the dish wand and attempted to wash a bowl. It was impressively sudsy considering his still-limited dexterity.

He threw the dish wand triumphantly in the bowl and said “Yayyy!” clapping his hands.

What a sweet little boy – helping his Mommy.

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The next day, Sunday, was bright and sunny, so we had high hopes for the day’s activities.

We started with breakfast at a log cabin restaurant in the nearby town of Baraboo. Max had quite a fit in there – refusing to eat or sit with us. I spent most of the meal outside with him, until Tony came outside after he was finished eating.

Next, we decided to visit deer park, and we enjoyed it without incident. It was a pleasant walk with great weather and Max liked feeding the deer.

Next, we rode one of the Original Wisconsin Ducks. Not the animal.

A “duck” is an amphibious vehicle that travels both on land and sea. These vehicles were originally used to transport soldiers in World War II. Now they’re used to shuttle tourists around on pleasure trips – weaving through the forest and diving into Lake Delton.

Yes folks, Lake Delton is back. It was missing last year.

Max fell asleep during the “boat” part of the trip, so I carefully lay him in the stroller and we walked along the sidewalks of the Dells to Riverview.

Basically, Riverview is a year-round carnival. Rides, cotton candy – the whole bit. Max woke up just in time to ride a merry-go-round.

It was getting pretty hot by mid-afternoon and I was pretty hungry, so I suggested some ice cream.

We trudged back to the car, drove to the downtown shopping area of the Dells, and walked the streets for a while. We checked out a couple “old standby” stores and bought a few souvenirs. Eventually we made it to Dairy Queen, but the line looked pretty daunting to Tony and Sharon. So we walked back to the car and decided to go try the Pirate Cove golf course.

Without going into great detail, Max had a love/hate relationship with mini-golf. He loved throwing the golf balls and running around like a madman. He hated listening to any of us.

Between Max’s behavior and not eating much that day, I was pretty frustrated by this time. Tony suggested we have an early dinner, to which I heartily agreed.

Considering Max’s erratic behavior that day, we were treading dangerous ground by going to a late viewing of the Tommy Bartlett Show. It’s a great show and I have seen it several times. The first half is mostly water ski tricks, and the second half is a juggler, a thrill show, and a laser show. Crazy stuff!

Surprisingly, Max was as good as gold. He switched laps a few times, but the show held his attention for the entire time. It was fantastic.

Monday was here already, and after a quick breakfast it was time to go home.

While I wish I could say that our mini-vacation went off without a hitch, anyone with children knows there will always be challenges when traveling with youngins.

There were tears. More than a few.

I guess at first I had thought that my job as a mother was to prevent any tears. But I’m slowly realizing that is only partially true. Tears happen, and my job is to comfort when then do. Not if.

During the first half of the car ride back to Sharon’s, Max fussed the entire way. At first I got a little frustrated.

But as I sat next to my little boy as he howled, eyes brimmed with tears, I felt a wave of love and compassion wash over me. With renewed strength, I found new games to play, new distractions, and new funny voices.

I realized that although there were a few bumps in the road, I was truly thankful that we were all together

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Our first family vacation – Memorial Day weekend in Wisconsin Dells – turned out to be an enjoyable and educational trip. I learned a lot about myself, about Max, and about how we all interact as a family.

We left Friday evening at precisely 5 p.m. – as soon as my husband, Tony, got home from work. We drove to the south suburbs of Chicago to eat dinner and pick up Tony’s mom, Sharon.

Max didn’t sleep a wink during the 2 1/2-hour drive to Sharon’s, so we let him play at her house as long as we dared before heading off to the Dells. By the time we arrived at the hotel, it was nearly 1 a.m.

Saturday, we woke late, had breakfast at Paul Bunyan’s, and bought tickets for several attractions. (Look for the triangle buildings. If you buy all of your tickets together in advance, you get 10-35% off your purchase.)

It started to rain early that afternoon, so we rode a steam engine first. Although the train was about the size of the one at Scovill Zoo, it was a real steam engine. We had a pleasant ride in the rain (open cars), and then visited the nearby gift shop.

The gift shop was stuffed to the brim with Tomas the Train merchandise, including a colorful and expensive-looking train table right at Max’s level. Max absolutely LOVES Thomas, and played gleefully for a half an hour or more, despite not having a nap.

Sharon bought him some excellent goodies there – most notably, a little Thomas train and a great length of wooden track. He has played with it several times a day ever since!

After a quick nap, it was still raining, so we decided to suit up and try the hotel pool.

In true Wisconsin Dells style, a pool can’t be just a pool. While we didn’t stay at one of the colossal indoor water park hotels, the Copa Cabana had a really nice play area for kids, with low depths and plenty of water slides.

Nothing could have prepared me for Max’s reaction to the beautiful pool area. He clung to me desperately - claws out - like a baby koala.

We had already exposed Max to so much new stuff that maybe I shouldn’t have been surprised by his reaction, but I was. He loves the bath! Why wouldn’t he love this awesome pool?

Maybe it was the cool temperature, the loud echoing, or simply the size of the pool and the playground inside of it. Whatever it was, he was absolutely not interested.

After a while, we sheepishly gave up trying to coax him to have fun, and went back to the room where I gave him a bath in his swim trunks. He had a blast in the bathtub, playing with the little shampoo bottles.

Sigh.

After a nice dinner in a Jamaican restaurant, Tony and I caught a surprisingly funny magic show while Sharon stayed with Max and enjoyed some quality time.

We tried the pool once more afterward, just to make sure he hated it. As a last ditch effort, I sat down in about six inches of water with Max sitting on my lap. He splashed a bit, but that’s all.

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In the midst of our comfortable daily routine, full of teaching Max words and sweeping up crumbs, we are about to embark on our first family vacation.

Tony, Max and I will be visiting the illustrious Wisconsin Dells this weekend with Tony’s mom, Sharon, and perhaps a few others.

I’ve visited the Dells a few times with Tony and his family, and I’ve discovered one very important thing: for the Moeckers, the Dells are more a time than a place.

They have ridden almost every Duck, watched the Tommy Bartlett show almost annually, and enjoyed many a sugared donut at Paul Bunyan’s. And my greatest excitement is sharing this with Max.

I’ve had the good fortune to have enjoyed this with them when Tony’s father, Jerry, was still with us. Tony and I also went together the summer before Max was born.

But the packing and the traveling are giving me the willies!

In order to make the most of our time in the Dells, we are leaving as soon as Tony gets home from work Friday, driving to the south suburbs of Chicago to pick up Mom, and then driving to the Dells.

Max is definitely not going to enjoy the drive. But that’s why we have a laptop and Thomas the Train DVD’s.

Aside from the mortal fear of forgetting something important (a favorite toy, his puppy, etc.), I look forward to our trip very much.

Apart from the dizzying number of festive attractions, we hope to spend a good amount of time in the hotel pool, as they have a zero-depth toddler area. He loves the bath, so I’m assuming he will love the pool!

I look forward to giving Max new experiences, and I see this trip as an opportunity to teach him some new words. In the past few weeks, he has become much more talkative. We’ve been trying to teach him “Please” and “thank you,” and it’s always exciting when he remembers to say it without my prompting.

Although I know he won’t say “thanks Mom for the trip,” his giggles and smiles make the packing worthwhile. The driving too.

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From iVillage to Dear Abby, both the internet and print media are full of articles telling modern moms to slow down, take a breath, and make time for themselves.

Hobbies are great, but who has the time?

Like most moms, about the only one I make time for is shopping (although this is a tougher one to maintain in today’s economic climate).

Just about every weekend I find myself at Hickory Point Mall, Max in the stroller, dodging people and power walking down the “streets.”

Most of the time the trip ends at the DMH play area, but at some point I usually end up in a clothing store. And this is where the trip gets a little frustrating.

Some cuts of clothing just no longer fit like they used to. Although I actually weigh a little less than before I had Max, there are some things about my body that will just never be the same.

And that’s why the ultra-low cut jeans just don’t work any more. I was trying to explain this to my younger sister when I began to realize that a lot of the clothing I used to gravitate to no longer “works.”

Besides the fit of the clothing, it seems to me that there are unnatural jumps between life stages. The categories of clothing are: Infant, Children’s, Juniors, Misses, and Grandma.

I am at the stage in my life where the stuff in Juniors looks really cute on the rack, but it is way too young for me. For me, the stretchy black pants in Juniors create an unpleasant 10-pounds-of-sugar-in-a-5-pound-bag situation.

Misses should be my category, but more often than not, when I dive into the sea of black pants I can’t find one pair that looks or feels right. Petite or regular? Medium or large? The sizing is different with every brand, cut, and style.

And sometimes the line between the racks is blurred. As I’m browsing away, leafing through endless racks of clothing, I suddenly look up and I’m in the grandma section. Boxy, free-flowing clothing that feels great but looks…well, grandma-ish.

The other day, I ran out to Farm & Fleet to get some mineral spirits. (Oh the fun of being a homeowner. No story should start out this way.)

I took Max with me, thinking I’d take my time and fiddle around before going home.

As I walked in, looking for a distraction, I remembered that they have a surprisingly big kids section. I sauntered over to the kids clothing, talking to Max and leafing through the racks absent-mindedly.

When I didn’t find anything we wanted or needed, I decided to look at the women’s clothes. What the heck, right?

The spring stuff was out, and the warm colors caught my eye. I pulled a shirt out of the rack to admire it more closely.

I held it up to Max and asked him what he thought (as if he would answer). He just looked at me blankly.

I looked back and the shirt, and realized that I’d seen it before.

On a 70-year-old woman.

I put it back and hastily zoomed away to find my mineral spirits.

Although I suppose I try harder to look presentable these days, it can be difficult to deal with body issues (post-baby) and still have the guts to go shopping.

I went shopping for swimming suits the other day. It took everything in me to resist the urge to buy one with a skirt on it.

But I didn’t, and I’m proud.

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