So long, farewell

2010 was a very rough year for us. In fact, it was down right disheartening at times. Yet, the Lord was faithful to us and saw us through each rough moment and even saw fit to bless us with precious memories in the midst of our struggles. God is so very good.

I know many people are making their resolutions and taking time to reflect on their lives, today. I am not one for resolutions but I do love to reflect on all that was taken place this year.

Compared to last year: my house isn't any more organized or efficiently clean, most of my projects are still on the to do list, I inherited a panic disorder for a few months, my body is a bit flabbier, I have 8% more white hairs (ACK!) on my head, and I still haven't even come close to putting a nick on my "30 things to do before 30" list. Worst of all, I spent more days of 2010 sick than healthy. Ick.

And yet...and yet.....and yet...

Compared to last year: I read my Bible more, I love my husband more, I spent more time with my family, I gave life to another beautiful son that God blessed me with, I have another beautiful home birth experience under my belt, my garden survived its first complete year and I learned a lot about myself and my fears.

Best of all: I spent the better part of each day hugging, kissing, loving and affirming a squirmy, giggly passel of boys.

So I may not have a perfect house or a hot body or tons of money in the bank...believe me when I say that I am more than ok with my situation. I love my life. The juice stains, the cracker crumbs, the ENDLESS laundry (do you know how many socks reside in our bungalow?). The dog with WAY too much attitude, the crayon marks, the panic attacks from watching my death defying toddler all day, the heart attacks from listening to the other toddler say the most unbelievable things at times (read: "Mommy, this dragon is bigger than a penis"). Would I trade it all for a six pack and 3 extra hours of sleep every night?

No way.

Bring it on 2011. Bring it on.

Tis the Season

Tis the Season for glorious things:

Celebrating babies...one miraculous one in particular, but we can also enjoy all the other babies, bundled in heavy blankets and forced to wear tiny Santa hats.

Drinking fancy holiday drinks, peppered with special topping like shaved chocolate or roasted espresso beans. Its the time of year when you are willing to go that extra mile to deck the halls of your coffee mug for the sake of your taste buds.

Teaching bright eyed little tots about the wonders of Christmas. From the common practice of tree light viewing from underneath its scraggly boughs to the not so tidy joys of eating one's first ever peppermint stick.

Receiving oodles of snail mail each day from loved ones across the map. I love when more cards arrive than junk mail magazines. And this phenomenon occurs only once a year-- wonderful, glorious, Christmas time.

Just a few pretty universal musings I'm sure many of your identify with, regardless of zip code.

But some of you need cold weather, snow, and a toasty fire to really feel like its Christmas.

Our Season takes place somewhere hot and muggy, which is not so universal. My sister and I married a pair of northern boys and for them tis the season of ambiguous weather that does not feel like Christmas at all. And yet it is Christmas, its our Christmas. Its our palm trees lit up with twinkle lights and bedecked in tinsel. Its our flip flops patterned with plaid and lined with shearling. Its how we roll this time of year.

Yet can I say for the record, that I only enjoy Christmas at home and in church? Its true. December in this town stinks. Nasty creatures emerge from under rocks this time of year, to get behind the wheel of their cars in the hopes of running over their fellow man with vulgar shouts and curses all for the sake of a 10% discount at some crummy bargain store. Yuck. I went on a "quick run" to the grocery store a few nights ago. I almost died three times in the process. I was flipped off more times than I can count for things like letting an elderly woman cross the parking lot in front of my car. Pretty gruesome. I must say that while I love the Season, I am not a fan of the location or the majority of people that live in it.

But Christmas at home with the family is lovely. Sure it may be hot outside, with the occasional freakish cold weather day bottoming out at 50 degrees, but inside our home its Christmas. Drippy Advent candles, mangers packed with cattle lowing and plastic dinosaurs attacking, fleece footie pajamas, and thankful hearts for the birth of our Savior.

I hope the Season brings you joy wherever you are, whether surrounded by palm or pine, sun or snow. Merry Christmas.

Dinosaurs

The boys are on a major dinosaur kick. They LOVE all things dinosaur related. They love to play with plastic models, read books on the subject and have even memorized upwards of twenty scientific names (cretoxyrhina anyone?). They stomp, munch, and ROAR around the house...just like dinosaurs.

A few weeks ago I ordered a few more toy dinosaurs from a surplus sale online. These dinos were teen tiny ones, essentially baby dinosaurs for the larger ones the boys already own. I knew my boys would love this idea. The Bear loves to categorize things into shapes, colors, and types. Cubs loves animal babies and mommies, he is all about the relationship aspect of play! Double win.

The dinosaurs arrived yesterday. 24 tiny little dinosaurs oddly packaged in a very large cardboard box.

I should mention that cardboard boxes are really exciting. I have to remind you of that, because for some reason as we grow older, we silly adults forget the magic of cardboard.

I took a pair of scissors and a magic marker to the box. I made a tunnel for the boy's trains to pass through for delivery of the precious baby dinosaur cargo to expectant Mommy and Daddy dinosaurs. The boys went bonkers for this game! So did I. J and I are thinking of adopting in a few years and anytime I can get this idea across to the boys its a major plus. Although, as the Bear pointed out to me, sometimes dinosaur adoption can be tricky...

"No, Mommy. Baby Triceratops can't live with Mommy Tyrannosaurus Rex because she's a carnivore and Baby Triceratops is an herbivore."

Good point, Bear. Utopian dinosaur communities do not exist. Interesting that even though they love watching pansy versions of dinosaur shows on television which portray T-rex and Triceratops living in perfect harmony, the boys still have an innate understanding that when it comes to dinos, its eat or be eaten.

Well our game started and the boys began their imaginary play. A few overheard comments:

1) "Oh! My baby Pteranodon loves his Mommy Spinosaurus. They are eating fish together and reading a book." ~B

2) "Nice to meet you" -C introducing babies to their mommies.

3) "The pleasure is all mine"- B responding to C's introductions.

4) "Look out, its the Velociraptor. Take your leaves and run!" ~B to all the peaceful herbivores on the south end of the tunnel.

5) Cubby made a Triceratops bite a Stegosaurus. "OUCH" said the Stegosaurus. "NAUGHTY" reprimanded a nearby Spinosaurus. "I so sorry. I love you." responded the contrite Triceratops. "Its O-tay." said Cubby, the patient diplomatic supervisor of dinosaur relations.

This game continued for...drumroll please... AN HOUR AND A HALF. That's right folks, 90 minutes of blissful, peaceful, imaginative playtime.

At one point the Bear started matchmaking and introduced some of the single Mommy dinosaurs to a few lonely Daddy dinosaurs. He attributed J's characteristics to the Daddy dinos and my characteristics to the Mommy dinos. Here is one example...

"Mommy Microraptor this is Daddy Allosaurus. Daddy Allosaurus goes to bicycle school, he is amazing! Mommy Microraptor is making special cakes. She is going to hug you and clean your boogies."

SIDE NOTE: J rides a bicycle to school every day, hence the idea of "bicycle school."

Suddenly, the Bear had Mommy Microraptor and Daddy Allosaurus dialoging...

"Daddy Allosaurus?"

"Yes Mommy Microraptor?"

"Take out the trash."

"Ok"

Yet another example of how the boys have an innate understanding of life.

I'm back

WHEW!!!

I don't think I have had a minute to myself since the last time I posted. My mom came over today and as she held the Babe and watched over the Bear and Cubs, I snuck off to the bathroom to pee. Alone. TMI? Sorry. But it was a monumental moment for me. I got to pee alone in the bathroom. Its been awhile since that happened, there is usually quite the crowd in there when I pee.

A few days ago, Cubs watched as I went. He noticed the anatomical differences and asked, with a concerned look on his face, about the whereabouts of my penis. "Nope. Mommy doesn't have one of those." He responded with great sadness, "oh no!!!" He pet my hand, gave me a little smile and walked away.

Privacy is a wonderful thing.

Anyways, I didn't sit down to post about my escapades in the bathroom.

Life has been busy, its true. 3 under 3 is just as crazy as it sounds, but oh the fun. I love my babies. I love that they love each other. I love their fingers, toes, giggles, bellies, and their long eyelashes. You know what I love most of all? That they are NOT triplets.

Being off bed rest is fantastic. A fire works worthy moment of my life. I am up and about, cleaning spaghetti off booster seats, changing diapers, breast feeding while doing my household chores, playing tickle monster, chasing toddlers. J grabbed me in the kitchen the other day and hugged me for awhile. "Its so great to have you back," he said.

I feel the same way.

This week, I am reading up on some home schooling books by Linda Dobson. They've been extremely helpful and I am learning so much about my little boys. I am also catching up on a few way laid projects. Once I am caught up on those, I'll be turning my sights back onto this blog. I'd really like to include more resources that have helped/are helping me manage the house and the kids. While this is still a space for recording these next few years for my boys to look back on and enjoy one day, I would like to provide something for my girlfriends that are reading this each week. :)

I'd love to write more but there is this tiny bundle propped up on a pillow next to me. He is squirming around and making the cutest noises. That sweet baby smell is also wafting up in a way that beckons this Mommy in a way she can't refuse. What deliciousness. Mommy out.

77

He's here.

After 6 long weeks of bed rest and 77 hours of labor, he decided to make his big entrance. That sentence says so much about him...six weeks of "please, please, please, Mommy, can I come out and play?" And then when he gets the green light, he takes his sweet time. This has been duly noted in our parenting journals.

Most women have their own perspective on labor and their own pieces of advice/horror that they like to pass on to other expectant mothers. There are times when a friend comes to me for advice on their upcoming birth choices and its tempting to sit them down and talk their ears off about my own experiences. But really, how is that helpful? Especially when the advice/stories err on the side of horror? I typically advise to find the place where my friend feels the most support and safety. For me, that place is home and not a hospital.

We spent the first part of our labor in the hospital, where my labor dragged on and failed to progress. No surprise there. I hate hospitals. I hate needles. I hate drugs. They make me feel threatened. I also really hate having to explain myself and my birthing preferences to a nursing staff that only wants to help me in the ways they have been trained to help. It makes me feel almost bratty and ungrateful to say, "No IV, no this, no that, etc." It just adds to the stress of it all. The hospital itself was wonderful, but I just didn't fit there, its not what my body or my baby needed. I cried a lot. I missed my boys terribly. We ended up going home after 18 hours, still in labor and very frustrated.

Laboring at home took a while as well. Little boy was taking his sweet time readjusting, alternately letting me rest and then making me sick to my stomach. My body started feeling really exhausted as the hours dragged on, but being home made all the difference. I could eat food and keep up my strength. I could walk around without needles jabbing my veins. I could be with my boys.

Things finally picked up when I decided to stop thinking about labor. My mom took me to the ever wonderful garden center and bought me half the nursery. We came home and I set to work with J in the garden. It was only a matter of minutes before labor kicked in full swing.

"Pain" is always associated with labor. At the hospital, someone came in to check on me every hour and a half, one of the first questions they always asked was, "What is your pain level." They would roll their eyes when I said, "zero" or "I don't think of it as pain." (Again, stuff like this made me feel like a huge pain in the ass to them). At home, no one said the word. I stuck the concept up on the shelf and let the contractions do their thing. Are contractions comfortable wonderful joyous things? Of course not. Contractions are awful, but they are getting me somewhere I desperately want to be at in order to reach my end goal which in the course of 60 hours has transferred from BIRTH to SLEEP.

We labored quietly and intensely until it was time to push. Like his brother Cubs, this little guy had his hand up by his face and refused to move it. Needless to say, moving him through my cervix hurt like hell. He has a bruise on his arm to as a little badge from our battle of the wills. I won't go into details, but I had a very rough 15-20 minutes of convincing my son to drop his arms and go through my cervix. Once he did, he was out in two pushes. My midwife hollered for J's mom and my parents and sister to "GET OVER HERE FAST!" so that they wouldn't miss his big entrance. J and I birthed the baby in an inflatable tub in our living room. I wanted to pass out after he came, I was so bone tired. I also felt amazed that he held on until 2:11 AM so that he could be born at 37 weeks and 2 days, just like his two older brothers. Creepy little perfectionists that they are...

The Babe weighed in at 6 lbs 14 oz. although today he weighs in at 6lbs 6 oz since he is BMing like a champ! We think he looks just like the Bear. Cubs refuses to leave his side. He wants to hold him all the time and lets out the sweetest, "No, no, no, MY BABY" when someone comes to take the Babe away.

My favorite moments of our first day together (not including moments that involved sleeping or doughnuts with pink icing) have been the quiet, still ones. Sitting in bed with all three of my boys lined up at my side watching Speed Racer, their little bodies quietly breathing in and out together. What a precious moment....God knows all the other ones from here on out won't be anything like this first one.

My in-laws leave Monday and it will be back to the old routine plus one, for me. Three under three. Lord have mercy. I have decided to concentrate all my thoughts on what to bake during nap time. Something with enough chocolate to get me through the week!

MIL to the rescue!

My hubby is on his way to the airport right now to pick up his Mama. We dressed the boys up in matching polos, washed their faces, and packed a bit of entertainment for the 40 minute drive up. They are so excited that Grandma is coming for a visit. SO AM I!

My mom has been helping us 4-5 days a week while J has picked up the remaining time slots. Everyone is tired. Everyone needs a break. We are in the last days of bed rest but they are of course, the most difficult. My MIL is coming just in time! Not only does she get to spend time with our kids---playing with them and getting to know them more---but J and I can regroup and rest a bit before #3 arrives. Hallelujah! I am so thankful that she's almost here.

Click, click, click

What a turn around!!!

In the days since my scrooge-like Mrs. Rochester musings, stuff has come together!

People, I am talking both major and minor things that have made this bed ridden mopey mommy quite quite happy!

Lets start with the major.

#1 My darling husband called the electrician, scheduled an appointment and arranged for a bit of magic to take place while I stayed at my Mom’s house. These are electrical projects we have needed to finish since moving in over a year ago. He had them fix our dining room lighting, we are now the proud owners of a working light switch! (Everyone together now, “oooohhhh” “ahhhhh”). Then he had them rewire a few things in our bathroom and we now have a working light switch PLUS working sockets by the medicine cabinet so that I can now fix my hair in the bathroom in front of a mirror. WOO-HOO!!!! What a difference these simple fixes make in our every day lives.

#2 My mother sent her maid over here on Tuesday. E is definite material for an in depth case study, as she is without a doubt one of the odder people I have encountered in my life. She is on the skinny side and her face is an interesting mixture of vulnerability and ferociousness….quite baffling, really. She comes into our house looking like she has had about 6 cans of red bull and yet her first request is for Cuban coffee. She slaps us around with questions and demands, kicks us out of the house and we get into our car feeling breathless. Seven hours later we come home to an amazingly clean, fresh smelling house. She lets us know how horrible everything was before and how much we need her. Then, after a whirlwind walk through of our home and a quick nod she shoots out the door again. I am currently trying to come up with a super hero name for her.

#3While E the maid cleaned our home, my Mama took the boys and I to Home Depot. More rejoicing. I bought shelving for the baby’s things, something I feared would not happen this year or possibly even into next summer. I also purchased a few terra cotta pots for my plants and all the seeds for my late fall planting. JOY! Lastly, I scored the paint swatches for our upcoming hallway painting job.

#4 Cubby is obsessed with using the potty. Mother or two toddlers overwhelmed with pride and happiness!

#5 My grandmother graciously offered to launder all of the baby’s things for me AND she folded every last item AND she used a very nice lavender scent.

#6 My MIL is coming for a much needed FOUR day visit. This gives my mom a break and a chance for my kids to play with their other Grams. I know she’ll take good care of them while I finish my last days of bed rest. Added bonus: She may be here for the birth.

click. click. click.

That was the sound of my life starting to snap back into place again.

Minor things that also boosted the joy of my week

#7 Arrival of delayed packages. Things I ordered a while back that finally made an appearance this week. Please see:

Delicious Jeffrey Campbell wedges in green leather. I heart you. I even heart the box you came in which sported a cross word puzzle, providing a good 30 minutes of entertainment.

#8 Arrival of more baby clothes/baby shower gifts such as this organic kimono shirt from Baby Soy. Yup, my baby is 100% edible, organic tee and all.

#9Arrival of Mark Twain’s Autobiography Volume 1. Ol’ Clemmy made them promise not to publish this collection until 100 years after his death. We celebrated the centenary of his death this past April and now, the first 800 pages of mischief has been published and lives on my nightstand. Many thanks to The Mark Twain Project for graciously coinciding the release of MT’s book with my bed rest.

#10 Garden blooms peaking through my window. Thanks for the extra joy, Lord.

And so it is. Things are quickly falling into place. I even ordered the birthing supplies for our home birth--- a gutsy move I know, but with each day that passes we get closer and closer to accomplishing another successful home birth!

Ahhhh, baby bottles and paint swatches. A lovely sight.

Now that my nesting psychosis is satisfied I can look forward to birthing a beautiful baby boy in our home. Before you know it, my blog will leave the realm of bed rest bitching and back into the world of toddlers, babies, baking, gardening and writing. Oh, happy day!

Mrs. Rochester

I need to nest.

And I can't.

I have quite the long list of both small and large home projects that have needed finishing for some time now, and there ain't a darn thing I can do about it.

Ugh.

Its like being in a huge shopping mall and suddenly realizing that you have to pee more than you have ever needed to pee in your life, but there is no bathroom in sight. No bathroom, no mall employees, not even a giant map of the mall in sight. Your bladder is screaming at you and those giant planter boxes with the fake palm trees start looking mighty tempting. Oh, the sheer agony of it.

I know this sounds crazy, but when your hormones have reached a fever pitch and you've been trapped in bed for weeks on end, you really start feeling that same sort of desperation.

Who wants to come over for a visit?

Just kidding, I wouldn't make you suffer through my company when I am this insane.

How insane you ask?

Well, here are a few of the smaller examples. Right now I am trying my hardest not to rip out our bathroom tile with my fingernails. I am concentrating on leaving the broken light pendants over the kitchen counter as they are, as I have heard several times that electrocution is not desirable while pregnant. I am studiously ignoring the baseboards and trim around our doorways and in the hallway, they have never bothered me before but at the moment they are mocking me with their tiny black smudges.

Yeah.

Like I said, just give it another week. I'm about to get Mrs. Rochester crazy up in our attic, its only a matter of time.

He always knows

Today I felt more than a little down. I got out my sewing and watched Amelie while the boys napped. That movie always makes me want to buy fresh vegetables, wear a red dress and reorganize my closet. It also resolves my decision to never ever live in France and to never ever own a garden gnome.

J walked in a little before noon and announced that he would be taking me to the garden center today to buy a few plants. I smiled at him.

We took off after nap time, boys strapped in with toy dinosaurs grasped in each of their hands. We put the windows down and drove away. The Bear and I pointed out every construction vehicle we spotted on the way down. Cubby complained about the wind whipping around his face.

The boys helped pick out flowers and carry them to the cart. I love when we buy flowers with the boys. They always want to help out and they look adorable walking around the flower stalls, grabbing random pots and taking them back to our little wagon.

Being around all those flowers and plants soothed me and made me feel better again. I felt starved for sunshine this week, I'm so glad we got to soak it in together, even if only for a few minutes.

While J and Cubby stood in line to pay for our new additions, the Bear and I strolled carefully around the display of succulents. We figured out which plants had stripes and which had spiked ridges. We looked for ones with blossoms and ones with colored leaves. We walked around classifying plants for a few minutes, every so often the Bear would look up at me and say, "I missed you, Mom."

We returned home happy and smiling. I had a few more minutes left in me, so I quickly whipped up the final ingredient for our perfect afternoon together. A nice fruit smoothie with raspberries and peaches. I snapped a great photo of my two smoothie hounds, J and Cubby, sitting together in the nursery rocking chair. Cubby is tainted a sweet shade of pink, his face is sticky and his fingers are locked in a possessive hold around his cup of smoothie. J is balancing Cubby on his knee and holding his own smoothie glass in the other hand. They make quite the pair and I love how everything in the photo is so particular to who they are and the way they interact together.

I am back in bed now. The baby is moving around, trying to settle down again after the electric shock of smoothie he received ten minutes ago. We opened the windows to let the breeze in and I feel better knowing that in a little while J will walk out into my garden and plant flowers for me.

He always knows just what to do.

Brag Time

Two little snippets of my week that really made me pause and gave me joy. I'm sure you can guess where those little snippets came from.

Being on bed rest is incredibly difficult and having to do it while you are in the midst of raising two toddlers is AWFUL. There are so many things I am missing out on right now, so many formative, teachable moments that I want to be there for! In my motherly pride I sometimes feel like I have to be there every second to teach them or the opportunity will be lost. But in the past weeks, my boys have kept on growing and learning from the people around them. Wonderful people. My husband and my mother in particular. They step in and guide, correct, teach, and love them. I am so grateful for them, its a hard lesson for this control freak to learn but I am most definitely learning it.

1) My one break each week is on Wednesday mornings. The prison doors are opened and I am allowed a few hours out of the house for BSF. I look forward to this all week long. J attends on Monday nights and the boys attend their class as well. The Bear LOVES his teacher, Miss D. He asks for her everyday and wants to go to her "house" (classroom) in order to play with her and his new friends.

Now I am just flat out going to brag on my child right now and I don't feel bad about it for a minute. My boys are gorgeous. The Bear looks like an angel and now that he is talking, he is melting hearts everywhere. I can't tell you how many people have come up to me since we started BSF asking if I am his mother and after the affirmative reply, they start telling me how much they love him. (Cubby gets his share too, by the way). The usual comment is, "He is so unbelievably sweet and kind!" When I drop him off at his class, he bounds in with joyful greetings to his friends and teachers, "Hi! How's it going? My name is___! I missed you Miss D, you are amazing!" I watch his teachers and assistants crumble to the ground with huge smiles on their faces and outstretched arms. He is just so gosh darn sweet, it almost hurts.

This week when I came to pick him up from his class the teacher stopped me at the door. She proceeded to deliver the following message:

"Your son is just so incredible. We love him so much. He is the youngest one here by quite a bit but he is far more verbal than most of the other children and everything he says is so sweet and loving. He listens to all of our directions and follows them the first time we give them. He participates in everything, he sings all the songs, and he is a joy to be with. He means so much to us all."

The little man in question appeared as she finished speaking and said, "Thanks for everything, have a nice day!"

You can imagine the pride. Oh my, the pride and the love and the overwhelming feeling of... well how else can I say it but, "THANK GOD HE TAKES AFTER HIS DAD!!!"

I know he is a truly unique kid. He has a wonderful heart and I really am proud of him. His teacher's words were such a gift of encouragement to me as well. Motherhood is so tough and these little moments when someone stops you and says how great your kid is... mean the world.

***Side note: The Bear definitely had his moments of horror last year. I must keep it real and tell you that he DREADED his first few weeks at BSF. He did not run in on day one tooting butterflies and spreading magic everywhere. In fact, on the third week, he was so upset about being in class that he exorcist VOMITED all over the carpet and managed to nail a few children standing nearby in the process. I cannot tell you how awful it was walking down the hall and suddenly spotting the children's director waiting for me by his classroom door with her arms folded across her chest, left eyebrow slightly arched and a definite "we need to talk" look etched on her face.

Thankfully, he adjusted a few weeks later and Mr. Sunshine has managed to wipe the projectile incident from everyone's minds with his charm.

2) My Cubs is a sweet boy too. He really loves people. He loves hugging and kissing us. He loves smiling and waving. He has his share of devoted fans at BSF as well. Its those huge blue eyes, beautiful smile and incredible magnetic charisma. Really, he is quite the delicious bundle of cuteness.

However.

Ahem.

Cubby is a passionate man in other directions as well. He is quite aggressive when it comes to getting what he wants. Be it a cookie or a toy car or my attention, the boy will use anything and everything at his disposal to get what he wants, including dead body weight and his teeth. I noticed his behavioral issues early on and knew we had a long hard road ahead of us. J and I had a come to Jesus talk and we decided that we would deal with this, head on. It would not be fun. We would probably want to quit halfway and just let him be. He is after all only a baby, right? But I knew what would happen... the eventual product of that line of thinking. I had a few of them in my preschool class. Miniature bullies, little tyrants that threw tantrums all the time and hurt their peers. We decided to be proactive and work hard with our boy. We believed in him, we knew he could conquer this and walk away a much better person.

Affirmation of this decision came a few weeks after our conversation. Cubby, at 14 months of age, BIT a five month old baby in the nursery because he wanted the baby's rattle. HORROR. I can not even begin to describe the HORROR. When your child is the biter, people look at you differently, they judge your kid. It really sucks. My heart felt so heavy because I know Cubs and how loving he truly is. I knew the biting stemmed from other frustrations.

As the weeks progressed he started biting his brother all the time. He started hitting too. I wanted to cry. It got much worse before it got any better. I wanted to quit. But we didn't, we just kept loving him and disciplining him. It was exhausting.

In the past few months he has improved drastically. No coincidence that this occurred alongside his increased capacity for speech and communication. Now that he is talking much more, Cubby has other ways of expressing himself. But beyond that, the frustration and aggression have turned a 180. I am so proud of him. Our greatest moment of encouragement came this evening at my parent's home. The Bear and Cubby were watching Cars in the family room while I was in the kitchen getting some water. I heard an ominous THWACK! and the familiar sound of the Bear crying in surprise and hurt. He came running to me, rubbing his head, huge tears rolling down his cheeks. I began to comfort him, "Did he hit you?" I asked. Before I could even look up, Cubby appeared, concern and remorse etched on his face. I didn't get a chance to scold him. He reached out and rubbed his brother's head and said repeatedly, "I'm sorry."

One small moment that means a mountain of progress for us as parents and for him as a person. I am so proud of him. He is listening, he is learning, he is growing as a person. That was without a doubt, the single most encouraging event in our parenting of Cubby. I can't say it enough, after all of his hard work and ours, he did it! And I am so gosh darn proud of him.

Dragons and Jane Austen

Yesterday, in the late afternoon, I settled back into bed with all of my pillows and sewing patterns for Cubby's costume. I took out my recently arrived Netflix envelope and prepared to watch the latest adaptation of Sense and Sensibility. Really, its medicine for my soul.

I hit play and settled back, needle poised to begin the first set of stitching on a certain adorable puppy costume for a little boy with beautiful blue eyes, when I heard my bedroom door open and the distinct shuffle of fat baby toes on hardwood floor. That same charming little boy with big beautiful blue eyes waddled in with a heart melting, "Hi Mama!" and proceeded to crawl up into bed with me. I kissed his toes, cheeks, belly, ears, and he giggled and kissed me back. He is 20 months old now and the conversations are starting to get longer and cuter. When he shuffles into my room, clad only in a diaper and covered in some kind of cookie residue... oh! I really could eat him up.

Then the almost three year old announced his arrival with a shout of "MOM YOU ARE BACK!" He crawled into bed and settled next to his brother, his eyes glued to the laptop on my bed and the small scissors on top of the fabric. Hmmm, which to grab first?

"Mom, can we watch the dragon monster trucks?"

Ahem. My apologies, Willoughby. Excuse me, Mrs. Dashwood. Pardon me, Captain Margaret.

My boys like to watch monster trucks, construction vehicles and nascar races on youtube with J. Especially late in the evening and particularly if one of them is sick, teething, or has just vomited. Its a comfort thing I guess, the way Jane Austen is for me. I had yet to witness the phenomenon that apparently is "Dragon Monster Truck," but how could I say "no" to those little faces? Besides, J had been with them all day and was clearly exhausted and in need of a break, no matter how brief. He gave me instructions on where to find this current trend of awesome which has managed to score a 10 on the Toddler Richter Scale while I've been on bed rest.

So I went from a potential half hour with Elanor and Marianne, struggling with matters of economy and the heart to this....

Dragon Monster Truck

You will note after following this link that youtube also has several other variations posted on the sidebar. We watched those as well. The boys let out several "Ooohs" and "Ahhs" as this weird giant dinosaur thing mauled cars, shot lighter fluid out of its nostrils and occasionally torched a mangled car. Similar to the "Ooohs" and "Ahhs" of their Mommy when she watches Colin Firth emerge from a cold lake on an English country estate, handsomely costumed as the one and only Fitzwilliam Darcy and nearly identical to the riveted attention she gives Ciaran Hinds when he utters those pained whispers as Colonel Wentworth, "you pierce my soul! I am half agony, half hope!" They were that into it. I am out to sea when it comes to this particular area of fascination for the boys. Trains, I get. Construction vehicles, ok...they make cool things. I can feign enough interest to get by. But enormous cars built to look like mythological creatures whose sole purpose in life is to maul, eat and destroy other vehicles in the most violent way possible? Hmm, not so much.

But I did love watching them as they watched. They don't move when this dragon thing is on the screen. I can trace their eyelashes with my finger, place little kisses all other their cheeks. Stare at them for 15 minutes straight, imagining where their jawlines will be one day and imprinting all of their chins in my memory. What utter deliciousness!

Its naptime now at the bungalow and I finally have a chance to watch this new adaptation of Sense and Sensibility. All will be well in my little Jane Austen world. Everyone will read the right lines, custom and manners will be oozing off the screen and more importantly, Elanor will not shoot lighter fluid out of her nostrils at Edward for engaging himself to Lucy Steele.

But make no mistake, the minute my angels wake up I will gladly turn off the film for another round of Dragon Monster Truck.

Wishing for the Garden

My garden looks sad. There are a few empty patches scattered about that look untidy and almost sick. I want to roll up my sleeves, go to the store and buy up new seed stock and have a wonderful day working on my lovely little piece of earth. I wish wish wish wish wish I could. I miss it so very much.

Instead, I am indoors and in my bed. We opened some windows today and I am enjoying the light breeze in our sunny yellow bedroom. Cubby's Halloween costume is in its beginning stages and I have moved into a phase of being s l i g h t l y depressed. I don't think I'll plummet into the "depths of despair," very little chance of such melodrama when just a few feet from my door I can hear the pounding of two small dinosaurs stomping down the hallway. The Bear hopped onto my bed this morning and asked how I was doing. He told me he missed me and chatted about his trains while patting my arm and giving me kisses. He tied a string around my heart and let it float up to the clouds like a balloon.

Its really hard to be on bed rest when you have two little ones. They need me 100%. I need them 200%. I miss taking complete care of them and my home. But today I realized, bed rest is also much easier because they are around. Every time I start feeling really down about being stuck in bed, only a few minutes will pass before I hear little footsteps coming to a pause by my bedroom door. Then the slow, strained turning of the doorknob just before the door is carefully nudged open to reveal a small face with a big smile and happy blue eyes. I love watching them scramble on my bed, shouting happy greetings and giving me all their kisses. Mmmmm.

It's impossible to be depressed when those visits occur so frequently throughout the day.

And yet, for all that happiness, I still really miss my garden. The day I hit full term, I am going to buy three new clay pots and a bundle of plants. I'll pick out packets of snapdragon and larkspur seeds and set to planting them. I'll try and make it beautiful for my new little son. And I am absolutely positive that while I'm working, I'll have frequent visits from my two boys. They'll burst into the garden, full of energy and arms loaded with their gardening tools, ready to help Mama with her flowers.

Sweet Pea

The Bear: "Mom, how are you doing with me, Mom?"

Me: "Pretty good sweet pea"

B: "Mom, what's a sweet pea? What's that?"

M: "You are a sweet pea"

B: "oh"

pause

B: "MOM, accuse me, MOM?"

M: "Yes?"

B: " I doughnut want to be a sweet pea, I want to be a stegosaurus."

M: "Ok, you can be a stegosaurus."

B: "What about you, Mom?"

M: "Well, if you are a stegosaurus and you are my baby, then I'm a Mommy Stegosaurus."

B: "No Mom. You not a Mommy Stegosaurus"

M: "No? Well then what am I?"

B: " you are my sweet pea."

Cranky

One of my most vivid and early memories in life include my grandfather. I don't even have to close my eyes to remember it, I can feel it even as I type.

I'm sitting high up in the large mango tree that once grew in the backyard of their old home. The roughly textured bark is scratching the backs of my skinny legs and some grainy pieces of wood are clinging to my ruffly white socks. I am wearing a sunny dress and laughing up at my Abuelo. He is wearing a light blue shirt, a few pens in the front pocket, khaki pants and his tinted eye glasses. We are both covered in the sticky sweetness of mango juice and the warmth of sunlight. He is laughing and telling me a vulgar story about himself as a child growing up in the Cuban countryside. He used to climb up mango trees and wait for his sisters to pass by, then he would poop on them. He is laughing hard and so am I. The mangoes are very sweet and very sticky. He is full of life. If he was ornery back then, I did not know it.

Abuelo is a storybook kind of man. Its true that you can barely understand what he says, whether in English or in Spanish. He always sounds slightly drunk and very crazy.

He's worked like a dog all his life to provide for his family and would give the shirt off his back to anyone who asked.

He loves land. He lives for planting, growing, cultivating. He is a very simple man in that respect.

He is a terrible flirt and a jokester, a sneaky prankster, a mischievous little boy for life. He loves nothing better than a crass joke and a good Benny Hill rerun.

He is a fighter. He left Cuba as a young man with only a 4th grade education to his name. He went back to school. He failed test after test for years, but kept on fighting and worked his way to becoming the Chief Plumbing Inspector for the city. No small feat.

He stands up for justice. He was thrown off a bus in New Jersey back in the 60s when he stood up and gave his seat to a black woman.

He is a hopeless romantic and the patron saint of lost causes. Especially when it comes to animals, he sees their hearts and souls. Nothing tugs at his heart strings more than an animal in need.

These are things I'll always remember him for. When the boys grow up and ask about him, these are the things I will tell them about. I'm proud of him.

Several years ago, Abuelo had to sell his land. He buried a large part of himself when he walked off it for the last time. It rips my heart in half to think of the great change that came over him. Losing land is no small thing. I don't think many people can appreciate it these days... we are largely unconnected to land. We don't really care about it and we move from place to place with such frequency that the idea of legacy has been lost. Abuelo was his land. His heart lived in those groves and his blood marked that piece of earth as his very own. He lost it and was never the same again.

We worried for a few years that he had developed some form of dementia. He had become so angry and harsh, forgetful and frustrated. Living only a few blocks away, I felt the brunt of that frustration and anger. At times I could not recognize him, his words had become so hurtful. He was just so damn cranky, all day, every day. We took him to a neurologist, fearing the worst and hoping for a quick prescription of happy pills.

The Doctor diagnosed him with Grumpy Old Man Syndrome.

He's fine. No neurological problems. He is simply old and frustrated and angry.

Early last week they had to open up his chest and change the battery on his pace maker. He isn't allowed to drive for quite some time and has been given strict directions regarding his care. He was hopping mad for two days before falling into a depression. My poor Abuela is trapped in the house with him, nursing him back to health while he heaps his bad attitude on her.

Today we finally went over for a visit. I needed to make sure a few days had passed so that he would be up for a visit from his great grandsons. I only wanted to stay half an hour. I thought the kids would drain him.

Just the opposite.

The boys rambled in with happy shouts and shrieks. The smiles stretched off my Abuelitos faces. We ended up staying close to two hours. The boys played, laughed and ate like little kings. Abuelo's mood improved with every passing minute. He told a few jokes, smiled, and kissed them often. He was sweet and crazy and lovable.

His sudden bout of improved health reminded me that my boys are his legacy. He has firmly planted his roots, he worked hard to do that for us all and now they are immovable, stubborn and sprawling every which way. My sweet little boys are his bright green leaves. They are his burst of life and renewed energy. They give him joy and lift him from the depression of old age and illness. He feels that they are his to grow and cultivate and nurture, which gives him a sense of purpose, a rare gift at this point in his life.

When the boys are with him, the cranky old man is put away for a time, I see him laughing again. I feel warm sunlight and sticky mango juice all over again. I am happy to see their small hands encased in his work worn and wrinkled palms. I hope he teaches them everything he can about trees, land, justice, animals, and hard work. He can keep the pooping from trees stories to himself.

Still growing

"Hey Mom, look at this! Its a triceratops with the body of a tuba so its a Tubaceratops"

"Come with me, take my hand, and I will rescue you."

"The word of our God stands FOREVER!!! Isaiah 40:8"

"God made me. He is amazing. God made you. He is amazing. God made the rain. Rain is so much fun!"

"Mom, what are these called? Hash browns? Oh yummy. I love hash browns. They are new favorite."

"When can we go to Ms. Debbie's house again? I want to play with cars and Jesus"

These are all phrases popping out of the Bear's mouth this past week. I had foolishly imagined that he would regress into despair and nothingness as a result of my being on bed rest. But no, he flourishes instead, running into my room every hour or so to chat with me. He asks me every day if we can "go to Ms. Debbie's house." This is his way of asking for Bible Study Fellowship. He loves the children's programs and thinks his teacher lives in their classroom... thus, "Ms. Debbie's house." Ms. Debbie is always laughing and smiling when I come to pick him up at the end of BSF. She tells me that even though he is by far, the youngest in his class, he is the group organizer and social director of the bunch. He talks more than any of the other boys and asks nonstop questions throughout the morning that have her in stitches. Questions like: "Hey, Ms Debbie, what's the problem? Are you ok? What are you doing? Can I play with you Ms. Debbie? Ms. Debbie, follow me and I will rescue you! This place is amazing! I just can't believe it!"

He has learned his Bible verses each week and is eager to talk about all the things God made and all the great things God does. I am amazed to realize that my son and his soul are relating to God and that he is already developing a relationship with him.

This morning, I sat down to breakfast with the boys and began my daily Bible study. The Bear peered over his bowl of cereal and said, "oh wow, Mom. Is that your Bible?" We talked about it for a few minutes. Just an hour later he came into his room (don't worry, I was "bed resting" on one of the boy's beds), pulled out his Bible and said, "time for Bible study!" Incredible to see him imitate so much of what the adults in his life do. (Note: He has also picked up on a few things that are not so cute and have absolutely nothing to do with the Bible and everything to do with me being impatient and angry while driving through traffic).

Cubby has also flourished these past two weeks. Most of his growing has been in his cheeks and abdominal area, the boy is literally eating us out of house and home. We know another large growth spurt is coming since his pattern is usually to grow plumper and then shoot up and thin out a few weeks later. He'll be catching up to the Bear pretty soon!

I knew Cubs would develop a larger vocabulary faster than the Bear did by virtue of being the second born with the advantage of a companion. But I did not anticipate the variety of this vocabulary. He has started picking up words the Bear is only now starting to use, words like triceratops, excavator, apple core, cement mixer." Its hard to understand what he says, but its still there.

What has touched me most about Cubs in the past weeks is his ability to notice people other than himself in a deeply sensitive, caring way. This is unusual for his age, rather than be completely self absorbed, Cubs has keenly felt my frustration, boredom and occasional sadness. He worries about me. He comes to visit me in the room and touches my arms, plays with my hair, tries to comfort me. Cubs finds great joy in simply sitting by my side for a few quiet moments. I treasure this aspect of him which is so inherently natural to him. I never taught him how to feel for others, its something he gets from his daddy.

Cubs continues to bond with the Babe every day. He rests his head on my abdomen and chats away. He pets the baby belly and says "I love you," occasionally he is rewarded with a response kick. I have a feeling that Cubs and the Babe will share a very special bond. They are already friends and have yet to meet.

Now an update on the baby. He is just as restless as I am! He wants me up out of bed, walking around and soothing him with that rocking sensation. But he has been naughty and will not be rewarded for it! So I've patiently sat through the days, feeling his persistent kicks and karate chops, clear evidence that he takes after his mommy in many ways and smiling at the thought of holding him in a few weeks. (Did you hear that kiddo? Mama said WEEKS and not DAYS).

So for everyone who has called us, prepared meals, visited our home, watched our children or sent emails and texts, thank you for your words of encouragement and support. Your prayers have meant so very much to us. We are here... still growing in words, waistlines and love.

Bed Restless

Yup, we are grounded. Baby was naughty, tried to come early, and now we've been grounded.

I am an extremely active person in the sense that I love keeping up with my boys, cleaning my house, bible study, organizing the produce co-op, and I always have a project or two on hand. Suddenly each one of those things (minus bible study!) are off the plate. My midwife gently scolded me when she came by on Friday, "bed rest means you must stay on your back." Blech.

It hasn't even been a week and I have already watched season 2 of 30 Rock, every single premiere on ABC, read 4 books and finished the Bear's halloween costume which I made while watching 30 Rock. My legs and arms are restless. My head hurts. My body hurts from not moving it. The babe isn't happy either, he keeps kicking me in a way that clearly states, "get up and walk around so that I can be rocked to sleep." The boys are also breaking into my bedroom every five to ten minutes looking for me. The Bear's usual greeting, "I miss you Mom!" is breaking my heart. I can hear them running and playing just outside my door and I miss them terribly.

I think depression, frustration, resentment and anger could come quite easily if I let it overpower me. So I am focusing on the positive, or at least... making every possible attempt to do so. Having the discipline of BSF is extremely helpful right now, every day I get to delve into Isaiah and really soak it in for an hour or so. Then I take the time to pray that God would ease the onslaught of the above mentioned feelings. Then I typically cry and eat a couple of oreos (I feel that this is an essential component of processing the word of God). I cry because I am thankful that the baby and I are healthy and that I am starting bed rest at 32 weeks and not at 14 weeks. I cry because I miss my boys and my day to day life. I cry because I actually have a minute to process the absolute insanity that has been our household in the year 2010. Mostly I cry because God has protected us and seen us through each day.

So what's the plan now? I have a good 4 weeks of bed restlessness ahead of me. First of all, I am trying to catch up one some writing projects. Hooray! Secondly, I am finishing a lot of latent sewing/craft projects I've had laying around the house for the past year. Also up on the chopping block, a very very long reading list and an even longer movie marathon list. One day next week I am planning a Gone With The Wind day. Out of boredom I will make a dress out of curtains while I watch the South disappear into cinematic history.

Catching up on my correspondence also seems like a viable option. Please see: FUNTASTIC postcards of classic Penguin titles. I really feel like someone manufactured these just for me.

(Can you tell that I have been locked in my room for a week with only myself to think about?) I plan on filling these out over the next few weeks and bombarding people in my address book with them.

Lastly, when my brain is too fried to do anything else, I shall peruse my favorite stores and look longingly at all the cute fall things that I won't be able to wear this year. I already found one drool worthy item. Anthropologie and Mondo from Project Runway fell in love and made a baby and I want to wear it!

yes please

These are all things that keep me distracted and somewhat happy. Really, all I want to do is jump out of bed and go wrestle with my boys. I want to take them to the Zoo and to the Farmer's Market. I want to bake Pumpkin bread and give it away to friends and family.

Mostly, I want to not think about myself right now. Which is impossible because...that's basically what bed rest is, thinking about yourself and your little baby nugget.

4 weeks and counting.........

Taking a Moment

There comes a point each day when I need to just stop and take a moment. This usually occurs between the hours of 3 and 5PM (aka The Waiting For Daddy Zone). The boys are usually tired from all the activities of the day, on their way to getting seriously hungry for dinner regardless of any grapes or banana slices consumed at this juncture, and they are usually running around in circles shouting, yelling or making animal noises NONSTOP because they are just so dang riled up about seeing their Daddy soon. The dog is typically uncooperative as well, but with far more attitude since he is apparently still trying to usurp me as J's wife.

Today, we finished a rather long potty training session in our small bathroom. It was a half hour filled with many questions and a lot of giggling. Questions my eldest child posed ranged from:

"Where did my poop go?"

to the more anatomically advanced musing of:

"Mommy, where is your penis?"

After a delicately phrased answer to the latter question I received a look of genuine pity from my nearly 2 year old. His face distinctly read: poor Mommy, getting fatter every day and to top it all off, she has no penis.

Once we finished potty training, everyone washed their hands and scattered to different areas of the house. The Bear hopped madly down the hall and proclaimed himself to be a bouncing bullfrog. Cubs picked up a plastic wiffle bat and ran for the front room window which affords a view of the street and the first glimpse of Daddy on his bicycle. He likes to bang on the window sill with his baseball bat while waiting for Daddy's bicycle to glide into view.

Crumbs, splatters of juice, books, animal flashcards, phonics games, crayons and matchbox cars littered the floor. Cubs screamed at the top of his lungs with joyful anticipation while the Bear continued to jump loudly up and down the hall while shouting the same phrases over and over in that shrill toddler tone of voice. I tried to sit down but then a certain little someone decided that he'd rather be rocked some more by the sway of my walk and so promptly kicked me in the ribs until I give in, stood up and walked around for him. (Demanding little bugger).

I mentally ticked off the minutes until I heard the side gate swing open and the sound of J's cheerful voice calling out to his sons. I knew that as soon as he walked in the house would erupt into further depths of chaos until he gathered them in his arms and swept them outdoors to play for awhile.

Then I would get to clean the floors, start getting dinner together, prepare the night activity and/or the bathtub for their post dinner hose down. I usually get started the minute the door shuts behind my boys. Today, however, I dropped into the rocking chair and let out a huge breath. I looked around at the disaster zone in my family room. I felt the tension in my back and sides. Then I felt my little one kick me again. I closed my eyes and took a moment to really appreciate the amount of energy it took my kids to destroy everything. The cracker bits, the juice stains on my couch, the endless puzzle pieces. Thank God they are healthy, active and able to make such glorious messes.

I took an extra little moment to think about the length of Cubby's eyelashes. I thought about the last bit of baby chub on the Bear's inner thigh (yum). I thought about that moment today, just before Cubs knocked over his juice and about half an hour after the Bear cried over his misplaced stegosaurus, when both boys sat down in their chairs and chatted over a few books. I watched them quietly for a few minutes before realizing that the Bear was reading to Cubby and teaching him new words. When they were done, Cubby stood up, walked over to the Bear and hugged him. Sigh.

I held onto that moment, thanked God for my kids and our precious life here at the bungalow and walked to the cupboard to binge on some chocolate because lets face it....cute memories only get you so far when you are pregnant, its really the chocolate that keeps you sane.

sweetness

Many of my posts about Cubby so far have highlighted his adventuresome, sassy, and wild personality. Tonight I would like to delve into the sweetness of his heart, which I can assure you, runneth over. Anyone who hangs out with us can tell you, Cubs and I love each other to pieces. We have a very deep and special connection, I attribute this to his birth and the hours we spent together immediately after. Its not uncommon these days for people to looks over at us and say, "uh-oh, someone is going to be in for a real BIG surprise when November comes around and there is a new baby in the house." Assuming of course that Cubby and his wild personality will throw a royal fit when a new baby is in my arms.

True to an extent. But I have witnessed several instances in the past month which lead me to firmly believe that Cubby will not only adjust faster than people expect but that he will also be an excellent big brother. Almost all of these examples stem from the sweetness of his heart. Here are a few tidbits of life with Cubby, on the sweet side.

Cubs is both a lover and a fighter. I've seen him knock his older brother to floor, leap on him aggressively and then proceed to kiss and hug him. Not to mention cuddling nonstop with our demanding pampered dog, Frankie. Cubs has become Frank's "get out of jail free" card ever since he learned how to open the cage door, which he does often and for the sole purpose of hugging his dog.

Cubby watches everything I do and more often than not, demands to participate in whatever I am doing. Whenever I drag a load of freshly washed laundry into his room, he'll drop his toys and come running to help out. His job? I pile the hangers onto his bed and he sorts them out and hands them to me one at a time. He's pretty good at it.

Each and every day I walk into the kitchen and start hauling out ingredients for mealtimes and its not long before I hear the familiar scraping sound of Cubby dragging his chair over to the counter top. He positions it carefully, climbs on and then peers over the counter with an eager grin on his face. His job in the kitchen usually entails either washing fruits and vegetables, placing things I have chopped into bowls, or helping me knead dough. He makes a mess, but its a beautiful one and I really don't mind it.

I learned quickly that Cubs is an extremely energetic toddler. Left to his own devices he gets into a lot of trouble, fast. But when he's directed in his activities, when I let him channel his energy into something useful, even if its not the sort of activity toddlers typically engage in, I find that he is happy and fulfilled. I end up scolding much less and we spend a happy day together.

I love that Cubs always seeks me out during the day. He wants to do things with me. He is incredibly social for his age and would much rather interact with others than play by himself.

Here comes the bulk of the sweetness. Cubby is a twenty month old little boy who loves to take care of his family. He likes to help me wash my hands, he likes to fetch things for his brother (almost as much as he likes stealing things away), he loves to bring the dog water. He kisses my growing belly everyday and loves saying "hi" to the little boy growing inside. I had a particularly horrible day a few weeks ago that eventually led to a five minute sob session on the floor of the bathroom. I plopped down and wept. Cubs heard me and came running. He crawled into my lap and rubbed my arms with his little hands and kissed my face. He comforted me the way I always comfort him. We treasured each other for a few moments. And yes, it made me cry harder when he did that.... my sweet delicious angel.

Bottom line: Cubs cares and loves us back. He likes to serve others, even if only in the most simple ways. Its the part of him I love to nurture most, its the part of him most like his father.

I know that when the baby comes, Cubby will be right by my side, helping out and falling in love with his little brother.

September

Welcome September!! I am very happy to see you. I am normally not a fan of counting down the days, with my two precious little ones growing up so fast, I try my best to savor each and enjoy the phase they are in at the moment. Not so with August. Between the growing belly, exhausting ten day family vacation and Cubby breaking three molars at once...I was more than ready to kiss August goodbye.

Add to all that the fact that BSF starts up again mid-September! I can't wait!

So September, I will try my hardest to fill this blog up with many memories of our days this month. Here is a sweet one for today:

We finished dinner tonight and the boys stripped down in the dining room and ran for the bath tub. J followed them over and proceeded to give them their baths. I stood in the hallway and listened to the boys chatting with their hero. The Bear washed J's arm at one point and it was sweet to see him "taking care" of daddy. Cubs is also starting to chatter up a storm these days, pelting us with sass and spunk!

After bath time, they brushed their teeth. The Bear declared that he would brush his teeth very fast and then very loudly, he did both with a big smile. The boys put on their PJs and played in the nursery with J for awhile. We tucked them in an hour later and then the lightning began. Huge bolts of lightning, heavy rain and most notably for them, loud thunder. The Bear informed us of two things when we walked into the nursery. First, "I am awake Mommy!" Secondly, "Its thunder! Its very loud!" Cubs screamed his head off.

Another peal of lightning and crash of thunder which the Bear pointed out to us as Cubby tossed his arms around my neck, threw his head back and let out a loud wail.

J crawled into bed with a very chatty, very awake Bear while I settled into Cubby's bed with him. His heart was beating very fast, his chin trembled, his little eyes peaked around the room and he let out the occasional "oh no, thunder."

I loved sitting together in the dark, all four of us, huddled together with the smell of baby soap still lingering in the air. Somewhere along the way we became a family, not merely in the biological sense of procreating and then caring for children, but existing as our own little unit of love and caring. We are enduring things together, weathering storms outside and inside the bungalow. We share in joy and in sorrow. And now that its September, we only have 8-9 more weeks before someone else joins the gang.

EMBARRASSING

Oh boy. The Bear has managed to seriously embarrass me a handful of times in the last month or two. In the spirit of transparency between Mommy friends, I shall now divulge these embarrassing moments to you. Beginning with:

1) Kinky Jews Yup. Kinky Jews. Went to the pediatrician's office for a check up and they put us in an exam room with walls bedecked in jungle animals. A kinkajou was perched high on a limb next to a large python. "Look," I said "what a cute little kinkajou!" The Bear's eyes grew round with this new animal name and he immediately repeated, "oooooo, a kinky jew." Yes, it was kind of cute. HOWEVER. The Bear has no sense of volume control yet. It wasn't whispered in a sweet voice filled with awe. It was shouted from the top of his lungs. Secondly, this Doctor's office has no policy on vaccine delay and so the majority of his patients are either hippies, green monsters or devout Jews hoping to avoid having their children injected with vaccines that contain chunks of animal protein. I was already aware that the patients in the exam room next door were all wearing yamakas. Chances they didn't hear? Mmmmm ZERO.

Added Bonus: Since he is 2, he feels the need to repeat everything at a machine gun pace for a good 5-10 minutes. Which meant that he stood there yelling, "KINKY JEWS KINKY JEWS KINKY JEWS KINKY JEWS" for a solid 5 minutes while I hissed at him to hush up.

2) Fish Tits~ This gem came out at my midwife's office. We were in the waiting room and the Bear was being very grown up at the moment. Sitting quietly by my side, on a very comfy couch, he gazed around the waiting room and pointed out all the different animals he could find. Most of them were hidden in the shapes of a large Tiffany lamp in the corner of the room. Suddenly his eye caught on the large Japanese silk screen which is framed and hung by the door of the acupuncture room. It depicts a lovely lady in a beautiful kimono, surrounded by floating koi fish. My son stares at it for a few minutes and then decides to yell out "FISH TITS!!!"

Keep in mind now...a medical office. Someone is in the acupuncture room, with an acupuncturist, likely armed with needles, in the process of stabbing a needle into some delicate area when a voice suddenly yells out, "FISH TITS." If this had been a Monty Python movie I probably would have heard an agonizing yelp from the other side of the door and then watched as someone ran from the room with a large needle protruding out of their eyeball. Or maybe a giant cartoon fish tit would have fallen on the office and smashed us to bits. Either scenario would have fit.

And yes, in answer to your mind's question, I died right on the spot.

"Sweetie, shhhhh! What are you talking about?" I begged.

"FISH TITS!!!"

"SHHHHHHHH. That isn't even anatomically possible. Those are just fish, please stop saying..."

"FISH TITS"

I ran the possibilities through my brain, which is rather slow these days as it is severely hindered by a computer virus known as PREGNANTMOMMYOF2TODDLERS.

"Fish tank?" I asked…no, PLEAD.

"Yeah! Fish tits!"

Awesome. We won't be going to Petsmart until that particular word develops correctly.

3) Big Penis~ The boys are in the midst of potty training now. I decided to refer to their tiny junk bits as pizzles because, as a veteran preschool teacher, I knew that one day they would become obsessed with their privates and run around announcing it to the world. And I do not wish to have the word 'penis' shouted in my home all the live long day. Pizzle. Very sweet, very British, I liked it and thats what I was planning on using until their friends mocked them and they suffered enough social ridicule to merit the use of a more sophisticated word. Well someone beat me to it. Thanks to whoever you are.

The Bear was naming things at the grocery store. Scary crocodile, a giant panda, an awesome fish, a wonderful walrus, etc. He comes up with a name for each product. Well that day he decided to name body parts. A cool nose, an amazing arm, you get were this is going. Unfortunately we were standing in front of the meat counter, waiting for the butcher to wrap up some pork chops when the Bear announced, "A BIG PENIS!!!!"

ACK!! What? I looked at him, wondering where he had heard this word and trying to think of a way to reincorporate pizzle before it was too late. He said it again. Three times.

Everyone looks at the mother when something like this happens. It doesn't help that the Bear looks like a cherub, he has the sweetest most innocent little face. So when something like that flies out of his mouth everyone's natural inclination is to look up at the monstrous woman raising him. The potty mouth sailor in maternity jeans who probably runs around shouting the word penis all day long and so it is no wonder her sweet little son picked up on it.

4) Awesome Nipples~ This also happened at the grocery store, thank the Lord it was on a different day. We came to a stop in front of the organic milk. The brand we buy features a cow on the front, utters prominently displayed.

"Look Mama, there's my cow!"

"Yes sweetie, that is your cow."

My youngest son looks at his brother, then at me and then at the carton of milk and says, "moo!" I am in a tizzy of maternal pride. Really, the mommy ego is quite big on this particular morning because the boys are behaving like angels and they match from head to toe which drives me giddy. Then the balloon pops big time.

"Oooo" says the Bear, "it has awesome nipples."

Fan-tastic.

I try to change the conversation but the carton is already in our cart. My son continues to point out its "awesome nipples" for the remainder of the shopping trip. This is acutely horrific when a very old lady with boobs down to her knees walks by just as my son announces to her, "awesome nipples."

5) Who's Making Noises? This last one happened today. I was out with the Bear and he informed me that he had to go potty. "A big fo" he said. We rushed into a public bathroom, the first such trip I have ever made in which I am responsible for holding a squirming pooping toddler over the edge of an adult toilet in a public bathroom. I usually bring a travel potty seat but of course, left it at home today.

We built a turban out of toilet paper for the seat and I plopped the Bear on it. He swung his legs around and started casually singing the ABCs. Then he heard the door to the restroom open. His eyes grew saucer shaped and he looked at me in shock, "Someone is here!" he said.

I nodded a quick confirmation, "Yup. Most of the potty rooms outside of our house are for more than one person."

This did not register with him. He started to get excited.

"I HEAR SOMETHING"

Dear God, I prayed to myself. It's me again. This is going to be about as trivial a request as it gets, but please, please let the call of nature next door be of the #1 kind and not the #2 kind. I really can not handle what will happen if its the #2 kind. I know my mother prayed that I would get a good dose of my own medicine when I made her life impossible some 23 years ago, but please Lord, please...

The woman let herself into the stall and proceeded to have her morning bowl movement.

The Bear immediately starts shouting in this very small, two stall bathroom with a loud echo that is growing louder by the minute...

"SOMEONE IS MAKING NOISES. Mama, do you hear? SOMEONE IS MAKING NOISES! Oh yes, very big noises Mama. WOW! Splashing in the water!!!"

I can't even remember everything I said, I think I was trying to cover up the sounds from the next stall so that the Bear would finish his deuce and allow us the mercy of a quick exit without facing this woman.

Not so.

The lady next door finally finished with a rather large splash which to my absolute mortification, the Bear responded to by saying, "Wow, a big fo splash." ("Fo" being his word for poop).

He also finished at this moment and I rushed to clean him up and get him out of there.

Stupid me. I should have waited in the stall like the coward I am. But I rushed and ended up opening our door at the same time our neighbor opened her door. We waited for her to use the only sink. We did not make eye contact. She was more than likely not amused.

The we went home, locked the doors and did not emerge for 6 years.

The End

The List

I have a list, "Things to Get Done Before #3 Arrives." A few organizational items, a few discipline items for the boys, and the top of the list--potty training both boys well before the birth of #3. The last item is currently under way and they are both doing a great job.

Yesterday, my good friend had her second son at a hospital close to our home. I really wanted to scoot over there to see both her and the baby. We had our last two kids on the same exact day and so I was unable to visit her in the hospital for her first birthing since I was at home having just given birth myself. I put together a little gift basket for her and begged J to come home early and play outside with the boys. As we waited I could feel my patience with the kids wearing thin.

The Bear wouldn't stop crying and whining to go outside. He was tired and hungry, dinner was still 30 minutes away and he wanted to play with his bulldozer in the mud right then and there. Cubs took the top off my water bottle, which was tucked inside my purse, while we were at the grocery store and I failed to notice so by the time we got home my purse and its contents were drenched. Then while I was looking through said purse, trying to salvage a few receipts and makeup that I carry around but never wear I heard an ominous plop in the toilet. I assumed Cubs had thrown in a toy or himself. But he had thrown in the nice camera my parents bought me last christmas. All the while the soundtrack of the Bear crying and whining played in the background. I wanted to scream.

So I did.

I yelled at my two little guys. J got home and I could tell from the way he looked at me that he knew things had gone south very quickly for me that afternoon. I am two weeks away from my third trimester and the exhaustion is getting to me. I also have not one but two toddlers and all I wanted to do was go to the hospital 8 blocks away to see my friend and her new little angel. So I left in an angry huff, marched to the car, climbed inside and slammed the door, cried for a minute, fixed my awful awful mommy hair in the mirror and took off to see my pal.

By the time I got to the hospital I had cooled down considerably. 10 minutes later I was gazing through a pane of glass into a room of baby heavenly deliciousness. A handful of freshly bathed newborns, my pal's sweet little guy included, looked up dreamily from their bassinets at the overhead lights. I wondered about the little goober in my own belly and marveled at how fast this pregnancy is going, before I know it he'll be here too.

I was able to sneak in a few minutes with my girlfriend which I has hoping for but did not expect. She had only given birth an hour and a half before I got there and was still waiting for the effects of the epidural to wear off. She looked radiant. (She'll roll her eyes when she reads this, but its so true). Puffy and sweaty like all of us look after we give birth sure...of course, she just gave birth!! But also radiantly happy and serenely peaceful. She is one of these women who has just always been a mother. Even before her own children came into this world she just had an aura around her that screamed, "I am a mommy and I'll take good care of you." I kissed her goodbye a few minutes later, waved good bye to her ecstatic husband and headed home to my brood of minions. Ha!

Yes, I have a list. In my mind this list of "Things to do before baby #3 arrives" gives me a false sense of control and order. It makes me feel like I have it all taken care of, I have a plan and I am good at executing plans. But this is so far from the truth. Then there is the other lie that attacks when I have days like yesterday where things in my life literally go down the toilet and I feel like a complete failure. I worry that my bout of temper and yelling will be ingrained in my boy's minds forever or that their earliest memory of me will be a vision of a pregnant yelling hysterical woman that hasn't showered in two days. Lies, lies, lies.

The truth is simple. I love my life here in the bungalow with J and my boys and my garden. (I'll even grumble under my breath that Diva Dog makes life pretty great too). But its not like I run around all day singing to my children, working in my rose garden, baking bread and tooting butterflies. I work hard at keeping my house and my kids together. Because I am human, a sinner, and always tired from being pregnant, I very often "fail" to succeed at the standards I set for myself. But that is really ok. I love my boys and all I can do is work hard to do better the next day.

I reread a verse the other day that meant a lot to me. I scrawled it on a piece of paper and placed it on the dining room table for J and I to see. It really helps to have something like that to focus on and look at when we are feeling exhausted and our weaknesses get the better of us. I can feel those lovely fruits of the Spirit that I try to hang on to slip away from me. Then I read the following:

"And God is able to make all grace abound to you, so that in all things, at all times, having all that you need, you will abound in every good work." 2 Corinthians 9:8

That one powerful sentence means so much more than a hundred check marks on a long list of perfect life goals. Even when I feel emotionally crazy and exhausted by kids, God is there to fill me with peacefulness, gentleness, faithfulness, etc. He is just waiting for me to let Him fill me with these oh so necessary gifts, things I need so I can abound in the good work of raising my boys and loving my husband. Ultimately, thats what makes our life here together work. Thats how J and I can still love each other well at the end of a hard week. I believe with all my heart that this outpouring of grace is what will keep me sane when three months from now I give birth to our third baby in four years of marriage.

As for the camera....RIP, it was a nice run we had with you. I am trying to scrounge up the old warranty to see if Canon replaces cameras thrown into the potty by sneaky 1 1/2 year olds with adorable smiles and twinkly blue eyes.

Little fart.

Growin' like a weed

Our son is talking. He is having lengthy conversations with us. He is expressing his feelings and commenting on our feelings.

I knew it would happen. I just didn't know when. One day I was growing a baby inside me and then next thing I know (after a few unbearably painful days) I have a baby in my house that I am in charge of. I keep it alive. Its my job. I stumble to its nursery at 3AM to feed it actual milk from my body. Then I clean it when gross stuff comes out of either end. Then I watch it grow and change until suddenly one day....its not a baby anymore.

Pretty basic life stuff but until you experience it, there really is no way to fully grasp or appreciate it. My son casually mentioned today that "combines are the best farm trucks." When the word "combine" first popped up in his vocabulary a few weeks ago, this city girl had to GOOGLE what the heck a combine was. As far as I knew, combine was some sort of football he-man sports spectacular, college aged men participate in to try and entice coaches to draft them. After the Google search I found out that combines are indeed some sort of farm machinery. Where did my kid learn that word? Better yet, where the heck was I when he learned that word? Regardless...today "combines are the best farm trucks." As in: "Mommy, I can put on my own shoes, use the potty, ask for a napkin when I eat my dinner, identify every known animal on the planet and distinguish types of machinery you've never even heard of."

Ouch.

Really. It hurts more than a little.

I am very very proud of my little squirt. But man, that really hurt.

The good news is that we are currently experiencing on onslaught of adorable new behaviors. Do I miss the baby inner-thigh fatty love chunkiness? God help me, I always will. But I love hearing him say, "Mama I need a hug. I love you so much!"

I spent an hour in the sweltering sun today, working on my poor neglected garden. Faithful hubby working his cute butt off by my side. The summer rain and sun aided our lovely garden in becoming its own worst enemy, a giant amazonian monster of overgrown brush, weeds and flowers. A puffy, sweaty, pregnant mess, I stood up and looked across the yard halfway through the job and thought, how did this happen? These weeds grew so fast that all this growth came out of nowhere.

Its the same thing with my whippersnappers. I just keep feeding them and watering them and the moment I settle into a routine they shoot up behind my back and start talking about the advanced mechanics of farm machinery.

Exercise

Sesame Street on Instant Demand. What bliss this setting is when I go over to my mom's for a visit and I need my boys occupied. Our decision to not own a TV makes Bella's house all the more magnificent thanks to their enormous flat screen television that is longer than both boys put together. We walked into Bello & Bella's house yesterday for a little Sunday R&R after a quick visit to the beach. The boys were sandy and over heated. I set up an episode of Sesame Street for them and noticed out of the corner of my eye that the episode featured Elmo and exercise. Their eyes were glued to the screen and I could hear the wheels turning in their brains.

Lately, I feel as though I am no longer raising two little boys but rather two small sponges that have an uncanny resemblance to my husband. They soak everything up. Yesterday, they watched Elmo running everywhere, around his house, around the block, around other muppets. They loved it. They soaked it all in. SLUUUURRRRPPP.

They also spent the entire day today running around my kitchen, or as it is now apparently titled, "the race track."

Damn you, Elmo.

Before you rush to Elmo's defense, let me explain my hostility.

I hate exercising---especially running. I'd rather burn calories practicing yoga or gardening. Yes, yes, yes, I know what "they" all say. Those are forms of exercise too! Well, usually people who say things like the above are very interested in exercise, they enjoy promoting it and are likely good at it, so in my present state of pregnancy crankiness I am completely discounting their opinion. Now...where was I? Oh yes. Running.

As I have previously stated: I don't run unless something large/scary/or both is chasing me. I don't jog or even "speed walk." I find the sensation of my heart hammering against my chest as if it were trying to escape quite distasteful. My legs are also shorter than everyone else's and after seven miserable years of physical education during my middle and high school years in which forced group running was always a requirement, I quickly realized that sucking wind and always coming in last place are also things I find distasteful. Our PE teacher had the annoying habit of labeling any girl with her menstrual period "A STAR." These girls were excused from running and allowed to walk around the track at any pace they chose. If anyone had paid attention they would have noticed that I bled three weeks a month for seven years.

My husband, on the other hand, loves running, jogging, and naturally walks fast everywhere. He likes going to the gym to work up a good sweat and even loves to swim laps in our pool. Way to go J. Here's a cookie.

No really, I am happy he finds joy in exercise. Ahem.

Now, here is the reason I damned Elmo a few paragraphs ago. I hate exercise but recognize that it is necessary and very good for you. <----(silent grrrrr overheard). As a mother I need to promote this healthy habit by demonstrating it in my own lifestyle for my children's benefit. The fact that this realization came in the package of a chirpy happy furry red monster that is on some sort of crack mixed with speed made my pregnancy hormones churn in a violent direction.

Thankfully, both boys seem to take after their father in this fascination and love of running and exercising----very good news for their bodies and should make enforcing the lifestyle skill much easier on me. But this is still very bad news for me and my lazy side.

Its easy to parent the kids in areas that I am particularly passionate about. The Bear is very curious about the fact that Mommy reads her Bible every day and takes notes on paper about what she reads. Sometimes he even imitates me, grabbing his children's bible and breezing through it with a thoughtful expression on his face. Both kids have worked alongside me in the garden and they now point out every flower they see throughout the day to me. The Bear even believes that I give flowers their yummy smell. (Slight pause to accommodate "ooo's" and "awww's" from all women reading this. I love it too! He makes me feel like sweaty puffy pregnant version of Snow White every time he holds out a flower and says, "My Mama make it smell beautiful!")

Bottom line: the boys notice what I love and they imitate things that I like to do. Eating veggies, cleaning and organizing, nice manners, bring it on! Unfortunately, my children watch everything I do and not just things I like to do. They soak up the good with the naughty.

Like I said, sponges that look like my husband.

While I love taking the boys out to work in the garden or play in the backyard, I never run unless one of them is running towards something sharp or poisonous. But Elmo told them to love exercise and Daddy loves to exercise and so they are now watching and waiting to see if Mommy also likes to exercise.

A similar situation happened months ago. I tried getting Cubs to eat, enjoy and love fortified oatmeal. He quickly noticed that he was the only one eating oatmeal. He is no fool. He realized that his brother knows better and his mommy hates that slimy icky congealed mass of breakfast food (I am gagging just thinking about it and not just because I am pregnant). So he threw the bowl on the floor and continued to do so every day until I gave up and quit making healthy oatmeal. He now prefers to eat cereal like his Daddy or strawberry yogurt with fruit like his Mama.

Running is the oatmeal of my current life.

Don't get me wrong. I am not about to go buy a pair of running shoes and start jogging every morning, heaven forbid. The day you read that I purchased a bengal tiger or grizzly bear you may be assured that I plan on setting it loose behind me for the purpose of training myself to run. But this is not the case, I have enough people to feed without tigers and bears living in my backyard and I have not owned a pair of running shoes since my freshman year of college. I own flip flops, high heels I don't get to wear anymore and hiking boots. But I digress.... I was talking about exercise. <-----silent grrrrr.

I am serving up a mini helping of oatmeal (blech!) and "running" with my kids. If I need to take a pause from the blissful domestic activities of my life like gardening, quilting, baking or scraping macaroni off of a high chair to go run around the backyard with my sons, so be it. I will do it. I love them and I want them to love running and love exercise. They won't have "STAR" cycles later on in life to excuse them, so even if they inherit my legs I need to make sure they stay running.

You know I am in love with my children, right? The proof is in this post.