book nook

So that book nook project from over the summer? Almost done!!

Finished the book mobiles with a few books from Salvation Army.....

Finished the yarn letters, which were insanely easy and we LOVE how they look....

Finished the tapestry hanging inside the closet. Picked out a nice blue map of the world.

Ended with a little One Fish Two fish wall art.

Last to go in are two red sack hanging chairs. Can't wait to finish off this project for my little guys. :)

I am about 80% done with my DIY list for this year which make me happy. I could stop now and feel good about everything the boys and I were able to accomplish. But the table fort awaits... and that one is too cool to pass up. I'll be writing about that one in my upcoming christmas post!

To Give to the Light

I vividly remember this last, long labor. The other two have dimmed in my memory, but not this one. Not this bone wrenching, spirit draining labor of many days. Seventy seven hours. I am not likely to forget a single one. The intermittent moments of hope and frustration. That one hour of complete and utter, Anne Shirley depths of despair. When I growled out the words, "Just get me to a hospital and give me a c-section" to my husband, 62 hours into the whole ordeal. His wonderful face aggravating me to no end when he looked at me with sympathy and pity. His kind, gentle response, "Sweetheart. You hate hospitals. You hate c-sections. This is not what you want. You are just exhausted, poor baby."

I wanted to kiss him.

I wanted to punch him in the eye.

I wanted him to find a way to get that baby out of me.

We were in my safe space. My place of peace and rest. My haven and veil of hope. My little garden, bordered by the white picket fence he built for me, divided by the brick pathway he laid out for me. Visible evidence of our love story surrounding us. Yet the harsh reality of enduring steady, strong contractions every 9 minutes for 60 plus hours at 6cm blurred the testimony and urged the impulse to take something apart.

I attacked the ground. Pulled weeds, ripped roots, dug out rocks. I split a fingernail and scratched up my knees. My stomach was huge, brushing the ground each time I bent over.

Sweat began to trickle down my face and back. I felt drenched. A large contraction tore through me at one point and I remember gritting my teeth and bearing down into the soil. The pain radiating out from my fingers and charging the ground around me.

I wanted heavy stones and rough ground. I wanted to walk one hundred miles. I needed to break myself free.

There comes a point in marathon labor when you start feeling trapped. Wedged in a place of no progress. Suspended in a very real nightmare that you could potentially remain pregnant and in labor, forever.

He stood there beside me. Working quietly, supporting me despite my best effort to force him into abandoning me. The blue sky above us, the raked and ravaged earth beneath us, the sleep deprived tension suspended between his body and my own traitorous one.

Yes, traitor.

I felt a very real anger with my own body. Mutiny. Sheer mutiny. Why was this body not working, doing what it was created to do?

I needed to rip something else out of the ground...

But I had pulled all the weeds and worked all the soil and the only task that remained was the planting. Not a conducive task for anger. It just doesn't work. Angry planting? No, it does not fit. Angry pulling, yes. There is a sense of defeat, failure, finality, something is no longer functioning or working and it must be ripped out to the last root.

But now all I could do was plant.

Dig burrows into the moist, warm earth. Create new space, delve and fashion a new stronghold, an exercise with no room for darkness. With each drop of tender young root into black soil, every unfurling leaf of newborn green, two important things began to happen...

The frustration began to leave my body and the contractions increased in strength and decreased in spacing.

I stumbled into the house some twenty minutes later. Out of breath and feeling dizzy.

The hours continued to pass, the labor intensified. My husband never left my side. Not when the pain threatened to split my back in half. Not when nausea wrenched through me for an entire half hour. He stayed with me, holding my hair. Quietly reading out loud the scripture I had selected weeks before. Dropping ancient words of grace on my body.

He created a safe space for me. Warming the water for our birthing tub. He brought out the cross he made for our wedding ceremony, the same cross we have used for all our sons baptisms, and placed it on our coffee table along with a few candles. He dimmed the lights. He entered the water with me and stayed by my side. He came up behind me as I gave birth to our son, our arms entwined together.

I remember the stillness of baby's birth. Half wonder and half exhaustion led me to a place of deep peace and quiet.

Baby emerged. Small, tiny boy. Slippery miracle of breath and tissue and blood and sinew.

All mine.

And his.

And His.

No wonder they say " dar a luz", to give to the light. You were blinding brilliance in the midst of darkness.

I have often wondered throughout this past year, over the memory of this very long labor. The imprint of suspended pain, the darkness of losing hope, the release of anger, the surrender of body, the deep deep peace and quiet. How much he taught me before he even drew breath.

My joy. My deep deep joy over you, small one. You were knit in my most secret place. A wonder to behold and be held. I love you to the depth and breadth of all I know love to be. And I rejoice at knowing that all of my love does not even come close to the love HE bears for you.

"May your father and mother rejoice! May the one who gave you birth be joyful!" Proverbs 23:25

Happy Birthday, sweet boy.

Trick or Treat or Trick

I spent weeks sewing up costumes for the boys. The Bear had a spot on Woody costume, babe's Rex costume was also quite adorable. Cubs topped them all with a tech-savvy rendition of Buzz Lightyear. Two days before halloween, the Bear decided that Woody would not do. He cried, he sniffed, he whined. I made him try on the costume to make sure the fit was right. When I slipped the cowhide vest over his shoulders, he stroked the fur and said quite happily, "OH, Mom. You guessed my secret wish to be Bongo from One hunner and One Dalma-tations."

Sigh.

What else could I do? Bongo from One hunner and One Dalma-tations? It was just too cute to ignore. So I worked day and night, whipping up a new Pongo costume from cow print fabric. He loved it and went around talking about "Bongo" with a twinkle in his eyes.

Halloween morning I was putting the finishing touches on babe's costumes when Cubs choked on a pre-trick or treat lollipop and hurled all over the baby's freshly sewn Rex outfit.

Ugh.

No way was I going to sew something new. Sorry, baby. My mom saved the day with a quick Target run. One monster outfit later, I assured baby's older brothers that he was in fact "The Backson" from the new Winnie-the-Pooh movie. They were satisfied. Baby looked delicious. Problem solved.

Cubs slipped into his Buzz Lightyear costume and glowed with pride. Each time he would press the button on his sleeve, prompting his wings to pop out from their jet pack and light up, Cubs' face would light up too. He would check one side and then the other, looking over his shoulders with a cheeky smile and a smug look. He was down right vain about the whole thing. He loved it. And all the laughter and smiles we received from him last night made every moment of sewing worth it.

We headed out to my grandmother's house for some trick or treating in her neighborhood. This band of houses has the distinction of being one of the few communities left in Miami that actually stay at home, eager to welcome dozens of kids with candy, spooks and laughter. My mom, aunt and uncle were the first generation to make the rounds. My sister and I followed. Now, my little boys get to share in the halloween fun of this old school neighborhood.

I must share, however, that my older boys behaved like a pair of seasoned con artists last night. All the adults gathered on the sidewalk were cracking up as we watched these two tiny little boys march up the sidewalk and bang on doors. I had to keep reminding them not to shout "Open your door!!!" but rather "Trick or Treat!" Once the door opened, people usually shifted their candy bowl to one side and went down on one knee to get a closer looks at my pint sized cuties. It helped that the moment the door opened, the Bear would attack at full volume...

"Hi, I'm Bongo! And this is my friend Buzz Lightyear. Do you like coatis? How about sifaka lemurs or maybe a blue tongued skink or a three toed sloth? How about an oxpecker? An oxpecker is a symbiotic animal. Hey!! What about an okapi? Or maybe you like an anteater? They eat ants with their long long tongues. Look at my tongue...its long too..."

You get the picture. The Bear had their complete and total attention as he launched into his long speeches about animals, halloween, whatever dog was nearby, anything. These homeowners were enchanted.

Entranced.

Distracted.

Definitely not paying attention....

to the silent brother. The one in the Buzz Lightyear get up.

As his big brother chatted away to the homeowners left, Buzz would sweep in on the right side and started manhandling the candy. Yup, he would help himself to at least four or five handfuls of candy while his brother chatted away.

The kicker is that once the homeowner straightened up, they'd look down and see poor little Buzz standing all alone and give him an extra piece of candy.

Cubs' bag broke after just a few houses and after we exchanged for different bags, his was so full I had to pour some of his candy into the Bear's bag.

Thirty minutes into the excursion, the Bear started letting us know he'd had enough.

"My weg hurts."

"Oh Mom, I am so sleepy! (yawn)"

"Uh-oh, its getting dark."

and then flat out...

"Let's just go back to Abi's house now, ok Mom?"

At one point someone asked, "Sweetheart, are you ready to go home now?" The Bear sniffed and said, "Yeah" with a sweet little sigh.

"I'm NOT!!!" piped up Cubs, throwing his two cents before continuing down the street with a skip in his step.

This kid could have walked all night.

Halloween is a holiday he can get on board with. Costumes and candy? Sign him up! He loved it!