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.