Better late than never?

A few pics of our Disneyland trip last October--Morgan loved Minnie in her witch costume so much I had to buy her the doll that matched. She still takes it with her everywhere.

This was one of those Disneyland moments--Garrett and my nephew William (on his 6th attempt) were both selected for Jedi Training for the first time. Garrett spent most of the time trying to get his light saber to open and close properly but still managed to pull it out when he was the first to face Darth Vader ("Good work youngling, you didn't volunteer, but you're going first anyway!" --Jedi Master).

Mom and I were able to take my kids and my sister's two oldest (she had a test that night so they joined us the next day) to Mickey's Halloween Treat, which we've done once before-this time was noticeably more crowded, but we still had a great time (despite the unexpected horrific LA traffic that made us two hours late). It was totally worth all the work I put in on our costumes--Morgan was the belle of the ball. We were so excited to run into this particular villain right away (well, I was--Morgan not so much)
M has the Cheshire cat riding on her back--the scarecrow yelled out, "Oh MY! What have you done to the poor Cheshire cat?!?! You've stuffed him and turned him into a backpack!!"
It was so fun, I've always wanted to go to D-Land dressed as Alice, and this is the only time they allow adults to don costumes. I did not make G's costume, he picked it out-but we did find those kickin' inflatable wings at a party store, which were WAY more cool than the ones it came with. He had the widest wingspan of any Buzz Lightyear there (and there were MANY).

Joyful Noise

What is this I feel...release? Exhilaration? Strength?

Oh, happy day.

Additional proof of my children's cuteness.

Morgan has this endearing habit of letting us know when something is "doing" a "bad thing" to her--be it her brother, the cats, her toys, her blankets, the wind (it blows her hair), etc. She screams. Bloody murder. It's adorable. So I have been working with her to, instead of screaming (as sweet as it is), say, "Mommy, I have a problem!" We used this technique with Garrett when he was younger and it worked out swimmingly. At first she had no interest--apparently it did not adequetly convey her torment and frustration. But lately she has been trying, though her wording is a little off--here is an example from the other night:

"Mommy, I NEED A PROBEM!!"
"What honey? You need a problem or you have a problem? What's your problem?"
"I NEED A PROBLEM!!!"
"What is it? What's the problem?"
"I NEED A PROBLEM!!!!!!!!"
(M begins running like crazy all over the house)
"Honey, what are you doing?"
"I'm trying to find a problem!!"

Garrett in the meantime is obsessed with my memories. He is constantly asking me if I remember things, some obscure, some surprisingly accurate:

"Mommy, do you remember the time I grabbed that bee and got stung?"
"Mommy, do you remember the time you were driving the car?"
"Mommy, do you remember the time I was 4?"

I can't remember the most specific ones, which is driving me crazy as he asks me about stuff that happened when he was two and three in remarkable detail, but here is my very favorite:

"Mommy, do you remember the first morning?"
"The first morning of what, honey?"
(Pause while he thinks)
"The first morning of days."
. . .
"No honey, I wasn't alive yet. That was a really, really long time ago."
"Oh."
(minutes later, after quiet contemplation)
"Do you remember when you used to be dead?"
"WHAT?!?!?"
"When you weren't alive yet."
"Ohhhhh, well honey, I wasn't dead, I just hadn't been born yet--I didn't exist. You have to be born and be alive before you die."
"Oh, ok. You weren't born yet at the first morning."
"No honey, I'm not that old."
"Oh. What about Daddy?"

My children are unbearabley cute.

Morgan has a play kitchen in the back of our real kitchen. Normally she prepares plates of fake food for us (she's quite the nutritionist--when I was so sick in early pregnancy, she brought me an orange, a fried egg, and a donut with the instructions "I brought you this food so that you can eat it and feel better and be happy"), lets us "munch" on them for a moment, and then snatches them back to the kitchen for a wash, rinse, and repeat. A couple weeks ago she started making cookies (while her cousins were here giving her new ideas). The last few days she's put a spin into her cookie making--she sticks the baking sheet into the oven (we don't have fake cookies, so this is purely pretend--so refreshing to me as Garrett has always been resistant to pretending), stairs at it through the door for about ten seconds, then throws open the oven door exclaiming, "OH NO! MY COOOOKIES!"
Apparently she can't stop burning them. Her imaginary cookies. My daughter is a lousy fake chef. She'll bring us the tray, but if we reach for one she says, "NO! You can't eat dem! They all burned up with fire!" Last night she pulled out a "good" batch just as I walked through the back door--Troy said, "Oh, you're just in time. She's burned the last three batches." I almost wet myself. But not before enjoying a delicious cookie, fresh from the oven.
Garrett is Batman. He received extraordinary things for Christmas-a "power gauntlet" that meekly shoots "batarangs" about three feet, a mask, and THE WINGS. THE WINGS are worn like a backpack, and are black fabric on a black plastic frame. When the wearer pulls the GOLD ring, THE WINGS pop up. The wearer may then strut about the room, looking very cool and heroic (after all, G "only likes cool things"), before pulling the black rings which cause THE WINGS to retract. The buyers of THE WINGS did not realize until after their purchase that the span of said WINGS is just over five feet. FIVE feet. In other words, wider than he is tall. Ornaments were knocked from the tree, cups from the table, kitties launched themselves from their perches in terror--but he learned pretty quickly to retract them before walking through a doorway.
The most fascinating thing about THE WINGS is the reactions received from adult observers. Specifically male adults. I let him wear his getup to Troy's branch's holiday party last weekend. Eyes misted over. Mouths went slack. Eyebrows made that point above the nose. Amidst a grown-up party complete with junk food, alcohol, a pool table and Guitar Hero, the COOLEST THING EVER was my five year old. I had to threaten them that if one more man said, "Oh man, if I'D had those I'd have SO been up on the roof..."within G's earshot, I would maim him (including my husband). But it was so sweet watching G strut around the party, demonstrating his gadgets and glowing under the admiration of so many grown-ups (he had been a little nervous about the whole thing). And Batman saved us a trip to the ER. G was sitting on a swiveling bar stool next to me, swinging his legs and rocking side to side, and (through no fault of his own) suddenly flew out of the seat to land, sprawled face-down, at my feet. His face hit the sharp-edged foot rest of my seat, the whole ordeal absolutely terrifying him (as he would later tell me, "I cried do hard I couldn't breathe. That really scared me.") and the room full of adults witness to it. I scooped him up and ran for the bathroom, sure he'd be gushing blood, to find a mild welt over one eye--and a dent in the (thankfully) thick, squishy mask he was wearing where he'd made contact.
Thank you, Batman. Thank you.
And finally, the third child of cuteness, the baby--whom Troy felt kick for the first time Saturday night. Three lusty jabs in a row, nice payout for the many nights prior he'd spent, hand to my belly, waiting patiently through many a "Did you feel that?" "No." "How 'bout that?" "No." "That one?" "No" "Oh wait, was that it?" "No hon, sorry, just a gas bubble." And he was so happy. So I guess he's pretty cute, too.

Meet Baby "Lumpy"

The whole 3-D thing is cool in concept, and makes the baby look more real, but it's also a little freaky...

We were 13 weeks 5 days when these were taken, and are 14 wks today--hooray for the 2nd trimester!! This one is baby's profile, you can just see the tiny nose and mouth (which baby kept opening and closing during the scan).

Waiting for snow...

Did you know that only 7 of every 100 Christamses in Seattle is white? We learned that last year when the small sprinkling of snow on Dec 25th caused a regional frenzy--and it didn't even stick. This year we might actually get one--if it will ever start snowing. It was supposed to start last night. We're still waiting. They assure us that it's coming...makes me feel like a kid waiting for candy that keeps being dangled further away. Well, at least maybe I can get a little shopping done today after all.
The drawback to the possibility of a White Christamas is that in order for snow to stay the temperature must be below 32 degrees. We've been setting the stage for awhile now--it hasn't risen above that for nearly a week. Brr. On Monday morning, as I left the house at 7 AM (ungodly early for me) for our first ultrasound appointment, the car thermometer kindly informed me that it was 20 degrees. Thank God we have a garage, it delayed my exposure my another 30 minutes.
And yes, we saw the baby! Troy was really antsy about doing prenatal genetic testing (which we didn't do with Morgan, as we were so low risk), as he has heard me say that your risk rises as you age (why does he hear stuff like that, but not, "can you take out the garbage?"). He decided that it was more necessary as I am *GASP* over 30 now (by two months), and I agreed mainly as there is a newer option for the screening that includes an ultrasound. While I was laid low with the 1st trimester yucks, and my mood was suffering, I had much anxiety about the wellbieng of the baby--so much so that I decided the possible risk of ultrasound (and yes, there is potential risk-those sound waves are shaking the baby's brain) was not worse (to me) than the damage being done by my high stress levels. So in I went. Unfortunately Troy and the kids were unable to come, as he had a meeting he couldn't miss and we didn't have a sitter (we made the appt late and they only had that time slot). Luckily by Monday I was feeling SOOOOOO much better and lighter of spirit that being alone did not terrify me. There was breath holding during the initial nudging around with the wand, then all of the sudden there was our baby--arms, legs, fingers, toes, heartbeat and everything. As always, an amazing and humbling experience. Further enhaced by our risk of Down's being 1 in 3,947 (chromosomal disorers were 1 in 41,000). I told Troy we weren't at risk. Baby was right on schedule and VERY active. Oh well, we're all much more relaxed and happy now, and may even forgoe the 20 wk scan as we (meaning I) don't care to know the gender, anyway, and they've already checked for everything else. We got some great pics (our first in 3-D) and a DVD so the kids and Troy were able to watch it that evening--the kids are enthralled. They've watched it several times. The really cool thing about the DVD was that the u/s tech turned on the sound to capture the heart rate, so we have a recording of that, too! And if we do decide to have the 20 wk scan, they'll add it onto the same disc. Technology, man. It's a trip. I'll post some u/s pics later.

Baby update

So I realized I never got around to posting about our first midwife appt (or our Disneyland trip, or Halloween, or Thanksgiving--I'll get to it). It was awesome, of course-Valerie was running behind as her prior appt had been 1/2 hour late (we cut them slack, their baby was just a week old), but that gave us time to re-introduce the kids to the birth center, show them the family room stocked with toys, and fill out all the new-pregnancy paperwork. Val was so excited to see us that she actually ducked out of her appt (they were with the student midwife) to come and give me a gigantic hug.
Once in the room (they conduct all their appointments in the birth suites, which are like really nice jacuzzi suites at the Hyatt), we settled into the loveseat and chairs to chat while the kids continued to play with the toys they'd brought in from the family room-Val actually spent about half the hour we were there playing with Garrett while the student midwife asked me all the standard questions--Val was still paying attention as she would interject if she heard something interesting or unusual, but never took her focus off Garrett-who now thinks she is a Goddess of Superglue (they were fixing toys). Morgan got in on the action, too, and by the time we left both kids were totally comfortable and happy--what doc's office could have accomplished that?? I wouldn't have even been able to take them with me to an OB.
Val even spent time just talking to Troy (while I was in the bathroom), asking about work and how he's feeling about the pregnancy--then they discussed the possibility of homebirth (yes, we are considering it!) and what that would mean for him (not much, they take care of all the clean-up). I moved over to the bed and Val let Garrett help carry the supplies she needed for my blood draw and explained everything as she went so he wasn't nervous at all. He sat right next to me on the bed and held my hand, and was very surprised when I didn't cry.
After that Troy and Morgan joined us on the bed as Val wielded the almighty Doppler--I was a little over ten weeks, so there was a possibility of hearing hear tones. With our history this is always the most anxiety-ridden part of a pregnancy for me, and I was prepared to request an ultrasound if she couldn't hear it. After a few tense moments, there came that reassuring whoofwhoofwhoof--Val squeezed my hand in her free one, and we both teared up. Then away the little rascal flitted. Morgan hadn't even noticed the noise, but Garrett had (when he first heard Morgan's heart in utero, when he was not quite 2, he jumped up startled and announced, "Is a doggy!").
So everything was hunky-dorey, my blood pressure was a little low which explains the light-headedness I'd been having, and as we prepared to leave (with lots more hugs from Val), Garrett became very upset and said, "we AREN'T leaving, the midwife still needs to get the baby out!!" Apparently he got confused with our purpose, and was very distressed (even though we've discussed at length how long the baby will be inside me and when it will come out). I felt so bad. So most of us left happy.
I just wish that every woman choosing an ob/hospital birth would have the opportunity to have one meeting with a really good midwife before making that choice. Would you buy the first car you test-drive just because it's the car everyone else is driving? Not that OB's and hospitals don't have their place, when there is danger present, they do a great job getting through it (usually). But a normal birth isn't dangerous, and by treating it as though it is modern medicine has created danger where it wouldn't normally be (since the introduction of continuous fetal monitoring, for example--making moms where monitors that check baby's heart and mom's contraction strength throughout labor--the c-sect rate has sky-rocketed with no change in maternal/fetal outcome. The monitors are notoriously inaccurate, but docs treat them as though they aren't and are often cutting open perfectly healthy women with perfectly healthy babies for no reason--so a woman that requests intermittent monitoring has already lowered her risk of surgery without compromising her or the baby's health).
Holy cow, I've accidentally climbed on my soapbox. Sorry about that. Bottom line, birth is a healthy, normal, really super-cool experience and I anxiously anticipate doing it again!