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.