Fox Family Five

Changing Focus

2011-03-15T13:29:00.000-07:00

It is so easy to become overtaken by a particular thing and in the process loose focus on what we really want to be looking at. This last week I was forced to loose my focus. I was forced to send my energy away from my family, away from my community, away from my daughter's fifth birthday. I was forced to be completely overtaken by something I'd rather have never experienced, something that will be with me the remainder of my days-tainting my vision and interfering with my ability to focus on the things that actually matter.

Morgan turned five yesterday. She is an amazing person, with a gentle spirit and overzealous self-expression--she contradicts herself and discovers some pretty interesting things through the course of trying to be two ways at once. She is smart and very imaginative, and is realizing that she actually enjoys the dancing part of her ballet classes as much as the playing part so is beginning to show some excellent self-control and discipline in practicing her movements (at least as much as a five year old can control herself). Today she got to be in charge of opening the door at the end of class as a reward for her hard work. This was a BIG deal. We cut her hair a couple of weeks ago, and her new shorter style only accentuates her advancing age. She loves to entertain (as she's been showing us since infancy) and has embraced her big sister role in the care she shows Kiera-always initiating games with her, tailoring them to Kiera's interests and abilities.

Today I have a five year old, and I am choosing to change my focus. I refuse to continue to waste it on something ugly when I have something so beautiful and so very, very much more deserving.

Kiera's Birth Story

2010-12-28T01:14:00.001-08:00

For anyone who's interested, I finally wrote Kiera's birth story. I posted it on her birthdate, so if you go back to June 15th, 2009, there it'll be. It's very long, but pretty cool. I enjoyed writing it, and really encourage all mothers to do the same-regardless of how long it has been. You remember things, and realize things, and it's neat for them to read when they're older. Anyway, enjoy.

Little Witchlet

2010-11-09T17:57:00.000-08:00

Halloween was a little hectic this year, due partially to my tendency to procrastinate and partially to my dearest bestest friend deciding to have her first baby that weekend (which we will forgive her for, because it was super-exciting). That made an impact on Halloween because I was her doula, and so was with her from 1 AM Sat morning until about noon on Sunday (see the pic above? That's how my face looked in every picture. The longer I'm at a birth, the harder it is to change my expression). Luckily I had enough warning to put the finishing touches on the kids' costumes Friday evening, so they were ready to hit the pavement Sat afternoon for the annual Olde Time Trick-or-treat in downtown Renton.

My husband can be a real stick-in-the-mud. He is a homebody, and comfortable with that, but bless him, when I am at a birth he really tries to kick it up a notch for the kids. When I knew I would be gone Saturday, I really thought that the kids would just have to miss the Halloween pre-funk this year. Sometimes I really don't give him enough credit. He didn't make it to the Boo carnival that morning, mainly because the kids were a little rowdy (that happens when they wake up to find me gone unexpectedly), but he pulled it together, despite it being close to lunchtime, despite the need for naps, and despite the POURING rain, he got everyone dressed up, buckets in hand, and a'-treating they did go!

All three of the kids looked great (no pics of the pre-funk, the camera was with me), and I am particularly proud of Kiera's costume. It was simple, leggings and a short she already had, and a tutu and cape I made (and of course a broom and hat), but she OWNED it. Goodness me, that girl can strut. With bucket in hand she marched straight into each establishment (and the next night, each house), hand outstretched, commanding, "aaaannnddd!!" Lord forbid if the giver of candy tried to put it in her bucket instead of her hand.

Halloween night (after getting home at 2:30 and sleeping until 5), we piled into costumes again and headed to our friends' house for their wicked awesome haunted house (their neighborhood is better for treating, to). Kiera knew what we were about before we were even fully out of the car-we had to chase her out of someone's yard on the way to the Schlegel's. She was READY. And just you try to take her pumpkin bucket away-so what if it weighs 8 pounds? That's her CANDY Jack, MITTS OFF!

Garrett loves to help scare at the Schlegel's

Morgan even got in on the House-she hosted a touch box game and managed to look mighty creepy doing it, pristine bridal attire and all (and can I just say, I really thought it would be awhile before I had to make her a veil).

SOOOO CUTE! Of course, I don't yet have a pic of her with all her parts, but you get the idea.

Little Witchlet

That's my handsome husband going after the ankles of passers-by. He LOVES doing this.

Random things....

2010-09-10T15:33:00.000-07:00

I have been putting off a new blog post for so long, I don't even know where to begin.
Summer ended Monday. Just ended.
Kiera started walking in July. She just decided one day that she didn't need to crawl anymore, so she didn't.
Kiera started standing on the coffee table last week. She thinks it's terribley hilarious and laughs like a cheeky little monkey when I catch her at it. I often come into the room to find Garrett and Morgan engaged in table activities, with her sitting in the middle of them-on the table.
We managed to go camping twice this summer. THAT my friends, is a record.
Garrett and I did not get our playhouse built. That makes me sad.
Morgan has a bright future in musical theater-whilst camping last weekend, the musical theater teacher from our HOME program (who hosted the campout) observed her, during a game of charades, announce "OK, now, is everyone looking at me??" Mrs. B can't wait for her to be old enough to join her class.
We went on many adventures this summer-but alas, none of them included bike riding. I haven't lost hope.
Speaking of bike riding, Garrett can now ride a bike. He saw some friends doing it, decided he wanted to, and did. As far as I know he's never had a fall. He astounds me.
Speaking of Garrett astounding me, he also learned how to swim-using the same tactic. He could be a spokeskid for Nike-Just Do It
Troy got to ride Shotgun on the Wells Fargo stagecoach in the Mercer Island parade this year. Last year he had to ride inside. Being up on top again made him very happy.
School starts Monday. I am teaching 4 different subjects, and am not quite sure how that happened or what I've gotten myself into.
My first sibling birth (meaning second baby with same clients) will be happening in the next couple of weeks, and I am so excited-I love that they enjoyed me enough to use me again, and that I already have such a bond with them. And she just texted me with a good progress report from her doc, so maybe sooner rather than later (but don't tell her I said that ;)!
My sister went to Disneyland last weekend and had an awesome time--now I can't stop thinking about going.
My yard is so nitrogen rich that I have the most beautiful looking veggie plants in the neighborhood-but they don't produce any veggies. I suppose we'll have to bite the bullet next year and build raised beds.
Garrett has decided to be a wizard. He's going to be Harry Potter for Halloween. He has a wand and everything. He goes around the house casting spells, and then asking me why I think they aren't working. He has determined that, due to a small crack in the tip of his wand, that the dragon heart string inside is bent and thus cannot conduct magic properly. He believes that when we fix it, his spells will be successful. I do NOT want to fix it.
Hot peppermint tea reduces fevers. Cold peppermint tea does not, but is a diuretic. Go figure.
I want to be in a flash mob. A really good one.
Troy and I are going to take a trapeze class. I CAN NOT WAIT.
I have been taking hot yoga. I had to stop after injuring my foot. Tonight I will go again for the first time in two weeks. I did not think it humanly possible to produce THAT MUCH perspiration without turning into a giant prune. Which reminds me, I should drink some water.
Kiera can say done, cat, Bumble (one of our cats), mama, boom-boom (to nurse), mum-mum (to eat), no (all the time), Ga (Garrett), and runs to the kitchen when she hears the garage door, where she bounces and giggles until Troy comes in the back door. Unless he takes too long, then she wanders off and ignores him. She will also hold out her hand, say "aaannnd" very slowly and quietly, and expect me to give her whatever I happen to have. She gets this from me asking her to "put it in my hand."

She went and did it.

2010-06-18T10:25:00.000-07:00

Yup, she did it. She turned one. I told her it wasn't a good idea, encouraged her to embrace her youth, whimpered how mommy would miss her widdle baby, all to no avail. She just went and did it anyway. Kids today. Sheesh.

As with her older siblings, Kiera has had a birthday luau in the works since before she was born. In the cold, wet, sometimes dreary Seattle weather, I love this one tie to my beloved Hawaii-love it so much I torture myself with weeks of planning, shopping, planning, making invitations, planning, ordering, and planning, all capped off with three solid days of cooking.

Getting things set up, bday girl asleep on my back

For those who aren't in the "know," it's tradition in Hawaii to throw a big luau for your baby's first birthday--this is left over from the days when babies had to work pretty hard to survive that first year, and doing so was cause for celebration. Depressing, yes, but still a great reason to eat too much food! Also, for those who haven't had the pleasure of experiencing a real Hawaiian luau (meaning in somebody's backyard), you probably won't find "grass" skirts, definitely no coconut bras, an MC or fire knife dancers. It's all about the food. You make lots of it and you eat allllll day. We do it up cheesy tourist style with our decorations, cause it's fun-but we still focus mainly on the food. Kahlua pig, shoyu chicken, chicken longrice, baked beans, potato mac salad, fried rice with portugeuse sausage, sticky rice, fruit, and some veggies for you mainland people who think that should be part of a meal (drooling yet? No? Then it's time to discuss the guava-infused yellow cake with cream cheese/whipped cream frosting and guava gel on top, or how about the chocolate haupia layered cake with coconut cream frosting? How 'bout now?)

And man, was it good food (if I do say so myself). Poor Kiera didn't even end up eating any of it, aside from her little cake.

Grandma, Papa, Sk8tr and Kiera at the cheesy tourist photo op-they and my sister's family drove up CA

All in all, it was a very successful party-we even almost started on time (if I hadn't tried to pare things down by only buying 3 water pans and then forgotten to get a 4th (for the hot food chaffing stands), thus requiring Troy to run to the party store for another while the guests were arriving). Kiera had fun seeing all her people (I really do think she believes we all belong to her in some capacity), though I could tell she was trying to figure out what they were all doing at the park. My favorite part of the event was, hands down, the lei making. I got this idea in my head a couple months ago and while it was a bit of a pain to organize and the flowers I wanted were super-perishable which was tricky as the party was on Sunday and FedEx doesn't deliver Sunday so we got them Sat and they were late which made me nervous and I had to just lift the cooler lid really fast to peek and make sure everything was there before rushing them into the cold basement to sit overnight because there was no refrigerator space due to the growing quantities of food and we just prayed they would make it to the party still pretty which they did so WHEW!! Feel my anxiety?

So worth it, though. One guest told her daughter, who was hesitant, the she needed to make a lei because "when will you ever get this opportunity again?" So cool. The smell was heaven, and Morgan and I got to wear "real Hawaiian flower necklaces" (as Garrett calls them) and flowers in our hair when we danced later (she did Pearly Shells, so cute). Talk about the memories......ok, I'm back.

We all had much fun, and were fortunate enough to have beautiful weather (until cleanup time, when a frigid nasty wind kicked up and nearly stole my pa'u skirt). Kiera had a ball wiping every last speck of frosting from her cake, of which we have no pictures-my sister has some, and Uncle Dewey, I know you have some to! When we get copies of those, we'll get them posted.

Troy's family, who drove from far away

Finally, the birthday girl on her actual birthday (Tuesday), eager to get her fingers into her cupcake (she recognized the frosting).

Happy Birthday my sweet baby, the day you were born was possibly the most perfect day I will ever have. You brought together nearly all of my favorite people, and sharing your arrival with your father, brother, and sister was beyond sublime-an experience none of us will ever forget. When you are 16 and tired of hearing that, be patient. The day your family is born you will understand.

A Summary of Recent Events

2010-05-16T16:24:00.000-07:00

Garrett's arm was broken at school. He spent 6 weeks in 3 different casts, and is now finally fiberglass-free. He (and we) is very happy.
We have doubled our rat population-a family at school needed to rehome theirs, as they had discovered their son was allergic. So their two girls (and their giant ratty skyscraper) came to live with our two girls. It has been very interesting watching them establish a pecking order (unfortunately Emily Dickinson-so named for her shy, homebody nature-my personal sweetheart, has landed on the bottom of the totem pole--she will be getting some special attention). They are all very sweet and well behaved, and after we've had some more time to train them they will be great pocket pets.
Kiera has realized she can stand alone. She is THRILLED, but nervous about it. As soon as she shakes her jitters, I am sure she will take off walking. Here's hoping she stays nervous for awhile.
Kiera was 11 months old yesterday. Yikes.
Morgan has adopted a super-hero princess persona. This requires the wearing of pretty gowns AND capes. A biproduct of having an older brother, I think.
We have planted many things for the summer, but have yet to get them in the ground. They have outgrown their seed trays, and are not happy about it.
We planted an apple tree in the back yard. It grows 5 different varieties of apples.
Troy is asleep on the sofa. His mouth is hanging open, and it's making him have obnoxious cartoonish breathing.
In fact, everyone in the house is resting. Except me. I'm blogging.
I am on-call for my first clients since I was pg w/Kiera. I'm anxious, but excited-she's "overdue" and could call any time.
The school year is almost over which is wierd because I feel like I'm just getting into the swing of it.
I made ridiculously good brownies and can't stop eating them.
My parents have, in the last month, acquired 6 goats and a hive of bees.
Garrett has taken to reading Morgan stories in the evening. I can't watch, because it's so sweet I'll start to cry.
I am always humbled by the kindess and generosity of the people we know. I do not always feel I deserve it, often can't repay it, and am anxious for the day when my own time is less full and I can turn to someone else who's hands are always full of projects and young children, occupy said children for awhile and give HER flowers and candy.
My K-1 math class hosted a lemonade stand at school-they planned it, prepped it, squeezed the lemons (I mixed it), sold it, made change (whether it was needed or not), and earned $60-they overshot their goal by more than double. They were raising money for prizes for the games they would host at the Gratitude Gala for school (last Fri), which were a huge success. They wanted everyone to earn a prize no matter what. I am very proud of them.
There has been roadwork outside our house for the last week. They ripped a huge ditch alllll the way up the hill. They knocked on our door every morning at 7:30 to tell me to move my car before they completely blocked our driveway and house. They were noisy. They made our house shake and the things on our shelves rattle. I was proactive one night and moved the car ahead of time. The next day, they didn't block our driveway. They blocked the alley where I'd left our car.

Easter morning

2010-04-06T10:04:00.000-07:00

Sadly, I forgot my camera when we went to the Stein's in the afternoon for egg-hunting, but here are the shots we took prior--our traditional Easter morning goody hunt (we don't fill the baskets, we hide the stuff throughout the house and they have to find it), brunch with the Easter Bunny, and our attempt at getting all three kids looking at the camera at the same time.

Kiera among the bunnies. They have been given many, many bunnies.

Morgan insisted their dresses match. Not coordinate. Match.

Our favorite in-town family resteraunt, Plum Delicious, invites the Bunny to brunch every year. The kids got to pick eggs from his basket. Morgan got a $5 coupon, and Garrett won a free meal!

I didn't bother rearraning the photos (blogger always loads them wrong) so this is earlier in the morning, as the kids were finding their goodies.

Kiera WANTS!!

Alright, this isn't Easter-just really cute.

About Kiera...

2010-03-23T13:42:00.000-07:00

So much has happened in the last several weeks that I couldn't possibly put it all in one post, so I've decided to go child by child. I'll start with Kiera as she's the baby and by default the most interesting.
Kiera just turned nine months old. Yup, nine months. I know, crazy. Too fast. Where did the time go and all that. I don't like to think about it, actually, as in another few months I'll be all out of babies. When Kiera was five months, she began to push up onto her hands and knees, which was quickly followed by the standard rock-back-and-forth that precedes crawling. Oh goodness, we all said. Any time now. She'll be an early crawler, no doubt. She's so strong for her age (even her doctor said this).....................................
She finally started crawling a couple of weeks ago. She spent FOUR MONTHS rocking, belly flopping, dragging, and rolling herself around. For those in the yoga "know", she developed a mean downward facing dog. Even when she did start really crawling, she was very slow and tentative, alternating between crawls and flops-especially once she hit the hardwood. And she wouldn't follow me--if she really wanted something, she'd just flop down and cry.

She loves seeing her brother and sister when she wakes up-she doesn't look it here, but I promise, she was happy.

I have always said that she is a person that requires a strong motivation to persue a task or accomplishment. I think that, until recently, she just didn't see the point. She couldn't go very fast, didn't see a need to be anywhere but where she was, and she has these nifty giants who will carry her anywhere she does need to go-so why put forth effort that can be better spent picking miniscule specks of junk out of the carpet? Cause that there is an important endeavor.
Five days ago she found her motiviation. I don't know what it was, I think she may just have realized there's LOTS of places to pick miniscule bits of junk from--maybe she finally got the carpet thoroughly picked and needed greener pastured. Maybe she realized if she chases me, it's a lot harder for me to put off her requests. Perhaps she finally felt she could employ enough speed to make it fun. Regardless, five days ago she made up her mind-and got FAST. In the space of the last five days she has explored more of the house than the rest of her life combined (independently, that is), along with learning to pull up (she did it by accident several weeks ago and didn't see fit to repeat the process until now), cruise along furniture, and push anything mobile across the floor (toys, highchair, books, her piano, people). Oh, and she's decided the stairs look like fun, too.
So in the space of five days we have gone from "how cute, she's finally trying to crawl" to "Kiera come back here! Get Down! Stop pushing that! Let go of the cat!"
And oh, is she proud.

Immediately after she very stealthily consumed a quarter of a blue crayon. The tear is because I took it away.

She's also eating anything we put in front of her (and few things we don't...no nut allergies here!) and enjoying clucking her tongue. At the moment she's standing at the toybox banging away on the lid and clucking along, and blowing raspberries--I think she's composing her first song.
She's sweet and playful, funny and smart (when we ask for hugs and kisses, she complies-she has said several words and can repeat even more when she so chooses) and she sleeps like poo at night--but that's an entirely different post.

Whilst suffering from a high fever but still trying to play, she crashed

Random things....

2010-01-30T11:22:00.000-08:00

Garrett can read. He started learning in October, and is now probably at a 2nd grade level.
Morgan wears dancing clothes all the time-even if she's freezing. When we watched the US figure skating championships, she donned her dancing clothes, grabbed a baby doll (it was the partners'), and spent about an hour "icing" around the living room. "But Mommy, we can't really skate because there's no ice in our living room."
Yesterday on the way home from the zoo, Kiera started laughing. Hysterically. She laughed the whole rest of the way home, about 15 minutes. I have no idea why.
I have rose bushes and climbing vines waiting to be planted. They've been waiting for 3 years.
It's raining.
I am having a difficult time not obsessively over-planning our upcoming Disneyland trip. At least I don't write daily schedules anymore.
Troy is working today, and it's Saturday. That stinks.
Kiera just woke up and she's only been asleep 1/2 hour. That also stinks.
Last night we had beans and cornbread for dinner. One of my top 5 favorite meals, and costs less than $5 to make.
Last night I dreamt that I ate a plate of spaghetti (not gluten-free), and when I realized what I had done, I got really scared. This is wierd because we've been gluten-free for so long I don't even think about it that much-and I never accidentally eat something with wheat in it.
Kiera will turn 8 months while we're in CA-that makes me a little sad. Like she'll officially be a big baby instead of a little baby.
Last night when I asked Morgan what she would like to do while the boys played Mario Bros, she immediately said, "Go upstairs and watch a movie with you and eat popcorn." So we did.
I need to get to Costco and buy a couple grafted fruit trees before they are all gone.
I also need to send in the rebates for our new cell phones.
I might get to attend a homebirth in early March, if the mom is willing to wait for me to get back from DLand.
Eucalyptus oil, diluted in olive oil, is the best cough supressant I've found.
Troy overcame enormous odds to earn a bonus for his January performance at work.
I have a new chocolate pie recipe that's super easy, not too unhealthy, and incredibley yummy. I may need to make it tonight.
Garrett is fantastic at taking care of Kiera, and she loves it when he does. I have to remind myself he's only 6 and not leave her entirely in his care, as much as he wants me to. Right now he's helping her try to go back to sleep. Oh, wait, nope-they're in there playing. Oh well, they're both happy. He says she wants to get up and watch the movie with him. She has a huge smile, which I take to mean she agrees.
Garlic has been shown in studies to be as potent an antibiotic as many perscriptions types.

That's all.

Holidays? When were the holidays?

2010-01-14T11:09:00.001-08:00

As we age we all say the same thing at the same time every year, "wow, I just CAN'T believe how FAST this season has gone by...(say it with me) it just keeps getting faster every year!" Now while I don't necessarily wish to recite this particular litany, I will say this, "holy cow! It is difficult for me to conceptualize the rapidity of this and the last month of last year. I perceived that prior to this particular rotation round the sun, the festivities of the holiday season perhaps were a tad more prolonged." Totally different.

Over the last few weeks much excitement transpired within the walls of our home-Kiera turned the mystical magical 6 months old in December (and will turn 7 months tomorrow!) and mastered the art of sitting up. Since then she has been focused on rockin' out-on her hands and knees that is. We've been saying "she's gonna crawl any day now" for about two weeks. With her it's all about the motivation. She just hasn't found a good enough reason to do it yet. When she does, off she'll go! She's started sampling food, which is a mixed bag--she LOVES eating with us, and loves what she's tried so far (apples, bananas, and sweet potatoes), but unfortunately it doesn't love her. Her tummy is having some issues processing the new foods, and really we should hold off a few more weeks (little known fact-infant digestive tracts aren't finished developing until 9 months)....but I think our little sweetheart might begin to tremble, swell, turn green (baby MMAAAADDDDDDD) and rip out of her diaper if we stopped. She REALLY likes to eat. Luckily she's appeased by small chunks in a mesh pouch/feeder that she can chew and suck on while we eat. ALSO, she cut two new teeth! She now has all four front teeth, and enjoys rubbing them with her tongue and grinding them together (yikes!). Mommy isn't enjoying them as much while Kiera figures out what she can and CAN'T use them for.

Coincidentally, the same day Kiera cut her left upper tooth, Garrett lost his. WEIRD. He is now totally gap-faced on top, missing his opportunity to express his desire for two front teeth by a mere week and a half. Another milestone for big G-he made the decision to cut his hair. For the last couple of years, he has been in charge of his hairstyle-much to Troy's dismay. Sorry hon, you're still the only one who didn't think he looked super-fly with his wavy shag 'do. I sat him down two days before Christmas for a quick trim. Every time I asked if it was short enough, he's say, "it's a little bit short enough." "Does that mean you want it shorter?" "ya, a little bit." We had this exchange so many times I had to finally get out the clippers. The worst part was Troy's smugness-like he had won a battle. See, he has always felt that I pressured G into the shaggy look-but really, he wanted it that way. It was a bonus that I liked it, too. I don't think Troy really believed me every time I said it was his choice--until he came in and saw me wielding the clippers and sniffling. Just one more notch in the "growing up" belt.

Poor Middle Child Morgan. Not a lot going on for her this last month-she had her final dance class for this session, and we got some adorable video of her demonstrating what she'd learned. She still wears her "dancing clothes" whenever she has the opportunity. Her biggest piece of news would probably be the dollhouse she got for Christmas ("Oh look! A dollhouse! A dollhouse that's just for me!). We have a big dollhouse already, one Troy bought for me years ago. Last year we bought her dolls for it, and she's always allowed to play with it, but she knows it's Mommy's tiny house, and she can't do QUITE everything she'd like with it. It was terribly sweet, and a little sad, when her initial exclamations over her dollhouse were followed by a small sigh and, "I guess I can't play with Mommy's anymore." I reassured her that she could indeed still play with mine. Since she started playing with hers, she hasn't given mine a backwards glance.

January is always a tough month for us-recovering from the holidays plus being Troy's biggest "push" month at work, so we see less of him. I have taken on a bit more as well, adding the upper grade theater class to my teaching duties at school. I'm very excited about it, I love working with middle schoolers, but it's a very high-energy class and crew and getting their production of Hood (as in Robin) stage ready is going to take a LOT of work. At least we have until May.

Christmas was awesome, and will require a separate post which I probably won't ever write--but I will say that I haven't encountered many other families that could all reside in one house for 4 days without making each other insane. We had 15 people sleeping in our house, and it was so fun. Thank god for our big old house and its secret rooms-nobody even had to sleep in the living room! It was chaos and noise and mess, but it was worth it to see everyone in their PJ's Christmas morning.

And now we stumble into 2010, still rubbing our eyes and trying to catch up on the sleep we missed finishing off 2009! It just seems to go by faster every year!

Our walk in the wetlands was a little too much for her.

Big G (with his new haircut) displaying his gift for cramming an ungodly amount of frosting on a gingerbread cookie.

Kiera getting the giggles with Auntie Cissa

Morgan marveling at her new dollhouse (it talks and tells her what to do- c-REEE-py)

Playing with her new bumpy balls-she loves these things.

Day before Thanksgiving

2009-11-25T14:25:00.000-08:00

It's the day before Thanksgiving--I feel like I should be doing nothing accept preparing for the feast. Unfortunately, between a house is chaos (orginizationally speaking), a week spent fighting a nasty virus as it rampaged its way through the house, school, swimming, preparing for Christmas (yes, already-it's going to be a big one), and working on the upstairs project, it seems a small trifle like a 15 lb turkey just isn't that high on the list.

That hasn't stopped me from making two grocery trips, menu lists, and 7 quarts of brine--which said bird is now bathing in. We just might not get around to cooking the bugger until Saturday or Sunday ;).

I kid. We have been swamped lately, we are indeed exhausted from said swamping, but we are foraging on and will sit down tomorrow to a delectable feast amid our clutter of everday stuff and Christmas decorations. I will spend all day stirring, mashing, roasting, baking, crushing, blending, a small part of the evening eating, and then I will collapse.

Fortunately we all came through the vicious virus and are happy with the knowledge that never again will we suffer through THAT yucky uckiness. Garrett was so dissappointed to miss school Monday, and it was looking like he would miss today as well, since Morgan had a minor relapse--but then a heroic mom from the program volunteered to take responsibility for him is we wanted to drop him off and pick him up. It was so odd, leaving him alone and coming home without him. Strange to think that most parents of kindergartners do that every day. He had a ball (especially since it was ice cream day), and talked non-stop all the way home about everything he did--but ended with, "I wish Morgan had been at school today. She would have thought it was really really fun." So sweet, especially after she had told me on the way to get him (after we'd talked about the fun things we'd done that morning), "I really want Garrett to be with us." I will remember their sweet words tomorrow when they are screaming at one another.

This week has been a real humsinger for Kiera, too. Not only did she have to ferry her way through rivers of snot during her first virus, she's cutting her second tooth today (her first came in 9 days ago). As I type she is asleep in the cradle in the living room, rather than in her bassinet in our bedroom. This is for two reasons-she has just about outgrown the bassinet (sad!), and she kept waking up with teething pain. Two teething tablets, some snuggling, and a few kisses later she seems to be resting much more comfortabley.

And with that I take myself to bed. With one pie down and the stuffing ready for the bird now resting in brine, I will need all my z's to get through the food prep left for tomorrow's feast. Pumpkin cheescake in a ginger-snap crust, YUM!

Too much to do.

2009-11-06T20:54:00.000-08:00

I like being active. I like having things to do. I do NOT so much care for things I HAVE to do, or for being busy. Lately we have been very busy. Very very busy. It seemed to come on all at once, too, which is making it that much more difficult to adjust to. For instance, we used to average going out about two times during the week. Now we go out every day. That means getting dressed (in something other than sweats) every single day. That's a lot of clothes. Which becomes a lot of laundry. Which makes us even busier! But alas, we shall adjust-we are in fact getting used to it, but there will always be a smidge of remorse for the pajama days of new family-hood.

The positives of being busy all the time-the kids are really enjoying all the new activities they get to participate in with school and all the new friends they are making. I am enjoying the village feel of our school and the fact that we now know everyone well enough that I can run down the hall without hauling all three kids, so long as there's a parent in the room where I left them. The kids are comfortable enough that it doesn't bother them for me to pop out for a bit, and Kiera just soaks up all the attention the parents give her.

Garrett is taking swim lessons now, in a saltwater pool here in town. He loves it but is still struggling with fear of sinking. It's sadly funny as he is the tallest kid I've seen there (he surprised his teacher by proving he could indeed touch the bottom), but at the beginning of class he clings to the teacher like a toddler (or a cat trying to avoid a bath). It only takes him a few minutes to warm up and be more confident, so I'm sure that by the end of his session he'll be swimming passably well. Morgan is not as excited as the rest of us as she doesn't get to be in the pool, too. But then Saturday rolls around, and she gets to don her dancing dress and shoes for dancing class. And while she often drifts away from the group and does her own thing seemingly ignoring the teacher, at home she demonstrates what she's learning with grace and enthusiasm (meaning she can skip and wiggle with the best of them).

Kiera is rounding the bend to 5 months old, and reached a milestone last night-she sat up! She did it quite well, too, so now all we need to do is find adequate motivation for her to keep doing it. She doesn't keep doing something unless she sees a need for that particular behavior. Take sleeping through the night, for example-she did it for awhile, tried it out, but as she can sleep whenever the heck she feels like it she has decided it really isn't necessary to do so much of it all at once. Last night she was awake for an hour for seemingly no reason. She wasn't asking to eat, wasn't complaining (unless we tried to get her to sleep), just wasn't asleep. Oh, and why is there a reason to keep sucking on a binky when you can use a thumb? And why keep sucking on your own when you can reach Mommy's? Which is apparently much more satisfying.

Oh, and we were finally able to talk her into taking a bottle! She hasn't had one since she was 6 wks. She really didn't like it then, and there was no need to force the issue, so we didn't. Saturday we kept offering (milk in freezer needed to be drank), trying different temps, positions,and nipples, and were finally able to persuade her--though she wasn't pleased. She had a very annoyed look the whole time, a real "WHY are you making me do this? I'll humor you this once, but really folks, this is ridiculous." It tickled the kids though, as they were able to take turns feeding her.

Oh ya! Halloween has happened since our last post! That was lots of fun, spent again with our friends in town who do up their whole yard and scare kids all night (Troy helps). Morgan made a truly beautiful Cinderella, and Garrett a dashing Indiana Jones. Kiera was a lion for about 5 minutes, but she was a very cute lion!

For you, Reina

2009-10-08T23:14:00.000-07:00

It has been brought to my attention that the blog is seriously lacking in photos of my adorable offspring. Call it third child syndrome (though in the digital age it isn't due to a lack of pictures, but rather a lack of DOING anything with them...I'll make it up to her). In an attempt to rectify this oversight, I bring you these:

All dressed up for her 3 month pictures. I was trying to get a good smile out of her since we only got one during the actual shoot.

Canoodling on the couch

She does this all the time, anytime she's in a good mood and someone makes eye contact (she made some lady in an elevator's day today)--my sister calls it "the face." She smiles so hard she'll knock herself over once she can sit up. Since this was a month ago and she's had more practice, she does it even bigger. Her noses scrunches all up. It's awesome.

I took a bunch of pics of Morgan in the backyard when the hydrangeas were blooming and Garrett kept cutting them and bringing them to us. This obviously is not a photo of hydrangeas, but I liked it anyway.
Storytime! Ignore the ugly wall-Morgan discovered (via a teensy chip in the paint) that the wall had once been pink. She loves pink. And she can accomplish a lot of paint-peeling when her parents think she's napping. And no, she didn't eat it--it was all in a pile under her bed, actually.

First week of school and 3 months old!

2009-09-22T15:05:00.000-07:00

Wow have we had a couple of weeks. Seriously. I mean whoa. It all started with the ceremonial preparations for School. Yup, school. Garrett goes to school now. And coincidentally, so does Morgan. And Kiera. And me. We spent the weekend prior acquiring school supplies, planning activities, and organizing the almighty Backpack. Garrett's backpack is very important to him.

On Sept the 14th (after two phone calls from Troy verifying that we were up and going), the kids and I had our first day of school. One of the rules for enrollment in the HOME Program is that the parents of elementary students remain on campus while the student are in class. We walk them to each class and are encouraged to check on them and help out during lessons. I was a little leery of this commitment, not knowing if the girls would take to spending 4 hours in the preschool room. Morgan was already having issues with not being old enough to attend classes herself, and I could just see myself having to drag her down the hall kicking and screaming. To my surprise, she was invited to join every class she showed an interest in. Even if she just wanted to sit and color. This program is so family oriented, it's awesome. At lunchtime the family room (where the preschool playroom is) fills with families eating lunch together. How many people in our society do that? Even on the weekends-how many families eat dinner together, let alone lunch? We all sit at big tables, Garrett gets to eat with his friends, I get to chat with their moms and dads, everybody oohs and goos over the baby, and Morgan just loves it all. I've lost count of the number of people who have offered me support with my curriculum planning, and I know that when Garrett starts getting invited to parties I'll be totally comfortable sending him because I'll really know these people-rather than dropping him off at a house with adults I've never met before. And they know him-they know his dietary needs, his likes and dislikes, etc. There's such a great sense of community while still being a school--today he had pictures taken for the yearbook, and next month we go on our first field trip.

Oh, and remember how excited I was about the potential that I would someday teach at the program? Well, that someday rolled around two days ago. Garrett's reading and math teacher has decided to go back to school, so she and the program coordinator cornered me last Monday about taking over the math class (I'd have preferred reading, but it was already taken). I hemmed and hawed, they mentioned I'd get paid, I said "SURE!" So now I teach kindergarten math. I started Monday. I arrived at ten to drop G off for reading, all ready to spend the next hour preparing myself and Kiera for class (yup, she stays with me) only to be met at the door by the PC with the news that his new reading teacher had a family emergency and would I mind stepping in? WHY NOT! Between me and another mom, we threw together a pretty decent lesson about "at" words (a-at-cat). I covered that class today as well, since she's still out. At least I had more than 5 minutes to prep for that one. Though Kiera did poop just as we were walking in to start class. I was able to get them started and then leave in them in the care of their PARENTS while I changed her--see the value of the whole family thing? Freakin' awesome.

Speaking of Kiera, she is now a rotund 3 month old. She's mid growth spurt at the moment, and eating like a fiend. She and I will be flying to CA tomorrow night to spend the weekend with my family and to meet my new nephew Jason, who was born on Kiera's 3 month birthday.

Over the last few weeks Kiera has learned how to play. She has figured out what her hands are for and is thrilled to be able to knock her hanging toys around. Today she tried to grab the logo of my shirt. She flows over with grins and dimples, and has charmed the socks off anyone who talks to her as she does not discriminate and will smile and coo at anyone who stops to talk to her. It's so interesting to watch her development as we have a family friend that is just a few weeks older than Kiera. We spent the afternoon with her (and her family) a few weeks ago, and I marveled at how mature she was. Much more so than Kiera-so interactive with her environment and capable with her hands. Now Kiera has reached the age B was then, and is suddenly showing all the same skills--a testament to how fast babies learn and grow! I was sure she wouldn't get that far that quickly! How amazing little humans are.

And now I must go as it is time to make dinner, which is Kiera's cue to cry. Never fail, no matter what time I do it, or how occupied she is at the time (in this case she was sound asleep) she knows. Her timing is impeccable.

Growing Up

2009-09-01T15:25:00.000-07:00

Garrett is starting school. I keep saying it, hoping it will sound less like my first baby is becoming an independent person. It doesn't sound like that yet. He's starting school. He is so beyond excited-we all are. Well, not Morgan. She doesn't see why she can't go, to. We went and visited the facility today-all four classrooms and one hallway of it. It's run down, low budget, and feels wonderful. There is no negative energy-people bring their children there because they WANT to, and not because they have to.
Let me explain.
I am, among other things, a public school teacher. It has always been my plan to return to teaching when my children are all in school. As a public school teacher, I feel that it is VERY important to support public education-it is a system whose success is directly tied to its participants--no students, no money, no programs. I have always intended to send my children to public school.
I am, first and foremost, a mother. I cannot in good conscience drop off my child and drive away knowing that he will 1. be forced to work almost solely off of dittoed worksheets, 2. be working below his skill level and as a result not recieve the same level of attention as his classmates, 3. be crammed into a room with 30 other kids and one teacher, 4. be taught using methods and models that are inneffective and dumb and 5. not be allowed recess (which has been shown time and again to be necessary for focus and success in the classroom). Plus, I'd really miss him. And I'd have to wake everybody up early to drop him off. Yuck.
So this left Troy and I in a difficult position-we both had our reasons for wanting Garrett in public school. I had my reasons for wanting to homeschool. Troy saw no allure in homeschooling. Through much soul-searching and discussion, we both agreed that for Garrett to be successful and have the best chance of enjoying his education, homeschool was the best option. Then I found the HOME Program.
HOME is an alternative public school, technically. I see it more as a complimentary homeschool coop--all the parents participate (I can go to his classes with him if I want), different ages are grouped together (K-3, for example), and we get to pick any courses we want. He will attend HOME two days a week and take Math, Art, Science, and PE classes-and have a recess!! And music lessons! And Theater! This tiny little program, in its tiny little building, packs more curriculum choices than any other school in our district--with it's one hallway and chipped paint, it accomplishes more for its students than big schools full of fancy accessories. There's even a preschool play area for Morgan to use while he's in class, as the parents are ENCOURAGED to remain on campus while their student is in class. This way teachers don't have to deal with discipline issues or behavioral problems-the teacher is never taken away from teaching because the parents will be called to deal with it. Everyone helps. And as an added bonus for me, I can teach! I can contribute my volunteer time in the upper level Language classes-there's a creative writing class being offered while Garrett is in Science on Wed. that I can work in, and even have Kiera with me. Eventually I could even join the staff, but only have to work a couple days a week. I am soooo excited about this. I can scratch my teaching itch in an environment that is totally flexible, allows me to keep my children close, and allows me to continue my doula work. Seriously, aside from the fact that this is all going to keep us very busy, it's, like, the best scenario ever.
So what that means is that while we are homeschooling Garrett he will still get to "go to school." He'll go on field trips, participate in science fairs, have school performances, make friends, work with certified teachers (besides me), but still be primarily taught at home where we can cater his education to his particular needs and learning style. AWE-SOME. Plus his friend Mira is entering the same program. Who wouldn't be psyched about THAT? AND his classes won't start until the 14th, which gives me a little more time to get my act together before I have to become a mom whose kid goes to SCHOOL.

Planting KirMir

2009-08-19T17:21:00.000-07:00

There are parts of being a parent I love. There are parts I absolutely hate. There are things that break my heart, things that I grow from, things that make me proud and happy and things that I wish I never had to deal with. There are things I wouldn't want to live without.
And then there are the things that are all of the above.
Sassy had six kittens. I wrote about them when they were born. Last week they turned one month old, and are all the chubby rolly-polly cuteness one would expect. The first one born, the first to open his eyes, the boldest and the tiniest, was KirMir.
Garrett developed an affinity for KirMir from day one. "I like him best because he's the tiniest and cutest. I think he needs me." He named him KirMir two weeks ago. It's a combination of Kiera (his sister) and Mira (a best friend), two people he loves. He never really wanted to play with the other kittens, and left the naming of them up to Morgan (so far we have Kip, Swimming Kitten, and Shane). KirMir had us worried in the beginning. As the runt he had to compete harder for food, and for a couple of days he wasn't doing very well-then he rallied, fought harder, held his own, and started growing. Through the last month we have dealt with a variety of kitty issues, from problems nursing (Sassy got sore and just didn't want to) to diarrhea to not wanting to use the litter box, but none of it affected KirMir.
This last weekend I was worried about Sassy and the kittens-she and at least one of the babies were having poop problems and I wasn't sure we should leave them alone for two days while we went to visit family. But by Friday they seemed to be doing better, and the little orange guy (still nameless) that had been worrying me seemed fine, so we went. Upon our return Sunday night we were greeted by a pile of fluffy-ness asleep on the living room rug, cute and cuddly and purring, and totally not supposed to be there. We had put up a baby gate to keep them in the bathroom and hallway which they had apparently had no problem climbing. Other than that, all was well and the kids were happy to play with their fuzzy friends Monday morning.
Monday afternoon I noticed the KirMir was crying-a lot. He was traveling around the house with the others (they move in a clump) but seemed to be having a tough time keeping up. I thought maybe he was hungry and tried to coax him into eating some moist food, which he refused. I watched him for a bit, but he seemed fine-though not as active as his brothers. A few hours later, I noticed he wasn't walking around at all, and when I picked him up I realized he was very skinny. He had completely lost his fat little belly, and I could see his hip bones. At this point I tracked down Sassy and held her in my lap so he could nurse without competition, which he did for quite awhile. After that he perked up, and I told Troy we needed to make sure to do that several more times before bed.
Not one hour later, I was watching Morgan play on the floor and to my absolute horror, I saw KirMir laying behind her, curled in an unnatural position and not moving. I immediately scooped him up and away, sure he was dead-until he started yowling at me. I breathed a sigh of relief, and sat down again with him in my lap. After awhile it was obvious that he was failing. His breathing was shallow, his respiratory rate depressed, and he didn't move except to cry when we shifted him. He barely filled my palm.
How do you deal with death? How does any parent know the right way to tell their child that their beloved creature is going to die? How can a mother stay calm, reassuring, soothing, when she herself is holding back tears for the heartbreak she is about to inflict on her son?
We have always been open with the kids about death. I feel very strongly that being honest is best; I have seen many children harmed by their guardians trying to hide death, or lie about it, in the name of protecting them. They grow up not knowing how to grieve and heal. Children are capable of handling difficult situations much better than adults sometimes--certainly better than they are given credit for--but that doesn't make it painless. For anyone. How were we to simultaneously break and mend our little boy's heart?
We called Garrett to us. We showed him KirMir, told him he was sick. Garrett watched him for a minute, and then asked very pragmatically if he was going to die. We said probably. We asked if he would like to hold him, and keep him warm. Garrett took him into his lap, wrapped in his shirt. He stroked him, kissed him, whispered things to him. When it was time for bed we took KirMir back and held him ourselves. I went to bed with Kiera, Troy continued to hold him. Unable to sleep, I got up to help Troy round up the babies and Sassy for the night. Had I not had the reality of a 2 month old limiting my sleep already, I would have stayed up holding him. Troy asked what to do if KirMir was gone in the morning. Back in bed, I still couldn't sleep.
Part of me wanted to be heroic and rescue him. The realistic side of me knew this baby would die during the night. There was nothing anyone could do-it had happened so quickly, and he was so tiny, even a vet wouldn't have tried to save him. He would have died on a cold metal table, alone. At least this way he was with his family, a brother curled on either side, trying to keep him warm.
At 4:30 AM, after feeding Kiera and putting her back down, I went to check on KirMir. He was alone on the bathroom floor, having been removed from the warm bed of his brothers by Sassy. His body was frigid and already stiff. She had taken him away from the others to protect them in case he had been ill. I tenderly scooped him up and placed him in the box we'd found for him. I set him in a safe place, and then went back to bed. What else could I do? Thinking of what the morning would bring, I cried.
Garrett always wakes up first. He was on the couch playing a game. I sat down with him, took his hand. "Did KirMir die?" "Yes." "Oh. I went in to see if he'd died, but he wasn't there." "I put him somewhere safe." "Can I see him?"
I got the box and we sat with it in our laps. I explained that KirMir would feel cold, and a little stiff. He wouldn't move, he wouldn't meow. Garrett opened the box, gazed at his friend; "He doesn't look dead." He petted him, felt that he was different. "Can I hold him?" He sat with KirMir in his lap. "My body is trying to make me cry." "Then cry." "I don't want to."
Periodically throughout the day he would ask me questions about KirMir, and I answered him as tenderly and honestly as I could. We made plans for burying him in the yard after Troy got home. He would frantically wipe his eyes as we talked, refusing to let his tears come.
Last night we said good-bye to KirMir, "planting" him at the foot of the Hawthorne tree. Garrett picked the spot. A place he would have liked to play with KirMir. He was excited to dig the hole, excited to carry the little box. Positions of honor, I think. Just before we began to fill the hole, I looked down at Garrett and saw his excitement had gone. His head was bent--a tear dripped from his nose. He was nearly overwhelmed, but fought hard to keep control. A minute later, he was ready to cover his friend.
Back in the house we began to clean up dinner. I peeked into the living room and saw Garrett sitting alone on the couch. I went to sit beside him and my brave little boy, so bent on grown up composure, broke down in sobs. Horrible, gut-wrenching sobs. He wrapped himself around me and together we poured out our hearts for KirMir and for him. Troy came to join us, then Morgan, and as a family we held one another as Garrett finally let himself cry.
As a parent, this was one of those full-spectrum experiences. I'll never wish it hadn't happened, because we all learned from it. I'll always hate it because we were all hurt by it. I'm glad we didn't try to hide it from the kids, because it is helping them understand how to handle loss before they lose something more important. I hate that my babies were in pain and I couldn't make it go away. It's good for them to see that Mommy and Daddy aren't all powerful. It's bad for them to see that Mommy and Daddy aren't all-powerful. In the long run it will have a positive effect on them as they grow up. Right now it's taken away a little piece of their innocence. It is life, and it is hard. But it is life, and mostly life is good.
Strange that something so tiny, with us for such a short time, could affect our lives so much. Thank you KirMir, for being our friend. Garrett wishes he could have seen you grow big. But while you were small, you made a big impact on the life of a little boy (and his mom).

Over the water and through the trees...

2009-08-19T16:26:00.000-07:00

...to Grandmother's lake we go (or went, rather). Last weekend we packed up the car, again, and headed to Port Angeles (yes, the "big city" in Twilight) to spend to very busy days at Troys parents' lake cabin. Actually, the cabin is outside PA (Lake Sutherland) but only by about 20 minutes. We were leary about making the trek, as the drive to California last month kinda ruined Kiera's great tolerance for her carseat, but we were determined to make it. So we headed out early Sat morning for the Seattle ferry terminal. Normally we skip the ferry in favor of driving around Puget Sound--it's about the same amount of time and costs less as the ferry has gotten ridiculously expensive in recent years. This time we figured the less car time for Kiera the better and it's always a thrill for the kids (and me) anyway. It was well worth the added expense. We had a gorgeous view of Seattle and the sound, and we were able to enjoy breakfast on the go on board, which saved us some time getting out of the house. Kiera was able to nurse and relax in relative comfort, and the kids go to take turns going out on deck with Dad. It worked out so well in fact that Kiera slept the remaining 1.5 hrs to the cabin and arrived perky and refreshed (after a stop at Mom's Diner, that is).

The kids headed straight upstairs to the game closet when we arrived, and remained there for some time. The cabin is a wonderland for kids (and me). It's an adorable little A-frame, and just enough space added on through the years to not be cramped when the whole family tramps out for the summer get-together. The upstairs is kid-heaven with a loft, game closet (with the accumulated booty of years of Grandma buying new junk-Troy even found an activity book from his childood up there), and bedroom with it's own little deck. The cabin is right on the water, with a deck and its own dock complete with a small boat that is always the highlight of our weekends there for the kiddos-though with Grandma on board they could travel faster walking. She's a TAD cautious.

Morgan decided to tie up Uncle Jack, the "Pirate guy."

Troy and I spent a lot of time at the cabin during our college summers. It holds many fond memories of our fledlging relationship and we love watching our children enjoying it. It's especially cool for Troy as he was a boy there-though he's much less enclined to hop into the sometimes frigid water nowadays. For me it brings memories of my days spent at MY grandma's cabin-a place I won't get to share with the kids except through stories.

The lake is beautiful, small but very deep. I didn't think I would be able to talk Garrett into it, but with a lifejacket and some coaxing (and nearly drowning me trying to hold himself up), he did it! And declared (As he hung on for dear life), "this is really fun!" Morgan threw herself at me without a moment's hesitation (which I'd expected, she has no sense of fear), only to be smacked in the face with the wake of an overzealous passing watercraft. This scared the holy begeebies out of her and prompted her to attempt using me as a ladder to climb back OUT of the lake, but I was able to get her relaxed and convinced to stay. We three paddled around on an air mattress for quite awhile, until Mommy deemed young lips too purple to remain (and older legs to tired to continue-I don't have the stamina for swimming I once did. I miss Hawaii).

Kiera was a hit, of course, and very well-behaved. As she loves nothing more than being held (facing out), and there were an endless supply of arms to hold her, she was the picture of contentment without Mommy being completely worn out. I was even able to help make breakfast for everyone Sunday morning.

Kiera dozing with Aunt Peg out on the deck:

The drive home was not as easy as the drive out, in fact we only made it to Sequim (~1/2 hr) before we had to stop as Kiera hadn't stopped crying. We made the best of it by grabbing dinner, but due to prolonged bathroom issues with the kids we missed the ferry we'd been aiming for and were pretty late getting home. The upside of a late ferry though is that we had a phenominal view of Seattle all lit up. I love city skylines at night (though Seattle could never compete with Honolulu it's still pretty awesome). And while it was a fun weekend, we are very much looking forward to the coming one and staying close to home.

Dedicated daughter/grandaughter or glutton for punishment? A fine line.

2009-08-06T18:05:00.000-07:00

Last week I lost my mind. Lost it. Gone. Rolled right out of my ear. Had to go find it. Apparently it was in California. Flying there was, unfortunately, cost-prohibitive (and would have eliminated all the looking-for-my-missing brain stops at rest areas and gas station bathrooms) and so we drove. All five of us. To California. 800 miles. With a newborn. To California.

It wasn't so bad.

Really.

I can see my own butt now. That's the benefit of spending so much time twisted around backwards, futilely attempting to hold a binky in the mouth of a screaming six week old who REALLY DOESN'T WANT a binky. I'm pretty sure I'll be stuck in that position for awhile.

No really, it wasn't so bad. Kiera had a hard time with the elevation changes going over the Siskiyous and Grants Pass, but when you consider she was born at sea level who can blame her? I'd love to say she fussed a little going up and then down, but sadly she couldn't sleep through the slightest rise. Sometimes she'd be able to settle down, sometimes we'd have to stop so she could nurse until her ears popped. Towards the end of each driving day she'd just be done being in her seat, and again-can't blame her. I was done, too. But all in all the journey wasn't to torturous, the other two did great ("Video games? In the CAR? ROCK ON!"-I'm paraphrasing Garrett here), and aside from the monster headache I developed on the way home it was fairly painless. Just long.

I should probably explain why we decided to do this crazy thing (aside from my absentee brain). For months I've been planning on a trip down to visit my family this summer, probably in August or early September when Kiera was a little more sturdy but still small enough to seem new to those who hadn't yet met her. Plans shifted when we found out that my Grandma, whom I haven't seen for two years, was going to be coming to spend two weeks with my mom. My aunt and uncle would also be there, but staying elsewhere (G-ma lives with them). My grandma's health is questionable, and not knowing if she'll make it to next summer when we want to go out there (to Arkansas), I just couldn't not take myself and the kids to see her-esp when we'd just added a new great-granddaughter to the mix.

This was the most complicated trek to Cali EVER. We couldn't decide exactly when or how we would go, how long we would stay, when we would leave, where we would stay, it was extraordinarily frustrating. In the end obviously we got it figured out (though it meant three days in the car for four days there), and are glad for it. It was a great trip, filled with loving people and much laughter. On the way down we were able to stay the night with Troy's Aunt and Uncle in OR which is always a treat, and a nice way to celebrate Troy's birthday (which had been the day before, but completely run over by trip prep). The kids love spending time at there house. It's very peaceful place to be, and we wished we could have stayed a bit longer.

Once in CA we stayed in a hotel in Stockton, a first for us but a nice change. It was good to have a place to stash our stuff as well as a place for little kiddies to crash minus the distraction of fun cousins and super-silly uncles. We did miss the quiet evening chats with my parents after putting the kids to bed, and didn't get nearly as much game playing done as we would have liked, but hey-we only had four days.

My grandma did great. We were all concerned that the whole thing would overwhelm her, but the opposite occurred--she had so much fun and was so distracted by the cheerful chaos of my family (when we're all together with spouses and kids, there are nearly 20 of us) that she didn't want to leave. We had the added bonus of introducing Kiera to my aunt and uncle, as well as my cousin and his family-including a son I hadn't met. The highlight of the trip was the ending day family outing to Bass Pros-and watching Troy marvel at how that can be considered a fun family outing. Hey-they have games, water features, a fudge shop, taxidermy galore, and it's free! Can't beat that! He refused to buy me the pink rifle and the gun safe with the painting of John Wayne on it, though. Broke my lil' heart. I'm still holding out for the pink fishing pole.

Above we see the three "babies," as we affectionately refer to the now 3 yr olds (Connor in yellow, my sister's; Chloe behind him, my brother Tony's; and Morgan) that were all born within 6 months.

Grandma meeting Kiera-she loves holding babies but throws them back the second they start to fuss. She says she's done her time.
Four generations of Sidell Women. Believe it or not, throw a grey wig on me and I look JUST like my grandma. I'm not kidding. I've done it. It's a little depressing. She's 84. Don't get me wrong, she's adorable-but I don't look like her at 30-I look like her now. At 84.

In the end, we had a great time. And the first night away Kiera started sleeping 8 hr stretches (which she continued to do until the last couple nights when she's been miserable with a cold), which it turns out was key to my finding my mind. It was under the couch all the time.

Quick update

2009-07-22T10:47:00.000-07:00

We had a midwife checkup on Monday, and Kiera has already gained another pound! She was 9 lbs, 7 oz-gaining two pounds in two weeks. Holy cow. She looks it, too-she's losing her newborn-ness and looking like a normal baby. Last night she slept her longest stretch yet, just over 6 hours. I love it when they do that, and I wake up totally startled to see the sun coming up and baby still sound asleep. Then I can't fall back asleep, sure the baby will rouse any moment. So I only got about 5 hrs. Not that I'm scoffing at that! It was awesome!
The kittens have started opening their eyes, which caught me by surprise until I realized they're already a week old. My sense of time is apparently a bit ascew at the moment. They're getting big fast, and the kids are so excited to be able to hold them more. Pretty soon they'll be all over the house...6 tiny cats, climbing our curtains. Can't wait!

I love my laptop.

2009-07-17T12:40:00.000-07:00

We were a little late to the age of laptops and WI-FI (which I don't even like having, as those transmissions are thought to not be good for developing brains, but I was overuled), but I'm making up for lost time and lovin' it. As I write this I'm sitting on my deck in the shade, enjoying watching the kids play in the pool with Kiera curled up in her best imitation of a frog, sound asleep in my lap. How lovely. Not that I need to be "connected" constantly, but when I have work I need to be doing (or blogging I need to catch up on), I'm happier taking it with me than the other way around.
We're having lovel weather right now, warm enough to swim but not too hot to be outside. I'm afraid any level of warm is too warm for babies sleeping on shoulders (we've both been very sweaty), but she seems to enjoy it when she's not trying to snuggle into my damp neck. Speaking of sweaty babies, Kiera is sunshine--she knows her mind and fights for what she wants, just like her mamma. When her needs have all been met, she is peaceful and inquiring--always studying, often with a quizzical little pucker in her brow. Our doula came for her final visit last night, and Kiera spent about a half an hour analyzing her face before signaling her approval by falling asleep in Alissa's arms. Troy later discovered she was ticklish by running his fingers up her back, causing her to suddenly sit blot upright. Very funny to watch. As of Monday morning, she weighed 8 lbs 6 oz (as measured by the Wii Fit), and seems so very big to me-at only a few ounces larger than her cousin William was at birth. She is very strong, and has been holding her head for for a couple of weeks. Her favored position is anything upright-either propped on pillows or being held-bolt upright. A recline will not do. She is already displaying the younger sibling tendency to want to do what the big kids are doing. And big kids do NOT lay on the floor. Big kids sit. And/or stand. She's good with that, too.
Garrett and Morgan are getting into the full swing of summer, asking every morning (rain or shine) if they can get in the pool. They are anxiously awaiting the magical day when we will go to the city waterpark. They are both still awesome with the baby. Garrett has even figured out how to put her diapers on, and surprised me this morning by getting her diapered while I was depositing the poopy cast-off in the bathroom (for anyone made nervous by the thought of me leaving her during a change, fear not-she was on the living room floor. It was quite an extraordinary poop, and required immediate action). Morgan isn't that brave-she's content to hold Kiera's hand.
And for the big news in our household--Sassy, our youngest cat (she was 1 in May), snuck out and got herself knocked up. We became aware of her fall from grace a few days before our own blessed event, and the night before last she delivered her kittens. We knew it was time when Troy picked her up, and with a horrified look at his hand said, "uh, her butt's all wet." It is unusual, but it happened-her water broke. So we quickly readied a place for her, which she refused to use, then followed her around the house while she searched for a nesting spot, finally deciding on Dervish's, (our oldest cat) bed. It wasn't long before she was obviously in labor, and not much longer before she was pushing. After her first tentative push I took a flashlight and peeked her rear end-to be startled by her having two tails! The first baby came hind end first, which we were afaid would be difficult for her, but she birthed him just fine. Over the next few hours she settled into a natural rythym of labor, push, birth, clean, rest, repeat. When we realized around 11 PM that the kids were still awake, I got them up so they could sit with us and see the third kitten born. They were so excited, and it was charming to hear them relate Sassy's behavior to what they remember from Kiera's birth.
At 2 AM, after settling in with her 4 babies, I transported them all to the upstairs bathroom for the night and deposited my exhausted self in bed. The next morning, upon checking on her and the babies, we were startled to discover that she had not 4 but 6 mewling newborns! 2 grey, 4 orange, all boys. What a trooper she was, and what a testiment to the natural, normal process of birth. Allowing cats to breed has become so taboo in our society that no one ever sees it anymore-and a valuable experience is lost. I'm very glad my children (and myhusband) got to witness what birth is like outside of humanity. They were all mystified. And the babies are really cute.

First Doctor's visit

2009-06-26T18:55:00.000-07:00

I tell you, it really throws the medical community when they have to deal with someone who's had an out-of-hospital birth. I find it mostly funny, mildly annoying, and hope that it's a little educational for those we deal with. The woman who set up Kiera's account and made our appointment could not understand what I was telling her, and kept looking for Kiera in their system-until I finally told her to stop looking, we didn't take her to the hospital at ALL, not even "to be checked out afterwards" (her words). When we left today, the doc gave us copies of all their notes (which I thought was cool), and whoever generated it wrote "born before admission to hospital." I find that hilarious. Can't possibly have birthed at home on purpose. The doctor thought it was totally cool, even commenting that "less is often more" and that much of the time, that's the way to go. I thought that was pretty neat-o. I'd been nervous about meeting with an MD, as they are often anti-homebirth and chunk you into the "whacko weirdo psycho mom" category and that can be unpleasant to deal with.
Anyway, the appt went well, with Kiera receiving an A+ for being perfectly healthy. She weighed a whopping 7 lbs 1 oz, which-while still teensy-is up considerably from her birth weight and that's great. I'd be shocked if she wasn't gaining weight, since the child uses everything as an excuse to nurse--which unfortunately led to sudden engorgement for me, which caused several milk ducts on my left side to clog, which quickly turned into mastitis (a breast infection), which resulted in a very lousy Thursday as I felt like I had the flu and that's just, well, lousy. So I bit the bullet, called the midwives, and requested antibiotics. There are other more natural remedies I could have (and would have, in other circumstances) tried, but it came on so fast I couldn't risk it getting worse. As much as I cleave to natural medicine, I haven't treated mastitis before and couldn't guarantee that what I tried would work as quickly as a prescription would-but be assured that I will know exactly what to do should this happen again. I'm already taking a homeopathic remedy that loosens clogs so baby can suck them out more easily, which thankfully helped to free up the last stubborn linger-er that was still causing me pain yesterday. So now I feel infection and clog-free, and am making poor Kiera nurse in all kinds of crazy positions to make sure I stay that way.
And while life with a newborn is never "easy" I do feel like we're settling into a groove, Kiera is finding a rhythm to her days, and it is thus far pretty easy, relatively speaking. If only we could figure out how to keep her from getting the hiccups (she sounds like a squeaky chew toy), life would be a breeze. Oh, and if we could talk her into soiling less diapers-she goes through more than the other two combined. I think Troy's already washed them 5 times (I'm not doing laundry yet :) ). And if she'd stop pooping in her carseat, that'd be great too. Seriously, she's only been in the thing like 4 times, and has pooped in it 3 of those times. Thoroughly.

Week One-where did it go?

2009-06-23T13:47:00.000-07:00

Kiera and Morgan, Day 2

Just a quick update. We're doing great as of today. The first few days were hard in that I was very tired and soar, moreso than when the others were born, but with Troy and both my parents here I didn't have to do anything, so that was awesome. By day 5 I was feeling MUCH more normal and mobile. Kiera is wonderful, so sweet and tiny, and aside from deciding last night that she needs to eat CONSTANTLY she's very cooperative and easy to manage. She has a lusty voice when she's uncomfortable, but other than that she's very peaceful. The older two are loving her like crazy, always wanting to hold her and give her her binky. They've each had their meltdown moments in response to the high energy levels and such, but as everything has evened out, so have they. We're enjoying the second week of Troy's time off, and will hopefully be able to spend the next few days having picnics and just being a family (though I expect Troy to get a bit antsy about wanting to work on "projects"-though so far he hasn't been too bad ;) ). This afternoon we will be getting Kiera's first pictures taken, which is always fun. Especially since we need to do the other two, also.

Just being sweet.

In her hat Christie made, Day 4

And the waiting is over!

2009-06-16T20:31:00.000-07:00

Kiera Inolani Fox was born Monday at 6:34 PM. Yes, she's a girl! She weighs 6 lbs, 10 oz and is 21"long with a spattering of super-soft blonde hair. Everything went fantastically well, and she was greeted by a room full of loved ones as everyone I'd hoped to have there was in attendance-even my sister, via speakerphone from CA. I'll post her full birth story with more pictures in a few days (and actually, I thought I'd posted this on Tuesday, but blogger was apparently acting up). In the interim, there is an album of photos on Facebook (in mine or Troy's profiles)-if you'd like the link, email me and I'll send it. I'll put a few up here as well when I get the chance-we're all doing great and recuperating from the big event well, but are taking things nice and slow for the time being.

Kiera's Coming

2009-06-15T15:52:00.000-07:00

(please keep on mind this is being written 15-18 months later)

I woke up to a sunny, warm June Morning. Having spent the weekend trying NOT to go into labor (due to the one midwife I didn't want in attendance being on-call), I was thrilled to still be pregnant. At 10 AM the midwives would switch, and my beloved Val, the same midwife present for the arrival of Morgan, would be my gal. As Troy got up and began to ready himself for work, I got anxious--I didn't want him to go. Just didn't. I wasn't having contractions or any other labor signs, I just DIDN'T want him to leave me. I even asked if he could call in, which he said seemed silly, as he would loose a day of paternity leave. Plus he was really looking forward to getting that phone call ("It's TIME!") and having the TV sitcom scene of grabbing his coat and briefcase, bellowing to his team that he's having a baby, and dashing out of the branch. He is SUCH a drama queen.

I couldn't rest anymore, and thought about getting out of bed. Minutes, and I mean minutes, after Troy drove away, I began having contractions. I wasn't ready to call it labor, but did let Troy and my parents (who were staying with us) know. We had a midwife appointment at 11:30, so we set about getting ready for that. The contractions continued sporadically until we were on the road headed to the birth center. Figures.

My appt was with Ali, who is one of the gentlest creatures you will ever meet. Everyone who meets her wants to give birth with her, whether they are pregnant or not. She is also wise and very down-to-earth--when I had asked her to check my cervix the week before (not a routine practice with midwives as it isn't a good indicator of when labor will start and is, as they say, "quite rude"), she had agreed but on the condition that "if I find you're 4 or 5 cm, you have to swear you won't walk around for the next week all freaked out that you're about to drop the baby on the floor." I agreed, and she found me to be 3 ("though I could stretch you to 5 if you wanted, you're so stretchy"--I did not want, as my dad had yet to arrive).

Ali was running a bit behind, so the student midwife, Tanya, started the appt. We chatted about how close I was, how I was feeling, and about her upcoming trip to San Diego (when she learned my parents were from CA). The kids were behind me playing on the bed (they hold their appointments in the birth suites, which are like jacuzzi suites at the Hyatt) with toys they'd drug in from the family room.

My midwives of course know I am a doula, and tend to treat me more as a colleague than a client-so Ali sashayed in, gave a big sigh, and vented a little about how busy that day was for them. She then said, "I can NOT believe Val told you to just wait to have the baby." (This was in regards to my calling Val Saturday night (she had given me her personal number for this reason) to see if she was available as I felt like I was going into labor then and didn't want the on-call midwife. She had informed me that she'd just had a couple of drinks and was about to join her husband in the bedroom-and that if she didn't, it would be very bad for her marriage, so could I please ask the baby to wait? So I drank 2 ounces of wine every four hours, which is a totally safe method of halting early labor contractions, and did my best to comply.)

We discussed my morning contractions, and whether I would like to have my baby today. Ali said she would rather I didn't, as she needed Val to help her with clinic appointments, but after seeing that my blood pressure was elevated again we decided she should check me and do some cervical stimulation to get things going again. She started her exam (this woman is so gentle, her cervical exams are COMFORTABLE), and announced, "OK, you're 4...and now you're 5." She did a little more messing around to help release some more hormones and stimulate contractions. When she was done she looked me in the eye and said, "and now you're going home--you're not making any stops, and you're going to lie down for an hour so your blood pressure doesn't get any higher. Right?" This was followed by another plea to hold out long enough that she wouldn't loose Val. She said she'd be surprised if I didn't have my baby that day, but that made her sad because she wouldn't get to be at my birth. I told her she was more than welcome to join the party, but she had a faculty meeting at the midwifery school that she couldn't get out of because her partner would be at a birth. Ali's funny.

We packed up to head home, and once again I pleaded with Troy to come with us. At this point I wasn't having labor contractions, but I could feel them coming. Like a storm brewing over the ocean. He insisted on going to work (again with the whole drama thing) and swore he would leave as soon as I needed him. We headed home. My contractions started the minute we hit the freeway. It was just about 12:30.

The contractions were mild at first, and not very long, about 5 minutes apart. I spent the ride home (mom was driving) making phone calls-to Troy, telling him he shouldn't have gone back to work (he STILL didn't leave right away), to Erin (my best friend who has video taped all our births), to Katie (other best friend who was at Morgan's birth and would be helping with the kids), and of course to my doula. And get THIS-after all I'd gone through holding off labor, first waiting for dad, then for Val, my doula had already been called by another client whose water had broken that morning. It became a race to see who would need her first, and who would get her backup (which would have been ok, as I had picked the doula who would come in that event, and loved her too-but I really wanted MY doula, damn it!).

We arrived home around 1 pm, and my parents set about making lunch. My mom also got out the chicken soup I had made in advance and frozen (my "birth soup"-that's funny 'cause it's what Val calls the water in the tub after baby is born) and put it in the crockpot so we'd all have something warm and nutritious later on. I laid down on the couch. For about a minute.

I spent the next hour playing whack-a-mole with myself. I would try to lay down, have another contraction, and bounce back up-remembering some other little thing I wanted done before everyone arrived. I kept texting Troy, hating--HATING that he wasn't with me and complaining quite vocally about how it just didn't feel right (I'd never been in labor without him). Around 2 PM I called my doula again, and Hooray! I won the race! I felt a little bad for the other woman, but my doula assured me that she had not been phased at all, and was happy with her backup doula. Troy arrived a few minutes later, and my very next contraction was significantly more intense. My doula arrived at 2:30, and again my contractions intensified (having my people was very important to my ability to progress). Somewhere in there Erin came in, too (I had put a sign on the door asking for no knocking "homebirth in progress" so I didn't always notice people arriving). We all decided it was time to call in the midwives (I had called at 2 to let them know I was laboring, and they were just waiting for me to say I was ready for them). During this time my contractions where intense, but not really painful--lots of tightening and pressure pulling my belly down, some discomfort but I was so excited to BE in LABOR, it all just felt good. I'm serious. I knew what I was doing, how to respond to my body, how to move, I always had someone close to hug or hang onto, it all just felt beautiful. The kids were watching the Little Mermaid and playing with Erin and Katie, who was there now as well (until Mom put Morgan down for a nap). I was having some back pain, so my doula heated up her flax sock and secured it to my low back with her rebozo (a long, wide scarf). She and Troy made up the bed with the shower curtain under old sheets, and I sat in our dressing room where the tub was filling, rocking in my chair, sipping the iced red raspberry leaf tea (uterine tonic) my doula made sure was always nearby and listening to Jewel on my Ipod. It all just seemed so normal, but at the same time so extraordinary.

Val arrived a little after 3 PM with Tanya and another student midwife. Rather than the tensing and anxiousness that often accompanies the entrance of the care provider at a birth, there was an all-around sense of excitement and happiness, and I was finally able to fully relax. It was time. They were all here. I was having this baby, in my home, under my own power, exactly the way we had planned.

Troy and I headed into the bedroom with Val to check up on my cervix. She announced I was 6 cm, and said she could break my water if I wanted. I didn't want. I am, generally, pretty anti-breaking water. Sometimes it's very effective at speeding things up, but really, do they need to be sped? We discussed whether I wanted the antibiotics for my Group B strep (I had tested positive as 1 in 3 women do, and standard protocol calls for antibiotics every 4 hrs during labor to protect the baby from infection--though the risk of infection is so small (nearly non-existant with an intact amniotic sac), and the risk of complication even smaller, and the evidence that the antibiotics are helpful isn't very convincing to me), and I decided that since I wasn't progressing as rapidly as we'd thought I might, we'd try one dose. This requires a "butterfly," a needle attached to a tube running to an IV bag, held in place by sticky wings, be inserted into a vein and a small bag of fluid with the meds in it squeezed in. Takes about 10 minutes. Thing is, it only works if the liquid goes into your vein. For whatever reason, that would NOT happen. The students tried twice, and Val gave it one last go-at which time I told her if it didn't work, that was that-and she agreed. They could get the needle in just fine, but when they'd begin to push the fluid, it would just come out. Right out the little hole in my skin. If they pushed harder it would push the needle out, too. So weird. Val finally said, "It's obvious your body doesn't want this, and who am I to argue with that?" No antibitiocs. I LOVE out of hospital birth.

Somewhere in this time period, Troy helped me climb the stairs with big lunging steps to try and get baby better seated in my cervix and thus bring on stronger contractions. While labor was progressing, I knew that my contractions weren't long enough (about 30-45 seconds) to actually get the baby out, even if I were ready to push. I went to the bathroom to sit on the toilet for awhile, as this is a great position for labor-whilst there, I checked my own cervix-I couldn't tell dilation, but I could feel the sac and I messed around for a bit to see if I could break my water myself. I was beginning to get a little frustrated with my lack of progress, and was conflicted about the whole "water breaking" thing-I knew it would help, but I really wanted to just be patient and let things happen. Moot point anyway, because I couldn't break it.

Back in the living room, Garrett was harassing all the grown-ups into playing video games and those not engaged with him were socializing. Troy and I took our leave at around 4:30 and went into the bedroom to lay down together for awhile. That was so nice-so peaceful and comforting, so safe, snuggled together in our own comfy bed, talking softly and giggling. Unfortunately I had to pee again.

I tried tearing my sac again while on the toilet, but apparently I have very tough membranes (this would be proven later). We wandered back into the living room, and I told Val I thought I wanted to be checked again, and maybe have her break my water. She sent Tanya into the bedroom to set up the birth stool with a basin under it to catch the fluid, should I decide to go ahead. I sat on the edge of the sofa for awhile, with Troy on one side and my doula on the other. Up until this point during contractions I wanted to be leaning forward-either hold onto a person's shoulders or the wall-but now I wanted to sit right on the edge of the couch, where I could feel the front edge against my pelvic floor and rock back and forth over it. I asked mom to wake up Morgan (it was now about 5:30). She stumbled out, quite groggy, and came to hug me-until she saw that Grandpa was finishing up filling the birth tub (he and Grandma actually boiled big pots of water to help warm it up). She squealed, "I'm going to get my babing-suit!" and took off. During this time Garrett would come and give me hugs, and when she came back (indeed in her babing-suit), she hugged me through contractions. It was very sweet. Contractions grew more intense, and I began to moan through them-I thought to myself that I should be sitting on a chux pad in case my water broke, and looked up to see Val standing in front of me, holding one. "You read my mind!" "No, I read your contraction."

After a bit I stood up to make my way into the bedroom for the checking. It took me awhile, as it always does in labor-it's hard to make good time walking when you have to stop every few minutes to sway and breathe heavy. In the midst of one of these walking breaks (one of my favorite memories, as I was leaning on my mom with Val on one side and my doula on the other, rubbing my back), my dad began telling someone how odd the animals had been acting all day-that Dervish, our cat, would jump up in his lap right next to Sk8ter, their dog, and not care he was there. Troy, without missing a beat, comes out with, "Dogs and cats, living together, MASS HYSTERIA!" (a cookie to you if you get it). OH MY GOD. I laughed so hard, I almost fell down. Totally cut my contraction in half. Everyone was hysterical, made even more so when they noticed that my bare belly was shaking like a bowl-full-o-jelly through my laughter. Between chortles Val announced, "Well if that doesn't break your water, nothing will!" This sudden joviality derailed my trek to the bedroom however, as I suddenly REALLY needed the bathroom again. This really got them chuckling in the living room-they'd here me giggling, then quiet through a contraction, then immediately giggling again. I couldn't stop. Labor does that to you-the hormones make you fell things more intensely, and at that moment, I was feelin' silly. I could not stop. I giggled all the way down the hallway, giggled into the bedroom. I giggled as I sat on the stool (a birth stool is like a toilet seat on legs). I REALLY giggled when I looked over to see my doula crawling towards me (there wasn't a lot of room to move), slowly, with the breeze from the fan blowing her hair just so...rraaaaowwwlll (that's a sassy jungle cat sound). Val checked me, and said I was still 6-and that my cervix was sitting wonky on the baby's head, on the back instead of the top. She said if I wanted, she could hang out there through a contraction and help move it forward. I said go for it, and giggled some more. I thought that must feel awfully strange to Val, she said she was just trying not to poke me. I had a contraction-holy CRAP did I have a contraction. I did NOT giggle. Suddenly there was what I'd been waiting for-long, strong, and waaaaay productive-at the end of that single contraction, with a little help from Val, I was 9 cm and ready for the tub--no water breaking necessary.

I shucked my shorts (left on a bikini top, if you're wondering), and made my way to the tub, As I eased into the water, my people began to settle in around me. The room was awesome-Troy and I have two small bedrooms that are joined by french doors, one room housing our bed, the other our dressers and rocking chair (this would also house the baby's cradle in coming months). We call it our "dressing room", and that's where the tub was set up. There was just enough room for everyone to find a place around the tub, and for the kids to be able to move from one spot to another. They were beyond excited, but really contained themselves rather well (with the help of the student midwife teaching them how to play I Spy). There was much concern about the temperature of the water, which to me felt perfect. I sat on my heels in the middle of my inflatable birth pool and absorbed the moment. Birth is a fantastic unifier-rarely will you see a group of people exist together so fluidly, so seamlessly, as if they had been together always and would be evermore. They drew in around me like a hug, settling onto pillows, ottomans, birth balls, laps, with smiles and soothing words. Such peace, such joy. Morgan clambered over the side of the pool and sat with me a little while-a very little while, as her excitement nearly made our tub runneth over (inflatable pools wiggle) and unfortunately I could not handle her movement mid-contraction. So out she went, into a waiting towel. That became my only rule-nobody touch the pool while I contract.
Between contractions we chatted, laughed, I swirled around in the water playing with different positions. Val asked how much help I wanted catching the baby, and we agreed I would do as much as I could. My doula and Katie snapped pictures as we all waited for what we were sure would be iminent pushing. Really, I expected to start pushing-gently, slowly-as soon as I got in the water. But birth doesn't like to be predicted, and decided to make us wait a little bit. Build anticipation. While sitting on my heels again, I thought a felt a small gush-maybe my water had finally broken. I reported this to the midwives. Val took note, and reminded me that the next contraction would likely feel different and to put my mind and body were they needed to be for that. Whether my water actually broke or I am just so autosuggestive that her words were all I needed I don't know-but indeed my next contraction felt different, and I began to bear down. Not much, just enough to test the waters and let my body know it was time to open. I waited for the next urge, excitement building as I remembered the satisfaction of Morgan's slow, controlled delivery-how I moved her with purpose, my body and I working together to deliver her without damage or urgency. I waited for that urge, and with the next contraction, didn't feel it. Ok. That's fine. It will come. Val asked if I felt pinchy in the front, and I said no-not remembering that she asked for a reason. With the next contraction I felt the urge again, and pushed-but felt like the baby wasn't moving. Odd. Morgan had moved so well. I tried again, and still nothing. They say the third baby's a wild card. I tried again. The best way I can describe it was like pushing against a trampoline-the baby would move down, and then almost bounce back up. Every time I pushed Morgan would announce, "I see the baby!" and my mother would turn to the phone on the dresser (my sister was listening in from California) and whisper "no she doesn't." Ah-there's the pinching Val was asking about. Val asked my permission to check and see if I had an anterior cervical lip (when a small portion of the cervix doesn't soften and can't move easily past the baby's head). Ah, crap. There it is. Would I like her to "reduce" it (meaning manually push it back)-well, my sister had a lip that went unnoticed, and pushed against it for nearly 3 hours before it was reduced. I chose NOT to do that. Val talked gently to me about remaining relaxed through the next contraction when she will worked her magic-and apologized profusely for the side effects. Here it comes--HOLY SH*$#(%()@$*)^@)$*)TTTTTT!!!!! "Mommy you're hurting my ears!" "She's compete now" and WHOMP somebody dropped a BOWLING BALL on my perineum. Wild, uncontrollable pushing, and her head was fully crowning- "You don't have to do it all at once sweetie, you don't have to do it all at once, take a breath, that's right." In that one second I moved from casual conversation to complete encampment in labor land-my head lolled on the tub, I moaned, I felt Troy's hands on my hair and Mom's hands on my shoulder. I heard Morgan's chatter but not the words, and responded to none of it. And then it was building again, the raging storm, the pressure, the power-and I was wild. A little part of me knew I could slow down, it would be better-but the rest of me was unable. In one massive move her head was delivered. Sweet relief. The bowling ball was out. A little of my mind came back, and I looked at my baby's head in the water. "Where's your hair??" Val-"It's under the sac, look, she's in the caul." (Here's where the tough membranes come in-if my water broke, it was a little hole. Kiera was born in the sac (well, her head was). This may sound odd, but is has long been thought to be a good omen and to us alternative birthers, it's pretty awesome. )
Val did her preliminary exam of the baby's delivery status while we waited for the final contraction, and found her to have the cord around her neck. I was not surprised, as she was such a tosser in utero there was no way she wouldn't be tangled in the cord. This required Val to tear the sac so that she could attemt to slide the cord over her head, or loosen it enough that the baby could be born through it. She couldn't get much slack, and we had a few seconds of tension deciding whether to cut the cord now or not-and then there was no time- final surge, the final heave, and my baby was born at 6:36 PM, exactly 6 hours after the onset of labor. She moved gracefully through the water as Val slowly pulled her up (her delivery was so intense I had both hands braced against the floor of the tub to lift myself off my bottom, and sadly was unable to catch her myself). The little booger had the cord around her neck not once but twice, as well as around her belly and around one thigh. So instead of handing her straight to me, Val took about 5 seconds to unwind her-during which time Troy and I got our first glimpse of the goods and were overjoyed to be the first to discover we'd had a daughter. Val finally freed her and placed her in my hands. I drew her tiny body to my chest, kissed her, peeked between her legs to verify, and announced to the assemblege "we have a baby girl."
Now I am a big ole' crier. I cry over everything. Join me in Disneyland and you'd better bring a box of tissues. Weepy Mc-weeperson. But I had never cried after giving birth. It surprised me, and dissappointed me-was I really not as moved by my child's emergence into the world as I was by Mickey Mouse? Who knew. But when I made that announcement, and I looked back at my tiny daughter-held her hand-something beyond tremendous washed over me. I sobbed. Really sobbed. Huge, wracking, TV drama sobs. I would get myself collected, and then it would hit me again. This was it. Everything I'd ever wanted. Garrett beside me, asking if she had bones. Morgan in my mother's lap, begging to hold her before she was even out of the water. My father, who'd been unable to attend my other two births crying softly with my sister (who was still on speakerphone). Troy smiling so hard I could feel it, even though he was behind me. And Kiera so calm, so peaceful they had to suction her to get her to cry. She just looked at me, at her family-when Garrett spoke to her she turned to him in recognition. When he asked if he could touch her, so cautious, I cried again. Morgan ran out of the room to get clothes for her new sister and came back in with everything she could carry. Hands down, no contest, the most fun, exciting, fulfilling, empowering, loving, enormous and extraordinary day I could ever hope to experience. The day my family was born.
Kinda makes you want to have a baby, doesn't it?

Anticipation.

2009-06-14T16:15:00.000-07:00

Many women never notice the intricate relationship they have with their wombs when awaiting a baby-I can't help but notice mine, as we have been arguing heatedly recently. See, a situation we were hoping to avoid arose this weekend, one which put me back on the "trying to hold out" path in terms of giving birth, and one which unfortunately has put a slight taint on my relationship with my midwives.
My two primary midwives, whom I adore beyond expression, both women who respect and care for me as more than a "client" but as a part of their community, are wonderful. I trust them implicitly and have been anticipating another pregnancy and birth in their care since Morgan was born. Throghout this pregnancy, though, there have been hiccups in my care, all tied to the fact the many more women are seeking out of hospital birth-which is wonderful, but is taxing the birth center and the midwives who work there to their limits. Many woman who want birth OOH aren't ready to take the plunge all the way to homebirth, they want a happy medium-and there just aren't enough freestanding birth centers. So the midwives are stuck in a pickle-do they turn women away to better concentrate their time on the ones who got there first, do they take them all and kill themselves with sleep deprivation, or do they try to expand their services by hiring more midwives? After trying the second option and deciding they really didn't like it (from 4-9 births a week, which doesn't sound like much if you aren't familiar with midwifery-but midwives stay with their clients throughout labor and delivery-so if 5 clients labor 10 hrs each, plus 4 hrs post-partum care, the midwife is putting in 70 hrs not including their clinic visits during business hrs--they were dying), they hired a new midwife into their practice. My issue is that I did not know this was happening until I was 3 months into my pregnancy-didn't meet the new recruit until 19 wks, and have only seen her 3 times. Add to the pot that every visit with her has revolved around bad news (preterm contrax, anemia, pre-eclampsia scare) and the fact that her personality isn't one I would have chosen in a midwife, and there was no way we could form a good relationship. So long story short, she's a "junior" member of the team, offering back-up support to the other two and being on call herself only every third weekend. I discussed my discomfort with the idea of her attending the birth with the other two, and both were confident it needn't be worried about as she's on call so little, and that they work extra hard to make sure one of them were with me instead-one even went to the extra length of giving me her personal number so I could contact her directly if the new gal were on call.
So here's the issue-new gal is on call this weekend, and the other two are not available (well, if I were to go later this evening I could probably get one of them, but it would be a hardship for her). Other issue-my body is trying to go into labor.
The whole thing just stinks. I chose midwifery care, and these midwives in particular, because I wanted to attention and care that they provide-they come to know you, to care about you, knowing that a loving, trusting relationship with your cargiver makes for healthier pregnancies and births. The whole thing seems even more crazy when I think back to Garrett's birth and the doc who attended it-a total stranger to me who came in at 9 cm and left right after I was cleaned up. I never saw her again. At the time that didn't seem like too big a deal, I had really wanted my own doc, but knew there was a good chance I wouldn't get her. It hasn't been until the last few years that I've realized how much it did affect me to have a total stranger touching me in the way a caregiver must to assist a baby out. I felt very self-conscious, I forced myself to not make any noise, I didn't interact with her at ALL, not even to tell her when she was hurting me. And she was a nice lady! But I meet nice ladies all the time, and don't let them catch my babies.
Fortunately it looks like we're going to be able to hold off for the rest of today, and hopefully have a wonderful birth in the next day or two-but that won't completely take away the anxiety and tension I've gone through the last couple of days, stress that really isn't good for either me or the baby. I don't know if I've explained this well enough for those of you reading to really see where I'm coming from, as it really might seem like I'm making a big deal out of nothing. What it comes down to is choice. I've learned the impoortance of exercising your right to choose in regards to birth, and by having this woman thrust on me, that right has been taken away. This is never supposed to happen with good midwifery care (yes, there is poor midwifery care-that's why it's important to be able to choose your practitioner), and it has left me with a really foul taste in my mouth which upsets me even more as I never like to be upset with the people I care about (meaning the primary midwives).
So, back to my initial statement-I am arguing with my womb, but I think I have it convinced that waiting a bit longer will be in both of our best interests. And if it doesn't happen, and I have the baby tonight with the new gal, I'll work with it-I have surrounded myself with a wonderful birth team all sensitive to the situation who will do their utmost to protect my space-but I'd rather that not be the focus. I'd much rather everybody be able to enjoy the journey and welcome the baby in peace and love. But that will happen anyway, right?
And now I feel obliged, after dumping so much me-focused rhetoric, to share some of the antics of the OTHER members of my family. Garrett is teaching everyone to play chess. I'd love to leave it at that and allow everyone to assume this is just another layer of his brilliance-after all, he's taught himself addition, subtraction, and multiplication (along with some simple algebra), it isn't that much of a stretch to think he's a blooming chess prodigy, right?
Except he can't remember how to play. He knows how to set up the board, and that pawns move forward and rooks move up and back. He knows you have to capture the king. That's about it. Today he played with my dad. I can't even describe how the "game" went, except to say that is was hysterical--he made up the rules as they went, even capturing a few of his own men by mistake. But he doesn't change his rules--once he's given the instruction, he sticks to it (it doesn't have to make any sense). He's a very patient teacher, with no tolerance for cheating. And remarkabley, I believe Dad beat him. I don't think even Dad knows how that happened, but Garrett was very happy for him.

39....

2009-06-09T19:21:00.000-07:00

The end of a pregnancy always brings an array of emotions--sadness that it's almost over, anticipation of meeting the child that's been pummeling my innards, anxiety and excitement over the unknowns of the upcoming birth...I could go on, but you get the idea. This time I'm having harder time just being excited as I know that this will be our last and I'll never feel a baby growing inside me again. To some women this is a relief, knowing that portion of their work is done--but I face it with dismay. I will do my utmost to perserve the memories of this and my other pregnancies, but it isn't the same. The end of a chapter, so to speak. But enough belly-aching (pun intended) about leaving this part of my life behind. There are things to be joyful about, and thankful for, in the present and future.
On Monday my midwives declared that they have no idea what happened to me, and that never in (Ali's) career has she seen bloodwork do what mine did. Everything has stabilized, and my bloodpressure is great-even low, in comparison to other women at full term. The baby is VERY low in my pelvis, which makes for some interesting sensations when the little one gets REALLY excited, and after requesting an exam (my midwives do not do vaginal exams prior to labor unless mom wants it), she confirmed what I'd already suspected-basically we're ready to rip, and cold go at any time--or be pregnant for several more days. We'll see what baby decides.
Yesterday my dad arrived, so all are now assembled and (astonishingly) the house is clean, orderly, and all the birth supplies are in the appropriate places. So now we really are just waiting. The kids are beyond excited as baby items begin to emerge (they each had to take turns "sleeping" in the cradle), and Garrett couldn't settle down to sleep last night until I promised him we would wake him should the baby come during the night. I am happy to take the days we have and enjoy the company of my family-after days of restricting my activity to keep from delivering before Dad arrived, I am looking forward to a lovely long walk in the park and (strangely enough) doing the laundry myself. Troy is very anxious, moreso than with the other two I think, and looking forward to the possibility of "getting the call" at work-which hasn't happened before.
Regardless of what transpires, the next week promises to be an exciting one.

38 weeks and Holy Hotness Batman!

2009-06-03T08:59:00.000-07:00

So apparently my plan of ending my pregnancy before the heat of summer arrived has backfired--while us Seattleites usually enjoy a cool, damp, and sometimes dreary June, this year Ma Nature is thumbing her nose at my careful planning by sending us our first heat wave remarkabley early. Yesterday hit about 95 in my back yard, which in our particular climate feels like being wrapped in a wool blanket whilst sitting in a sauna. Being humongously pregnant doesn't help. By late afternoon I felt drugged, but couldn't sleep because it was too warm in the house. When I finally was able to drift off, I slept to hard and too long resulting in a very groggy, lethargic evening. I felt much better after soaking in a cool bath for awhile. The kids had a ball-they played outside nearly all day, enjoying the sprinkler and potting veggie plants with Grandma. Garrett was disappointed to miss our first Farmer's Market of the year, but Grandma decided it was just too hot to try and walk him down there, and I agreed.

Today is my self-imposed deadline to have everything ready for the birth. We have our last meeting with our doula tonight, and I want everything in place so we can do a walk-through of the house to show her where it all is. That means I have to clean out our dressing room (our bedroom is comprised of two smaller rooms that we connected with french double doors-one houses our bed, the other our dressers and closets-it also holds the cradle and rocking chair-that's the "dressing room" (or as Morgan calls it, "dressing-up room")--aren't we fancy?) to make way for the birth pool and stools for people to sit on. I also need to create a tidy place for towels and linens, as well as the medical supplies. We'll set up candles on the dresser tops, and might have time to squeeze in installing a dimmer switch for the little chandelier we have in there, but it should turn out to be a very lovely birthing space. And having everything in there as opposed to the living room gives our guests a place to go should I require some private time. We have, as usual, quite the list of potential attendees (nearly all are contingent on when labor happens and how long it lasts)--myself, Troy, my mom and the kids are definites, followed by two midwives and our doula (unless I have a super-fast labor, which is a possibility but not a real concern), my dad (if baby can wait until the 10th), Erin (close friend and videographer of our other births), and Katie (another close friend who was present for Morgan's birth). That's 10 (not including me) people. That's a lot. But really, in comparison to a hospital birth where you will have 2-3 nurses, 1-4 doctors, 1-2 companions, 1 doula, and yourself, it isn't that bad-and I'd choose 10 people I know and love over 5 strangers in my birth room any day. And this way I can have some privacy without having to hide in the bathroom (I've had to send a number of laboring mommas into the bathroom for alone time because nurses and/or docs wouldn't leave them alone in their hospital rooms--seriously, who wants to go cry about medical interventions in a strange bathroom?) and my birth attendants will have a comfy place to hang out until I need them again. All in all, I'm really excited about creating my "birth suite" and am really hoping to labor for at least 3 or 4 hours so that I get a chance to use it. That may sound odd, a momma hoping for a longer rather than shorter labor, but I enjoy giving birth-and the shorter it is, the less time you have to adjust to the process and be in the moment--this makes the journey (and pain) more intense and out-of-control feeling. Now granted, I've never gone through a long, hard labor, so we'll see how this one goes and whether my attitude stays the same.

Fast forward to later today: Mom and I took the kids to a park on the Cedar River today in an attempt to relax, have fun, and stay cool. While we had fun and stayed cool, there was not so much of the relaxing--such is the life of a momma with young, energetic children. This particular park is neat because there is a little alcove built next to the river, so that river water runs in and out but there is a low wall to block the current (a very good thing, as it was running fast with snow melt-off today). So the kids were able to play in it much like a lake beach, but much colder-if I stood in it too long it made my calves cramp. So while I didn't get to bob around as I would have liked, it was hilarious watching the kids explore and test their own limits with the temperature-by the time we left they were able to sit in it up to their armpits, and tried to convince us they weren't cold! But oh, it was nice to sit in the shade with a cool breeze coming across the water. And get a little bit of sun on my gargantuan belly ;).

Oh, and I suppose I should add that at Monday's appt with midwife Val my blood pressure was normal, my urine test from the week before was great (no protein whatsoever, for those who googled preeclampsia-Shelley, you're going to be a walking pregnancy textbook by the time this baby is born ;) ), and while I've gained more weight than I'd like, we are all very pleased with things right now! Val drew more blood because, as she said, "once we start drawing, we kind of have to keep doing it," but she doesn't expect it to look weird--though she did admit being very alarmed by the initial bloodwork that set this whole mess rolling last week. We are very happy to no longer be alarming.

Oh, and we had a wonderful time throwing my henna party this last Sunday. It was just a joy-all my ladies (minus a few who had fairly legitimate reasons for not attending) gathered around, waiting on me, massaging my feet, and thoroughly enjoying each others' company while we all got painted. My belly art is awesome (it drew quite a few eyes at the beach today) and I really loved the general feeling of peace and happiness everyone brought along with them.

About 10 minutes in:
30 Min in:

Almost done! She was awesome-she added a bunch of stuff to the original design as I would request it, and made it look like it was supposed to be there. And she's only 19! (She works with her mom, who did the other ladies' art and was also my mentor doula during my training.) I soooo want to learn to do henna.

The ladies with their hands done (minus mom and my doula-mom's taking the shot and Alissa had to leave prior)-the artists took portraits of us all outside as well, I'll post them when I get them. My belly looks weird and oblong here...or maybe that's how it always looks, I can't see the whole thing all at once!!

The henna looks very dark here because the paste is still on--it takes about 6 hrs to set. I'll take more pics tomorrow so you can see what it looks like now that it has its full color-it takes a few days to finish staining and will stay for 2-3 wks, depending on how well I protect it. It's very cool and I totally recommend it.

It seems unreal that all these things I've been waiting for (readying the birth room, henna-ing my belly, gathering baby supplies, etc) are actually happening and we are now just counting days until our family has a new member. This pregnancy has been a complicated, unpredictable journey--but one I will saver while I have it and cherish forever, as with the little human we will soon have as a result of it. Despite all the hurdles, today I am just joyful. What a wonderful feeling.

37 weeks and unwelcome surprises

2009-05-29T19:15:00.000-07:00

Our last few days have been completely hijacked by some news we recieved Wed. We had blood work done the week before to re-check my iron levels and make sure my anemia was well on its way to resolution. Through that test we discovered that other things had gone wonky in my body, and while my iron levels have completely recovered, it happened so fast that it (and a somewhat elevated blood pressure and low platelet counts) indicated a problem-once all the dots were connected my midwives concluded that I had become at risk for preeclampsia (google it if you want more info, it's hard to explain). The midwife we met with was not very encouraging or optimistic, and pretty much left us feeling as though we had no chance of holding onto our original birthplan. This sent us into an immediate and heart breaking talespin, as it would not only mean the loss of the happy homebirth we've been anticipating, but also a medical induction of labor-possibly very soon. It is difficult for many people to understand how this could be so devistating, as many do not understand the choice for homebirth to begin with and would see it as an opportunity not only to birth in a "safe" environment, but also to meet your baby that much sooner, and after all, what does it all matter so long as the baby and I are healthy in the end?

Hospital birth is only safer if you need the treatments only they can give. A successful homebirth means that mom and baby were 100% healthy and safe, which can NEVER be said of a hospital birth (just being in a hospital increases your chance of c-section from 10% - 30%).

Babies need to be in their mommies as long as they choose to be, regardless of what week you are in or how well they will "probably" fair. Making them come sooner is NEVER a good thing, but instead the lesser of two evils.

It matters. It all matters. Birth trauma is a largely overlooked problem, one that most women never discuss or even acknowledge as a valid issue, and when left unaddressed leads to post-partum depression and/or PTSD, which is later blamed on the woman-her hormones where out of whack, she overtaxed herself, she can't "handle it," etc. Birth memories are embedded in a very deep part of our brains, etched in greater detail than normal memories, lasting our entire lives and affecting us in ways we often do not notice. Yes, we want the baby to be healthy, and yes, this is a source of comfort and happiness--but it does not negate the importance of how WE are, how we have been affected mentally and emotionally by the conditions of our children's births. We would not tell a victim of a mugging or a car accident that they should not be affected by those events because their bodies are physically intact, why do we do it to birthing women?

That's my long way of saying I was VERY upset, and a gently request that no one tell me not to worry, all that matters is a healthy baby, etc. I will worry about myself, the baby, and our birth as I see fit, thank you very much. But we appreciate the concern and support that would prompt such statements, and we love you for that.

With all that said, I had more tests run today which were presented to the consulting OB, and it has been concluded that at this time there is no further need for concern. I will be monitored more closely until the birth, and will keep a BP cuff at home to keep an even closer eye on things, but we have been given the all-clear to return to the planning of our homebirth, with loved ones and our children close at hand. This makes us very, very happy.

36 weeks

2009-05-20T22:30:00.000-07:00

We are down to weekly appointments with our midwives now. Crazy. In less than a month we will have another child (well, outside of my body anyway). We had a really productive appt today with Ali (primary midwife) and Abigail (student midwife/naturopathic doc). We discussed gathering supplies for birthing at home, and did a repeat blood draw to see if my iron has risen enough to not be worried about it anymore. I actually remembered to write down all my talking points this time, so we talked A LOT. I brought up my concerns about not having enough face time with the women who may attend the birth, and Ali was very considerate and seemed in total agreement--even stated that the other student midwife would NOT be there, as she has never met me. She also said they would likely not have Sunita, their new third team member, come as the primary as I've only met with her twice. She may be there to assist, but unless something significant prevents it, either Val or Ali will be coming with the student MW Abigail (whom we really like, even though we've only met her twice, too). To many women this may all seem arbitrary, as our society has come to accept strangers in the "delivery room"--we are given no opportunity to meet the nurses who will be caring for us in the labor and delivery departments of hospitals, and often haven't met the doctor on-call (as babies tend to not like being born during business hours). Even if a woman has her own doc, she probably doesn't feel like she has a real relationship with that person, having spent less than an hour or two total with him/her during clinical visits. Midwifery care is very different in that your midwife is very conscientious of the necessity for trust and respect in a birth attendant--a stranger walking into a woman's birthing space, whether she expects it or not, can (and often does) make labor slow way down, or even come to a screeching halt. Many women will rush to the hospital from home feeling like they are in a strong labor pattern only to be told by the stranger that has just put a and inside her body that she isn't really all that progressed and should either go back home or "take a walk for an hour." Had that woman stayed home to begin with, her labor likely would have continued to progress well and been much shorter and easier as a result.
So anyway, I fell better now about my situation with my midwives--I know they are listening to me and understand the importance of respecting my birth space. And I was assured that if someone I did not know well (or at all, as that is a possibility, but not likely) were to attend the birth, that person would not touch me but merely assist the midwife with equipment and paperwork. I've been in situations as a doula where this happened, and the assistants are very good at blending into the corners and being unobtrusive.
We also talked about snakes. Yup, snakes. I don't even recall how it came up, but we ended up telling them about Morgan's new fascination with her imaginary pet snake, Sally, and how I influenced her attitude about snakes (Indiana Jones convinced her they were scary) by telling her how much I liked them and how nice they are as pets. Ali was fascinated by this and wanted to hear all about how my family used to breed a rare species of King snakes when I was younger. Seriously, who can say they've discussed reptile reproduction at a prenatal checkup?
The other fun thing we discovered today (aside from Ali's delight over me saying "horny toad"), is that the baby is trying quite hard to roll face-up (meaning feet and hands towards my naval), which is not a good position to be in. Not only is it uncomfortable for me, but were he/she to stay that way it will make for a longer more painful labor and birth. Suck-o. So I will be spending a lot of time over the coming days/weeks encouraging the little rascal to find a more cozy place to rest, one that won't turn my belly button inside out with every poke of a toe (I never get an "outie" while pg, it just stretches out flat). This will include spending LOTS of time on my hands and knees, as well as some other handy tricks I've picked up along the doula road. I will also call on MY doula should I be unsuccessful alone-she's very experienced with rotating babies. How handy, to have such a person at my disposal. Doulas are awesome, if I do say so myself.

35 weeks

2009-05-13T12:08:00.000-07:00

So we appear to be in the home stretch. Do not ask us if we're ready for the baby-we don't like thinking about all we have left to do! In actuality, we are more than ready for the baby. We can lay in bed snuggling a newborn just about anytime. The appropriate questions would look something more like this: Is the house ready for another resident? Are the baby clothes ready? Is the baby's bed ready? Are the baby's DIAPERS ready (kind of an important one)? Is there a car seat/stroller/diaper bag ready? Are the homebirth supplies ready? Is the birth tub ready? Is the "in case of hospital transfer" luggage ready?
But hey, we, personally, ourselves, are more than ready! So bring it on!
Other than the little mini freak outs I'm having over not being able to prepare everything RIGHT THIS VERY SECOND, we're doing OK, actually. We still have tons of work to do upstairs, but are trying not to let it get to us (hear that Troy, WE are TRYING NOT to let it GET TO US) and are mainly concentrating on getting the house organized so that things are easy-peesy-pie when labor starts. That's the only drawback I'm feeling about homebirth right now-if you birth elsewhere, you don't have to worry so much about the house being put together. The yard is an unruly mess, but I'm just going with it-it will get set to rights eventually. I will have Troy hit it with the weed-whacker this weekend, though, just so we can see the kids when they're out there ;). And the kids and I will get all our veggies seeds started, as that's a task I can do sitting down. If I can get Troy to haul in the sack of organic soil we bought two weeks ago-that is NOT a task I can do sitting down.
And while, according to all the info out there (and popular opinion), the baby should by this point be too big to have much room to move, this little booger seems to be a rebel and is attempting to MAKE more room-esp at night as I'm trying to sleep. My lurching belly can actually shift my pillows away from me. I have discovered, though, that putting the headphones to my new Ipod in my pants (right now it's playing Jewel's new Lullaby album) seems to have a settling effect on this otherwise very feisty little being. This is also useful in encouraging a mispositioned or breech baby into a good head-down position (FYI). Feels a little weird to have wires coming out of my waistband, though. I'll post again with some current pictures of me-maybe I'll let Garrett take them. He is very creative with camera angles.

Baby update

2009-05-05T13:57:00.000-07:00

At yesterday's midwife visit all was well-my pee tested great (always good to know, right?), I'm 150 lbs (which seems gigantic to me, but they always say my weight gain is "just right"), my uterus measured 34 cm (which is just right), and the baby was head down with a heart rate in the 130's. So all is just as it should be, in other words. The kids were great, Morgan helping with the stethoscope on my belly (she was using the wrong end, but whatever), and we always love seeing Val, whom we have more of a bond with as she was the midwife that attended Morgan's birth. That's something I'm conflicted with this time around-I don't know who I want at the birth (of the three midwives). Not that I choose, the two primary midwives (Val and Ali) rotate being on call evey other week and the third, Sunita, provides backu for them should they have births that overlap. Since we got Val last time, I feel like this time I want Ali-but since we HAVE already experienced birth with Val and forged that bond, I definitely would be thrilled to have her. I think the only thing that would disappoint me might be having Sunita, which make me feel aweful because she's a really neat lady and I like her--but she's new and I have a longer relationship with the other two. All three have worked with our doula (several times, they were very excited that we had hired this particular doula, which makes me feel even better about our choice). I've even toyed with the idea of asking both Val and Ali to come, but they are both so over-stretched right now that wouldn't be very fair to them (maybe they'll decide to do it on their own just because they love me so much!).
Speaking of our doula, she's awesome-very energetic and enthusiatic while also being grounded and calm. She is very experienced without being way older than me, as I didn't want to replace my mother with another-she will feel more like a sister. She's very good at seeing what we need emotionally and guiding us into finding how to get there. I'm so excited to have the experience of birthing with a doula-not just for myself, but for my family members as well. They don't know it yet, but they are going to love having her there.
As an aside, I am sad that my sister has had to abandon the idea of being here for the birth (along with my neice, whom I was really excited to have with me), but there is still a possibility that my father will be able to make it, which will be very special. He is almost a doula himself, having attended the births of all 5 of his children and 2 of his grandchildren--this would be the first time he would be with me for the birth of one of my children. I have to bite my cheek about it though, because if he isn't able to make it he will be staying home to work, which in these dicey times is what is best for he and my mom. Therein lies my only beef with natural childbirth-our loved ones have no way of knowing when to be here, aside from doing what my mom does and coming for several weeks. But then, the anticipation and joy of realizing your baby is finally ready to be born is amazing and I wouldn't trade that for a planned birthday in a million years.

When passing is actually failing.

2009-04-26T22:01:00.000-07:00

Watching a person age a deteriorate is heart-rending for me. I don't think any human should suffer the indignity of losing themselves to age, of breaking, hurting, forgetting....becoming separated from the parts of their minds and memories that are their reasons for living in the first place. I am reaching an age where the people I grew up with are entering the end stages of their lives, and I find I have no stomach for it. I feel that they are suffering, losing their pride, being forced to survive merely because the healthier people around them are unable to face letting them go. So it was with relief today that I learned of the death of Clifford, a nearly 90 year old man that has been a part of my family's heart for almost 70 years. He and his wonderful wife, Irene, were my grandparents' dearest friends--they even shared a house while the men attended college, my grandmother worked, and Irene cared for each couples' first babies. They moved from the Midwest to California together, and remained close for the rest of their lives. I don't remember meeting them--they were just always there. That sounds a little odd, as we didn't actually see them very often (they spent many years traveling the world as missionaries, and later moved to Oregon), but true nonetheless--like any family member, they were always there, even when they weren't. My mother grew up playing with their daughters, and when I turned 8 yrs old they would give me a miniature tea set, which became the first in a large collection sitting in my dining room.
A few years ago Cliff and Irene were convinced to move out of their beloved home of forty years (and the strong ties with their church family) in Eugene, OR, to a retirement community in Portland. The convincing was done by two of their daughters who themselves lived in Portland. Shortly after moving (and the mysterious disappearance of many of their valuable items, including Irene's jewelry--their daughters where in charge of the move), their daughters took them out for a "picnic." Instead of taking them to a park, they arrived at a nursing home--one without the Independence, freedom and spacious accommodations they were adjusting to in the retirement community--where they were told "this is where you will live now" and abandoned. They did not have the resources or capability to leave, and were very unhappy in their tiny, stuffy room right next to the Portland Airport. Their health quickly began to deteriorate as a result.
My mother and I have visited them there. Not as often as we wished we could, mainly out of a selfish sense of self preservation--we just couldn't stand seeing them there. But still, when we drove through Portland, we would go. They were always so overjoyed to see us (especially when I brought my babies), and would always tell the staff, "these girls aren't just visitors, they're family." And we would sit with them, patiently listening to the same stories of our youths and of the origin of their relationship with my grandparents. It was almost humorous hearing the little changes their memories made over time. In one anecdote, my mother asked her father for candy in a sweet shop, and when he said, "No, see, the case is locked" she boldly attempted to remove the keys from Cliff's belt loop, certain that was all she needed to free the sweets. The last few times he told that story, I was the little girl snatching his keys.
The last times we left them in that place, we cried in the parking lot. Cried for their circumstances, their growing inabilities, the disrespect and lack of care show these amazing people by those who should love them most. Every time we said we just couldn't do it again, and yet we didn't have the heart not to.
Cliff's heart finally failed. After two days of not speaking, he looked at his beloved wife (even in their convalescence she always insisted on sitting in his lap for pictures) and said, "hey there. I love you." Knowing it was almost over, she climbed into bed with him, holding him until he was gone.
And while our family was so important to him, we were not contacted by his daughters until today. He died three weeks ago. So while I am relieved to see the end of his sadness, I am angry and mournful at being robbed of the opportunity to commemorate his passing for my family. Irene is now alone, and quickly losing her grasp on reality. So while I am glad his torment is ended, I am so sad knowing she is now alone, and knowing he did not want it that way. I am sad because she couldn't remember whether my grandma was still alive, and sad because tomorrow my grandma will have to be reminded that Cliff has died.
This isn't how our elders should be ending their lives. Who are we to rob them of their power, to tell them they must go on....who among us would want to travel a road that has gone far past its destinations, scenic byways, and pit stops? Can we honestly say we would want to keep going, and going, and going, without strength or thought or memory to keep us feeling alive? To exist as a shell of ourselves, but with a tickle of memory reminding us that this is not who we really are?
As a teacher, I think of passing as doing something well. By stretching out the lives o our loved ones to protect ourselves from sadness, we are turning their passing into failing. We are making their end into a twisted unhappiness. I am hoping Irene will soon find peace, that she will not be long left behind without even the comfort of her husband's warmth beside her. I am afraid to visit her, afraid to see the profound sadness in her eyes. She has been tucked into a box, an unwanted nuisance to those who are at the same time fighting to keep her alive. I hope she beats them. I hope she wins, and that her passing is just that--that she is no longer forced to fail.
We love you Cliff.

Running hot and cold.

2009-04-23T13:02:00.000-07:00

Literally, hot and cold. The weather (75 on Mon, 45 today), me (hot flash city), Troy's work, yeesh. I like rolley-coasters, but right now some steady would be good.
Troy is once again in flux with his employees, which is why I refer to his work-it will get better, but right now he's dealing with trying to fill empty positions, people out on vacation, and not being able to get his bankers to reach their sales goals (for two reasons, not enough bankers and no help from him because he's busy interviewing bankers). So while this week is lousy, next week ought to be a little better.
As for the weather, I really wish Ma Nature would throw us a bone! We had such a great time Sun-Tues when it was so nice out-I was able to relax on the deck while the kids re-discovered the yard, and we even did a little weed-pulling and pruning. Our Magnolia tree finally bloomed in all its pink and white glory, we were even able to fill up a kiddie pool for a little splashing. Yesterday and today we're back to cold wet icky-yucks, but the kids still want to go out and play in the pool. Common, mom, we did it the other day!! But one way or the other winter will have to finally give up its hold and we'll be able to get back outside--to a yard now overrun with weeds and muck because they keep getting growth spurts from the sporadic warm days but then it's too wet to get them pulled!! At least we won't be lazy!
As for me, I' m plugging along, trying to deal with the unexpected bumps this pregnancy keeps tossing at me. I'll say it again, every pregnancy is different-one should not assume one knows it all just because one has done it before. And even though I know this, I still keep blazing my indigence every time something I've not experienced pops up. At least it keeps me learning. This week the lesson is Anemia: How To Survive the Day With Two Young Children, a House Full of Chores, and No Energy.
Yes, unfortunately my last blood test proved what we'd been anticipating but trying to prevent-I have developed anemia, a condition I've never even come close to in the past and didn't know a lot about. It came as a surprise mainly because I've always been told it makes you tired all the time, which I haven' t been--up until a couple weeks ago I would have said I felt just great, until I identified what was going on (and realized it was getting progressively worse-a few weeks ago I felt much less icky than I do now). I'm not constantly tired, but will, regardless of what I'm doing, suddenly experience a "crash" where I want nothing more than to lie down and sleep. I get light-headed and my thoughts get foggy, I become very short-of-breath and have to stop what I'm doing until it passes-anywhere from 10 min to an hour. Then I feel fine again. Yes, I'm consuming tons of iron, and yes I will continue to increase the amount, but I may not feel a difference for quite some time. We're hoping I will. I'll have another blood test in a month, and depending on how it reads (it will show improvement, I am certain), we will then plan accordingly for any changes that need to be made to our birth plan. The worst we're anticipating is that I'd need a shot of Pitocin (an artificial hormone that will cause my uterus to contract harder) immediately after the baby is born. This is a very effective way to reduce blood loss and help me recover faster. I absolutely hate Pitocin, but if it comes to a choice between that and a monitored hospital birth, I'll certainly choose the Pit. But really this is not a complication that should cause much concern, it is easy to manage in terms of the birth and postpartum, it just sucks right now when there's so much I want to be doing and can't.
The baby is doing great, unbelievably active and never content in any one position. At our last check on Monday the baby had finally found a head-down position (which we need everyone to knock on wood for so it sticks) and Garrett and Morgan got to attack me with stethoscopes in an attempt to hear the baby's real heart sounds, rather than the electronic "woosh" (Morgan proclaimed it a train) of the Doppler. Neither of them heard anything (this may have to do with Morgan putting the scope on my elbow), but they had a ball trying. We just love how involved the midwives make them feel, even if their exuberance sometimes prolongs our appointments!
The upstairs project is coming along (hot on the weekends, cold otherwise), Troy has the drywall well underway and we're still optimistic it'll be done and ready for its new inhabitants by the time the baby comes. At least, I hope so--Troy might refuse to let me give birth otherwise!!
So while there is much flux and some challenges, we're making progress towards great, exciting things. Life is good.

Water birthers do it in the tub.

2009-03-26T17:08:00.000-07:00

By now I'm sure everyone has heard my glowing recommendations for water birth-I wasn't sure while pregnant with Morgan if I wanted to give it a go or not, but after doing it, I have a hard time imagining giving birth on dry land. I had the same reservations as most mothers, "but I'll have to sit in all that stuff." Really, in that moment, you just aren't think about anything coming out of you except a baby. Sorry if this is TMI, but blood is heavier than water--just about everything (accept the baby) sinks right to the bottom. It doesn't get all mixed up.

So anyway, graphic discussion of bodily fluids aside, I've been shopping for birth tubs in preparation for our home birth. Yes, home birth. Should this be surprising or alarming to anyone, I assure you home birth is very safe (statistically it has better outcomes than hospital birth for healthy, low-risk moms when attended by a licensed and/or certified midwife), and should any unusual or unexpected events arise that would require a different setting, we are very close to a hospital. Hospital transfers happen in about 10% of homebirths. See, hospital caregivers are trained to treat disorders--birth is not a disorder, and seldom requires any "treatment" or intervention. But once you're in the doors, they just can't keep from "treating" you (it's their job). Even something so simple as the standard-issue IV (totally unnecessary in most cases) can cause complications and make a normal birth more uncomfortable and potentially dangerous than it would be on its own. By the way, you can refuse the IV (in fact, any procedure in hospital) unless they are placing it for the purpose of medication.

So anyway, off the soapbox and on topic, I've been shopping for birthing tubs. The tubs I'm investigating are inflatable, and about 25" deep when filled. The odd thing is that they aren't that much different from kiddie pools-which some women opt for as they are about $150 cheaper. I think I'm going to cough up the extra dough, though, as the birthing tubs are made from plastic that is phthalate-free and more environmentally friendly--which mainly translates into less chemicals for me and baby. There are two I'm considering, pictured below:

This above pool is the "la bassine," and is the cheaper of the two-it has handles on the inside to hang onto during labor and pushing. It looks a little roomier, but I believe they both hold about the same amount.

This one is the "birth pool in a box," the more popular of the two. As you can see, it has handles on the inside AND outside, so that if you're on your knees leaning over the side (a common tub position), you still have something to hang onto. This one also has a seat built in, for mom or for partner (who would sit on it and hold mom). Both pools come with the option of a disposable liner, which makes a handy garbage bag for when all is said and done, but I'm not sure if the liners are as chemically conscious as the pools. One cool benefit of purchasing my own tub is that I can then offer it for rent to my future doula clients, provided they purchase their own liners. The personal-use pools are good for about ten uses--they also offer a professional grade for a higher price that is good for about 30 uses, but I think I'll stick with the cheaper one and see how it goes. Regardless, the kids are gonna be tickled to have this thing inflated in the living room (even if it won't have any water in it yet).

My only reservation with all this is that I don't know if I'll labor long enough to get the darn thing filled--it takes about 45 min, given the water heater doesn't poop out (we're thinking of installing a tankless one to avoid that problem). At least I can still rent it out.

If you have any questions about waterbirth, visit www.waterbirth.org or just ask me. For more info on hombirth, visit www.mana.org.

Secret Spaces and Burgeoning Bellies

2009-03-19T12:16:00.000-07:00

Oh how I wish, for just a little while, to be a careful youth trudging through the mud of time--lamenting how long it seemed to take to get from one event to anther. Now I am in a speedboat, racing with the current of a raging river. looking for any kind of anchor with which to slow myself down.

That is my fancy way of saying, "Holy Freakin' Cow! I'm 27 wks pregnant! How in the heck did THAT happen?!?" Well, obviously I know how THAT happened-- I am more baffled by the rapidity of the process. Suddenly I feel huge and cumbersome, whereas a month ago I was still wondering where my belly was as I had been sure my third baby would make him or herself known much sooner than the others. And then there it was. My huge belly. Complete with stretch marks, back aches, and an ever-growing need to eat things that are not good for me. And while I am struggling with the discomforts (I experience really extreme pelvic rotation with my pregnancies-a very painful and inconvenient condition) and the difficulties of managing pregnancy and the care of two younguns', I am still (as always) in awe and in love with the journey of growing a new human. As with every new experience, we are adapting to accommodate and evolving as a family along the way.

I realize I have been sorely negligent with picture posting-acquiring a new computer threw me off as all my pics are on the other, and apparently I shant dain to work upon it, as it is now old and ucky. But here are some just taken today, at 27 wks 1 day:

Now onto the other truly exciting developments in our household--whilst removing the old, ugly fiberboard wall paneling that covers our upstairs rooms (you can see it in the above pics), our love for our old house was reaffirmed in the discovery of a (duhn duhn duhn........) hidden room. Nope, I'm not kidding. And no, there was not a dead body in it. Nor any valuable antiques. But oh, the excitement of finding it! And oh, the many ideas and suggestions we have had for using it!
We have known for some time that the crawlspaces upstairs were huge and could be put to use if we so chose--so some of what we have discovered is crawlspace, but the exciting thing was the discovery of a sealed-over doorway behind the paneling we were removing. The "room" (really more of a closet, but big-large enough to be a nice reading room) is finished in the same hardwood paneling as the bedroom itself, complete with a floor. The second surprise came from finding another, smaller door opening leading into the crawlspace behind the room (next to the bedroom's walk-in closet--there's another space the same size on the other side of the closet). These spaces are currently unfinished, though there are leftovers of wall and floors coverings that indicate that at some point they were. The space behind the hidden room connects to a crawlspace large enough to walk/creep behind the bathroom, handing for installing new vent fans upstairs and down. There is also enough space to run ducting from the furnace in the basement to the upstairs, which has never had its own heating system (we had planned on installing electric forced-air heaters, but now won't need to). My current plan (though that seems to change hourly) is to have the two large crawlspaces serve as the kids' individual bed-areas, with the bedroom serving as a common playroom. They are thrilled at this idea, and oddly anxious to sleep in the "spooky rooms".

The doorway into the "hidden room" (Morgan is our tour guide)-the mirrored door is the closet:

Inside to first room-the opening is the doorway into the unfinished space that will be Garrett's "bedchamber":

Looking into Garrett's future room, left of the closet (that is a gable vent, but will be a real window), it's roughly 8'x10':

Morgan's room, to the right of the closet (that's my dad--they're here for a couple weeks visiting, and we put him to work-he's laying new electrical cables so the rooms will have outlets and wall sconces, and laying down sub floor that we will probably cover with carpet). Her space is slightly smaller.

The big bedroom, which we had originally intended they share by actually putting beds in it. The opening behind Dad goes into Morgan's room. Garrett is measuring. He's in charge of measuring.

The whole is exciting and fun and totally overwhelming-we have probably tripled the total project time and effort, and are baffled by the fact that we are doubling the square footage of that room--but oh, how cool it will be when it's finished! We haven't even started work in the small bedroom yet and yes, there are crawlspaces that big on either side of it, too). It's driving me crazy to not be able to get in there and build with Dad, though. He and Troy are having all the fun (though I won't lament the absence of 50 yr old black cobwebs hanging from my hair).

Busy days and butterfly parties.

2009-03-10T22:14:00.000-07:00

This week is going by in a haze as we try to organize the house and get ready to make room for baby while also preparing for Morgan's 3rd bday this weekend AND trying to start a remodeling project upstairs in anticipation of G and M moving into a bedroom up there in a few months). I should mention that Troy took the week off, so I am not attempting all these endeavors on my own. Life, however, always seems to wiggle its way in front of plans, and we haven't made much project on our list items--but have managed to meander through Costco, buy a new computer (yay!), go to the zoo, hang out with our midwife, attend a PALS Doulas board meeting (me), go to a birthday party, and replace our damaged futon mattress. Oh, and Troy did all the laundry. Tomorrow. Tomorrow is the day we get on-task. Isn't that when most goals are achieved? Tomorrow?
Regardless of what we accomplish, I'm happy to have this time with my family before things are forever enhanced by our new addition. Speaking of whom, I will be 26 wks pregnant tomorrow, which officially puts me in the 3rd trimester. While that sounds amazing and makes birth seem imminent, we must remember the June is still 3 months away--and hope fervently that 3 months is enough time to be ready, to absorb how we are and how we will be different. It won't be, it never is, we will feel as though it has gone by too fast, that we aren't ready, and then the baby will be a part of us and all the frantic preparation will be forgotten. In terms of the baby right now, yesterday's appt was wonderful and all is going swimmingly. Just Garrett and I went, so that he could discuss with Val his role in the birth. The two of them decided that he would help Troy cut the cord and could also help bring the baby out of the water (should we make it into the birth tub) if he so chooses at the time. He is very into this whole experience and I know he will want to stay close to me throughout the birth, so I was glad he had this opportunity to have his own meeting with Val. He loves our appointments anyway-they taught him how to use the blood pressure cuff (he took his blood pressure 3 times), he has full reign over the measuring tape, and yesterday Val let him explore the armoire and closets full of linens and medical equipment(if you are interested in seeing photos of our birth center or learning more about midwifery, visit www.birthcenter.com . We have our appt's in the birth suites-I spent yesterday's laying on the bed in suite 3 while Val kicked back in a comfy chair). He is also always in charge of turning the Doppler on and off when we are listening to the baby's heartbeat. If you ask him what a placenta is, he will give a surprisingly detailed description of its form and function (which I don't recall discussing with him in that much detail, but he never forgets anything). Perhaps we see a future in birth services? Hmmmmm......
Morgan is more concerned with her upcoming butterfly party, which she got to pick out decorations for today. She was certainly in her element with an armload of goodies within 5 minutes of entering the party store today. It should be quite an event, made all the more merry by both sets of grandparents being in attendance. Which means we also have to ready the house for out-of-toners--yeesh!! I'm sleeping all next week.
At least it isn't snowing today!!

Things I Love....

2009-02-19T14:06:00.000-08:00

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

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

And the beat goes on...

2009-02-11T15:57:00.000-08:00

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

Better late than never? Part 2

2009-01-23T13:31:00.001-08:00

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

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

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

Stay tuned for pics from Thanksgiving and Christmas!!

Better late than never?

2009-01-22T18:00:00.001-08:00

A few pics of our Disneyland trip last October--Morgan loved Minnie in her witch costume so much I had to buy her the doll that matched. She still takes it with her everywhere.

This was one of those Disneyland moments--Garrett and my nephew William (on his 6th attempt) were both selected for Jedi Training for the first time. Garrett spent most of the time trying to get his light saber to open and close properly but still managed to pull it out when he was the first to face Darth Vader ("Good work youngling, you didn't volunteer, but you're going first anyway!" --Jedi Master).

Mom and I were able to take my kids and my sister's two oldest (she had a test that night so they joined us the next day) to Mickey's Halloween Treat, which we've done once before-this time was noticeably more crowded, but we still had a great time (despite the unexpected horrific LA traffic that made us two hours late). It was totally worth all the work I put in on our costumes--Morgan was the belle of the ball. We were so excited to run into this particular villain right away (well, I was--Morgan not so much)
M has the Cheshire cat riding on her back--the scarecrow yelled out, "Oh MY! What have you done to the poor Cheshire cat?!?! You've stuffed him and turned him into a backpack!!"
It was so fun, I've always wanted to go to D-Land dressed as Alice, and this is the only time they allow adults to don costumes. I did not make G's costume, he picked it out-but we did find those kickin' inflatable wings at a party store, which were WAY more cool than the ones it came with. He had the widest wingspan of any Buzz Lightyear there (and there were MANY).

Joyful Noise

2009-01-20T17:12:00.000-08:00

What is this I feel...release? Exhilaration? Strength?

Oh, happy day.

Additional proof of my children's cuteness.

2009-01-16T11:14:00.001-08:00

Morgan has this endearing habit of letting us know when something is "doing" a "bad thing" to her--be it her brother, the cats, her toys, her blankets, the wind (it blows her hair), etc. She screams. Bloody murder. It's adorable. So I have been working with her to, instead of screaming (as sweet as it is), say, "Mommy, I have a problem!" We used this technique with Garrett when he was younger and it worked out swimmingly. At first she had no interest--apparently it did not adequetly convey her torment and frustration. But lately she has been trying, though her wording is a little off--here is an example from the other night:

"Mommy, I NEED A PROBEM!!"
"What honey? You need a problem or you have a problem? What's your problem?"
"I NEED A PROBLEM!!!"
"What is it? What's the problem?"
"I NEED A PROBLEM!!!!!!!!"
(M begins running like crazy all over the house)
"Honey, what are you doing?"
"I'm trying to find a problem!!"

Garrett in the meantime is obsessed with my memories. He is constantly asking me if I remember things, some obscure, some surprisingly accurate:

"Mommy, do you remember the time I grabbed that bee and got stung?"
"Mommy, do you remember the time you were driving the car?"
"Mommy, do you remember the time I was 4?"

I can't remember the most specific ones, which is driving me crazy as he asks me about stuff that happened when he was two and three in remarkable detail, but here is my very favorite:

"Mommy, do you remember the first morning?"
"The first morning of what, honey?"
(Pause while he thinks)
"The first morning of days."
. . .
"No honey, I wasn't alive yet. That was a really, really long time ago."
"Oh."
(minutes later, after quiet contemplation)
"Do you remember when you used to be dead?"
"WHAT?!?!?"
"When you weren't alive yet."
"Ohhhhh, well honey, I wasn't dead, I just hadn't been born yet--I didn't exist. You have to be born and be alive before you die."
"Oh, ok. You weren't born yet at the first morning."
"No honey, I'm not that old."
"Oh. What about Daddy?"

My children are unbearabley cute.

2009-01-12T12:02:00.000-08:00

Morgan has a play kitchen in the back of our real kitchen. Normally she prepares plates of fake food for us (she's quite the nutritionist--when I was so sick in early pregnancy, she brought me an orange, a fried egg, and a donut with the instructions "I brought you this food so that you can eat it and feel better and be happy"), lets us "munch" on them for a moment, and then snatches them back to the kitchen for a wash, rinse, and repeat. A couple weeks ago she started making cookies (while her cousins were here giving her new ideas). The last few days she's put a spin into her cookie making--she sticks the baking sheet into the oven (we don't have fake cookies, so this is purely pretend--so refreshing to me as Garrett has always been resistant to pretending), stairs at it through the door for about ten seconds, then throws open the oven door exclaiming, "OH NO! MY COOOOKIES!"
Apparently she can't stop burning them. Her imaginary cookies. My daughter is a lousy fake chef. She'll bring us the tray, but if we reach for one she says, "NO! You can't eat dem! They all burned up with fire!" Last night she pulled out a "good" batch just as I walked through the back door--Troy said, "Oh, you're just in time. She's burned the last three batches." I almost wet myself. But not before enjoying a delicious cookie, fresh from the oven.
Garrett is Batman. He received extraordinary things for Christmas-a "power gauntlet" that meekly shoots "batarangs" about three feet, a mask, and THE WINGS. THE WINGS are worn like a backpack, and are black fabric on a black plastic frame. When the wearer pulls the GOLD ring, THE WINGS pop up. The wearer may then strut about the room, looking very cool and heroic (after all, G "only likes cool things"), before pulling the black rings which cause THE WINGS to retract. The buyers of THE WINGS did not realize until after their purchase that the span of said WINGS is just over five feet. FIVE feet. In other words, wider than he is tall. Ornaments were knocked from the tree, cups from the table, kitties launched themselves from their perches in terror--but he learned pretty quickly to retract them before walking through a doorway.
The most fascinating thing about THE WINGS is the reactions received from adult observers. Specifically male adults. I let him wear his getup to Troy's branch's holiday party last weekend. Eyes misted over. Mouths went slack. Eyebrows made that point above the nose. Amidst a grown-up party complete with junk food, alcohol, a pool table and Guitar Hero, the COOLEST THING EVER was my five year old. I had to threaten them that if one more man said, "Oh man, if I'D had those I'd have SO been up on the roof..."within G's earshot, I would maim him (including my husband). But it was so sweet watching G strut around the party, demonstrating his gadgets and glowing under the admiration of so many grown-ups (he had been a little nervous about the whole thing). And Batman saved us a trip to the ER. G was sitting on a swiveling bar stool next to me, swinging his legs and rocking side to side, and (through no fault of his own) suddenly flew out of the seat to land, sprawled face-down, at my feet. His face hit the sharp-edged foot rest of my seat, the whole ordeal absolutely terrifying him (as he would later tell me, "I cried do hard I couldn't breathe. That really scared me.") and the room full of adults witness to it. I scooped him up and ran for the bathroom, sure he'd be gushing blood, to find a mild welt over one eye--and a dent in the (thankfully) thick, squishy mask he was wearing where he'd made contact.
Thank you, Batman. Thank you.
And finally, the third child of cuteness, the baby--whom Troy felt kick for the first time Saturday night. Three lusty jabs in a row, nice payout for the many nights prior he'd spent, hand to my belly, waiting patiently through many a "Did you feel that?" "No." "How 'bout that?" "No." "That one?" "No" "Oh wait, was that it?" "No hon, sorry, just a gas bubble." And he was so happy. So I guess he's pretty cute, too.

Meet Baby "Lumpy"

2008-12-17T16:55:00.000-08:00

The whole 3-D thing is cool in concept, and makes the baby look more real, but it's also a little freaky...

We were 13 weeks 5 days when these were taken, and are 14 wks today--hooray for the 2nd trimester!! This one is baby's profile, you can just see the tiny nose and mouth (which baby kept opening and closing during the scan).

Waiting for snow...

2008-12-17T11:01:00.000-08:00

Did you know that only 7 of every 100 Christamses in Seattle is white? We learned that last year when the small sprinkling of snow on Dec 25th caused a regional frenzy--and it didn't even stick. This year we might actually get one--if it will ever start snowing. It was supposed to start last night. We're still waiting. They assure us that it's coming...makes me feel like a kid waiting for candy that keeps being dangled further away. Well, at least maybe I can get a little shopping done today after all.
The drawback to the possibility of a White Christamas is that in order for snow to stay the temperature must be below 32 degrees. We've been setting the stage for awhile now--it hasn't risen above that for nearly a week. Brr. On Monday morning, as I left the house at 7 AM (ungodly early for me) for our first ultrasound appointment, the car thermometer kindly informed me that it was 20 degrees. Thank God we have a garage, it delayed my exposure my another 30 minutes.
And yes, we saw the baby! Troy was really antsy about doing prenatal genetic testing (which we didn't do with Morgan, as we were so low risk), as he has heard me say that your risk rises as you age (why does he hear stuff like that, but not, "can you take out the garbage?"). He decided that it was more necessary as I am *GASP* over 30 now (by two months), and I agreed mainly as there is a newer option for the screening that includes an ultrasound. While I was laid low with the 1st trimester yucks, and my mood was suffering, I had much anxiety about the wellbieng of the baby--so much so that I decided the possible risk of ultrasound (and yes, there is potential risk-those sound waves are shaking the baby's brain) was not worse (to me) than the damage being done by my high stress levels. So in I went. Unfortunately Troy and the kids were unable to come, as he had a meeting he couldn't miss and we didn't have a sitter (we made the appt late and they only had that time slot). Luckily by Monday I was feeling SOOOOOO much better and lighter of spirit that being alone did not terrify me. There was breath holding during the initial nudging around with the wand, then all of the sudden there was our baby--arms, legs, fingers, toes, heartbeat and everything. As always, an amazing and humbling experience. Further enhaced by our risk of Down's being 1 in 3,947 (chromosomal disorers were 1 in 41,000). I told Troy we weren't at risk. Baby was right on schedule and VERY active. Oh well, we're all much more relaxed and happy now, and may even forgoe the 20 wk scan as we (meaning I) don't care to know the gender, anyway, and they've already checked for everything else. We got some great pics (our first in 3-D) and a DVD so the kids and Troy were able to watch it that evening--the kids are enthralled. They've watched it several times. The really cool thing about the DVD was that the u/s tech turned on the sound to capture the heart rate, so we have a recording of that, too! And if we do decide to have the 20 wk scan, they'll add it onto the same disc. Technology, man. It's a trip. I'll post some u/s pics later.

Baby update

2008-12-05T12:57:00.000-08:00

So I realized I never got around to posting about our first midwife appt (or our Disneyland trip, or Halloween, or Thanksgiving--I'll get to it). It was awesome, of course-Valerie was running behind as her prior appt had been 1/2 hour late (we cut them slack, their baby was just a week old), but that gave us time to re-introduce the kids to the birth center, show them the family room stocked with toys, and fill out all the new-pregnancy paperwork. Val was so excited to see us that she actually ducked out of her appt (they were with the student midwife) to come and give me a gigantic hug.
Once in the room (they conduct all their appointments in the birth suites, which are like really nice jacuzzi suites at the Hyatt), we settled into the loveseat and chairs to chat while the kids continued to play with the toys they'd brought in from the family room-Val actually spent about half the hour we were there playing with Garrett while the student midwife asked me all the standard questions--Val was still paying attention as she would interject if she heard something interesting or unusual, but never took her focus off Garrett-who now thinks she is a Goddess of Superglue (they were fixing toys). Morgan got in on the action, too, and by the time we left both kids were totally comfortable and happy--what doc's office could have accomplished that?? I wouldn't have even been able to take them with me to an OB.
Val even spent time just talking to Troy (while I was in the bathroom), asking about work and how he's feeling about the pregnancy--then they discussed the possibility of homebirth (yes, we are considering it!) and what that would mean for him (not much, they take care of all the clean-up). I moved over to the bed and Val let Garrett help carry the supplies she needed for my blood draw and explained everything as she went so he wasn't nervous at all. He sat right next to me on the bed and held my hand, and was very surprised when I didn't cry.
After that Troy and Morgan joined us on the bed as Val wielded the almighty Doppler--I was a little over ten weeks, so there was a possibility of hearing hear tones. With our history this is always the most anxiety-ridden part of a pregnancy for me, and I was prepared to request an ultrasound if she couldn't hear it. After a few tense moments, there came that reassuring whoofwhoofwhoof--Val squeezed my hand in her free one, and we both teared up. Then away the little rascal flitted. Morgan hadn't even noticed the noise, but Garrett had (when he first heard Morgan's heart in utero, when he was not quite 2, he jumped up startled and announced, "Is a doggy!").
So everything was hunky-dorey, my blood pressure was a little low which explains the light-headedness I'd been having, and as we prepared to leave (with lots more hugs from Val), Garrett became very upset and said, "we AREN'T leaving, the midwife still needs to get the baby out!!" Apparently he got confused with our purpose, and was very distressed (even though we've discussed at length how long the baby will be inside me and when it will come out). I felt so bad. So most of us left happy.
I just wish that every woman choosing an ob/hospital birth would have the opportunity to have one meeting with a really good midwife before making that choice. Would you buy the first car you test-drive just because it's the car everyone else is driving? Not that OB's and hospitals don't have their place, when there is danger present, they do a great job getting through it (usually). But a normal birth isn't dangerous, and by treating it as though it is modern medicine has created danger where it wouldn't normally be (since the introduction of continuous fetal monitoring, for example--making moms where monitors that check baby's heart and mom's contraction strength throughout labor--the c-sect rate has sky-rocketed with no change in maternal/fetal outcome. The monitors are notoriously inaccurate, but docs treat them as though they aren't and are often cutting open perfectly healthy women with perfectly healthy babies for no reason--so a woman that requests intermittent monitoring has already lowered her risk of surgery without compromising her or the baby's health).
Holy cow, I've accidentally climbed on my soapbox. Sorry about that. Bottom line, birth is a healthy, normal, really super-cool experience and I anxiously anticipate doing it again!

One more check box filled

2008-12-03T18:54:00.000-08:00

Hooray, hooray, I finally submitted my packet to be approved for my birth doula certification. I say yay, finally, because I finished the work portion in August, but it's taken me this long to gather all the needed paperwork and letters, and write essays, self-assessments and such. Holy cow, they are thorough.

In case you are wondering, being a doula is not a licensed profession--which means there are no requirements that have to be met in order to practice. There are lots of lay doulas out there (meaning uncertified, sometimes trained, sometimes not, etc)-those doulas who choose to certify do it for a number of reasons--mainly because it gives a doula more credibility in the community (and because you can charge more). The certification process is not difficult, but time consuming. I was hoping to submit in September, but just had a heck of a time tying up all my loose ends (getting pregnant can really throw a wrench in the works).

But hooray, it's done, Troy can stop bugging me, I don't have to work during the holidays, and I just contracted with a lovely couple due in a couple months, so all is peachy in the world of doula-ing. I took the kids to a member meeting for my doula orginization (PALS Doula), and while trying to explain to Garrett that we were meeting with several other doulas (ladies who help other ladiea have babies) he spewed off a volley of inquiries, "Am I going to help a baby be born?" "Will we get to see the babies?" "Are we going to be there all day and all night and all day?" and my personal favorite, when asked if he remembered what a doula was, "Is that like when you swing your hips inside a big circle?" When I relayed that to one of the senior doulas, she cracked up--coining the pharse ,"doula hoops." Which actually isn't a bad idea-I've contemplated bringing hoops to births to help show a mother how to rotate her pelvis to nudge the baby into descending. I smell a marketing plan.......

In unrelated news, today my children got to video-conference with their great-grandmother and grea-aunt in Arkansas, whom they haven't seen for two years. When they moved away, my grandma told me, "I'm just afraid I'll never get to see you again." Best Buy should do a commercial about us. Right about now I'm loving technology.

Yup, my oven works.

2008-11-13T16:11:00.000-08:00

Meaning there's a bun in it (for those who didn't catch the "morning sickness" reference in the last post). As of tomorrow I will be 9 wks, with only 4-5 more to go before I can begin to feel normal (well, pregnancy normal)!! Hooray! That means little bun will be ready to be nibbled (food references weirding anyone out yet?) mid-June. At the moment I am tremendously excited about two things: 1. I am going in for acupuncture next week to relieve my nausea, and 2. a week from Monday I have my first appointment with my midwives!! For any who weren't along for the ride when I was pregnant with Morgan, I am completely in love with my midwives. They are fantastically wonderful, compassionate, sensitive women who give their clients the respect, care, expertise and love that we deserve. Both of my children's births were wonderful and unforgettable, but Morgan's was transformative in none but positive ways. After Garrett was born (in a hospital, with an on-call OB I'd never met), I was determined that my next would be better--not that anything went "wrong" but there were things that weren't right, either. Like the nurse trying to talk me into an epidural I told her I didn't want, or his cord being cut before I'd even held him, or the caregivers being strangers, or the bright lights, absence of noise, sterility of the environment, etc. With Morgan there was no compromising, no coercion, I was not at the mercy of the all-powerful doctor. What I wanted, I got. And she was born into warm water, and soft music, dim lights and candles, in a room full of people who already knew and loved her (insert plug for the Puget Sound Birth Center and Lake Washington Midwives here). I was completely in charge and delivered her according to the cues of my body, with no damage to her or to me (a claim most hospital births cannot make).
I know I go on about my experiences quite a lot, but how can I not when they had such an impact on my life? I have no fear about birth--I have nothing but excitement and anticipation and I can't wait to see my lovely ladies and get the process started!
Garrett and Morgan are very excited as well, Garrett keeps asking me technical questions (how big is the baby today? Is the baby eating what you're eating?), and Morgan walks around with her shirt pulled up and her belly pushed out showing everyone HER baby. Which I find very interesting as my belly isn't growing yet, but still she knows to make hers look big. She's only really caught on to what's happening in the last week or so. Even when she was jumping up and down in the restaurant booth shouting "We're having a baby! We're having a baby!" to my mother-in-law (who totally didn't get it, even though she said it about ten times-MIL decided she was telling her "thank you"), she apparently didn' t hear what she was saying but merely repeated what Daddy told her to say.
And Troy is getting excited, also. He was kind of stunned there for awhile (even though he was sort of involved in the planning stages), but is remembering that getting ready for a baby is fun, and teasing me when I'm pregnant is even funn-er. His favorite part is getting to eat whatever he wants--see, I become very auto-suggestive. I might not have specific cravings, but if I see, read about, or hear about specific foods I suddenly have an overwhelming desire to eat that food. Troy abuses this aspect of my pregnancies. We ate a lot of pizza and cheeseburgers in my previous pregnancies (except this time I can't have gluten!! So HAHAHA devious husband!).
So there you have it, baby number three. If anyone is reading this and is totally stunned and wondering why I didn't call you personally, I completely apologize--we've had so much going on and I've been feeling so lousy that I can't even remember who knows and who doesn't. So it was either this or calling everyone we know with a lame "so, have we told you anything important lately? No? Well, guess what!"

It's cold up here.

2008-11-07T12:56:00.000-08:00

So somewhere in the last 30 days it became winter in the Pacific Northwest, which basically means it is very, very wet. And cold. Not freezing, but there is a distinctive nip in the air. This is not a complaint, I love fall and we were actually quite lucky through October, having a long streak of gorgeous, sunny fall days. The reason I bring all this up is that the second floor of our very old house is maybe not so well insulated, and since we don't sleep up here maybe not always habitated--meaning it can be cold. And it's where we keep the computer. So if I don't feel like getting frostbite in my fingers I might avoid getting online for days at a time. I suppose it's good that I have phone's then, so that my devoted fan base can still contact me.
This is my long-winded way of explaining my prolonged absence from the blogosphere. That and I was in CA for a week and a half, and my mom came home with us, and we've been busy doing things much more interesting and entertaining than typing. Sorry. I do intend to post pics from our trip and Halloween (our costumes where AWESOME) when I finally get 'round to uploading them.
Mostly right now I want to address current events. For the second consecutive time in a presidential campaign, I cried on election night. Four years ago I cried tears of despair, anger, and frustration-I lamented the simple fact that my baby would be five years old before we would throw off the shackles that I felt binding us. This past Tuesday I cried for very different reasons--it was like a shell had been built around me, a shell of mud, layer after layer sealing me in through the eight years of chaos and discord our nation has endured. And Tuesday night that shell cracked. Peices fell away, and I could see clearly that there really is a new path. The power felt that night, an uprising of voices held silent for so long, was overwhelming. Cars honking, people yelling as they drove, sharing celebration with strangers just because they could. That night there was a spontaneous gathering of thousands of people in the streets of Seattle, people who might never have met otherwise, needing to validate their own euphoria--being pulled together for joy and hope. Together. When was the last time we stood together? A time that didn't involve sorrow and disaster? A time that, purely and simply, made us glad to be who we are--made us proud.
I know there are those who do not share my sentiments, and to you I am sorry. I am sorry you can't see what the rest of the world sees, and am sorry you fear for yourself rather than reveling in the salvation of others. I hope that as the next four years pass, and the mood of our nation lifts, that you feel it and acknowledge the many reasons that mood sank so low to begin with. And I hope that our memories are long and that we give our country adequate time to heal before we decide we don't need fixing anymore.
And lastly, to those of you so engrossed the in Twilight series, I've spent considerable time in Port Angeles over the last 12 years. I've been into the bookstore she described as too "hippy" (it's mostly travel books, gifts and souvenieres with some comics-Troy lived in there when he was growing up), I've walked every downtown street--I've eaten in La Bella Italia. There is no area with warehouses and loading docks all in a row, no shiny boardwalk, no seedy bar right near the McDonald's. Apparently she got her info from map websites and the PA tourism board website. Kinda spoiled the illusion for me. And you wouldn't make a day trip from Forks to Seattle. It's a four-hour drive each way (with someone other than Edward driving). And while she is a good writer, very engaging and all (and I might be run out of town on a rail for saying this), upon finishing the first book I couldn't figure what the hoopla was about. I enjoyed it, but didn't feel my life had been changed and honestly, the only reason I read it in two days was because I kept trying to get to where the plot started. Not to be dismissive I did go out and get New Moon--I'm not very far into it but can see it's already more intriguing, so maybe the plotlines will improve now that characters are established.
And may I suggest to those of you drawn to the alllure of the vampire, pick up the Sookie Stackhouse series by Charlaine Harris. Fun, intense, and they get to have sex (I'm not LDS, I didn't buy Edward being able to hold back). Her writing is not as pretty as Stephanie Meyers, but the characters are great and the story makes up for it.
Wow. What an all-over the place post. If I though I could put off doing laundry any longer, I'd tell you all about our adventure in Disneyland. Or Garrett's and my birthday party. Or how horribley morning-sick I've been ;).

Playing catch-up

2008-10-05T15:10:00.000-07:00

There are so many things I am trying to prepare for, I cannot decide which to work on first--so I begin organizing the house to make costume-making easier, then abandon that in favor of the costume-making which causes the house to be more disorganized. Add that to the tremendous amount of food prep I do daily, and the standard laundry/dishes/sweeping cycle, plus Garrett's new gymnastics and sports classes, plus trying to finish my doula certification packet before the next board meeting, plus continuing to do doula work, and I can't seem to fit any more hours into the day which doesn't help my plight at all.
I am not a super-mom. I am not a do-everything look-perfect person. I do not harbor any desire to keep myself constantly busy. I ENJOY leisure time. So this is make me a little whack-oh. I should explain why all these things need doing, like, right now: we are leaving for CA on Wed and will be gone for 9 days. I will be bringing my mother back with me, and would like the house clean and nice for her. We will be trick-or-treating at California Adventure (did I mention we're going to Disneyland, hooray!), so costumes must be done way early. I am making Morgan's and my costumes from scratch (like with patterns and everything), and they will be awesome if they are ever done. When we get home we will have 6 days to prepare for our birthday/Halloween party (which reminds me, I need to invite people to that), plus actually celebrate our birthdays, plus work on some house projects as Troy is off that week.
Oh, and I haven't had a chance to blog about it, but we've taken the kids off gluten (to clear up a bizarre mystery rash they both get), and limited their dairy intake. So I must make even MORE things from scratch now (for anyone who is unaware, I've gone mega-granola in the last few years-the only prepared foods we still buy are crackers and cereal), meaning homemade crackers and granola (no pun) plus new and more complicated recipes for baked goods (I want to cry at having to abandon my killer whole-wheat buttermilk pancake recipe). I love making food, and I love that my kids eating only good things that I have complete control of it terms of quality and ingredients. But my kitchen is always a mess (if I haven't JUST cleaned it) and I don't have much counter space. But it's fun most of the time, like this morning when Garrett was helping me juice carrots and cauliflower, parsley, kale, cucumber and yellow squash (the last we grew ourselves!). Sounds fantastic, don't it? It's a chugging sort of beverage.
So anyway, here's the end result of all this craziness: it's easy to find most things in my house, because they have a designated place and get returned there. There are exceptions (has anyone scene my glasses?). We will look awesome for Halloween, and will have a really cool party to celebrate with our friends. We get to see my family, and visit the Magic Kingdom. We will have tostadas for dinner with refried beans I make myself (super-yum!). Our house and yard will begin to actually look like the work we've done there has a purpose. We will continue to be healthy and happy, and my kids will no longer have blisters (from the gluten). Garrett has experienced a life-changing transformation, as the removal of gluten from his diet (along with a more rigid eating schedule-every two hrs-an increase in protein, fish oil, and Cinnamon and addition of magnesium supplements) has made such a marked improvement on his ability to control himself and regulate his behavior. Not that he's been a complete wild-child (for those who haven't met him), but he has a history of what I call "the crazies"-where he will suddenly just lose all sense of judgment and impulse control. When it happens you can see in his eyes that he doesn't like it, but he can't stop it-and I become the mom chasing her kid constantly scolding "Not stop that, don't do that, put that down, let go of that," a chant I'm sure you've all encountered in a crowded shopping mall or playground. What's always been so frustrating is that Garrett is by nature very sweet, gentle, and remarkably smart-but those qualities do not show when he succumbs to the crazies. It's taken a year of diet modifications and supplement experimentation, but we seem to have finally cracked it--and oh, is he a happier child. And oh, are we happier parents.
So while I'm running my hind-end off trying to complete my to-dos, I wanted to take a minute (or ten) to remind myself what it's all for, and that we are so thankful for what we have and who we are. We have so many opportunities to be joyful--I just need to slow down and enjoy my joy.

Fun with sleepy children.

2008-09-16T16:01:00.000-07:00

Troy went in to check on the kids last night after they had been in bed awhile. Garrett was having a tough time settling down due to a dream he had about evil pumpkins the night before (he loves Nightmare Before Christmas). Garrett was apparently asleep, with his pillow over his head. When Troy moved it, the following exchange occurred:

G (very groggy): I was under that to hide from the scary ghosts.
T: There are no ghosts here now.
G: What about scary pumpkins?
T: No, no scary pumpkins either.
G: Oh, then what's the problem?!?!

And back to sleep.

This might not translate that well in text, but we thought it was freakin' hilarious.

The return of running water.

2008-09-14T15:44:00.001-07:00

Hooray hooray, I say, for the return of running (or rather, draining) water! Seriously folks, we have not been able to use our main bathroom sink for TWO MONTHS. Two months. Ridiculous, right? Two months of hand-washing in the tub spigot, of tromping upstairs to brush our teeth (and holy god, finding my disgusting husband's toothbrush in front of the computer). Would you like to hear the tale of how it could possibly take two months to fix a sink? Of course you would.

Way-a-way back in July, in preparation for my sister's family's visit, I decided to finally tackle the slow-drain issue we had occurring in our main bathroom (we have three, but one is in the basement and the other is impossibly tiny and upstairs by the guest room). I am reasonably competent with plumbing matters, it isn't my favorite household task, but I do what needs to be done. So I set about disassembling the drain to clean out what I was sure was a nasty ole' hair clog. While what I encountered was indeed nasty, and hairy, it was not the cause of our blockage. And by the time I realized this, it was too late to delve any further prior to company coming, so we simply marked it out of order.

Now if you've been diligently reading this blog (and who hasn't?) then you know we've had a very busy summer and our poor sink just didn't rate high enough on the list of priorities to get much attention. We did eventually buy a manual auger (a long metal coiled cable with a screwy-lookin' thing on the end that you run down your pipe and then turn the crank to THEORETICALLY grab the clog and pull it out). Once again we met nasty emissions of sludge and slime and gunk, but still no drain. I can't even tell you how many times we dis-and re-assembled the drain-my fingers twinge thinking about it. And the auger-oh how I hate the auger! It twists and yanks, it's heavy, it fights with you and tries to climb back out, it sprays whatever it's collected ALL OVER if you wind it too tightly (I got it in the face last night), it leaves rust marks in coil patterns in the bottom of your tub, it is evil. And it didn't work. Couldn't move the clog.

This weekend was our last attempt. Last ditch effort. Final hoorang. Troy wanted to turn it over to a plumber weeks ago, but I persisted--why give some stranger hundreds of dollars to do a job we could do? We just needed time, and patience, and pants that sit too low. If this didn't work, we'd call in the big guns. It was a close call. In short, after cutting (yes CUTTING!) the pipe OFF with a reciprocating saw, running many manner of objects into and through the whole drainage system, being splattered with MORE yummy disgusting-ness, and finally ramming an extendable broom handle up the d$&% thing to break through the still immovable clog, then reassembling the whole system with the help of some really handle flexible couplings (nifty doo-dads that hold to ends of pipe together with a thick rubber tube and hose-clamps), WE HAVE DRAINAGE!!! WE HAVE REJOINED THE MODERN ERA OF INDOOR PLUMBING! HOORAY!

And let me say how cool I felt walking into McClendon's Hardware, by myself (which usually elicits odd questioning looks from old men and LOTS of "can I help you find something?" from employees), in my ratty best project clothes, covered in stains, smelling of decades old plumbing rot, and heading straight for the pipe department to get another coupling. Not one person asked if I needed assistance. Not one old man questioned my presence. Today, I was one of them.

Still not sure how I feel about that. But if it means I can use my bathroom sink, it must be good. Very, very good.

Babies are stealing my summer.

2008-09-10T18:53:00.000-07:00

Our weather has finally decided to warm up and be sunny--for the whole two weeks we have left before fall falls upon us. We have been frantically attempting to take advantage of it, as we still have mountains of things to finish and not much time left for finishing. It has not helped our scheduling that my last client decided to labor for 41 hours (no, I am not exaggerating, though I wasn't there the whole time, only the last 37 hours of it) or that exactly one week later I was called in to help out my partner who had two clients break their water the same day. So it the course of eight nights I spent 3 of them not sleeping. And hello, I should really get some sort of prize for heading home after last weekend's birth long enough to shower and change then head back out for an advanced doula training (I was over an hour late, but none of the other doulas held it against me ;) ). I then insisted Troy and the kids meet me that afternoon at our birth center's annual alumni picnic, at which I spent most of the time laying on a blanket on the ground. Again, it's a pretty understanding crowd--my midwife had also been up all night at a birth. She apologized to Troy for my being, "hooked on birth" and suggested he get together with her husband to complain about us.
The unfortunate side of this whole doula biz is that while, in general, birth is wonderful and fantastic and I arrive home exhausted but buzzing from the energy and joy of it, sometimes it doesn't go right and it leaves a deep emotional dent in me. This last birth went that way--due to a medical "oops" (read: neglect and ignorance) the client had to be delivered by c-sect. This is a young, single girl who had wanted beyond anything to have a gentle, interference free out-of-hospital birth and was only in the hospital because her midwife felt she needed a little help getting into labor (I won't get all technical, it's a standard protocal sort of situation). This girl had prepared herself fantastically well despite the fact that she had no one helping her, and all control was taken from her. And there wasn't anything I could do to help her out of that situation, I could merely try to help her through it. So I've been pretty frustrated and sad this week, which is really too bad as it eventually affects the kids-but they are troopers and love being able cheer me up. And Troy is at his best when I am at my worst, so I know I always have a pillar to hold me up. It amazes me how intuitively supportive he is, and how much he has picked up about pregnancy and birth from listening when I don't think he is. I start to lauch into an explanation of a certain procedure or term, and he'll jump in and finish it often surprising the pants off me. And I'm pretty sure by now he'd make a great lactation consultant (I actually overheard him discussing breastfeeding with a friend of his).
I am glad for the exposure to birth the kids are getting-they are growing up knowing that it is a healthy, normal process, difficult but gratifying. They love watching the videos of their own births (G calls them the "being born" movies) and marveling over how they once were such tiny, squirmy creatures. G asks lots of question when I get home from a birth, wanting to know how big the baby is and what I did that helped the mommy. I have to pat myself in the back for assuming that someday he's going to be a great support for whomever he becomes a parent with.

The Fun of Funder

2008-08-27T11:43:00.000-07:00

We had a tremendous thunder storm roll through Monday afternoon (what is with all the electrical storms this summer?). Really tremendous, like Hollywood storms-never-really-sound-like-that tremendous. Woke both kids up from their naps. They were in seperate rooms, as napping together is currently an unsuccessful endeavor, and M woke first-I went to her (she's still in her crib, much to her dismay-when we've let her try sleeping in G's bed, we eventually hear her knocking on the door as their knob is too high for her to reach), got her up, and laid down in G's bed with her to see if I could lull her back to sleep. No luck. Every time the thunder would rumble, she'd curl in to me, quivering-I assured her all was fine and all that, but she often chooses no to believe me. She finally asked what the noise was, and I told her it was thunder up in the clouds. "Oh, it's funder?" "Yes, thunder." "Oh, it's jus funder. It's funder." G joined us a few minutes later, and was reassured, "Buh-buh, that's funder. It's only funder. It's ok, it's funder."
I couldn't get them to relax, and as it was daylight it wouldn't be any fun sitting in a window to watch (as we normally would), so to try and get them to relax about the whole thing we geared up Seattle style (no umbrellas) and headed out into some of the heaviest rain I've ever seen. Our street (on a hill) was nearlya rushing river, much to the kids' delight as they ran up and down it, racing leaf boats to the bottom.
It was during this hour of soaking-wet craziness that I was forced to come to grips with my illness. What drivers and passers-by must have thought, seeing me and my kids in the pouring rain--this is what I imagine them saying to themselves, "That horrible woman, making her children get soaking wet just so she can edge her lawn." I couldn't help it. I was outside, the edger was just leaning there, we always have so much yardwork to do, I just couldn't help it. Plus the ground is really soft when it's wet. I may need to enter some sort of program. At least they weren't worried about the "funder" anymore.

Garrett's Photography.

2008-08-24T12:02:00.000-07:00

We got a new camera several months ago, and Garrett asked if he could have our old one. Figuring I could just dump the digital images when he was done, I let him have a go. Here are a few of the 50+ shots he took (I omitted ones we could have titled "wall" and "leg of chair"). I had no idea when he gave me back the camera what I would find.

Make-up in Mirror

Down the Whirley-Tube

Self Portrait

Cake In Dome

Experimental Picture-posting

2008-08-24T11:24:00.000-07:00

Stone party! (Dubbed "stones" by my niece when she was 2, not called such because my scones are rock hard, as has been suggested in the past.) Stone-baking is a long-standing tradition for my niece and I, on this occasion joined and assisted by the peanut gallery. You would not believe the amount of deliberation that went into the choosing of each child's add-in--William really thought that, at some point, someone would tell him he really couldn't put chocolate chips in his. Oh-ho the Wells Fargo Wagon is a-Comin' down the street...the kids and Troy got to ride the stagecoach in the Mercer Island Summer Celebration parade-I can't tell you how bummed I was that I had a client meeting and had to take off right after snapping these shots. Troy was uber-thrilled to ride "up top." And I'm not joking. You should have seen him vault himself up there.

House Work in High Heels

2008-08-22T10:16:00.001-07:00

Sounds like a country song, doesn't it? The other day I took the kids to Value Village to pick out some dress-up things for them. Morgan of course went immediately for the shoes, and we picked out two pairs of heeled slides, and actually, they're pretty cute. They also happen to be my size (honestly, that was a coincidence). Morgan LOVES them. Loves them so much she wants to wear them always. The GREAT thing is, there are two pairs, so she doesn't have to wear them alone! She will come charging towards me, arms full of shoes, and announce "Mommy, put on your pretty shoes! Dere's a mon-ter (monster) coming!" She has not explained how the pretty shoes assist in the fending off of a monster-maybe it will only eat you if you are un-fashionable.
So yesterday, as I hurried around doing chores before I had to leave for a client meeting, I was compelled to do my house work wearing two inch heels. Meaning if I took them off she would yell at me, and then follow me around trying to slip them on my feet every time I took a step. When I asked her if I could take them off yet, she would reply with a resounding, "Not YET!" Oh well. Now I can empathize with June Cleaver.
I finally came up with a compromise. I could take them off for awhile if Garrett would agree to wear them. Not surprisingly, he was thrilled at the idea.

Troy's input and Morgan's idea

2008-08-20T10:01:00.000-07:00

Troy really felt I should put this particular interaction betwixt Morgan and I here:

(Scene: in that bathroom, Morgan has announced she needs to go potty but is refusing to do it herself as is the norm)

M: Can't get my seat! (her padded potty seat insert, goes on the regular toilet)
S: Yes you can, it's right there.
M: No, I can't get it!
S: Honey, just reach down and get it.
M: No I can't! Daddy say me no!

Troy has no recollection of ever telling her she couldn't get her seat herself, and really appreciates it when the kids blame him for not doing things I tell them to do. Early in the morning, she had announced (after donning a coat and shoes over her pajamas):
"Come on guys! Follow me! I got an idea!" Keep in mind she's two and a half and often sounds as though she's speaking with food in her mouth-this however, came out loud and clear. What else was I to do? I followed her. She led me to the hall closet, which she opened and announced she needed her hat. I presented her with her pink floppy hat, which she insisted wasn't hers (she wears it all the time) and continued to search for a more suitable selection. Unfortunately this disrtacted her from her original quest and I was never to find out what her "idea" was.

She has also appointed herself the household personal trainer-we recently aquired a Wii Fit, and have been using it almost nightly (for those not in the "know" it's a video-game based work-out system, you stand on a small board that measures your stance and balance for a variety of games that work on balance and posture, strength training, aerobics, and yoga). Her favorit game is the ski jump, wherein you must bend your knees while leaning forward togain speed, and then straigten your legs at just the right time to make your character jump, then hold your balance steady to make the jump good. She has succesfully managed to do this one out of about 15 tries-usually she just refuses to stand up. So now when we're playing, regardless of the game, she will come running, position herself next to you, and announce, "Ok, BEN(D) YOUR KNEES! Ben(d) you knees, mommy! Like dis! (demonstrating perfect position, which she doesn't assume when she's actually playing)." I can't tell you how helpful and motivating this is when I am, say, trying to stand perfectly still in a one-legged yoga stance. Especially when she will then come behind me and push me knees forward, once again asserting the importance of "ben your knees!"
Physical fitness is very important to her.

Comments Enabled

2008-08-18T10:01:00.000-07:00

Sorry to those who have attempted to comment (I know, my writing is so thought-provoking it inspires endless expounding and pontification, so the inability to log it here must have been unbearably frustrating), I changed the settings and you now have my permission to do so. Happy Monday!

Thunder and Lightening and Kittens, Oh My

2008-08-17T20:57:00.000-07:00

So we have a new kitten. She's ridiculously adorable and fantastically rambunctious, as kittens tend to be, and not at all inclined to "respect her elders," i.e Dervish and Nox. They are coping. Troy has named her. After observing her unique hunting style (wherein she crouches in shadows, often on a lower stair than her intended prey's ankles, waiting in silence--devoid of the traditional kitten-y butt-wiggling and over-zealous pouncing--until just the right moment, when she strikes like lightening at the lower limbs of innocent passers-by, then immediately races away to lurk once more in her shroud of darkness like a Ninja), he was most adamant that she must be called "Assassin." I argued she was far to cute to carry such a name. Perhaps we could call her Lucy. He was steadfast. We call her Sassy.

The dark hours of night are of course a playground for those of her ilk, and last night was no exception. The difference came from it being was so hot and so humid in our house that in order to sleep even remotely comfortably, we were forced to leave all the doors (not exterior, of course) and windows open so that our legion of fans could keep the air circulating. Oh, was this a thrill to Sassy. Shortly after 2 AM, I awoke to Morgan's firm little voice ordering, "No! No No NO!" What did I find upon inspection? A frisky kitten, in her crib, had nibbled her toes (in a cute way, of course) until she woke up, then proceeded to try and play with her. Why she would pick Morgan I don't know, as Morgan tortures her-carrying her by her neck, pulling her tail to keep her from running away, typical cat vs 2 yr old interaction. But there she was, waking her up and begging for more. Perhaps she thought this was her golden opportunity to reap revenge. I ousted her from the room and closed the door. Shortly after 3 AM Sassy felt lonely, and decided to join us in our bed. She lay there quietly, but I could feel her tail twitching and knew it was coming. Sure enough, after about ten minutes she could no longer contain herself and was eventually ousted from our room as well.
At 4 AM a tremendous thunder storm rolled in. While I was upset to be woken yet again, I can't resist a good storm and proceeded into the living room to curl up in a chair near the windows to watch. After a few rounds of strike and rumble I went to check the children, as Garrett has a love-hate relationship with thunder storms. Both soundly asleep. I headed back to bed. Not long after, I realized that the chattering on the outskirts of my dream was really happening and woke yet again, this time with Garrett standing by our bed desperately trying to tell Troy, at high speed, exactly what was happening (from a meteorological standpoint). I asked if he was scared and he replied, eyes wide as saucers, "Oh no!" and launched into the same high-pitched rapid fire explanation he'd been giving Troy. After telling him to can it (in the politest 4:30 AM way possible), I pulled him into bed between us where he proceeded to wriggle, poke, prod, lean, and push until I escorted him back to bed a short while later. There I found, AGAIN, a wide-awake Morgan-apparently Garrett had neglected to shut the door behind him and she was being visited by our fury assassin once more. Which was nice, because otherwise she'd have missed out on the storm, and who wouldn't want their entire household awake and animatedly talking about lightening at 4:30 in the morning?!?! All except my husband, of course. He has no recollection of any of this.
Back to bed for all, doors shut, kittens ousted, nearly back to sleep, when we are visited by another of our household-Dervish (our oldest and largest) thumped herself down between us (causing us both to bounce lightly) and proceeded to be just as restful as Garrett. Apparently she'd been snug beneath our bed, and I had unwittingly locked her in the room with us.
Maybe not one of my more restful nights.

And by the way, Welcome

2008-08-15T11:28:00.001-07:00

So I've been meaning to do this forever, and well I'm just a busy important person with many influential and meaningful things demanding my time. That and it's summer and I'd much rather play outside, thank you.
My hope is to post here frequently, my reality is I'll do it when I think of it. So if you can remember to pop in once or twice a month, you should be good.
Currently we are taking a break from our usual load of projects, and trying to enjoy the last few weeks of summer. We may even dust of the bicycles this weekend if we're feeling extra-wacky. We made good progress on our back-yard modifications (for those who don' t know, when we bought our house our backyard was naught but a very old deck, a fantastically diverse assortment of weeds and grasses, and a hill covered in blackberry and ivy. As we began to cut things back, we discovered a few things-one, that our yard was bigger than we'd thought, two-that blackberries REALLY hurt, and three, that at some point in our home's 90 yr history, someone lovingly and laboriously created a beautiful terraced landscape, complete with many lovely flowering bushes and trees, a Japanese maple, holly, magnolia, and hawthorn trees, all connected by wandering stone borders and two sets of stone steps leading to the top of our little hillside. The past three summers has been like unwrapping a Christmas gift, our very own Secret Garden), extending the stone border to wrap around the integrated sandbox under the magnolia tree, rebuilding the deck (thanks again, Kevin, our framing guru!), digging out and leveling for the small stone patio between the deck and sandbox (yet to be laid), and planting a garden actually in the ground (we'll get around to building the raised beds eventually). Wow, when I write it all out it sounds rather amazing-to us it still looks awfully messy. Keep in mind that all of this is contained in a relatively small yard with not much room to work-it's been an adventure!
And as today is predicted to break records in the temperature category, my computer is upstairs in the hottest part of the house, and the kiddies are chomping at the bit to get into the pool (we finally set it up yesterday), I leave you with this charming dialogue (as we're walking to get dinner last night, along a busy street):
G: Mommy, why are there so many cars?
M: Because there are so many people.
G: No, why are there so many cars?
M: Because it's rush hour and all the people are going home at the same time.
G: NO! WHY are there so MANY CARS??
M: Honey, I'm not sure what you're asking me-there are a lot of cars for people to buy, and lots of people buy them and drive them.
G: NO! You're supposed to say "because they make a lot of cars!"

Well, then, why did you ask??

Ugg Icky Hot

2008-08-15T11:27:00.000-07:00

Ugg Icky Heat
My face was stuck to my pillow this morning. Well, maybe not REALLY stuck, but it had that tacky feeling of having perspired against it, then having said moisture cool. Gross. Needless to say, I'll be changing the sheets today. Which seems pointless as it'll be even hotter tonight and tomorrow.And THAT's why Garrett and I will be camping "a little bit" (meaning in the back yard). We had promised him after our "real" camping trip that we could pitch a tent in the yard and sleep in it after the deck was finished. This prompted him, over the course of the last few weeks, to mutter things like, "Is the deck EVER going to be done so we can go camping?" and "Aren't you done with that deck yet?" and the heart-wrenching run-straight-outside-after-nap-throw-open-the-back-and-sigh-dejectedly routine he adopted when I told him he had to sleep so I could work on it. He didn't even believe us when we told him it was ready. He had to go out and look, then walk around on it inspecting its construction before he announced that yes, it was ready. Then I told him we could camp the next night, Monday, or Tuesday if Monday's weather wasn't good. He cocked his head in thought and replied, "Let's do Tuesday. That will be a good day." So glad I fit in his schedule.Ironically, Tuesday was NOT a good day and we wound up setting up camp Wednesday, with much fan-fair and excitement. And much running round and round inside the tent. I believe they were trying to simulate the effects of an earthquake on camping equipment. Then they entombed themselves in their sleeping bags and wouldn't come out until Garrett realized he didn't have a flashlight-we all know how important a flashlight is when you are in your sleeping bag at 1 in the afternoon in August. They were soaked in sweat and wouldn't come out. But they had a flashlight! We got the new patio furniture all set up on the deck, and proceeded to make preparations to BBQ. The kids played in the sandbox and helped water my garden and plants-side note: My squash and pumpkin plants are HUGE, I mean bizarrely huge, leafs the size of my torso, but none of them are flowering. Odd. Anyway, Garrett even put on his "workin' man gloves" and helped me tackle some overgrown blackberry bushes so we could reach the delectable sweetness that is finally ripe (every year Troy swears he's ripping them all out, and he has yet to manage it before August, which is fine with me as it keeps them from overtaking the yard again but we still get to enjoy the world's most delicious blackberries, organic and free!). He even managed using pruners with his gloves on-isn't he accomplished. So anyway, fast-forward to Wed night-we had a lovely dinner, roasted marshmallows for s'mores, and read many books in the tent by flashlight before Daddy said goodnight and headed in (wuss). Morgan lasted about 15 min-she just wouldn't stay in one place. Once she was headed in with Daddy, I took the cover off the tent so we could watch for shooting stars. Stars? What stars? Between the car lot flood lights (who's shopping for Toyotas at 10 PM?) two miles away and the newly risen full moon, we could see everything BUT stars. That combined with our neighbors watching an epic adventure movie at top volume, apparently outside of their house, and Garrett's complete inability to settle down (even after I made him a bed out of chair cushions as it "did not feel well inside this tent, the ground is very hard and sharp and it hurts me"), he and I were headed back in by 11. Oh well. It's no Orcas Island (sigh). We'll try again tonight. At least we got to eat S'mores!A final sidenote-I feel like freakin' She-Ra after doing the deck-sure, Troy worked on it, too, but he always had someone else with him--I did a lot of it ALL BY MYSELF! I love that I am competent with power tools. And I love the look on my mother-in-law's face when I talk about things like chop saws and nail guns. In the words of Mastercard, Priceless.