Things I Love....

In honor of last weekend's V-Day festivities, here is a sampling of things I love:

1. My husband. I know, cheesy and predictable, but it's true. While on your average day he behaves very much like an average man, he always (usually) seems to know when I need something extra--like coming home from a 22 hour birth to a plate of freshly made waffles, letting me sleep in on the weekends, and (even though I told him no gifts because I hadn't been able to go out and get him anything) bringing me roses last weekend. He is awesome with our children, and fell asleep last night with his hand on my belly (the baby was flopping around like a beached trout). And while he may drive me crazy on occasion, he really makes an effort not to (we're still working on the whole him putting his shoes away situation, but I'm optimistic).
2. My kids. Today they made me crazy. Morgan was hysterical because her pants didn't fit, as they were on backwards, but refused to turn them around. Garrett refused to eat his breakfast because he got punished for not eating his breakfast. We went out shopping and they were running around in circles like lunatics. I wanted to string them from the ceiling. But this afternoon, after their naps, they'll climb onto the couch and snuggle with me, bringing hugs and kisses and all the joys of being a mother. They take care of me as much as I take care of them. And Morgan just drew me a picture of an apathetic face (straight line mouth).
3. Lemon curd. Mmmmmmm. Trader Joe's has started carrying it, in cute little jars claiming English import--but I don't care where it's from. I could eat that gloriousness straight off the spoon.
4. Feeling my babies move inside me. Even if the movement is uncomfortable. I love it. I feel like I can tell how the baby is feeling.
5. Soaking in a bath. I'm a girl, what can I say. I do not enjoy washing in said bath-I want to lay in it until it's too cool, then get out. No work.
6. Food. Especially if I cooked it and it came out really good. I made brie and Gorgonzola stuffed, prosciutto wrapped chicken breasts with roasted balsamic asparagus and seasoned roasted fingerling potatoes for V-day dinner, and it rocked. I don't even like asparagus. Yummy yummy food.
7. My people. As we all age and become more entrenched in our own lives, we aren't as connected as we once were, but we keep each other near as much as we can and I wouldn't be myself without them. I love watching our children play together, and the plethora of memories from all of our many life experiences. No matter where I go, I always have my people.
8. Unpasteurized dairy products. Not only are they healthier, but fantastically creamy and delicious.
9. Being a doula. It amazes me every time I do it--these people are inviting me to be a part of their lives as they change in the most dramatic way, when they are at their most vulnerable, their most raw. It is never less than extraordinary.
10. Digging in dirt. With my hands. Preferably warm dirt.

And the beat goes on...

The last couple of weeks have been a tad stressful for me. Two weeks ago (at not quite 20 wks) I began experiencing contractions. It had been a very long, physically and mentally hard day, and I was already in bed at the time, so I just stayed there. I read and tried to relax in the hopes that they would just stop--which, after about an hour and a half, they did. Remarkably I was able to get a very good night's sleep afterwards.
For any who are concerned and/or startled that I did not seek medical attention, I will explain--at that point in a pregnancy, there isn't much to be done other than trying to relax. Had the contractions increased in intensity or lasted much longer than they had, I would have called in my midwives and followed their guidance.
As soon as the birth center opened the following morning I did in fact call, and had a very emotional conversation with Valerie who recommended that I stay resting all day, drink lots and lots and lots of water, and take lots of calcium/magnesium (consequently, magnesium is what would have been administered had I gone to the hospital, but probably through an IV. Same results, though). Her mentioning hydration really made me want to smack myself, as I know good and well that dehydration causes contractions, and I knew that day that I was too thirsty, but at the time I was too tired and brain-twisted to get up and get a drink.
The kids were awesome that day--they played nicely, kept each other entertained, and checked on me regularly. Garrett was especially conscientious--at one point when I snunk upstairs to check my email, he busted into the den with, "What are you DOING? You're SUPPOSED to be resting in BED!" When he spoke with Troy later in the day, and Troy asked if I'd been doing what I needed to, he explained, "I just checked her water and she drank everything in the glass and there's only a little bit left in the canteen. She's in her bed, reading." I was well taken care of. And he's five. He even made us all PB&J's for lunch. Morgan was helpful, too, though her help mainly consisted of showing me all the pictures in her princess book. Repeatedly.
So anyway, since then things have been OK (even after attending two births in as many days), but if I am too active by the end of the day I will start getting crampy again. After a midwife appt yesterday the general consensus is that the baby is telling me to slow down and focus on my belly, and that my iron levels are too low. So I'm doing much less and taking LOTS of iron, and we'll know in the next couple of weeks whether we'll need to be more aggressive or not (which would mean medication). I'm leaning towards not. I'm finding a balance in my daily activities, and trying to keep relaxed about my laundry piling up and the house being in a general state of disarray--Troy has some time off coming up and together we can get things organized. What's really driving me crazy about it is that the pelvic joint pain I normally have when pregnant is sooooooo much better this time (I love YOGA!!) that I was looking forward to NOT having to lay low and dump so much on Troy. Oh well, he can take it. He hasn't even started complaining yet.
Aside from that things are really going well--I'm 22 wks along today (I'll post some pics, I have to upload them) and finally feel like I have a real belly. Morgan and Garrett are excited about the baby, but amazingly patient-G still asks if we're going to take the baby out at each midwife appt, but other than that they're completely accepting of the baby being inside me for so long and the changes that has brought to my behavior. Morgan talks to the baby through my belly button and Garrett FINALLY (after many tries) felt the baby move the other night, which he couldn't stop talking about. And today the weather was really nice (considering it was snowing Monday) and they got to play outside for quite awhile, making the whole household happy. Garrett has suddenly developed a deep love of the arts, and there are butcher paper murals taped all over our walls (in every room) full of Batman drawings. The windows are adorned with cut-paper snowflakes. He is amazing good at recreating things he's seen elsewhere, and will sit for hours filling in every space on the paper. Morgan is a lover of art as well, but prefers to apply it to her body--so she is encouraged away from the markers and spends most of her time putting babies to sleep on every flat surface in the house. Seriously, I have to step over them going up the stairs (each step is a bed, you see).
I will end this rather long-winded blog with some helpful advice: when pouring cereal for yourself and your little sister, should you realize there is no gluten-free cereal in the cupboard (and not wanting to repeat the mistake of eating some that isn't), simply substitute chocolate-covered raisins (just make sure you have way more in hiding under your milk than she does).

Better late than never? Part 2

Halloween--Just a couple pics to show M's costume better-she loved being the Queen! Unfortunately we don't have the best light in our living room, but trust me-her costume rocked. I know pride is a deadly sin, but I just couldn't help it. The overdress was made out of two velvet dresses (can you believe I walked into a thrift store and there just happened to be two dresses, same style, same size, right colors? I couldn't. I took them apart and sewed them back together to make the opposing red/black-the underskirt I had to make from scratch).

She had a cute little crown with a heart on it, but by this point (post treating) we couldn't keep it on her head.

Some friends of ours that live nearby go all out for Halloween, to the point of having ghoulishly attired men skulking in their front yard--in his Zombie gettup, Troy just couldn't resist joining them. He had a ball and does a disturbingly good zombie lurch.

Stay tuned for pics from Thanksgiving and Christmas!!

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.