My Song of Joy

A little update

2012-02-09T00:22:00.000-05:00

I suppose you all expected not to hear much from me over the last week. I lived up to your expectations admirably then.

It's a new challenge every time we bring a baby home for me to learn to spread myself a little further. (And humbling-that so many people want ME so much). Vincent needs a lot of me. He eats a lot. He needs to be held a lot...he could make do with less, but why? He is so young, and this phase passes so fast. And it's good for both of us to cuddle as much as we can. The other two kids still need my attention. I have been making a point of reading with them, holding each one individually at least once a day, and really looking at them when they want to engage my attention-if I'm able at that time. And then there's my sweet husband. He always gets the least of my time. He doesn't have immediate needs like diapers or nursing, and he doesn't stand on tables naked to create immediate needs for me. :) He comes first in my heart, but he is not the first to get my time right now.

Vincent on Sunday, wearing my mom's baby sweater and blanket

Vincent is a very content baby. He was a little whiny in the hospital before my milk came in, but he's happy as a clam now. He eats off and on for a while, sleeps, wakes, eats, has a little alert time, then nurses to sleep again. Vincent is the first of my babies to like having his arms inside his swaddle. The other two hated it. He sleeps much more contentedly when I tuck his arms in so he looks like a little burrito. He's so funny when he's awake. His eyes are all over the place in different directions and his arms, which seem to long for his scrunched up body, flail through the air. I study his little face all I can. My kids pork up so fast, I barely know their newborn face before they turn into big chubby babies. On Monday, Vincent weighed in at 9 lbs even. He's another great sleeper. He eats three or four times at night, I think...I hardly wake up.

Brothers! Henry loves his "bee bee".

I'm feeling very well. I do seem to have swapped upper bodies with Dolly Par.ton. Mr. G. thinks my new look is hilarious. It's been my easiest recovery yet. If I didn't see evidence every time I use the bathroom that I'm not healed inside, I'd feel totally normal. It's really frustrating to try to rest because I am ready to conquer my house if not the world. The only thing that keeps me on the couch is wanting to cuddle Vincent, and be fully recovered as fast as possible.

The baptism was Sunday. A lot of folks from church stayed for it, which was nice. My family unfortunately could not make it (except for Tibby, who was staying with us), but my grandma and aunt and uncle did attend. Vincent cried more than I have ever heard him cry before, howling through the whole ceremony until he was put back in my arms after being consecrated to Our Lady. He was desperate to have a snack, and could not figure out why his godmother didn't respond to his rooting at her arm. We had a lunch here afterwards with just us and the godparents, to keep it simple. Plus it was the Superbowl so no one would have come anyway. :) Tibby and I did all we could in advance. We had French onion soup, salad, a fruit and cheese plate, bread, and Vincent's godmother made a delicious lemon daffodil cake, which Maria and Henry pigged out on shamelessly.

Finally, I can't understand people who are going back and forth on whether to "have another one" because they're not sure the other kids will like it. Sure, Maria and Henry are a little jealous of my attention, but they are in love with Vincent. The poor child would literally be smothered in none to gentle toddler hugs and kisses and full body embraces if I didn't watch him diligently. His face and hands get kissed constantly- I find all sorts of food substances on him that I know he wasn't eating. :) All this leading me to believe, that argument is nonsense. Kids naturally love babies. Vincent is by far the best gift I could give my other children. No toy, no pet, would be adored more.

Our new son!

2012-02-01T20:26:00.001-05:00

Vincent Alexander Marie

born Monday, January 30th, at 3:07am

8 lbs, 3 oz, 20" long

I just came home this morning. I'm feeling pretty well and Vincent is doing great. However, it's crazy at my house. I hope to tell more soon. In the meantime, here's cute baby pictures! He makes me think of Maria more then Henry so far; what do you think?

7 Quick Takes-with birthday pics

2012-01-27T23:32:00.000-05:00

1. Happy 3rd Birthday to our little Maria! Today's the real thing. She seems to think she's getting another "buffday dessert" with candles, even though she seemed to get that the blueberry trifle last weekend was her cake. No one in this house needs more dessert, but one of us needs something to think about other than the fact that she's still pregnant. So there might be cupcakes, because chocolate will distract me from just about anything. And I totally lost 2 lbs from last Thursday to this. I can afford a cupcake or 3, right?

2. Mr. G's "big boss" asked him to work day shift today. It stunk. He got home last night and we went to bed at 1, then the alarm rang at 8. We stood in the kitchen, blinking stupidly at each other and shivering, while I attempted to construct a PBJ sandwich for him. "Why do people do this to themselves? " Mr. G. moaned. "Getting up and leaving this early is insane!" Agreed. I mean, we usually get up around 9-9:30 on weekdays, but it still felt so early.

3. I just now read this news and I have to say something, so: Congratulations, Meghan and Michael and Matthew! And welcome to the world, baby Christian! I'm so happy for you guys.

Meghan prayed for me during Prayer Buddies back in the summer. She had just announced her miracle pregnancy days before the prayer buddy reveal, so I'd actually been praying for her before I knew she was praying for me. Pretty crazy how things work.

4. Okay, the phone thing might be getting on my nerves already. Yesterday I got "where's the baby" calls from my mom, two of my sisters, and my friend H. I told H she should know better. :P She always goes late herself and she just had a -late-baby six months ago. She just laughed at me when I said that. Today my mom called, my sister called, and then another sister just called to say that they were going out for the evening and where to reach them if I need them. I appreciate knowing that, but for goodness' sake, folks, calling is not going to get the baby out.

5. My husband is the cutest dork I know. That's why I am so happy I married him. A few days ago, he was shopping for Italian naval sailor jackets that he thought I was going to wear. It's a cute shirt, but I'm not seeing me running around in it. I told him that. He then turned on "Anchors Aweigh" very loud to help convince me. I was dying. But I still told him 'no' on the shirt. So he started looking at military jackets instead, and played a Sousa march medley while he viewed them.

6. Maria's biological classification system is all based on "nice" and "not nice" animals. For example, penguins are nice, but leopard seals are not nice because they eat penguins. She also uses the gender terms "boy" and "girl" for animals (or "mommy" and "daddy" for animals caring for young), which bothers her biologist father. He's been trying to teach her male and female, even though I keep telling him it's too deep for her. Hopefully I proved my point last night by sharing this with him.

She came in to the kitchen to tell me, quite out of the blue, "Males are bulls and bulls are not nice. Daddy's nice. I guess Daddy is a female."

7. I'm finishing these up at 11pm. I just wiped up the kitchen floor. This baby better come before it gets dirty again, because that did me in.

Have a great weekend! I hope mine includes a new baby.

The Big 4-0

2012-01-25T18:37:00.002-05:00

Happy due date to us, happy due date to us...

40 weeks

And we are sooo not in labor. It's okay. The baby, of course, does not know what day it is. I do, but I didn't really think Baby would come out today. The people who pin hopes on the due date are the ones who aren't pregnant. Such as husbands-who say they know due dates aren't an exact science, but at lunch on the day, ask "Um, so why is the baby still inside you?" Due dates are for mother-in-laws to obsess about, which is why mine thinks ours is February 5. :P And for little sisters, who promise they won't bug you, but call anyway to say, "So, do you think you are going to have the baby tonight?"

What is today to me?

Today means that, because of the grace of God, today is not a "should have been" like I was afraid it would be about 30 weeks ago, when I was mentally saying farewell to this baby.

Today means we've done it, baby and I. We've made it through a whole, term gestation.

And today means that, because I'm not allowed to be pregnant for more than 42 weeks, the most possible days I could be pregnant is 14. We could do that, too, if we had to.

For fun, here's your three bellies to compare. I tried to do a 3-in-a-row collage, but it seems picnik doesn't do those any more and Picasa was not being user friendly either. Sorry about that.

I wore that annoying blue shirt the day I took Maria's 40 week photo, and unwittingly made it the Official 40 Week Photo shirt. It's not that I like that shirt. In fact, I almost sent it to the rag bag when the weather cooled off this fall. I ended up saving it for some reason, and I'm glad I did because if we have more kids I'll need it for pictures.

40 weeks with Maria, January 23 2009. Our combined weight: 187 lbs. Is that not the highest belly you've ever seen? I used to push her bottom down to give my aching ribs a break.

40 weeks with Henry, 4 October 2010. Our combined weight: 184 lbs.

40 weeks, 3rd full-term pregnancy, 25 January 2012. Our combined weight: 173 lbs !!! How did we do that? I wish I knew. We look so tiny! And low. This baby's bottom is a good 5 inches below my bustline, compared to Maria's which was right at it. Either it's a small baby or my muscles are way stretched. Most likely a combination of the two. This baby's head is very low.

Well, enough fat pictures already. I have to go iron the slipcover to the Poang chair cushion and wrestle the foam back into it.

Birthday-Time Happenings

2012-01-24T15:55:00.001-05:00

After yesterday's desperate post, I feel I ought to show up and be a little more positive. My mood goes down as the day progresses and I get more tired. I should try blogging earlier. What I said last night still goes, of course, but I don't feel that awful every moment of the day, thank Heaven.

Maria's birthday is Friday. Since we have no idea when Baby is going to come, we sort of started celebrating last week. She has been looking forward to her birthday for months now, ever since Henry and Daddy had theirs, and it has to be an event worth waiting for.

Last week, we took her to see real live penguins. It was a financial sacrifice, to be honest, but it was also a once-in-years or perhaps once in a lifetime opportunity. Our family is growing and aquarium tickets are only going to become harder to afford. Maria is obsessed with penguins and has been for some months now.

She was quiet, watching the three African penguins who were brought out first thing in the morning for a little close-up viewing. The penguins all looked at her. We could tell that she was so happy to see them, she didn't really know what to do...hence the introverted response. The penguins looked at Maria and Maria looked, overwhelmed, at the penguins.

Our camera took awful pictures in the aquarium. I wish I had something better to remember our visit by, but this is what we got.

"Me hugging a fake King penguin", says Maria of this photo.

The penguin exhibit was at the end of everything. I could have sat for hours, watching the penguins swim. They interact a lot, breaking out into little fights where they smack each other with their wings, taking turns hopping out of the water and diving back in, chasing each other in the water and out, and even leaping out of the water like dolphins. It was really neat. Maria was enthralled. She went up very close to the glass to get face-to-face with the swimming Gentoo penguins. Then she decided to dance for the penguins. She danced for quite a while, doing all her best ballet maneuvers with solemn concentration. Perhaps because the other children in the viewing area were just running around yelling, the penguins seemed to take more notice of the dancing child. Several of them floated on the surface of the pool watching her.

Maria dances for the penguins.

We stopped to visit the husband of one of Mr. G.'s coworkers, who manages an ice cream parlor near the aquarium, and were treated to free ice cream. Another special birthday event!

Saturday, we did a spur-of-the-moment trip out to my mom and dad's. They grilled ribs and gave Maria presents, so it was sort of a party.

Sunday, I let my husband persuade me to have dinner guests out of the blue. Yeah, crazy, I know. The house was clean or I would not have done it. I had already put together the dessert Saturday night, the blueberry trifle Maria asked for and the components of which I had gradually prepared over the preceding days. I got a little nap Sunday afternoon, even. Mr. G cleaned off and readied the dining room table. I made a pretty simple dinner of a venison roast, steamed vegetables, and polenta which my husband did all the stirring of. Our guests, who are the baby's future godparents, brought a roast chicken to supplement the very tiny venison roast. They also helped us sing Happy Birthday to Maria. :) It was a nice visit...even though our children behaved rather monstrously...and Mr G actually helped with the dishes. I even had the energy left to sew a little after the kids went to bed.

I dont' know why, but most days just an ordinary day at home wears me to threads, and then I can have a day like Sunday, where I went to Mass and then entertained, and still have a little umph left in me by the day's end. Odd.

My sister helped me make chocolate muffins to freeze last week, so on Friday we'll have those for breakfast and give Maria the present from her other grandparents, and then her birthday will be over, I think. I hope she feels like her expectations were fulfilled. I really did try.

Well...off to do the lunch dishes before nap time. I'm so blessed that the kids both take naps still, and 2-2 1/2 hour ones at that. I don't know what I'd do without MY nap.

Done

2012-01-23T23:34:00.001-05:00

I'm done. As in, stick a fork in me done. Or, it was supposed to be medium rare but you overcooked it to well, done.

I am too tired to keep up with the house and the kids and be this pregnant. I need too much rest. It's so hard to pick up the toys myself at night, but the 40 minute battle to get the kids to do it is equally exhausting. I'm too tired to be dealing with dissected pine cones on the living room floor, spilled milk, stripping kids, Legos thrown into the bathtub amidst the poop diapers I'm too tired to rinse.

Selfish it may be, but I'd appreciate prayers that the baby comes soon. I know it will be crazier after that, but I'll have so much more energy to deal with it. Am I asking too much? I've already been praying for a safe birth and healthy baby (and me)...I just wish it would happen soon. I think if I have to do this for two more weeks I'm going to go berserk.

Note: I am pretty sure none of you sweethearts would say this, but please no one tell me to just ask for an induction. I know too much to do that. I strongly believe that induction is not a good thing, and the only way I will let it happen is if we do indeed go to 42 weeks, for at that point to induce or not to induce is no longer a choice.

How to Tell Naptime is Here

2012-01-19T01:06:00.000-05:00

He was working up a load...I have no idea why he chose this place as it's not a heating vent but the cold-air return, nor is the area as sheltered as those he normally chooses for that activity. Here he was, squatting. when out of nowhere it became Naptime. And apparently he couldn't resist one minute longer.

If that doesn't look like just about the most uncomfortable position to sleep in ever, I don't know what does.

Yes, I did move him before he got grill marks on his forehead, and I changed his diaper before I put him in bed, too.

A Treat for Me

2012-01-17T22:11:00.000-05:00

I'll be honest: parenting for me often feels like a lot of effort, with very little reward. But every so often, they throw me a bone, and it makes it all worth it.

Like today. I was on the phone with a friend, so I missed the remarks leading up to this.

Maria to Henry: Oh, no! You can't eat Mommy all up. That would make me WEALLY sad.

{Pretty, Happy, Funny, Real}

2012-01-12T19:18:00.000-05:00

~ Capturing the context of everyday life ~

Every Thursday, at Like Mother, Like Daughter

{pretty}

Better late than never, right?

I don't want to take our tree down yet because it's so pretty. Perhaps next week. I usually leave it up until Candlemas (February 2), but we can't get away with that this year.

Also {pretty} is the snow that swirled wild around our house today. Only the second time it's snowed this year, I do believe.

{happy}

{Happy} is a boy with a whisk full of whipped cream.

{Funny}

She "made up" her face with a ballpoint pen, and is obviously experiencing some serious seasonal confusion.

Also {funny} is a boy carrying a "bay-uh" as big as him.

{real}

What I see when Maria comes to hug my legs (or hold them and whine at me). I can't even see Henry any more. He's too short.

The single man diet

2012-01-09T15:19:00.001-05:00

I found this grocery receipt tucked in some other papers when I was cleaning the office. It's from the summer we got engaged, when my now-husband lived alone in an apartment.

Apparently, if you buy enough salad dressing to go with your candy bars (presumably he had lettuce at home?), you can call it all good.

7 Quick Takes Friday (47)

2012-01-06T15:23:00.000-05:00

1. Got a food obsession going with lemon granita, something like this only I mess with the proportions every time. My husband eats it happily, but he always reminds me that it would be 'better in summer'. Indeed, but it's amazing now. Even though I have to take 4 Tums and wrap myself in a blanket to warm back up every time I eat half a batch or so of it. It's fluffy and tart and refreshing and icy, a very satisfying finish to a meal of thick stew and bread. Lemons are in season now, too, and they won't be in summer. We'll be back to eating frowns made with Country Time then.

2. Anyone else living on citrus right now? My pantry floor is a mass of bags of lemons, a 15 pound sack of grapefruit, clementines and oranges. It's all so cheap, I can't justify buying other fruit. The grapefruits only cost $4 for the bag. We have them every morning, and 'cuties' as the children call them, for lunch or (and!) dinner. When Henry sees a clementine, he shouts "Coo-ey! Coo-ey!"

3. If I was making my own cloth feminine hygiene pads, would you want to know? Would you want to read a post on the why and how of it? Or is that too weird for you all? Mind you, I never said I actually am making such things, this is just a question, of course. :P

4. My husband told Maria (in response to her asking) that the baby pees inside me and swims around in it. She keeps talking about it, "But she won't poop till she comes out, right Mama?" Tonight when this came up again, I broke the news to her that she too, peed inside me and swam around in it. I told her babies are wet when they are born from all that water and pee they're in (I didn't get into the other stuff they get all over them, I figured liquid is enough at this point). She's worried about why I am going to go "at the hospital" for the baby to be born, because we always tell her when she's doing something dangerous that she'll get hurt and have to go to the hospital. I tell her the midwives are going to help me. Tonight, I happened to mention that the midwives will also give the baby a bath and dress it in warm clothes for me, which she found very reassuring. Apparently, this is reason enough for me to be at the hospital. So we talked about how she was born all wet and sticky, and the nice midwives cleaned her up and wrapped her in a blanket. "You were so tired from all that bathing," I told her, "That you drank a little tinh [nursed] and then took a nap." She digested this. "Yes, and then I grew up really fast to eat lots of chocolate!"

Funny how explaining biology to a 3 year old ends you up on the topic of chocolate.

5. I bought a lock for my fridge door. It's a flexible strip that sticks to the fridge, and the end snaps on to a thing on the door. (I can't find a picture of one like I have). The adhesive on it was a joke and I had to epoxy it after it fell off, but now it's stuck tight. It fills me with evil glee when Henry toddles over to the fridge looking for mischief, grabs the door and it won't budge. His expression of disappointment and confusion is priceless.

I was driven to get a lock after dealing with kids in the fridge for 2 years now, and Henry was getting out of hand. He was taking the soy sauce and drinking it from the bottle, and the smoky Tabasco, too. What 14 month old drinks Tabasco from the bottle???

6. Henry has made behind the Christmas tree his place for [he thinks] clandestine activites. Drinking condiments from the bottle, eating stolen "coo-kees", loading his diaper, and emptying Daddy's wallet. My fave is the second one. I go looking for him and see his face, bright red and with his usual "poo face" of worried concentration, and know a diaper change is in our immediate future. Usually, he meets my eyes and offers a grunted, "Poopoo. Dahpah." Methinks potty training is also on the horizon for this boy.

7. Because I am totally crazy, I am going to try to take my kids to Epiphany Mass all by myself tonight, 37 weeks pregnant, in a church in a really bad ghetto, in the dark and during the kids' dinner time. Wish me some kind of special Three Kings blessing, please?

Happy Epiphany!

Don't forget to stop by Jen's.

Prayer Buddy Reveal and a few other notes

2011-12-30T00:01:00.000-05:00

This Advent, I had the privilege of praying for K at Made for Another World. K, as I told you in my email, I feel like I could have prayed so much more for you but I let myself be distracted by holiday business, pregnancy brain, and my kids. I thought of you so often, and offered up my physical discomfort for you, as well as praying as much as I could. I'm looking forward to offering your intentions during my upcoming labor as well.

******

My own Prayer Buddy has yet to email me. If you are reading this, I would love to know who you are so I can thank you.

******

A bit of an update: at 36 weeks today, Baby and I look great. I'm 10 pounds lighter than I was at this time with Henry and at least that much lighter than I was with Maria. Thanks, you two, for keeping me skinny-the better to chase you! My BP is great, no swelling or anything, measuring perfectly on, and Baby's head is nestled securely in my pelvis where it should be. I can't believe everything is going so smoothly-I keep waiting for some ugly problem to appear. But we're doing wonderfully now, and I am thankful.

******

My dearest friend Jess just told me she plans to visit after the baby is born. I'm so excited. It's been 3 years since we saw each other, back when Maria was a cranky newborn. I missed her wedding because of Henry's birth one week prior. Now she's a mama herself, so between us we'll have 4 little ones. I so hope the winter weather and our lives cooperate with this plan!

And now, I need to sew...

2011-12-28T16:20:00.000-05:00

I wanted to have a nice Christmas re-cap post with lots of photos, but of course my brain is not cooperating. Please recall that I am 36 weeks pregnant and put up with me.

Last week passed in a blur. We spent way too much getting a new tire and ball joints put on the truck. Ball joints, I learned, are very tiny but they cost a lot of money. We have spent so much time at Tire Dis.counters in the past few weeks (two flats, a routine rotation, a broken wheel, and ball joints) that the staff is starting to greet our children by name. The only good thing here is, they can see how much we've been spending so they cut us little deals here and there.

On Friday, my husband took a trip nearly 300 miles away to pick up a machining lathe he purchased on Craigslist. He hopes to make some extra money with it. I just hope he makes enough to make back what he spent. I also hope it makes him happy. I feel like I live with a machine tool operation and history manual right now. It's ALL he talks about, from the moment he's awake enough to be coherent until he drifts off at night. The kids and I, of course, did not join the lathe getting adventure. We stayed home, cleaned house, went to the store for Christmas Eve dinner supplies, and made French onion soup.

Christmas Eve, Mr G left his new lathe languishing in the basement to be with his family, a gift I really appreciated. The house was made spotless. I baked dessert for Christmas, bread, and cinnamon rolls, and dipped the truffle centers I'd prepared the day before in chocolate. (With three pairs of hands attempting to dip clementine sections in the same bowl of chocolate). I also finished Maria's dress, and wrapped the gifts during nap time. What a day.

Here's Maria's dress. The story here is: the only part of it purchased by me is the ribbon. My mother-in-law has a fabric hoarding problem which, in order to conceal from her husband, she periodically unloads on me. She has a penchant for slippery fabric and ugly fabric. Also, she does not sew. These fabrics were slippery, but at least not ugly. The green is silk she purchased in San Francisco at least 30 years ago, but it's not rotten. The polyester overskirt is something from Jo-Ann's. The zipper was from my stash. I wanted to do green silk sleeves, but the silk was thin and slippery and I set one sleeve 3 times, getting puckers each time, before I gave up. I didn't have enough time. I'm not thrilled with the dress, but it was basically free and Maria loves it, so I guess it's all well.

For Christmas Eve dinner, I made moules a la mariniere, which is mussels steamed in seasoned white wine. Those were the first course, then Caesar salad, then fettucine alfredo over asparagus, with bread throughout. I didn't get anything alcoholic to drink since I couldn't have much and it would just make my husband sleepy, so we had grapefruit Italian soda. The kids both tasted a mussel. Maria held hers in her mouth forever, making very pained faces, before swallowing it with a gulp. Henry chewed his twice and ejected it. They enjoyed playing with the shells, though.

After dinner we all had showers. Then we had cookies and half-caf coffee. And then...we packed up our kids and bravely set out for Midnight Mass. Mass was beautiful and the children behaved beautifully. Henry went to sleep after making sure that everyone around us had noted how cute he was and what silly faces he could make. Maria lay on the pew on top of a coat with a blanket over her, but she wasn't able to get comfortable enough to sleep until Communion time.

Maria playing with her father's Marklin train on the 26th. Henry pulled the transformer
off the table and broke the electrical wires minutes later, so the train thing lasted all of about 30 minutes.

On Christmas morning, I woke up at 8:30 and after snuggling my husband awhile, realized I could not go back to sleep. I came downstairs to a house bathed in golden sunlight with optimistic dreams. I'd document the morning with photographs, and even find time to paint my nails red. Yeah, right. My nails are still natural. I started breakfast. Then I began making these. They are super cute but they took forever. By the time I was finishing up, the rest of the family came down. While the coffee water heated, we opened gifts.

I am a bad gift giver to begin with, and I like to place very little emphasis on Christmas gifts, so there weren't many. The kids were tickled regardless. I was so excited to give my husband not one but TWO surprise gifts, for the first time in our marriage. Three homemade bow ties (he's been begging for months and months) and new slippers. I almost gave the slipper secret away minutes before he opened them, when he came down and loudly lamented a new hole he'd found in his old ones. The new ones fit and the old ones went sailing straight into the garbage. And he chose an outfit to wear to match one of the bow ties.

Christmas breakfast was lovely with candles lit all around a Baby Jesus statue. We had starfruit and pomegranate, vanilla yogurt, coffee, and cinnamon rolls. We discovered that Maria will not eat cinnamon rolls. She gets freaked out about the frosting getting on her fingers and lips. But she won't eat one without frosting.

After breakfast, we picked up the pace. Everyone got dressed, we packed up ourselves, dessert, penguins and truffles and hit the road. My dad had to be at work at 4, so Christmas dinner was to be early.

Our friends served beef Wellington and it was amazing. I wish I had room for more than one slice. They made it entirely from scratch, both the puff pastry and chicken liver and mushroom pate, and bought a very high quality beef tenderloin. After dinner, we nibbled desserts all afternoon while talking. Some folks (not me) drank an awful lot of vodka. Some folks (Mr. G.) drank one beer and got toasted. :) My husband can't hold alcohol at all. The kids even took a nice two hour nap on our friends' bed so my sisters and I could have a break from keeping an eye on them.

As far as the real meaning of Christmas, beyond all this cooking and decorating and dressing up? Well, I think we got it. Maria was so excited about Baby Jesus being born. It was all she could talk about in the days leading up to Christmas, and it's still much on her mind. She talks about Him and the stable and how he 'popped' out of Mary's belly all the time. And my pregnant hormonal self kept fighting back tears during Midnight Mass. The kids sleeping so nicely enabled me to really be able to meditate on what Christ's coming to the world means to us, and it's so overwhelming when you really think about it. Also, I feel a strong connection with Our Lady this year, for obvious reasons. :) Oh, and Henry can say Baby Jesus. It's so cute. He says "Bee-bee Jeejuh".

I hope that you all had a beautiful Christmas Day and are continuing to enjoy Christmas, because after all, we have eight more days of it!

7 Quick Takes Friday (46)

2011-12-17T00:32:00.000-05:00

1. Tired. Too much to do. All I want to do is sleep for a week.

2. This week: a few more cookies, truffles, dessert for 25 or so on Christmas, finish Maria's dress, make secret gift for Mr. G., wrap presents, visit eye doctor, and various other projects. I don't want to list them. Reading it is making me feel discouraged.

3. You'd never guess from looking at my Advent wreath that I have children, now would you?

First try. The other purple candle is probably under the table. The pink pillar is my fault. I didn't have a pink taper in my stash, only 6 purples. I think I stole the pinks for Easter or something.

As of tonight, with the addition of a pile of stuff and a red candle which is not supposed to be part of it. In case you have any doubts about what you're seeing, yes. Those are teeth marks on two of the purples. The pink has a bite, too, out of the bottom.

4. Did you mail your Christmas cards yet? I wanted to mail mine Thursday, and Friday...they are still on my dining room table. I want them gone so I can put a centerpiece on the table. I'm determined to get them there tomorrow.

5. Knitters out there- I have a question. I knit, but I stick to basic stuff because I have a hard time following a pattern with the distractions of my children. However, I really want to learn to knit socks. I know so many people online that knit socks, but unless someone is holding out on me, I know no one in person. I keep getting books out of the library, but they're all fancy socks with cables and lacework and such, and most of the books assume you know how already. I just want to learn to knit a basic, no frills sock that I could hopefully memorize or come close to memorizing the pattern for, or learn to vary myself. Can anyone recommend a book? I'd love an in-person lesson, but since that does not seem likely, if you can tell me a good, basic, "Socks for Dummies" type book I'd be so grateful.

6.

I am smitten with the way my little son says the word "cooky". It is sooo cute. He walks up to me in the kitchen and says hopefully, "Ma-ma. Cooo-keee". I love how he draws it out. Henry loves his cookies and he's not shy about asking for them. Tonight I was putting him down for bed, knitting a soaker for the baby while he lay yawning beside me toying with my yarn. All at once he sat up and told me solemnly, "Chair! Cooo-keee". I kept telling him, no, it was sleepy time, and he kept saying cooky in that meltingly adorable way of his. He finally gave up and lay back down.

7. Best photo I have ever taken of my children. Maybe the best photo I've ever taken, period. And the pose was an accident!

What's really going on here, in case of any delusions:
Her: *tickle, tickle, pinch*
Him: Do you REALLY have to do that??

The Bottom of the Barrel

2011-12-07T13:09:00.001-05:00

The place I find myself every night, bending over to desperately scrape around for a few last bits of energy.

I never find any. And the bending my body over is accompanied these days by a soft 'oof' as the air is forced from my lungs.

Bending to pick up Duplos from under the kitchen table. I sweep them out, but the broom can't get them to my fingers. Bending to grab the wet diaper I threw on the fireplace tiles earlier instead of carrying it to the bathroom. Bending to pick up the baby sock that's peaking out from under the couch.

Oof.

I want to remember this time. It's not easy, but it's very special. I know I'll wax nostalgic over reading this one day six months from now when the ugly "a" word reigns again here at the house of G. (Meaning abstinence.) By that time, it'll look better than it ever was in reality. But now in reality, it's not that bad...it's just hard, in a good way.

32 weeks. Every picture I've taken this pregnancy has turned out crummy. Sorry.

In the morning upon waking, I'm always astonished to see how 8 hours in bed leaves me feeling so NOT rested.

By lunchtime, I'm ready to relax for the evening.

By post-nap-time, it has to be a sick joke that it's only 7pm and my day won't be over for another 5 hours or more.

At the kid's bedtime, I'm there figuratively scraping the barrel. Because I'm done for.

I can't tell you how many people have told me how small I look. I know I'm smaller than I was with the other two, but I feel bigger. I think it has to do with my activity level and the amount of flexibility I wish I had this time. I NEVER get to sit down and I'm always wishing I had more bend and twist when I'm mothering these two other monkeys.

Putting on shoes and socks is interesting. Interesting enough that my husband was moved to help me today. I leaned over three different times to find the best angle, and it still caused a Braxton-Hick contraction to start, which I had to sit up and lean back to get my breath through. Those contractions, they get stronger and more uncomfortable with each pregnancy, a body-wrapping squeeze that I feel in my back and thighs. They come when I squash my belly a little, when I lean against the counter, when I run up or down the steps.

It's an odd feeling, the awareness of someone else's limbs folding inside me when I lean over. I feel the tiny legs kicking in protest.

When I get to indulge in sitting down on the couch with my legs up, I immediately feel the baby swing into action. Bumps, flops, and prods that sometimes hurt make my stomach heave and contort into odd lumps, which are just as quickly gone. I'm stretchier now. I can feel things through my stomach better than I could with the first two. I feel small feet distinctly against my palm.

I have to rest a while after meals before I tackle the dishes. A normal lunch feels like Thanksgiving dinner. Sometimes I forget to sit up straight while eating, and am surprised to find that, when I remember to, that there is room for the last of my salad after all.

Cravings...they come out of the blue and fill my mind with irresistible images. At different times, I've wanted so bad I could almost taste: cheeseburgers, certain kinds of cookies, grapefruit, White Castles, coffee ice cream, melted brie.

At night, restful sleep seems like it's going to elude me from now till the birth. I try to concentrate on the fact that I'm warm and cozy, and listen to my husband's even breathing and try to imitate it. It's hard to ignore the constantly moving baby, the hips that I can't get at the right angle no matter how much I wriggle and adjust pillows, the belly that feels like a watermelon pendulum slung from my middle.

Seven weeks to go, give or take a few. Sometimes January 25th feels so far away. Mostly I can't believe we're this far. I feel like someone fast-forwarded me to this point without asking my permission. I spent so much more time in that 'first trimester' mentality...now I'm almost done and I feel like I'm just settling in to the belief that maybe I will end up with a live baby in my arms after all.

The Knife-Wielding Napping Baby

2011-11-30T17:56:00.000-05:00

Remember that hoopla over the anti co-sleeping ad? I swear I did NOT stage this. I found Henry asleep clutching a plastic toy scalpel about two days after I read that article. He'd been napping on the couch, and I guess he got up to play but decided he actually wasn't done napping yet.

Home at last.

2011-11-29T00:24:00.002-05:00

You'd think that after nearly three years of motherhood during which we have taken at least twelve trips to Chicago, I wouldn't have deluded myself into thinking I could blog the day I left. Think this I did, though, until about an hour before it was time to go. I realized then there was no way I was going to be blogging that day. I had wanted to do a Thanksgiving post.

We left Wednesday evening and even without blogging, I managed to get us out of here about 30 minutes late. I was picking my husband up from work (he'd taken the bus so I could), so I had to shut down and lock up and pack up all by myself. It's a lot on my mind. Do I have everything? Did I pack the toothbrushes? Is the phone unplugged? Computer shut down? Passwords in the safe? etc. Add to that one case of 3rd trimester brain and two excited toddlers who can tell something is up, and things get pretty interesting.

We made it out the door, with a bloody forehead on Henry and both of them totally giddy. I put them in the car, then returned to grab two things and lock the doors. When I came back to the car, I thought I'd open the trunk to put the things in, then lay my keys on the deck railing while I fit the bags in, so as to avoid dropping my keys into the trunk and then locking them in by accident. Smart, I thought. I followed this plan...except...when I shut the trunk, I FORGOT where my keys were.

And instead of calmly trying to retrace my thoughts and steps, I panicked. The kids had both set up yelling in frustration at being strapped in but not moving, and their howls weren't helping anything. I went through my purse. I looked on the ground all over. I ran back and forth to the door and back, searching the sidewalks. Then I called my husband, causing him to loose his temper as I blabbered insanely about what I thought I'd done and how now I had no idea how to get to him. Once off the phone, I remembered that there was another remote in the house that opens the trunk, where I was sure my keys reposed.

Thankfully, my tenant let me in. Wild-eyed, with wet hair and in sweatpants for night travel, I must have looked a little demented. I FELT demented. Of course, the keys were not in the trunk. As I prepared to throw in the towel and loose my mind right there in the driveway, I swept the flashlight over the deck railing.

There were my keys, exactly where I'd laid them so I wouldn't forget them.

You starting to doubt my sanity yet? I sure was.

Off we went at last. The car decided to throw a little more excitement into the night by telling me the tires were low, just before we reached Mr. G's workplace. One was low, and we started our trip off on the right foot by spending $1 to fill it at a gas station before getting on the highway.

The rest of the drive was uneventful. We arrived at our destination at 4am. I was seriously beginning to wonder if my tailbone was broken, it hurt so badly. And despite about 200 Kegel exercises during the ride, all that sitting made a certain area also hurt like heck. I never knew sitting for 7 hours while 7 months pregnant would do that to one's pelvic floor. But it did. Oh, it did. Yowch. We got a few hours of sleep on my brother-in-law's living room floor.

Thanksgiving day was actually quite nice. The food was good, and the company pleasant. The rest of the trip went pretty well, too. We had a few episodes where we had to take the kids and get them out of the house and away from his parents, because things were going to blow, but we managed to do that in time and other than the kids hearing Christ's name used very blasphemously, avoided disaster. I almost wish we'd had more time to spend with friends as Friday and Saturday passed in a whirl, but I was glad to get out when we did.

We went to Saturday evening Mass on the way out of the city so we could sleep in on Sunday morning before piling back in the car to attend my two youngest sister's Confirmation on Sunday afternoon. The Confirmation ceremony was really lovely. Afterwards, I finally got a break from chasing my babies at my parents' house. *sigh of relief*

Now, I just have to finish some laundry and restock the fridge, and I think we are back in business. I still feel very tired, though.

I'd like to take this opportunity to thank each of you who commented on my 'diaper dilemma' post. I never had time to respond to you, but I really appreciated your input. I was glad to know I wasn't the only one who thought this trip was above and beyond the call of duty, and I appreciated diaper brand recommendations and the one very sweet coupon offer. Thanks, ladies.

We actually did okay diaper-wise. Henry only had two #2's on the trip, both while in people's homes and not on the road. The first one was an easy cleanup and the second was a horrible, huge mess, but I was right next to him while he loaded up so I could change him as soon as he was done, and I think quick action saved the day. The stink was managed very well by using ziploc bags.

So...home again home again. I made an Advent wreath at 3pm today. By 8pm, three of the candles are cracked thanks to my two monkeys. I think I should just switch the tapers out for small pillars or votives. Tapers are apparently way too much fun to grab and whack against stuff.

Mr. G and I were cuddling tiredly on the couch this evening while watching our two crazy offspring taking turns pinching each others' noses. I said, can you believe that by this time next year there will be three of them acting like that? And we laughed. Because really, what else can we do?

And finally, Maria discovered the bag of Douglas fir sprigs that my mom had sent me for my Advent wreath (I did use some, but she was too busy breaking candles to pay attention to the stuff on the wreath.) She took a branch out and said perplexedly, "Oh look, Mama! I finded a bag of porcupine stems!"

Hey, folks...

2011-11-20T00:01:00.000-05:00

This week has been a little nutty. I spent about 14 hours away from my babies. *sniff, sniff* Who knew I could miss Maria so much? I was taking a class I needed to qualify for something rather important to me (sorry, I prefer not to elaborate)-well, to our family, really. There were about 10 hours in class spread over 3 nights, plus drive time and I got some shopping done before class each day. The only reason I left the kids early is because they were out cold-naptime. So I left guilt-free. My sister Tibby provided her usual above-and-beyond babysitting service. She's embarrassing. The girl cooks dinner, does the dishes, and cleans up the toys.

Henry felt it was only right to reward his auntie by saving a huge poo for her every night-the last night he made two! I felt bad that I can't schedule my kid's bowel movements a little better. :)

With how much I have to keep me busy on a regular week, it was wild trying to keep up with housekeeping and food. We actually did better than I expected, though. I feel like I'm mostly caught up. Today, I cleaned the car and worked on laundry. We're going on a trip to Chicago soon, so now my focus is on preparing for that.

The baby quilt is going together astonishingly fast! I worked on it a few nights after class, with Tibby to keep me company. I have 3 more vertical strips to sew on, and then the top will be finished. I might be hooked on machine quilting. I do so love sewing by hand, but I think if I ever want to turn out finished quilts I may have to take the machine route, at least for the next few years. Who am I kidding-it'll be at least 10 years.

Well, I just wanted to pop in and say hello...I made some cream puffs after our dinner (leftovers) and I am thinking of filling a couple for a (possibly) romantic midnight dessert. I say possibly romantic because my husband has been asleep on the couch for the past hour, and though he says he wants dessert rousing him to eat it may or may not be pleasant. We'll find out.

Oh, and Henry walked from the couch to the kitchen yesterday! That's about 20-24 feet of walking. Go Henry!

Friday in my life

2011-11-12T00:34:00.000-05:00

If you ever thought being a housewife and mother is not a full-time job, you are so wrong. Here's my day today, and it ain't over yet.

This type of day is more typical for a Saturday, but thanks to Armistice Day we kind of get two Saturdays. Tomorrow, we plan to work in the morning and spend the afternoon at my mom's for turkey dinner.

9am- We wake up and snuggle, fending off the kids and their demands for food for as long as possible. When Henry disappears downstairs alone, the party's over and we get up and dress.

9:45- I put honey and vanilla into homemade yoghurt for the kids and sprinkle homemade granola over it. Between shoveling spoonfuls of that into Henry's mouth and hulling strawberries for the two of them, I toast homemade bread and scramble and egg for Mr. G, make coffee, and eat toast. And feed kippers to Maria.

10:30-Maria and Mr G are watching videos of baby penguins and baby hedgehogs on youtube. I sit down to read a cookbook. I bought some quinoa last week and I need an idea for how to cook it.

11:00-I guilt Mr. G into getting off the computer and send him off to Home De.pot to buy supplies for his project. Maria pummels Henry. Maria has fifteen temper tantrums, complete with very loud fake screams. I talk to my sister and mom, who are rummage saling for the kids. I fold two loads of laundry. I read a few books to Maria. I change Henry's diaper, then rinse it and yesterday's 3 poops that I left in the bathtub overnight. Once the diapers are squared away, I put the poopy covers in a bucket to soak.

Mr. G gets back from the store and asks my assistance. In the basement, I have to watch the wall to see when the end of his drill bit comes through. It takes a while. Henry makes out with my cheek while I watch. Maria scuffles through a sawdust pile in the flip-flops she insisted on wearing despite the fact that it is 40 degrees outside.

The hole is done and I take the kids upstairs. They fight some more. Maria screams some more. Henry poops again.

I make a list of what I need to do today. It's mainly cooking.

More time gets spent fooling around with the kids. Another phone call from my mom.

2:30pm- I reheat potato soup from earlier in the week. While it heats, I rinse two bags of cranberries and start cooking the sauce to take to my mom's tomorrow. There is chocolate milk splashed all over the floor under the chair Maria's sitting in. I wipe that up. Mr. G comes up to eat. There is chocolate milk on the floor again. I tell Maria if it continues (I have no idea what she's doing because I miss the actual spill every time), I'm taking the milk away. I cut an apple for Maria and set her up with a bowl of soup, after cleaning up more chocolate milk from the floor and removing the cup from Maria's possession.

Henry has a meltdown because he is tired. He will not eat. I remove him to his bed, where he goes out like a light.

I return to the kitchen to eat lukewarm potato soup alone. Finish the cranberry sauce. Get the crock pot full of apple butter off the deck. I made it yesterday but it took to long to thicken up so it was too late to can it.Wash the breakfast and lunch dishes. Wash the jars and lids for the apple butter.

I hear Maria telling her daddy, "I made LOTS and LOTSa poop." It sounds ominous. I go in to find him panicking and her beginning to panic; she has stool smeared down to her knees. Shower time.

I sit down to drink some water and copy a recipe of the internet.

Maria sneaks upstairs and wakes Henry. He screams. I tell her it is now her turn to sleep and if she comes downstairs she'll be in big trouble. I bring Henry down and feed him potato soup, graham crackers, dates, and milk.

Fill the canner with water and set it on the stove.

Some other stuff happened in here. I forget.

5pm- I send Mr G off on his adventure to drive to another city and fetch a free wine press which I am not sure why we are getting, but he his dead set on it. He forgets something and comes back.

The canner is hot. The apple butter is hot. I fill the jars. Mr G calls. He got lost. I have to leave the jars open and waiting while I un-lost him with Google maps. It takes awhile. I finally get him back on track. Get the lids on the jars, pop them into the canner. Maria is awake now, eating graham crackers and dates.

I start working on a pomegranate to make these cookies. Mr G is lost again. While I'm trying to find him, my tenant comes upstairs to say hey. Maria entertains her, looking like a cannibal with a face full of pomegranate juice. Henry removes his diaper and makes a puddle on the floor. Thankfully, my tenant either missed this or left before it happened. Mr G gets found again.

The canner is FINALLY back to a boil. Set the timer for 15 minutes. Take Henry down to the basement to fetch a dry diaper from the dryer. Stop on the landing to jaw with my tenant.

7:30pm-The apple butter is cooling. The kids are once more mostly presentable. The cooky dough is in the fridge. Squash and potatoes are in the oven baking. The kids and I run to Good.will and Kroger.

8:30pm-Home. My sister and her friend are here. They come inside. I start the artichokes to boil. Give the kids a snack.

The girls leave. I start baking cookies, washing up a few things, and readying the fish for cooking.

9:40pm-The food is all ready except the fish, which I pop under the broiler. Mr G comes home. I kiss him lots. We eat dinner.

10pm- Dishes again. Henry plays with the now-empty cannner. Maria goes with Mr G to do something.

11pm- Maria comes upstairs. My mom calls. Maria freezes the computer into ten kinds of confusion. I get angry and tell her it's bedtime. It is, anyway. Bedtime. I make my bed, which I forgot to do this morning.

I come down and pick up the toys. Visit with Mr G, who is working in the basement. Stack the clean diapers and carry them upstairs.

Now that I'm worn out and ready for bed, maybe I should start the dough for the pastries I'm making tomorrow, or work on the baby's quilt. And remember those diaper covers? They're still in the bucket.

Monday Bits of Life

2011-11-07T23:57:00.002-05:00

I didn't do QT's on Friday because I was all over the place, so my lazy attempt to post tonight just might be taking similar format.

I'm tired. I saw my favorite midwife today, Nancy. She delivered Henry and I am sorta praying she's on call for this baby. She asked, of course, how I was feeling. Most people ask me this; few, I think, really want to hear the answer. I say 'fine' to them, but I tell medical personnel the truth, which is, "Tired. Very tired in the evenings" I paused, "But what else can I expect?" Nancy burst out laughing. "With two kids the ages of yours, exactly that." So here I am, right where I'm supposed to be: exhausted.

Oh, and I totally forgot to mention this even though it made my week last week. Last week marked the third week off all progesterone supplements, and we found out that my level is still rising-on it's own! It was 78, up from 74.2 two weeks prior. So I'm done. I was so excited.

This baby is all over the place-hello, stretchy multipara stomach muscles- and I was not sure where he/she was exactly, but I had a hunch. My hunch was right. There is a little hard head a few inches under my ribcage. *sigh* I know we are only 29 weeks, and Nancy was reassuring, but I am still going to get moving on exercises to make Baby go and stay head-down. I did inversions for the last 10 weeks with Henry, and he did flip and stay head-down sometime during that time. I hope this baby does the same. I also think I need to start sitting on my ball more. I imagine the baby is more likely to stay head down if my hips are open and flexible so his head fits into my pelvis nicely.

Cayennes drying in the window

Does anyone else out there feel like they spend way too much time visiting the doctor? Ugh. I never planned to be like this, and I'm still behind where I should be! I am a year overdue to see my eye doctor and I desperately want more contact lenses. We haven't seen the dentist since I was pregnant with Maria. I've been at my Napro doctor's office every other week for the past 6 months for blood draws, and at the midwives once a month for the past 4 months, plus two extra ultrasound appointments. Then there's Henry's well-baby one year visit tomorrow (our family doc and my Napro doc are one and the same fellow). And after Thanksgiving I start midwife visits every two weeks. And then I have a baby, with like 5 doctor visits in the first 6 months. I'm reluctant to schedule eye doctor and dentist appointments because I spend so much time at more important appointments. I hate how long visiting a doctor takes (rather, how long the WAITING takes) and I don't like having to leave the kids with long-suffering Mr. G. so often.

A few weeks ago, I made a pudding based on this idea, though I used different recipes to accomplish it. It was sinfully good. I made it again on Sunday, right before rushing to Kroger to indulge the deep, dark ham fantasies that have been haunting my dreams and my waking for a few weeks now. Food is so weird when you're pregnant. Anyway, this time, my pudding is very sad. I have a bit of sage advice for you all: Don't haphazardly measure cornstarch in a hurry because you have two kids hanging off your legs and clothing and you just want to get the pud done already. Pudding with the right amount of cornstarch is decadently creamy and smooth. With too much, it's a thick, wiggling mass of unappetizing gloop in a dish. Even if it tastes amazing, the texture is ruined. *sniffle*

More of Maria's chic style

We gotta go vote tomorrow after Henry sees the doctor. There are a bewildering amount of issues to sort through. I've been working on that tonight. I've made us each a little paper with the issue number and 'yes' or 'no' written beside it. We'll take turns voting and watching the kids on the playground. I wonder what sort of fun I'll have signing in this time? Last time, the 80-year-old lady did not want to recognize my driver's license because "it's pink"-I was under 21 when I got it and here those are pink.

Mr G was about two inches overdue for a haircut. I gave him one Sunday before Mass when we realized that we'd forgotten to change the clocks the night before. We got up at 8 instead of 9, and were dressed and ready before we realized we had an hour to kill. If I thought my husband looked good with crazy, fluffy sticky out hair, he looks about ten times hotter with neatly cut hair. When I see him out of the corner of my eye, I wonder for a second who he is and then my heart flip-flops when I remember he's mine. And even better yet, I am his.

I'm not getting any less tired, so I had better go take out the compost and wash the dishes. There are also two loaves of freshly baked bread tantalizing me from the stovetop. I might have to break open a new jar of apple butter. I can justify doing so because, in a fit of delusion about my energy levels, I bought 15 more pounds of apples last week to make more butter out of.

Diaper Dilemma-Input Welcome!

2011-11-03T15:40:00.001-04:00

I'm here to talk about poop today, ladies. Henry poop. If you don't want to join me, that's fine...but I'm just warning you.

Problem: We are supposed to spend 3 days in Chicago over Thanksgiving.

Point 1. Henry releases two enormous bowel movements per day, and one, sometimes two, smaller ones. They fill up his cloth diapers, but the leg gussets in the Thirsties covers just manage to keep the mess inside, unless I don't catch a whiff of it and let him go too long sitting on it.

Fact 2. In a store brand (their premium line) disposable, Henry leaks every time he poos. I'm talking poo down the legs, up the back, up the belly. It's ugly. It's not doable in public- he needs to be transported directly to a shower. So he never wears disposables. I used to put them on Maria when we went places, but Henry never wears them.

This problem of mine may not sound big to you, but think about it. I'll be like 31 weeks pregnant, in someone else's (very inhospitable) house. Packing enough clothes to change him every time he poops is out. What if we're out and he poops? And there's no shower? Even if he manages to only go at my in-laws where a shower is available, they get angry when we use their showers. And there house is about 60 degrees. Having a shivering kid covered in poop is bad enough; I don't need an old man scolding at me while I'm trying to clean him up.

The diapers smell out-of-this world awful. At home, they get an immediate rinse in the toilet, then are placed in an odor blocking garbage bag and sprinkled with baking soda until wash day. Even so, the bag emits some smell.

Oh, and then the whole issue of the stools themselves changing...my in-law's diet is very different from ours...and it's going to be Thanksgiving, which means a lot of rich food and a lot of sweets. It's typical for my kids to get diarrhea every time we go to Chicago. Last time we went up there, Maria had an explosion in my in-law's kitchen during a party. We never know what's going to happen to our digestive systems while we're there- we just know it won't be pretty.

It seems my two choices here are:
A. Fork over the $9-11 for a package of premium disposable diapers, pack 2 or 3 outfits for each day, oodles of wipes, and hope that the premium diapers are really better than the store brand and don't just cost more. Obviously, this is a big gamble. I'll have no idea how these diapers are going to behave. What if they hold the poo in the leg holes and it all squirts out his back?

B. Take cloth. Take a package of gallon ziploc bags and a shaker of baking soda. Every time he goes, rinse the diaper asap (might be a while if we're out), then place the diaper in a ziploc bag sprinkled with baking soda, and that bag inside a garbage bag. Wash out the cover in the sink. (I'll probably buy some extra Thirsties before we go, too-we only have 3 and it's a challenge sometimes to make sure there's a clean one around even when I'm at home.)Still bring two outfits for each day, just in case.

Either way, getting my pregnant brain to remember all this stuff, and bring it with me every time I leave Mr. & Mrs. G's house, is going to be very interesting.

So, what do you think? (I should mention, I'm leaning toward cloth...just because it's more familiar and predictable for me).
If you think I should try disposables, what brand do you recommend? Luv.s, Pam.pers, Hug.gies? What is your experience with toddler sized bowel movements in disposable diapers?
Do you have any tips on managing cloth diapers on the move + solid-fed toddler poop that I've missed?

Or...maybe you want to dress up as me and go to Chicago for me??? Or maybe just gestate my baby for me while I'm there?

7 Quick Takes Friday (45)

2011-10-28T23:19:00.000-04:00

1. Recently, we got an Oom.a Te.lo and ditched our landline. I am pretty okay with the Oom.a. We did have some glitches setting it up, but in the end they all worked out. The sound is comparable to a landline most of the time. However, during peak internet use hours (5pm-9pm or so), the sound is often gravelly and choppy. Unfortunately, most of my time on the phone is during those hours so it kind of bothers me. My husband is at work then, so he never has that problem. He's totally sold on the Oom.a. I'm not it's biggest fan, but it is going to save a lot of money in the long run, and the annoyance is worth it. It's saving us $40/month.

2. The Oom.a box is plugged into a powerstrip, whose on button is red. Henry can't resist. He crawls behind the armchair to press the button. The box takes about 3 minutes to reset once it gets power again. It's so annoying. Henry likes to sneak back there and turn it off when I'm distracted talking on the phone, and then all of a sudden, there's no one on the line any more.

3. I steam cleaned the carpets this week. I hadn't done it since last June, when I was pregnant with Henry. They were looking really gross. We only did the 2nd floor, because the 3rd floor, being just our bedrooms, didn't get dirty since last time. The rugs up there don't have pads under them so I hesitate to wet them and possibly damage the wood beneath them if I don't have to.

It took three hours and left me with insanely sore hands, but it was worth it. The spots lessened in quantity and darkness, and the rug is brighter and feels cleaner to walk on. Next time I'm not going to wait a year and a half to do it again.

4. The children and I went to a Gap/Old Navy/Banana Republic clearance outlet when we went to return the steamer. I love to go to this store a few times a year. I get all Mr. G's boxers and undershirts there for $2 each, really nice ones too. And there are always tons of deals for me and the babies. If you know how to fix stuff, it's a gold mine. I got a cotton cable knit baby sweater for $0.49. It had a hole in the armscye seam. I picked up all the dropped stitches and strengthened the spot with green yarn, than blanket stitched around the hood and front openings in the same green yarn. I'm now making a green striped beret to match it. I'll take a picture of Henry in it when I'm done with the hat. I also got a cute cardigan for me for $0.49. Mr. G was begging for a warm, snuggly bathrobe last winter, and I hesitated to make one because the fleece would have cost so much. (And I'm lazy). I found a nice grey one for $10. I couldn't make it for that money. I felt like such thoughtful wife. Tights for Maria and I, warm (actually cute, too!) sweatshirts that fit over my belly, and best of all, a Hallowe'en costume for Henry for just $2 were some other great finds. If you live within easy distance of one of these stores, it's definitely worth going to.

5. Speaking of sewing projects, I am suddenly amassing so many. I have to get to work. Some things for Henry, repairs on a few other Gap outlet things, a Christmas dress for Maria, and another big project for me. (It's kind of personal, I'm trying to decide if I'm going to share when I'm done). And...

6. My sisters usually make my children each a baby quilt while I'm gestating. Here's Maria's, and Henry's. However, with Bee in college, Tibby preparing for the SAT and working, and the two younger girls too inexperience to take on the project alone, I boldly went for it. I'm going easy on myself and doing machine piecing, possibly machine quilting as well but I'm not sure yet. I plan to use this tutorial, though I want to make it bigger so it's more crib sized like the other kids' quilts. I really surprised myself with my fabric choices. Tibby and I were at Jo-Ann's getting fabric for Maria's Hallowe'en tutu. There was a rack of quilting fabric that was half off. It had about 80 bolts, but no color combinations I liked were jumping out at me. Then I saw it. Yellow, grey, black, and white. I know. Not something I'd normally choose. However, I LOVE the fabric and I can't wait to see how it turns out. I also think it's funny that the colors happen to be similar to the tutorial. When I found it, I said, "I like this because it's simple, but I'd never use those colors."

7. I hope you all have a great weekend and two happy, holy feast days. All Soul's Day is my favorite holy day of the year. I love the liturgy so much. Monday will find us trick-or-treating with a gaggle of friends and relatives, a ballet dancer and a baby mouse (rat?), and the other two days, we'll be at Mass with two sugar-high toddlers. (Okay, actually I plan to use the candy as bribes to get them to behave during Mass since they probably won't be too excited about the idea of two extra Masses in a week.)

No Worries Here

2011-10-27T00:15:00.000-04:00

...about Maria's self-esteem.

I'm friends with myself, Mommy. I like myself lots.

Or about her sense of generosity. It's right where it needs to be.

(In a tone inviting my enthusiastic approval..which I couldn't give because I was choking on my cake with laughter.) I'm sharing my cake with myself, Mommy!

And nothing says "I got style" better than a bathing suit with a nylon diaper cover over it, right?
(Yes, you are seeing a pair of discarded man pants under the table. He's still in training.)

Henry at 1

2011-10-20T01:42:00.035-04:00

Before I write about little Henry's first year, I have to tell you something that is making me sad. I was so diligent this past year. I remembered on the 16th of every month, to take a photo of Henry in the same chair from about the same distance. I wanted to print them all for us, and to share them with you. It was such a fun sequence. They were all lost with the laptop's death. I'd been waiting to burn pictures until I had more of them. Now they are all gone. I only have months 1, 2, 10 and 11. So, those are the pictures that should have gone with this post.

One month.

The Henry we know most of the day is a little boy who always has a huge grin for you when you meet his eyes. His laugh is heard often, as is his grunt of approval. More than some other children I know, he exudes a sense of wonder and delight at the world around him. Everything fascinates Henry. He laughs with joy at water bubbling in a pot, at a block tower knocked over, at a bowlful of squishy risen bread dough, at a handful of rocks in the driveway.

None of us are all sunshine though...Henry is whinier than Maria was, and sometimes he whines and complains about his rough, rough life for way longer than anyone wants to hear. He is usually cheered by food or a nap, though. He's very dependent on both. If one is lacking, you have sad Henry. Keep him fed, well rested, and freshly diapered and he's a happy man. He also is working on a temper. When he feels he is not getting his way, he screams piercingly, arches his back, and then lays on the floor and howls.

Henry's words as of one year are, mama, cup, apple, cheese, juice, hot, up, and hi. (See a theme there? The kid loves food). He will only say 'hot' in a whisper. He often climbs into his chair and cries out for "Cheese!" or "Cup, cup, cup!" He'll say cup over and over and over, while waiting and while drinking. It seems to be his favorite word. He chants "Up" while climbing up the stairs. Henry has a special way to call Maria; it's not her name but simply a loud, questioning, "Aaah?! Aaah!" She knows it and he knows it. It works for them. He waves good-bye to Daddy every day for work, and when asked later where Daddy is, he will wave again.

Father and son-Henry is 2 months.

He's always been a very grunt-y baby. When he sees something he likes when we're out and about, he points and grunts. We tease him about being a cave baby and say, "Cave baby like." when he grunts. When you put a plate full of pancakes in front of him, he grunts. It's hilariously cute.

Henry loves to eat. I'd say his favorites include cheese, yoghurt, any kind of fruit, craisins and raisins, and popcorn. He is more tolerant of vegetables than Maria. He loves to pick up peas one at a time and eat them. He always asks to taste our coffee and tea. He comes back to check the cup over and over, until he feels the temperature is to his liking for a taste. He drinks both with apparent enjoyment.

He loves to play with Maria. He also likes to play alone at times, which bothers Maria. Henry doesn't like when she horns in on his quiet solo play. He likes to build with Duplo bricks, fashioning stacks of them again and again. He also enjoys putting things inside other things and taking them out. It's a thrill every time. :)

Henry, 10 months. Can you believe how much he's changed?
(Red marks on chest are from Maria's overenthusiastic tickles, which are more like scratches)

Henry can walk, and has taken three or four steps together a few times. However, he appears to like crawling a little better, so he only takes a few steps here and there. He is very fast at crawling. He cruises with one hand whenever something is available to hold on to. He loves, loves loves to walk around the house pushing one of those little plastic cars with the handle on the back. Maria and him spend hours a day chasing each other around pushing their cars, giving each other rides, and fighting over the cars-because each kid always wants the car the other one has.

Unfortunately, Henry is better at climbing than he is at walking. He climbs into chairs, onto tables, onto counters...everywhere dangerous and everywhere I don't want him. I wish he would take half the time he spends climbing stuff and use it to learn to walk.

The vacuum is Henry's BFF. He goes to visit it in the closet where it lives. It's very aggravating when you need to use it, as he follows you around trying to sit down on it.

Henry's a cuddlier child than Maria and he melts my heart in a different way. I guess it's the difference of him being a boy. He's totally a Mama's boy. He hugs my neck and kisses me with big, sloppy kisses. Every time I sit down, he climbs into my lap. I still can't stop sniffing his hair and kissing his cheeks and ears when I hold him. He is such a little boy, but at the same time, a baby. My heart aches when I think of him growing up, yet at the same time I look forward to seeing the man he will become.

Happy First Birthday, Henry Gerard! I love you so much and I am so happy I was chosen to be your mama. I look forward to many more years of life with you in the house. Don't grow up too fast.

Henry LOVES sand. (11 mos)

Happy Birthday, Henry!

2011-10-18T23:50:00.000-04:00

Henry turned one year old Sunday. I'm still trying to process it. That golden day last year when he was born can NOT be a whole year ago. The weather Sunday was very like the weather on the day of his birth.

Saturday, we had a little party with six guests and us (it was still plenty of party for me, though!). I made pizza, because Henry loves it, and meatball soup because I was afraid that there would not be enough with just pizza and the salad my mom brought. It was a pleasant but quiet party.

Since it's Mr. G's birthday too, I had him choose the cake. It was a pumpkin spice cake with bourbon butterscotch custard filling and brown sugar icing. I made a special 1 cake for Henry with the same batter and cream cheese icing. I only did that because I wanted it to be white, and I did it the night before so I could do the other cake Saturday so I didn't have the brown sugar icing made yet.

Maria got two candles to blow out on Mr. G's cake (he feels himself too sophisticated for candles at 27), so she didn't feel left out.

On Sunday, we went to a park nearby. Our city has very beautiful parks, which are a blessing for families. They are a great place to spend time with children, and they cost nothing. We visited the flower conservatory, which we went through twice because Henry was asleep and then he woke up. Then we walked down the trail to the big fountain and pool. Henry LOVED the pool. He dipped his feet, and then spent awhile watching it. Presently, he got the idea to bear crawl across the sidewalk on the pool's edge, pick grass, and bring it back to throw into the pool. It was adorable, especially his shrieks of delight when the grass hit its mark.

Headed back for more grass.

Destroying roses.

Taking in the view.

I've got some more birthday posts coming!

Actions...have consequences???

2011-10-13T00:21:00.001-04:00

One of the most frustrating things for me about children is how often they hurt themselves doing things that could be simply avoided. They are capable of thinking a series of thoughts, but they never reach the conclusion. It's like their brain just hits a wall.

I do this...and then? What happens next? Maybe it's that they don't think, but simply act on a series of impulses. However, some of these things have to be premeditated, especially by the 2-year-old. Why then, can they not think all the way to the end?

Examples of Maria (italics indicate the thought she DOESN'T think):

So I scootch this candlestick holding a lighted taper over closer to my place at table, and then I wiggle the candle back and forth to loosen it so I can hold it...and then I drip hot wax on my hand.

I stand by this table and rest my chin on its surface, which requires me to balance on my tiptoes, and then I jump and land on flat feet, and bite my lower lip through in three places.

I can climb up on this cardboard box, which wiggles dangerously beneath my weight, and from here to the countertop, where I'll steal the sifter from the cupboard, and then hop off the counter back onto the box, fall through the box and smash my face into the sifter I'm still holding.

And Henry:

I'll just wiggle this folded up chair that's leaning against the wall back and forth, just to the edge of where gravity will take over, loose control and it will crash down onto my toes.

I'll climb up onto my sister's high chair, then to the counter, then straddle the stand mixer and ride it like a horse for a while, then lean forward and try to dive off and land on the kitchen table two feet away, and end up falling three feet onto my face, getting a huge bump on my head.

Sure, I feel bad for my kids when they hurt themselves, but when we have events like this occurring all day every day, I get desensitized.

Maria said yesterday when I told her she almost just cut the end of her thumb off with the knife she snatched after I'd laid it down (and I tell her a 100 times a day laytheknifedownputhatknifedownwaitI'llcutit), "Then you will say, 'poor baby', right Mama?"

Riiiight.

ducking behind my clothesline

2011-10-12T17:24:00.000-04:00

I was falling asleep reading Richard Scarry aloud earlier; now that the kids are asleep, I am no longer tired.

My husband has lately exchanged some emails with a Catholic journalist, author and lawyer. I have met this man more than once and read some, but not all of his writings (my female mind often finds politics and economics very tiresome to read) and I know him to be quite intelligent. He paid a compliment to my husband, saying that he thinks my husband is smart and should be writing himself. I love it when smart people think my husband is smart. It makes me happy. I personally think he is one of the brightest minds I have ever encountered, but it is nice to know I don't just think that because I am in love with him.

My husband's response? Oh, I know people who are better writers than me. Check out my wife's blog, for example. Oy. At least he didn't say that I am smarter than him, which would label him clearly as delusional. Hopefully the gentleman won't have time. I'm just another mom blog. That's all. Nothing here for a great mind. I am sure that my readers come away feeling a sense of camaraderie-hey, her kids wear the wrong gender pajamas too!- than a sense of being edified by what they've read.

My husband thinks there is, though. He called me from work and the first thing I said was, "Why on earth did you give him my blog address? I'm so embarrassed!"

"Every time I read your blog, I crack up. You really have a way with words," was his answer.

I personally think that I amuse him so much because he understands me. If I was really that amusing, I'd have more than 32 followers. I appreciate each and every one of my readers, but I know you don't come here to read Great Things, because I don't write them.

I may be somewhat gifted (not much) in humourous writing. My husband is far more intelligent than I am. His writing shows that. Mine only shows that I can be funny at times. I think intelligence is more important. He could write a weighty work about politics or economics or history. I couldn't. I can write something lighthearted that makes you chuckle a bit perhaps, but that's not so much good.

Maybe we're meant to collaborate. His Magnum Opus, with some of my humour thrown in. But then, humour isn't really the thing in books about Great Deep Thoughts.

What do you think is a more valuable characteristic in writing- wording that amuses, entertains and is fun to read, or writing that is informative and thought-provoking? I like some of both, but I think the latter is more worthwhile.

Something to Borrow

2011-10-10T00:33:00.001-04:00

So last Thursday, I went to Goodwill with the babies in the wagon, an activity we do once a week or so when the weather and the sale of the day are in harmony. Hallowe'en costumes were stuffed on four large racks in the front of the store, and beside one of the racks, a wire form held a wedding gown draped with its veil.

The gown was unremarkable- an empire waisted polyester thing with a lace-bordered skirt and lace covered bodice. The veil, I fell in love with. It was a lot like the veil I wanted to get for my wedding, but it cost as much as the dress. I looked in to making a veil very like this one, with quality lace, but even the cost of that was more than I wanted to spend. So I took the total opposite approach and crafted my veil from 3 yards of 50 cent a yard tulle, two spools of cheap lace that cost $1 each, and a 79 cent package of beads. I beaded the front edge of the veil, as far down as my wrists, to help it lay smoothly for without beads it flew all over.

Anyway, I came home and slept on it. The dress and veil together cost $25. It was so much money. I had spoken to a manager who said they would sell me only the veil, but it would still cost $25. It only made sense to take both. I told my husband about it and he generously said if it was that special of a veil, save it from becoming part of somebody's zombie bride costume.

Friday morning it sprinkled, but I loaded the kiddos in the car and went back to Goodwill. We came home with the dress and veil.

Maybe it's the nostalgia of wishing this had been my wedding veil, but I do think this is a specially lovely veil. It's not pouffy, and the lace is really nice. Also, I didn't pay enough attention to the dress at first glance. I am getting my money's worth and more from the lace on it, which I am cutting off at night while watching the A&E Pride and Prejudice.

So. I have carefully wrapped the veil up in paper and stored it. Before I did, I took a bunch of (really horrible) photos. If you or anyone you know wants to use this veil, it is here for the borrowing. Because I don't know what else I'm going to do with it. Maybe it will last for Maria to use. Maybe my tenant will use it. If you want to use it too, I'm more than willing to post it to you as long as you return it.

It's in perfect condition, no discoloration, tears or spots.

Shape of veil (and shape of my backside, please ignore).

Excuse the scandalousness of a pregnant bridal model. It's terrible, I know.
Also, my feet look huge.

The veil came attached to a cap of stiffened net stuff whose shape was not unlike that of an Amish cap. I felt it looked very dated, so I removed it. The veil at present has no way of staying on one's head. It could easily be attached to a couple of clear plastic combs, or whatever headpiece one fancied.

Detail of the lace. It is probably a poly/rayon blend, or perhaps cotton/rayon? It's soft.

For the record: I am not becoming a 'just in case' thrifter. I am very discerning in what I buy, used or new, and this was a one-time thing. Heck, Goodwill prices aren't low enough for me, so I only look at what's on sale that day.

I just needed to say that publicly. Thank you.

{Pretty, Happy, Funny, Real}

2011-10-06T16:00:00.000-04:00

As usual, I don't know how to do the button, but {phfr} is hosted at Like Mother, Like Daughter.

{pretty} is a fall hike we took last Sunday. I was way behind pulling the wagon with a sleeping Henry in it.

I totally messed with the tint. The new iPhoto is way too tempting with all the fun stuff you can do.

{happy} Dirt and wood chips make Henry happy.

{funny}Maria gets the credit for the Henry in the pot idea. She pulled him all around the house in it, both of them squealing and laughing. {real} I put my son in pink pajamas. I can't find any boy ones that I can or will afford (seriously, $6.50 for a USED boy's pajama set at a consignment shop?), so until I do he wears Maria's hand-me-downs.

His front is all wet. I forget what he did.

Oh, and I have to say it since I have a thing about people not cutting their children's hair: I'm attempting to grow out Maria's bang. It gets pulled out of her face most of the time (sometimes she won't let me). In case you thought I was just being lazy not cutting it. :)

Ingredient Substitute

2011-10-03T00:41:00.000-04:00

We figured since we didn't get any squirrels, this small animal we found might do just as well.

Disclaimer: No babies were stewed, braised or otherwise harmed in the staging of this photo.

P.S. Isn't he cute in his little man-shirt for church?

Prayer Buddy Reveal and Random Late-Night Ramblings

2011-10-02T01:32:00.001-04:00

...and an explanation of what Prayer Buddies is, since I imagine most people who read this are scratching their head right now.

First I guess I should tell you how I found out about it before I explain what it is. Somehow, around two years ago, I discovered the Catholic infertile blogging community. I've been reading ever since, and I'm always discovering new bloggers whose stories I get sucked into and can't stop following. This is a wonderful group of women who constantly inspire and amaze me with the strength of their faith. They are so good to one another, encouraging each other, and praying for each other.

I don't know how it started, but these ladies do what they've dubbed the "Prayer Buddy" exchange a couple of times a year. Dates are selected, and one lady collects all the names and contact information from those wishing to participate. Participants get matched up with each other, and during the set dates they specially remember their prayer buddy in their prayers. I keep hearing about this and this time I couldn't hold back any more. I had to join in.

I prayed for Jen, who blogs at Crowley Coupledom. Jen keeps her personal affairs pretty private on her blog, but she provided me with specific prayer requests through the Prayer Buddies coordinator. I was so glad that she did that. It gave me something to focus on when I prayed for her. I found the experience really rewarding. I'll probably never meet Jen, but I've been able to be part of her life in a unique way by offering prayers and small sacrifices for her intentions. Jen, I hope that my prayers and yours are heard and answered by our merciful God!

I was honored and humbled to find out that Meghan at Finally Parents was praying for me. Strangely enough, Joy Beyond the Cross had just linked to a miracle pregnancy announcement on Meghan's blog days before the prayer buddy reveal. I visited her blog for the first time and read her story and quite a few of her posts, not knowing she was my prayer buddy! My heart broke for her reading her story of loss. I immediately began praying for her and her precious new miracle, and I don't intend to stop. I think I owe it to her! I've been through some rough family troubles in the past month (which I have purposefully kept off this blog), and knowing that someone was praying for me during that time was immensely comforting. Thank you, Meghan, from the bottom of my heart.

The reason I've watched several Prayer Buddy sessions go by without participating up until now is I just felt awkward. It's the same reason that makes me hesitate to comment on these ladies' blogs. The heartache and physical suffering endured by many of these women is hard enough for them. I'm quite fertile and I felt I was nosing my way into a community that I had no business being part of. I've had a miscarriage and pregnancy is proving much easier for me to start than it is to continue with, so at least I have that. I still feel like I'm a slap in the face to these women though. I do plan to participate in Prayer Buddies again, and am looking forward to it. It was a really amazing thing to be part of.

+++++++++++++++++++++

I hope you all are enjoying your weekend! For my part, I spent way too much time in the kitchen today. I've come back into my own with cooking. I'm totally a fall/winter cook, and summer was wearing me down. I'm tired and I'm feeling hip pain for the first time this pregnancy (I'm blessed that it stayed away this long, considering I was pretty uncomfortable about 8 weeks earlier than this with Henry).

Mr G was hunting squirrels. To my amusement, he didn't get any. I could have done better here in the city. Our yard was swarming with the little critters today. I guess the cool snap we're having is making them all scurry to finish up their winter stores.

The kids and I ran some errands, made bread, the season's first pumpkin pie, crackers, yoghurt, and French onion soup for dinner. And then there were all the accompanying dishes to do. *yawn*. I'm done for. I love love love eating the way we eat-everything made from scratch-but it does wear a girl out, especially when she's pregnant and has two rowdy babies underfoot all the time.

I love pumpkin pie. We had it with vanilla chai tea, whipped cream and a dab of caramel sauce. Oh my.

Our furnaces came on for the first time today. I had to pick winterish clothes for us all for Mass tomorrow. I just realized, the last time I wore maternity clothes in winter, I had a lot more which I've since given back to the generous friend who lent them. I don't have a lot of warm things now. I guess I'll have to get creative with layering. I still need to make Henry some house slippers to keep his little baby foots warm, and some other items. Maria wants a nightgown, also. We've finished cleaning the office out and my sewing area is back up and running, so now I need to find time and energy to get in there and sew. The spirit is willing but the other two things are lacking.

Well, g'night!

Quick Takes for Saturday

2011-09-24T21:00:00.000-04:00

1. I giggle every time I think of this.

Last Sunday, I was overhearing two sweet little old ladies talking about some pro-life protest event as I shoveled baptism party food into Henry's craw. One lady said to the other that she gets her teenage grandchildren to spread the word about such events on the internet.

"Oh, absolutely,'' said the other lady, who loves her italics, "We need to get these young folks involved. They have so many new ways to spread the word, like the internet. Tell them! Tell them to put it on, um, Twitter, and tell their friends on um, you know, what's it, FaceTube! And YouBook! And...um, and TheirSpace!"

I was this close_, people, to spraying Sprite all over the table in front of me. Priceless.

2. Mr. G called me one day last week with the earth shattering announcement that he wants to learn to grocery shop. After I remembered to close my mouth (this guy hasn't even taken the trash out for me regularly in years-not even the last time I was 9 months pregnant), I enthusiastically agreed. After all, in a month or so it will be cold. It will keep getting colder, and I will keep getting fatter and more tired. And I have two devilishly energetic toddlers. And then a newborn plans to join our little circus! So, the plan is that he goes after work for the food every other week or so, and other times he lets me (with baby, either in or out) go out as a sort of treat. ALDI is only open during the day, so I'll get to do the ALDI trips.

Today, we went to Meijer as a family so my husband could 'get the lay of the land'. Other than being in outer space most of the time, I guess he did okay....? We'll find out when he tries on his own. Nice case of beer, honey, but where is the milk?

3. I can't remember anything that's not right in front of my face these days. Laundry in the basement? Broth in the fridge I need to freeze? Phone calls to make? Poopy diaper covers sitting in the bathtub waiting to be washed? Good luck. I can't remember. It's driving me nuts. I walk into a room to get one of those things done, forget why I'm there, and walk back out vaguely wondering what happened to all the chores I knew I needed to do.

Strangely though, I have no trouble remembering stuff like how badly I NEED chocolate oatmeal cookies containing both chocolate and peanut butter chips. (Wow, could my cravings get any more specific?) Or that as soon as I get my hands on two gallons of apple cider, I am going to do this.

I guess even though I have pregnancy brain, I still have my priorities straight. :)

4. I was really bummed just now because I was trying to print something and the printer really didn't want to pull the paper in. How sad would it be, if the printer we pulled out of someone's garbage 4 years ago stopped working? Sad indeed.

However, even the best and newest printer probably will have trouble feeding if the paper slot contains, in addition to paper, a marker, a magnetic letter, and a celery stick.

5. My go-to salad for fall is this: lettuce or other greens topped with apple, radishes, craisins, walnuts or slivered almonds, and if you are trying to impress someone, some bleu cheese crumbles. I dress it with a dressing made of shallots, dijon mustard, salt and pepper, and one third apple cider vinegar to two thirds olive oil. (If you have time, let the minced shallot sit in the vinegar for 10 minutes or so before you add the other stuff; it sweetens the shallot). It's a very yummy salad. If you're stuck in a salad rut like I was, after my Greek salad obsession this past summer, do try it.

And since we've been having Maria quotes lately, on Friday she asked Mr G what the bleu cheese in his salad was.

"Bleu cheese, " he said.

"No, silly, it's not blue!, " she laughed. "It's white cheese. You really funny."

Hope you are having a fun weekend!

Terrible, terrible Two.

2011-09-20T21:37:00.003-04:00

Once my baby girl was so tiny. She wore itty bitty sleepers and nursed all day. Once she learned to crawl. Once she started cruising. She got her first pair of 'big girl' church shoes. She took her first steps. And then...she said her first word. Just 'hi', but you should hear the strings of words that come out of that little mouth now. Now that she's two. Because last January, in case you missed it, my baby girl turned TWO.

With a cuke she cut all by herself while I washed dishes.

Somehow, we got from 'hi' and 'hot tea'-her two firsts-to this.

Mama, you stop telling me to stop. I not gonna stop. I wike bein' a bad girl and I gonna be bad lots and lots.

You stop, Mommy! You leave me alone! Get away and go sit down, right now!

Mama, I need a sippy cup. I'm a baby. I want a baby cup. Yeah, I'm a baby. I crawl. I poop in my diaper. I need a sippy cup!

A getup of her own concoction. Beneath the apron is just underwear.

(And five minutes later...) Yes, I am cuttin' with a knife. I the mommy now. You get 'way from me, you just a baby. I a mommy and I cut with a knife.

One day during the remodeling, I thought she was with Daddy. Then I looked out the
window and saw this.

I'm wearin' this shirt. I don't care if it's cold. I'll be warm. You can't picka my clothes. You stupid. I picka my shirt and I be warm in it.

Of course, sometimes it's cute.

I got two babies in my belly, Mommy. They crawlin' round and round. I got a brother and a sister, a orange one and a white one.

I got a belly ache on my head, Mommy. Fix it!

Mommy, wook at the widdle baby moon up there, shin in'! It's so cute tonight! Aww!

Mommy, I got a baby in my belly. You got a baby in you belly. Daddy don't have a baby in his belly; it's too furry. Babies no wike dat.

What am I to do with this girl?

Indiana Dunes National Lakeshore, Sept. '11

Weekend

2011-09-19T01:14:00.002-04:00

Forty-four soft rolls for a baby's baptism party. My friend H's newest baby, James, was baptized at birth because of some health complications. He's a healthy 10-pounder now at 6 weeks, so they decided to do the baptism ceremony. After Mass, it was the whole thing minus the actual pouring of holy water, and with a few wording changes.

Of course, I missed the whole thing thanks to Maria. Henry was quiet, but Maria felt the need to sob, whine, and scold me in loud tones. So we sat outside where she could hoot and howl without disturbing anyone.

The rolls were good with chicken salad that H made.

And when we got home, Mr G read my library books while I took a short nap. As a result, I was commissioned to make Manhattan clam chowder for dinner. But we only had one small can of clams, so it was actually Manhattan multi-seafood chowder, and it was still delicious with cod, clams, and shrimps.

Oh, and what really made my Sunday night special was that at bedtime, Henry nursed, I took him up, laid him in his crib WIDE AWAKE, and he settled down quietly. Before I even finished singing Credo 1 to him, he was asleep. Just like that. For the first time ever!

7 Quick Takes Friday (44)

2011-09-16T23:40:00.000-04:00

1. Well, on Sunday either the babies or I broke the laptop. The end of the (just purchased) power cord was smashed out of shape, and even after I carefully bent it back with a needle nose pliers, it could not give the computer juice.

2. So I'm typing this on the 22" monitor of our new Mac Mini. 22" is a little big for me; I'd prefer 18" or so. It seems hard to find HD monitors in that size though. This one is on the small side compared to most of what's out there.

The Mac Mini is wicked fast. Apparantly the PowerBook was slowing down the internet. It's sooo fast now. You can load like 5 websites at once and they still load within 10 seconds. Whew!

3. All day last Sunday, my husband kept telling me we were going to spend some time this week cleaning up the house. There's a lot that needs to be done that I cannot do myself because the junk is his and I don't know what to do with it. Then we got the new computer Monday and moved the desk into the dining room, so the office needs to be cleaned and rearranged. We're going to put the changing table where the desk was.

4. Guess how much cleaning we've done together since Monday? If you guessed NONE, you're right. He's too busy playing with his new toy.

5. I did clean the 3rd floor really well and get the kids' clothes readied for winter yesterday. It feels so good have one floor immaculately clean and flawlessly tidy since our main living area is, um, kind of a mess. I still have to put away some of Henry's outgrown clothes (need to find a box) and clean out our closet-my husband has flung his clothes, both folded and unfolded, all over in it so they are mixed in with my clothes and the sheets and blankets we store there. It's kind of a wreck.

6. I made the Last Peach Pie of Summer this evening. Maria and Henry did everything they could to thwart me, including eating peach slices as fast as they dropped into the bowl, eating the dough, and trying to dump extra baking powder into the dough bowl. But I won, and the pie is resting in lattice-topped glory on the stove right now. We are going to have it tomorrow after chicken and dumplings-a hello to fall and a goodbye to summer together in one meal.

7. We're over halfway home now, me and Little Wiggles. I have given up hope of ever relaxing about this pregnancy. I just want to fast forward to 36 weeks or so. After two weeks with 400mg daily of Prometrium and no shots, my progesterone level dropped from 46.5 to 40. Shots are back in the picture. I wonder if I will end up taking them the whole time? I assume at some point they get worried about preterm labor and you have to stay on them for that reason. I am trying to feel peaceful and resigned about another 15 weeks of shots, since we're at 21 weeks right now.

I so much appreciate all the prayers and support that you all have shown for this baby and I. Sometimes when I'm worrying about it all, I think of your prayers and I'm able to be comforted enough to think about something else.

Love you all,

Emily

Show & Tell: Apt 1

2011-09-02T13:29:00.000-04:00

I thought it would be funny to do before and after pics of Mr. G, but he wasn't as taken with the idea. In words, though, before: hair nicely cut, face fresh and rested, eyes peaceful and demeanor relaxed and content. During and after: disheveled hair in need of cutting, unshaven, dark bags under wild eyes, angry and volatile mood. Yeah, life has been that bad around here the past month and a half.

Kitchen before. Yeah, that was ALL the cabinets.

So here's what we've done (and who did it):

-ripped out carpet, padding and tackboard in 3 rooms (Mr G.)
-crawled around on hands and knees pulling out hundreds of staples and tiny nails from previously carpeted floors (Mr G.) Someone had stapled the carpet down with a staple gun!
-applied stripper and scraped said floors (Mostly Mr G., some my brother Isaac)
-sanded floors with rented power sander (Isaac and Bee, my sister)
-hand sanded corners and trouble spots on floor (me, Isaac, my sisters)
-scraped paint off seam where moulding and baseboard had met before moulding was taken down (Mr G., my sister Tibby)
-dug filth out from under gaps left under baseboards when moulding was removed (Bee, who found pennies from 1910, '11 and '13 as payment for her troubles!)
-carefully vacuumed and wiped floors (me, my mother, sister Olly)
-painted floors by hand with brushes, two coats (me, Mr G., most of my siblings in turns)
-put up new moulding -much harder than it sounds- painted it & the baseboards (me)
-cleaned fireplace and reaffixed decorative insert (my parents)
-installed shower in bathroom (Mr G; it's a clawfoot tub and previously did not have a shower)

Tah-dah! Cabinets! And counter top!

-removed old refrigerator, stove, cabinets and sink (Mr G., with lifting help from my dad and I)
-ripped up 3 layers of nasty old vinyl flooring (Mr G.)
- installed and trimmed new entry door (Mr G.)
-sanded, primed and painted trim on door (me and Bee)
-removed saggy old shelving from pantry and patched holes left by removal (Mr G.)
-sanded patching in pantry, primed pantry, painted pantry (Tibby, me, Mr G.) The pantry took FOREVER. It was in the worst shape of all the rooms. It looks like a different room now. It was all cracked and scuffed and had splotches of different colours of paint on the walls and big holes in the plaster. Now it's bright white and clean.
-painted kitchen walls (me, with a little help from Mr G.)
-installed plywood underlayment, applied concrete skimcoat, laid vinyl composition tile (Mr G.) A five day project, but it's beautiful. I forgot to take a pic. It's peachy-beige tiles and deep crimson tiles in a diamond pattern, and it's muchly shiny.
-assembled flat-packaged IKEA cabinets, hung cabinets (Mr. G and a friend)
-affixed doors, hinges, knobs and shelves to cabinets (me)
-installed dishwasher (Mr. G., with some help from my dad)This took DAYS, caused numerous meltdowns and was generally one of the worst decisions I have ever made. I will never ask for another one.
-updated plumbing, installed sink & faucet, countertops and backsplash (Mr. G with my help)

Double baby bathtub. Isn't it beautiful? The faucet end pulls out and is a sprayer.
(Maria dressed herself in her bathing suit, I didn't do that.)

-rewired kitchen (some electricians)
-added new outlet boxes, under cabinet lighting, hardwired fridge and microwave (Mr. G.)
-put up moulding in kitchen, painted baseboards, applied 4 coats of wax to VCT floor (me)
-made wooden thresholds for kitchen doorways, installed and finished them (Mr. G)

I didn't do before pics of these rooms. Sorry. The walls were the same. The floors
were country blue carpet that passed far beyond the realm of disgusting into something far worse.

-cleaned umpteen years of greasy cat hair and dirt caked on heating vent grates off (my mom)
- wire brushed, re-cleaned and spray painted grates (me)
-new outlet covers in all rooms (me)
-various and sundry cleaning up projects, cleaning up after ourselves, etc (all of the above, with a lot of me)

Realistically, you can never show in writing how long this all took. How many frustrating setbacks we endured. How many gallons of sweat my poor husband sweated. Every day when he came up for lunch, his clothes were soaked from the skin out, socks and all. His shirts would be completely sodden and dripping. It broke my heart to see how hard he worked. That is why, pregnant or not, I did so much of the work. I did whatever I could to lighten his load. My family came in their entirety for one day, during which they got quite a lot done, and various individuals came on other days. My sister Tibby, in particular, did hours of babysitting my little monsters, hours of remodeling, and even spent the night once to help two days in a row. I couldn't have done all I did without her help.

Wall paint: some Wal*Mart paint done last summer by our previous tenant.
Floors: Sherwin-Williams floor enamel in Papaya.

If you stuck with me through the whole list, here you go:

Henry likes you.

Hair, progesterone, and skinny peoples

2011-08-30T18:08:00.000-04:00

I was all set to post about the renovations downstairs today. The post is all written, but when I went to get the USB cable so I could upload the photos that go with it, it appears to be AWOL. My sister is coming over tomorrow. They have the same camera so I can get her to bring her cable-because of course I don't have anything else that will work.

******

I am supposed to go get a haircut tomorrow. I live in a city with many, many small salons. I've tried two of them, once each. That haircut I got before my wedding, I loved more than any haircut I've ever had. I never went back and had it updated. Two years ago, when Maria was a baby, I went to a different local salon and described the haircut. I failed to bring photos. Perhaps this has something to do with why I got the worst haircut of my life. To me, it looked like something a 40-50 year old woman would wear. I hated seeing myself in the mirror with that hair stuck on my head, and it took FOREVER to grow out because the busybody old lady that cut it cut it way too short. Scarred by that experience, I have not visited a salon since. My mom cut my hair for me last June. I really feel like my hair looks uncared-for and needs to be cut, which is what's driving me out now.

I think that one should always have a picture or a drawing at the very least to show the stylist. And, I'm afraid that though the hole-in-the-wall salons my city is full of are cheap (which seems to mean under $20) they must only work for old ladies. Old ladies are what I see at them. That should have given me a clue. Women my age pay $30 and up for their hair and go to new, trendy places. I just can't spend that much though. So I have an appointment at a larger local salon that seems to do more young women. They also do Feng-Shui consults, whatever that is, which creeps me out not a little, but they are $18 and the one my sister's friend recommended was $27. Gulp.

I go out tomorrow in fear and trepidation. I hope I don't come back shorn. Or Feng-Shui-ed.

Anyone have any tips for getting a haircut you like at a salon? I'm lost here.

******

And now for the progesterone update I'm sure you've all been waiting for. (Hear the sarcasm in my voice. I'm so tired of this). My 16 wk level was 50.1-great. If things kept up that way, I could hope to stop taking the shots at 18 wks. However, the 18 wk level was 46.5. I was told to keep the shots up another two weeks and test again. I'm at a point though, where I just can't do that. It seems totally random which ones are okay and which ones aren't. We do the exact same prep and inject in the same spot each time. One time I might have a mild ache for a day, and the next my whole buttock swells to enormous proportions and I spend three days on my back on the floor, which is the only position that is not excruciatingly painful when half of one's bottom looks like a ham. Though I doubt that's ever happened to you. I'm just up and about today after another bad one. We are supposed to go on a trip soon, and I can't prepare or go on it if I get a bad shot beforehand. I told Dr. M. all this, and he said my levels are high enough we can take a "leap of faith" (his words) and do 400mg of the Prome.trium capsules daily instead of the shots. Please pray my levels stay up and we don't have to go back to the shots. I'm super happy to get to try this, but also a little scared. I don't want anything to happen to Little Wiggles.

******

Since you've heard about me, the real star here is the baby and you must hear about him too. I was feeling him/her off and on from about week 15, but 18 weeks seemed a magical point where I started feeling him a few times each day. It's such a relief. Wiggle away, Baby.

******

Oh no, I'm actually not done prattling about myself. My weight has me rather confused. I was 164 at conception, and had been trying to loose all winter long. Then, without morning sickness (though with heat and lots of manual labour) I dropped to 154 by 12 weeks. I've hovered there for a while, and this morning I weighed in at 150. This is crazy skinny for me, people. I hardly need maternity clothes. I try to eat when I'm hungry, but I don't always have an appetite. It would be so weird to TRY to gain weight. I've never done that before! If you were me, would you be putting forth effort to gain a couple of pounds? We'll see what my midwife says on Friday. I don't think I'd mind a little ice cream or more than a little butter on my bread. :) Me and skinny Henry can try to gain weight together.

******

Because this summer, besides everything else, I've been working on Operation Make Henry Fat Again. My poor babykin started getting skinny on me when he started crawling-and I got pregnant. So I have no idea which caused his weight loss. I haven't taken him to Dr. M yet because I know what will be said: if he's too skinny, feed him more fat and protein. My milk dwindles more and more each day and I doubt it has much fat in it, given what my weight is doing. I butter bread for Henry, feed him whole milk yogurt and cheese and cream cheese and sour cream and eggs. I've fattened his cheekers up a bit. I'm not sure what to think about the whole no cow's milk for kids under a year thing-whether it's true or not-but I'm erring on the safe side. I don't want to feed him something his body can't derive nutrition from. I buy him almond an coconut milk (whichever's on sale) to drink. In a few months we'll switch to whole cow's milk. I wish I could find him raw goat's milk but so far no luck.

I know I had more to say than just boring health stuff but I forgot.

Back in the loop, I hope

2011-08-25T18:04:00.000-04:00

After week upon exhausting week of blazing heat and home remodeling, WE'RE DONE! Our new tenant, Miss E, moved in for real last Saturday. I would like to say we got some time to rest and recover, but then, it was Mr. G's week on call, and...Sunday he worked 4pm-3am, Monday he worked 5pm-6am, and Tuesday he worked 3pm-2am, which was just lucky because it should have been to 7am but something got cancelled. *sigh* So our week started out totally off kilter. No one is sleeping right, no one is on top of what day it is because work on Sunday threw us off.

Thanks be to God for mercifully preventing my mother-in-law from showing up here tomorrow. Father-in-law's stroke was minor and he is fine, but she's staying at home. *huge sigh of relief*

And then the computer...our Mac Power Book is 9 years old and still going, but the power cord was down to bare wire in one spot. We'd wrapped it in electrician's tape, but we knew it was only a matter of time. Since we are smart people with remarkable abilities to plan ahead, we did NOT buy another one to keep on hand.

Sunday morning before church, Henry bit through the weak spot in the power cord.

So my family was away on vacation, my husband was at work every night, I was alone with two crazy (and I do mean crazy, my kids have been out of control lately) kids, I had a migraine, and I had no escape. I couldn't watch a movie, or use the internet, or even find a fun recipe to cook to relieve boredom.

The new cord came this morning (we went to a relative's house to order it- $9 on E.bay!) and I'm back in business. The migraine's gone, my sisters are home, and my kids are still for sale, but at least I have the computer for a bit when I'm bored and alone.

I wish I depended less on the computer-it's not something I'm happy with, but I do love reading blogs, surfing for recipes, and for heavens' sake, knowing what temperature it's going to be tomorrow.

Anyone wanna buy a cute, chatty 2 year old who climbs on countertops, steals knives and chops anything choppable, changes her clothes 6+ times per day, pees on the floor, and, new this week, moos like a cow when she fake cries....??? I didn't think you wanted her. That's okay. I'm hoping she'll improve with age, like wine, you know.

I'm working on a show and tell post about downstairs. It's getting really long, but you should be seeing it soon.

On the making and eating of Frobens

2011-08-02T23:59:00.000-04:00

When I haven't posted in a while, I always feel the need to say something truly Intelligent and Profound, something that you feel was worth waiting for. Sorry, though. I'm just not capable of writing such things, unless you count the stuff I write in my head while I wash dishes. It's more intelligent than anything that ever makes it onto my blog.

So here's an attempt to make Frobens into a Really Big Deal.

What's a Froben, you ask? Well, to be plain and simple and boring, it's partially frozen lemonade in a cup. Wait, don't go away though, it's so much more than that. Think about how lovely frozen lemonade tastes on a hot, hot day. Refreshing...quenching...sweet n' sour and totally delicious. Besides being delicious, some other great things about Frobens are:
-they are cheaper than popsicles or freeze pops
-they contain more liquid than either of the above, to hydrate annoying kids who won't drink enough
-they are harder to run out of than either of the above, especially when you buy the great big thing of Country Time at Sam's Club
-they don't drip!
-they don't have to be pushed up out of a tube ("Mommy, I need a squeeze" was all I heard when I stupidly bought freeze pops)

A history of the Froben: When I was a kid, my parents went through some really lean times financially. Like, we couldn't afford butter so we ate ICBINB instead. We couldn't afford popsicles or freeze pops, either, but we had no air conditioning or pool so we had to have something to cool off with. I don't know who thought of it, but my dad started bringing home the great big tub of Country Time lemonade mix from Sam's, which cost like $4 back when we started eating Frobens. In the early afternoon, some kid would make a pitcher of lemonade, pour an exactly equal amount into seven plastic cups, freeze it, and in the evening after supper we'd all dig in. We called it (duh!) frozen lemonade at first, but some kid couldn't say frozen so they said froben instead, and after a while we all called them Frobens.

I hadn't had a Froben in years before this summer. My family has a pool and a/c now, and the kids are older so I guess they are too cool for popsicles (not that Mom would buy them anyway...they'd eat a whole box at one sitting). I was buying popsicles for Maria this summer, but I got tired of having them melt in the car on the way home, and her making the stickiest mess ever when she ate them. I bought freeze pops once and she couldn't figure out how to eat them. Then I remembered Frobens, and all my troubles were solved.

I try to have some every day after lunch. If I don't, my husband, who comes up soaked in sweat, tired and frustrated to get his lunch, is terribly disappointed and I feel like a neglectful wife. This will probably happen at your house if you start participating in the grand tradition of Froben eating. I'm just warning you.

Now finally, here are a few tips on making a Froben. I bought some plastic cups-4 for a buck- at Target to use for them. For daily use I make them with Country Time, but last weekend I did make homemade cherry limeade Frobens and they.were.amazing. The time it takes to get a Froben just right is going to vary based on how much lemonade you put in the cup, where you sit the cup in your freezer, and how cold your freezer actually is. Mine take about 3 hours. Note well: you DO NOT want to freeze the lemonade solid. This is not easy or fun to eat. What you want is a skin on top and all around the sides and bottom, with a center full of slushy, liquidy ice cold lemonade. You can also get fancy and stir them a couple of times during freezing, which makes them turn out slushier all the way through.

So...yes, I just wrote an entire, overly long blog post about freezing lemonade in cups. Please do try it, though.

I am now off to check the Frobens I made Mr. G. and I for our just-home-from-work snack together. I forgot to make Frobens for lunch today and I have to make up somehow. :)

G'night!

7 Quick Takes Friday (43)

2011-07-23T23:13:00.000-04:00

1. Sometimes I read posts on blogs of people who have lots of kids, when they're talking about chaos in their family, and I wonder if there is something wrong with my mothering skills because my house is a zoo and there's only two kids.

Like now, when I am taking a break to sit down before doing the lunch dishes. In the past ten minutes, both my children have 'busted' their lips. Henry because he overestimated his cruising abilities: he can walk holding on to stuff, but he can't stomp his feet wildly and yell while standing holding onto a table. He fell and hit his lip on the table leg. Lots of blood. Then he nursed, recovered, and went to stand by the couch, stomp his feet, and yell. Maria stood behind him, and his head hit her lip. More blood. Now they are both happily taking turns whacking a chair with a putty knife. Oh, and last time I looked at Henry, he smiled at me, then spit out a long green string of...something. A pea pod from lunch. Maria must have given it to him.

I have only been using the computer for 10 minutes. Between nursing and cleaning blood of split lips and wiping a poopy bottom.

2. So...I wish I was cold right now. That would be such an interesting feeling. Today it was 97 degrees with a heat index of 108. Ow ow ow. I am tired of staying inside. I am tired of cooking being such a drag. I am tired of the kids and I being bored to death. I'm trying not to dream of fall. Of cool nights, wearing a sweater, drinking hot coffee again. Okay, stop! I can't handle it.

3. A juvenile opossum has decided to make our yard his home. Friday a week past, he ran into the garage ahead of Mr. G driving in from work. Then Sunday we were coming home from my parents' at 11pm, each with a sleepy kid slung over our shoulder. I walked past a garbage can, which had its lid off due to having long boards in it and something was clambering out of it. A 'possum almost jumped on me. I squealed, and as it jumped down and ran through my husband's legs to get away, he was yelling too, and by that time both children were quite awake. Wednesday was the most exciting encounter yet...I went down to take out the festering kitchen garbage around midnight. I leaned over the tall can to assess whether there was room for the bag of trash-and my face was level with a possum face. He was sitting on the porch, which is about neck level on me. Oh. my. goodness. I about jumped out of my skin. I ran for Mr. G, and we armed ourselves with large, blunt objects. He bludgeoned it once. It fell of the porch...and ran away. I guess he didn't hit it quite in the right spot. I wonder what the next encounter will bring? Death to the possum, I do hope.

4. I watched Bright Star in bits and pieces over the course of this week. It was my second watch. I don't think I really noticed the amazingness of the costumes the first time around. I love how Fannie's dresses reflect her moods and the seasons. Each gown is so lovely, the materials so fine-looking. I wish we could still get good linens and silks for affordable prices. *sigh* Anyway, if you haven't seen the movie you must. The sets, costumes, and story are so lovely. Of course, it's so sad...and even the second time around, I had big tears running down my cheeks and plopping on shoulders.

5. I have been thinking I need to start a hand-sewing project to keep me busy closeted here in the a/c. I'm not sure what yet, but I am starting to design a Regency ensemble in spite of myself, after watching that movie. I just might...Regency is great when pregnant...

6. Speaking of being pregnant, I was noticing today that I am reaching the point where I am stretching out my regular shirts. I guess it's time to start breaking out the maternity clothes. I already have a pile of skirts upstairs I need to put away, all the ones with no-give waists. I can only wear elastic now. Thankfully I have about 6 elastic waist skirts in thin summer fabrics so I am fine there-I'm not ready to deal with maternity waistbands yet, in this heat. I think I am actually a little smaller at this point in pregnancy than I was with Henry. I might let this worry me except for: I weigh about 10 lbs less than I did at this point with Henry, and I had been doing abdominal exercises for a while.

7. I once had plans to take photos of my garden for the blog, and I did, but it was right after planting and there was not much to see. Now, I refuse to because my garden looks like a lot of vegetables with grass between them. Tall, seedy grass. I guess I am awful for letting things go, but in this heat, and the mosquitos, and the babies-it's too much. It gets water and it's lucky. Tonight I watered juggling Henry's sticky, sweaty body back and forth with the hose while Maria stripped naked in the driveway and I got 8 mosquito bites. We have, for our troubles, had about 6 zucchini, 6 slicer cukes and at least 8 picklers, 1 eggplant with many many more a-growin', two meals worth of green beans, 2 bell peppers, and numerous banana and chile peppers. So I guess we are doing okay.

Grill something delicious this weekend-I'm doing chicken and peaches-and visit Jen at Conversion Diary, though you probably have already since I'm so late. Toodles!

7 Quick Takes Friday (42)

2011-07-15T23:40:00.001-04:00

I'm sorry, if anyone was checking my blog, that I didn't write anything yesterday. I came home from my ultrasound planning to write an update, but the day kind of started spiraling into crazy really fast.

Anyway, the baby is alive, measuring on track, and was bouncing around all over. Jumping and rolling and moving its teeny little arms. (Perhaps the enormous cup of coffee I chugged on the way there...) I'm very relieved, though still nervous. I wish I had one of those home dopplers. That would be so nice. I talked to my Napro doctor Wednesday after a blood draw and he told me we are not out of the woods yet with this progesterone thing. He switched me to a different kind of oil, which we hope might lessen the mess the sesame oil shots are causing on my backside, but we're not looking at going back to the pill form any time soon.

Bummer.

I'm very grateful for all your prayers, every one of you. I might have a small number of readers, but they have most generous hearts. :)

So yesterday I was Supermama for about ten minutes. I was painting and breastfeeding all at once.

Right now, I'm cook, housekeeper, gardener, grocery shopper, mama to my babies, etc (all my normal duties/responsibilities) PLUS home remodeler. Phew. It's tough. I should do a post of what a typical day has been like lately, though they're far from 'typical'. It's more like, what crazy bomb is going to explode next? I am really enjoying my sleep at night these days, let me tell you. I'm going nonstop from morning till night, no nap anymore, and at bedtime I'm aching and exhausted. Last night I was scrubbing (and I mean scrubbing, it was disgusting) my kitchen floor at 1am. Keeping up with all this, being pregnant and nursing, and the heat, is taking its toll on me and it's not going to last long. Thankfully, after I get the kitchen painted tonight, I will get a break to just be wife and mother again as I can't lay VCT.

Two of my little sisters have come up this week to help out. Wednesday, Tibby came. She brought an extra pair of shoes-gym shoes, to work in. Gym shoes in a plastic grocery bag. When Mr. G was about to leave for work, Maria excitedly grabbed his lunch-in its customary plastic grocery bag-to bring to him.
Later I got a call from work, "How on earth to you expect me to eat a pair of friggin' gym shoes for dinner???"

Um?

Apparently, Maria switched out the lunch for Aunt Tibby's shoes. And my husband didn't notice. He's ardently maintained since that it was easy not to. The shoes were the 'same shape', he says, 'same weight', as a bag of square containers of food. I find this a bit hard to buy. I think Mr. G was just being his usual spaced-out self. I thought it was pretty funny. He said he was putting the bag in the breakroom fridge when a co-worker asked in puzzlement, "Why are you putting a bag of shoes in the fridge?" See, you could even see them through the bag!

Thankfully, his irritation about the matter was short lived and he got himself McDonald's for supper.

My posts have been boring and photo-less lately. I hope to work on this soon. All our photos are in the other user, which is much slower than this one and consequently quite annoying. I need to upload the most recent ones out of the camera into the iPhoto in this user so I can use them. And I need to take more photos...I haven't been lately.

We are staying up late tonight so we can paint the kitchen in peace with the kidlets asleep. I told Mr. G it would be like a date night. He wasn't so sure. :)

Lunches this week have been a little on the blah side with how busy I am. On Thursday, I tried to make spaghetti and meatballs in one hour. Of course it had to turn out funky. The meatballs fell apart. I hate when I fail at something so simple as meatballs. If I can make bearnaise sauce or a souffle, darn it, why don't my meatballs come out? I am going to try to make up for all the boring meals with a nice steak tonight. I bought one on sale last week. I am also planning to make this strawberry lemonade (not as limeade) this weekend. My husband tells me he's never had strawberry lemonade. I guess they don't eat stuff that yummy on Planet Chicago or something? I don't know. Him telling me that was all the excuse I needed to make it though. I'd been thinking about it ever since I read the recipe a while ago.

Have a nice weekend, all. Hopefully a fun one!

Thanks to Jen, who is also overwhelmed, for hosting Quick Takes.

Tidlybits of Life

2011-07-12T00:14:00.000-04:00

I missed Quick Takes this past Friday. I really wanted to do them, but I ran out of time. I need to start writing them on Wednesday. It's the only way. Thursday is my menu planning/listmaking/shopping day, which is always exhausting, and Friday I am always trying to get the house spic-and-span and ready to be destroyed over the course of Saturday and Sunday. (Does that happen at your house?)

So here's some tidbits.

_____________

'S hot here. Like, really hot. Like, right now at 11:50pm the temp is 88 with a heat index of 103. I know. Every year I complain. I know there are people who live in hotter places than this. I know there are people who are not blessed to have a/c. Heat is not kind to me. I've been dragging through each day, wishing July would go faster. Wondering what to cook that won't raise the temp in the kitchen to unbearably sweaty levels. Missing the homemade bread it's simply too hot to make, except for a rare evening when it cools down enough for me to throw a few loaves in.

_____________

And then on the other hand, maybe I need every minute of July. We have a tenant, a lovely young lady who I think is just what I was praying for, who would like to move in the first week of August. We are so not done with apt. 1. The kitchen is bare and empty, part of the three layers of linoleum peeled off, part waiting to get done tomorrow. I have my bucket of paint waiting. The pack n' play is coming out, methinks. Small, sweaty children are going to whine and aggravate while I paint. Boxes of VCT tiles are stacked in the hallway awaiting installation. The cabinets need to be picked up at IKEA. The wood floors are partially stripped. Gallons of floor paint are purchased, waiting at Sherwin-Williams for my husband to get them tinted and bring them home. The bathtub still needs a shower installed.

My husband is working so hard. My heart bleeds for him as I watch him crawl on his knees, wearing a gas mask in 90 degree heat for hours, stripping floors while quarts of sweat soak his clothing. He is such a dear, brave, man. I would not have the courage to jump in and tackle a project like this. It's so intimidating, especially when one is learning everything as he goes.

__________

Parts of the garden are doing well. Parts aren't. We had our first cucumber salad this week, and I have a jar of pickling cukes in the fridge. I stuck them in leftover Claussen juice. Yum. We'll probably be able to have our own zucchini this weekend. There are baby eggplants growing by the day, and many eggplant flowers. Baby tomatillos weigh down the plant. Baby green beans are going to be ready to eat soon.

But...something, probably squirrels, is stealing my precious green tomatoes. Tomatoes are the reason I garden, people. I am not happy about this. And something else (I've never seen a rabbit in my neighbourhood, but maybe they're extremely stealthy wabbits) is nipping off zucchini blossoms. Some PERSON, probably some of the scum across the street, has twice stolen into the yard and broken off a newly blooming sunflower, leaving it wilted in the dirt. Who would do that?

__________

I'm doing alright, I guess. I think I'm developing an intolerance to the sesame oil the progesterone is suspended in. Right now I have a rather painful purply-red knot from the last shot, about 6" in diameter, that hurts and burns and itches like hell. I'll be talking to my doctor about this tomorrow. I'm really hoping tomorrow's blood draw shows I'm okay to go back on the pills. Wouldn't that be dandy?

Thursday at 9:30 I am having my ultrasound. Trying not to think about it.

___________

I could say a lot more, but the kitchen is still in a shambles from our dinner and I have a load of laundry that needs to be hung on the deck. Let me ask you, though, what do you eat for your meals other than your big meal of the day in weather like this? We had a somewhat uninspired dinner of strawberries, yogurt, celery, and popcorn. Do I just need to break down, buy some bread, and go for sandwiches? Anyone have ideas?

non-update

2011-06-29T10:58:00.001-04:00

I didn't want to leave you all wondering what happened at my appointment yesterday....but I have to anyway, because it was basically a waste of my time. The baby's heart still cannot be heard on a Doppler. (I was 9w6d yesterday). We could hear snatches of it, but not the whole rhythm, not well enough to count or anything. I got an order for an ultrasound, though, so I can go have one whenever I wish. I am thinking of waiting until 12 weeks. If all looks good then, I'll just skip my 20 week scan. I am a bit unconvinced that ultrasounds are completely safe, and I think twice is enough zapping for any baby.

Thank you so much for your prayers and thoughts. It is a great comfort to me.

And now, for something different (but not completely different, it's still about babies):

Henry decided on the hike we took two weeks ago that he was done riding in the Ergo baby, and informed us of this very loudly. No problem, my husband said, I'll carry him. Carry him he did. Like a loaf of bread. I'm sorry this photo is not so great. We were walking downhill and I was laughing hysterically at those waving pink piggies. After about five minutes of that, Henry went peaceably back into the Ergo baby.

More on tiny #4

2011-06-27T12:18:00.002-04:00

I'm sorry to have left you all hanging for so long. We'll get to why in a bit.

So yes, we were avoiding pregnancy....but somebody missed that memo. I can't wait to meet this child who defies the [almost] correctly applied rules of Creighton Model. I had funny feelings at the beginning of that cycle. One day, "pregnancy tests" sort of appeared on my dollar store list, and were duly purchased and stored without the husband's knowledge. And this was the cycle that I said, while enduring awful cramps, "Oh, I wish I was pregnant!" And a friend said to Henry, "When are you going to get to be a big brother?" And another friend said something simliar. I don't believe in jinxes, really, but this time I don't know. :)

So four days after a certain expected event didn't arrive, out came the dollar store pregnancy test. Negative. Two days after that, well, that's the one in the picture I posted earlier. I was so, so scared. The first thing I thought was, Oh God, not another miscarriage. I thought after Henry's successful gestation I was over that fear. I am so not. With both Maria and Henry, I was horribly nauseated long before I had enough HCG in me to get a positive pregnancy test. With the child we lost, I felt normal. That day last month, I felt just fine. My Fertility Care Practitioner must have heard the desperation in my voice when I called her. She told me I could come see her that day if it would make me feel better. I did. Given my history of progesterone deficiency (which was likely the cause of my previous miscarriage, though at the time I was not being monitored because such a problem was not on anybody's radar), she called my NAPRO doctor for me. (She sort of has a hotline to him.) He told me to come in for a progesterone draw right then.

At 4 weeks, my progesterone was 16.5. My doctor was not too pleased. I was prescribed 400mgs of Prometrium, a progesterone supplement, once a day. I took this through the first trimester with Henry, though I only needed half that dose and my levels were never below 23 at any time.

At my 6 week draw, I had it done on a Friday and didn't expect results until Monday. Saturday morning, as we finished up pancakes, the phone rang. When I heard my doctor's voice I knew something was wrong. He was on vacation. He told my my progesterone had dropped to 11. He asked if I was having any bleeding, and indicated he expected it to start any day. "I'm so sorry," he said. When your doctor says that, you are pretty much rendered completely hopeless. I wasn't expecting a miscarriage to start any time soon, considering the last time I lost a baby, I carried it's lifeless body in me for nearly a month before anything happened. I just wanted it over, though. I told my husband, I just want to miscarry so I can heal and move on. That was pretty much my attitude when I went in Wednesday for another draw to see if levels were still dropping.

Thursday, my doctor called sounding so much more upbeat. My progesterone had miraculously come up to 18.5! Suddenly, I was allowed a glimmer of hope again. My doctor said he wanted to give it all we had, namely, progesterone in oil injections. A pharmacy overnighted me a supply, and the next day we went in for my first one, and for the nurse to train Mr. G. on how to give the injection.

So where we are now, 10 weeks this Wednesday, is 200mg of PIO twice a week, given by intramuscular injection in the just-above-the-behind area. And it's been a wild ride. The reason that I have not posted this yet is because my injection last Monday went a little wrong. We think my husband placed it too low. My entire left 'cheek' was swollen hard as a rock, and SO painful. I could hardly walk, I could not sit, and the only position that brought some comfort was laying down on a heating pad. I spent three days like that, while the kids destroyed the house around me. My sister did come up one day and save the house from total disaster. It's gotten much better over the past two days. Only noticeable when I bump it. This past Friday's shot went much better. I usually get a slightly swollen spot that aches when I walk (and the fat jiggles :) and when my kids kick it, and I have to be careful when I sit down because if the muscle gets smushed funny I pop back up pretty darn fast. Yow. We are warming the oil before injecting, using a heating pad and massage afterwards, and I run up and down the steps and do squats to try to get the oil moving as well. If anyone has any experience/advice on dealing with PIO shots, I'd love to hear it. I'm thinking though, that this is about as good as it's going to get.

I still don't feel as sick as I did with Maria and Henry. I'm mildly nauseous off and on, very very tired always, and have my usual food aversions...salad is the grossest thing to me. I have random cravings for weird stuff, like Claussen pickes, Coke (which I never drink), chai (I need a cup of chai, like NOW!), and lots of Italian tomato-sauce based foods.

Prayers for this baby would be so much appreciated. I am praying myself, but I feel a curious disconnect, like why bother praying because it's way beyond my control anyway. God knows I love this baby, but I know begging Him to let me keep it won't make that happen if it's biologically impossible. I begged till I was blue in the face last time. I guess I sound sort of down about, but my attitude is more just...very calm. I know I am pregnant, and some days I fall into daydreams about another sweet little newborn, and other days I go around wondering how I will find the strength to cope with another loss. It could still go either way. I am glad we've made it this far, though. Tomorrow morning I am going to find out if the baby has a heartbeat for the first time. I had an ultrasound at 5 weeks but it was too early to see a heartbeat. If I let myself think about it, I rapidly become a nervous wreck, so I am trying not to.

Well, there is the whole long story. Part one in the Epic Tale of Baby G #4. And this is just the first 10 weeks! I hope the next 30 become less and less eventful. Thank you all, for your happy, supportive comments. It has warmed my heart to read the growing list of them, especially because I know when, down the road, we get around to telling certain relatives, things are not going to be so warm and happy. Undoubtedly, we'll be the dark, nasty family gossip of the year. :) Not that I care, but it's so nice to see people who know the correct reaction to a pregnancy announcement.

Love,
Emily

A photo for Monday

2011-06-20T18:08:00.001-04:00

Seen in my bathroom last month.
Can you see the second line? It's faint but it's oh-so-definitely there.

Details to follow...

This wouldn't have anything to do with my tiredness now, would it? :)

I'm Tired and My Blog Has a Birthday

2011-06-20T00:54:00.000-04:00

The longer I go without a post, the more difficult it becomes to write one. What to say? Do I make excuses for my long absence? Or just carry on?

Just carry on.

I think I have said that all ^ before.

The sixth anniversary of this pathetic little weblog just slipped by last week, unnoticed. Tonight, I swept my floor of pretzel crumbs, shredded garlic peels, and escaped Duplos (always the Duplos) I remembered. My blog is six years old! That is older than my marriage. Older than my knowledge of my husband's even existance. Older than all my children.

The girl I was when I started this blog was a teenager with a whole world full of dreams and plans before her. For the woman I am now has had many of those dreams come true; some of the plans are in action now and others have yet to be realised.

It is both painful and happy to look back and see glimpses of the girl I was six years ago. She had some things that are now gone. She was carefree and naive. All her hopes were rosy. She knew there was tragedy in the world, but it had never really touched her. She didn't know that someday she would bury a child she never met. She also didn't know, though, what an amazing joy her children she would meet would bring her, and the husband she wondered if she would ever have. It is happy to re-read my old posts because it brings back those memories. I had some pretty deep struggles with depression as a teen, but once I got through those, I had some very happy years. In retrospect, I had a better life than I ever even realised then, though I did know it was good.

Way back when, after explaining why I started a blog, I wrote about our first encounter with varmints after our chickens...and all kinds of other stuff which I am too tired to link to now. If you want to waste time you can go read my archives yourself. I'm in stitches over some of the posts right now, but I think it is because they mean more to me than anyone else, seeing as it's me who wrote them...

I think I better go to bed now.

Toodles!

7 Quick Takes Friday (41)...posted on Saturday

2011-05-28T10:00:00.000-04:00

1. Henry crawls. Henry crawls fast. Henry the Easy Child has suddenly become Henry the Child Who is Into Everything. But it's okay. He's so happy. He giggles and pants with delight sometimes. Can you imagine? All you ever knew is going where other people carried you, staying where other people put you. Now you can go where you wish. Whether that be under the dining room table, into the pantry, or in the space between the fridge and the wall, the world is yours.

Big boy on the move, with a big boy haircut!

2. My mom gave us a bag of about 40 plastic Easter eggs. I put them in a basket. The kids love them. They were the first thing that got dumped out every morning...and the last thing to go away every night, as I crawled none too happily around the carpet, picking up eggs and rejoining halves. Because of course, every single egg has to be open. I thought I had the kids (and the eggs) beat when I took a tube of super glue one morning and glued each egg shut. I let them sit a while to make sure the glue was cured. And...a few hours after the kids and the eggs were reunited, every single egg was open again.

Lesson learned: not everything is glueable with super glue.

Today the eggs are going on a little vacation. Maybe for a few weeks, maybe till next Easter. I need a break from my nightly egg ritual.

3. My brave husband has (finally) began work on rehabbing our downstairs apartment. I am so proud of him for conquering his doubts and jumping in. It is a big job. I wish I could help more, but it's filthy and gross, we only have one gas mask, and someone has to mind the children. Mr. G is working hard and has already pulled up all the carpet and tack board.

4. In doing so, he discovered that our previous tenant was letting her cats pee on the rug in the corner behind where she kept her TV set. She stuffed newspapers and baking soda under the carpet to keep down the smell and damp. The newspapers cover a span of ten years. Can you imagine doing that to someone else's house? I am amazed at how low some people sink.

5. I had to chasing Maria down with a brush and restrain her with my legs to fix her hair every morning. It was a battle. One can only have so many battles one fights daily without becoming very weary (see #2). Her hair hung in her eyes and looked moppy unfixed.

Enter the bob. No fixing needed. I was so afraid I'd hate it, but I don't. It suits her.

(sneak peek of Maria's Easter dress)

6. Maria and I have arguments all the time about the colour of our eyes. Maria insists that everyone in our family has purple eyes. Not one of us does. She refuses to be set straight.

7. I'm already late posting these and I have a very busy Saturday planned, so off I go. Have a great weekend! (all 3 days of it!)

{pretty, happy, funny, real}

2011-05-26T22:00:00.000-04:00

(I can't get the button from Like Mother, Like Daughter to work)

{pretty}

I love my rose bush. I always wanted to have a house with a rose bush...or some rose bushes...when I was younger. It is one of few features of my dream home that this house came with. It's beautiful.

{happy}

Maria shares her popsicle with her 'baby bro-uh".

{funny}

Henry loves to chew on our discarded artichoke leaves.

{real}

My kitchen. It was clean after breakfast. After preparing and eating lunch, we have several dozen plastic eggs on the floor, rolling around amongst various crumbs and artichoke leaves, a table full of dirty dishes and artichoke refuse, and a partially clad child with melted butter all over her. (All right, I admit, the kitchen was clean but I didn't dress Maria; those are her jammy pants).

Those artichokes were amazing. We had ten of them, big as cabbages. I quartered them and boiled them in seasoned water. We dipped the leaves in a mixture of olive oil, melted butter, salt, pepper and garlic. We ate them for lunch, dinner, snacks...and now they are gone and we are sad.

A [whiny] update.

2011-05-11T00:18:00.000-04:00

Because I believe in being honest, I will say this: I wish I was painting my toenails and enjoying a much-needed shower right now, but instead I am sitting in front of the computer nursing Henry and listening to Maria scream and howl very brattily. She won't stop, or speak and tell me why she's crying, and he wants to be nursed because he can't sleep through the noise. They slept so quietly while I was doing dishes and scrubbing spots off the carpets...now when I want some time for myself, I get this.

So...anyway...I am trying to remember what I was going to blog about.

We were in Chicago last weekend from Thursday night to Sunday afternoon. The trip had its bright spots, but in-law wise it was one of the less good trips. I am totally wiped out from packing last week, the trip itself, and trying to get everything back to normal. I keep wishing for one day, just one, where I have nothing out of the ordinary to do. So far, I haven't gotten my wish.

I have got over half of my garden planted. Now I just have to haul myself out there every day to moisten the soil so the seeds germinate. Harder than it sounds. Drizzling water on dirt is very uninspiring.

Wow, I sound so depressed.

Maybe I should stop writing now.

Easter

2011-04-25T23:36:00.000-04:00

A Blessed Eastertide to you!

Wow. Holy Week was so busy. I finished Maria's Easter ensemble over Monday and Tuesday. Wednesday two of my sisters came for the day, ostensibly to help me with the kids so I could actually finish my Easter dress. What they actually did was buy half the inventory of the Goodwill down the street (I helped), eat me out of house and home, have an attack of the hysterical giggles, and conduct a bourbon tasting comparing Bulleit to Wild Turkey (Bulleit always wins). I did get some sewing done in there.

Maria put a paper doily on her head and said, "I'm wike you, Mommy!"
I gave her a bobby pin to hold it on so she could enjoy her pretense that it was a chapel cap.

Holy Thursday, I was counting on Mr. G working his normal 8 hours so I could get some serious laundry and housework done. He decided instead to go to work, donate platelets, and come right home. He then ensconced himself in a chair and read a catechsim. When he was not at church, praying, or eating, he spent his Triduum like this:

I was delighted that he spent his time so worthily, but at the same time I wished that, since he was home, he'd help a little more...he did, occasionally, when things reached the point that all three of us were screaming.

We had reuben sandwiches for Holy Thursday supper, and then went to Mass. Maria was an absolute terror through Mass. I wanted to tie her to a pillar.

On Good Friday, we attended the liturgy at 3pm. This happens to be my children's nap-time. Maria actually fell asleep and slept until Communion. It was awesome. Henry declined sleep in favour of eating his toys, eating my face, and yelling loudly at the quietest, most solemn points in then liturgy. Go Henry.

Holy Saturday found us colouring eggs. We none of us like hard boiled eggs, but we didn't want to deprive Maria of colouring them. The process was a little boring for her, with the waiting period. We ate lunch while the eggs soaked in the dye. Maria was thrilled with the outcome. "Putty, putty Eastah eggs!"I am going to try to down them this week as egg salad, or mixed with tuna salad. I don't want to waste eggs. I made grilled tuna steaks for Holy Saturday dinner. It was all of our first time to eat tuna any way than out of a can. It was amazing. It was so good! It tasted much 'meatier' than most fish.
Over those days, I also made pastries for Easter breakfast, made a dessert and appetizer for Easter, cleaned the house from top to bottom, gave my family haircuts, and made sure they were all clean for Easter. It doesn't sound like much but it was a job. Oh, and finished my dress. I sewed on the last buttons Holy Saturday night. We didn't attend the Vigil. We knew it would be foolish to take the children, and I thought of going alone with Henry but decided against it because the Triduum Masses were being held at a different church than our usual one and it was farther from home. It consumed a lot of gas driving there. Plus I figured that Easter morning with a sleep deprived Mama would not be pretty.

Maria ran around all week saying, "Eastah's comin'!" over and over. She could not wait to wear her dress. She kept trying to sneak it on when no one was watching her.

On Easter morning, I was up at 8:30 (and so was Henry, *sigh*) baking the brie for the appetizer and assembling the layers of my lemon-strawberry dacquoise, a confection involving layers of crispy meringue, lemon cream, whipped cream, and strawberries. Mr. G and Maria came down later for pastries, sausages, bacon, and coffee.

Mr. G artfully photographed his breakfast.

My pastries came out cute, didn't they? I got the idea from Artisan Bread in Five Minutes a Day, though I did not use their recipe. It's brioche dough rolled out in sugar, spread with pastry cream and topped with two apricot halves. It looks like a sunny-side up egg and tastes much better.

Mass was beautiful, and we actually got there in time.

We spent Easter afternoon with my family and some friends. There was grilled lamb, an array of delicious side dishes, lots of vodka, beer, and wine, and lots of laughing. They hunted eggs in the basement as it was too soggy outside. Maria missed her nap and got loud and cranky.

Just about every photo of Maria these days looks like this. It's what she does
when we say "smile!". And yes, she loves coffee. With nothing less than CREAM, if you please. No milk.

Overall, it was a lovely Easter. I hope yours was, too.

And I got-0! pictures of us in our Easter finery. Oh well. It's not about the clothes anyway. We'll dress up again in them soon. Maybe someday I can get pics of myself in my dress while the kids are napping so that I can write a post about it.

7 Quick Takes Friday (40)

2011-04-16T00:34:00.000-04:00

Have you ever had a child who constantly filled you with dread that they would kill themself before they reached the age of reason? Because I live with one. She scares the hell out of me on a daily basis. I am not going to share details of what happened today. The internet is a public place, and people judge you without knowing your circumstances. You can write out every detail of the story, how it was truly an ACCIDENT, and all they see is that your child is hurt and you are a horrible parent. We were there. Her father was two feet away. It happened so fast. He stopped her, but if it had been any worse she'd be in the emergency room...or possibly even dead. As it is she is injured, but okay.

I ask God all the time, why? Why did You think we were up to this-keeping this child alive? Why not someone else, who only planned to have one child?

I just want to ask you, send up a spare prayer for her. She needs more angels then the one she's got. She needs about ten. We are, you realise, talking about a two year old who can open a "child-proof" cap, turn on a stove, open a folding knife, operate a Kitchen Aid stand mixer (complete with plugging it in, extension cord and all), climb just about anything, and open doorknobs. And is totally without fear. Of anything.

Last weekend, my husband was in Texas at a business conference for four days. I thought I was going to blog and relax while he was gone. Instead, some sort of cleaning demon took ahold of me and my one goal in life was to have the house immaculate, the yard immaculate, the kids immaculate, and myself immaculate and a beautiful dinner ready to serve him when he got back. I accomplished it all-well, all except for plucking my eyebrows. Needless to say, I was not on the internet much.

My husband spent a lot of time eating at his conference. The event consisted of talks and discussions, interspersed with multiple-course meals and plenty of alcoholic beverages. Rough, huh? Pheasant, filet of beef, lobster ravioli in truffle butter, alligator soup. whiskey, champagne...it was all very Roman. All they left out was a vomitorium.

What, me, jealous? Of course I wasn't!

Next time, if there is a next time, I am totally going with him. Other folks brought their 'significant others' and were sneaking them into some of the non-sitdown eating events.

So on Wednesday we went out to prepare our garden plot. Mr. G. said he wanted to make it 'a little bigger than last year'. If a little bigger means digging up half the backyard, I guess he did. We are borrowing a tiller tomorrow if it doesn't rain. I have to get the garden planned and start some seeds. Since half my backyard is now a mudpit, I can't mess this up.

We know where I'll be this summer. Weeding.

Henry is on the move. He's not quite crawling, but he's rolling, scooting and wriggling to get to pretty much whatever he fancies. Crawling is going to happen any day. I thought my house was as childproof as it could get, but it turns out there are a few things we can actually leave out these days and Maria wont' destroy them. It's only some fermenting mead and a basket of magazines, but both are going to be difficult to move and find a good place to store. So if Henry doesn't master the crawling thing for a few more weeks, I'm fine with that.

I have fallen a lot with my Lenten resolutions lately. I ate sugar in my oatmeal on Monday, and today I ate honey on my puffed wheat. And the no snacks thing is completely over. I feel like such a looser when I'm stuffing pretzels in my face alongside Maria. I'm determined to do better during Holy Week.

Eating vegetarian is still going strong though! All Lent I have been wanting to share some recipes with you, in case you are like I used to be and Fridays find you pulling out the macaroni and cheese, scrambled eggs, and canned tuna-again. Or you think you are doing your husband a favour buying a box of fish sticks. I have learned a lot about cooking without meat this Lent, and Fridays are never going to be so dreaded again. In fact, we probably will eat less meat in general now that we have some recipes we love that don't use it. I am still going to share a little. Maybe you can use one for Good Friday, or if you eat meatless every Friday like us you will have a chance to try them whenever.

Have a great weekend!

Visit Conversion Diary for more QT's.

Whatever you do, don't put your keys...

2011-04-07T00:19:00.000-04:00

So, you wonder why I don't post? Well, part of it has to do with the fact that when I spend a few minutes reading emails while nursing Henry to sleep, stuff like this happens. It was literally about three minutes between when she told me she was going to get a 'grink' and I came in to find this.

This is a few dirty lunch dishes and a $1.50 worth of ranch dressing.

Oh, and I could post a picture of her knees, which she decorated with green sharpie marker as on-the-toilet entertainment. Who needs magazines? I should just put a container of sharpies by the toilet. Here I was cooking lunch and thinking she was innocently pooping. Hah.

I am also sewing both of us girls Easter dresses. At least, I hope so. I hope they won't be May dresses that should have been Easter dresses. I am determined to work on them, though, when the kids are asleep at night, so I resist the urge to blog instead. Except tonight.

Wanna hear another story about how dumb I am? I thought you did.

Once when I was very very pregnant with Maria, and it was 3 degrees outside, I was grocery shopping. I was putting groceries into my car's trunk, and I'd thrown my keys in there for a moment while I unloaded. I slammed the trunk shut. With my keys in it. My car was locked. An hour, two policemen, and ten numb fingers later, I got my keys back and vowed never ever to put them in the trunk for any reason ever again.

Today, I got the lunch dishes done, the kids napped early, and we got off to a rosy start for the week's grocery shopping. I put Henry in his carseat, and then was fiddling around with stuff in the trunk to make more room for groceries. Like, why are we still driving around a shovel that we put in there so my husband could dig the car out of the snow when it got stuck at work? I had my keys clutched in my left hand.

Maria, who was bobbing about behind me, suddenly began to run, giggling evilly, out the driveway to the street. I called for her to stop, but I knew she would not. I dropped the keys into the trunk. I told her to stop again, and then....I prepared to run....and in a moment of distraction, panic, and mind boggling thoughtlessness, I SLAMMED THE TRUNK SHUT before I took off. After saving my daughter from certain destruction, I put her in her car seat. I took up my own seat, and I realised what I had done. And I didn't say any bad words! I just thought, seriously, what is wrong with you, Emily???

The house was locked. The button inside the Buick that opens the trunk was locked, because my paranoid husband keeps it so. I did, blessedly, have the cell phone. I called my husband even though I knew he could not help because he'd carpooled to work with my Dad, he was stuck there. I just wanted sympathy. All I got was, "You are so stupid," and he hung up in rage. Thanks, love. I tried one friend, the only one I could think of who might do me such a favour, and she didn't pick up. So I called my parents.

Thank heaven for my sister's drivers licence! She is 17, has a car, and nothing to do tonight. So Aunt Bee and Aunt Tibby came to our rescue (we walked around the neighbourhood while waiting). They drove us to Mr. G.'s work and he gave me his key and a bonus kiss. Then we all came home and had dinner. I'll grocery shop tomorrow. Good thing I have enough stuff to make lunch.

Anyway, am I harebrained or what?

Off to sew...

To my little boy.

2011-03-24T00:31:00.000-04:00

Dear Henry,

I don't ever remember an age where I could truthfully ask this of your sister (I am hoping one will come), but...can you just stay like this for a while? You are so perfect. I can't get over you. When I carried you inside me, I loved you so. The moment I first looked into your eyes, you took my breath away. How did I get to be your mother?

I love your laughing eyes. You are such a happy person. It makes me sad to think that someday you will grow up and realise there is ugliness and pain in this world. Right now, you only see beauty and joy.

You love your family so much. You laugh aloud ten times a day, just watching your sister do something so simple as eat. You follow your father with such solemn, thoughtful eyes, lighting up with delight when he acknowledges you.

I love sleeping by your soft little body at night. You smell so good. I will never sniff enough of you. I wish you smelled like baby forever. But I know, before long, you will start smelling like a Little Boy. So I sniff you constantly now.

The noises you make are so funny, like how you were yelling at me when I took this picture. You have a voice and you love to hear it. I wonder what you will say to us when you speak in words.

I can count on one hand the times in your life that you've awoken crying. You always awake with a huge, dazed grin on your face.

I love watching you play with your big sister Maria. You even enjoy it when she is rough and wrestly with you, which surprises me. You two seem to have a way of wordless communication that I do not understand.

I love how you smile with your tongue out. It melts my heart. If you smile at me like this all your life, I am going to have a hard time being stern with you when you need it. Right now you are always well-behaved...which brings me back to my original question. Stay like this awhile?

I know you can't. You army crawled three feet across the rug this evening, and back again to me. You are growing up.

I love you, Henry. I am blessed beyond my deserts to be your mama.

2011-03-22T01:14:00.000-04:00

After half a week spent sick, and another half spent getting everything that got out of control while we were sick stuffed and tortured back into control (read: laundry) , last week I was ready for a break. Sunday a week before yesterday found the house sparkling, the family well, and muffins for breakfast.

And then we showed up to church right after Communion, because we forgot about the time changing. That is, my husband forgot, and I never knew. Suddenly, our Sunday was not going according to my carefully laid plans. We had to go to Mass again. The week started off on the wrong foot after all. For the remainder of it, we kept getting up an hour or two late, our systems thrown off by the time change. I felt like I was in a rowboat on the ocean all week.

Sometimes, I think that I have an inner control freak whom I'm completely unaware of, that God is unceasingly trying to tame. Complicated thought, I know. I really don't like controlling my life. I just feel like I have to maintain an iron grip on my household, because if I don't no one will. But God, or someone else, is always out to thwart me.

This week we are trying again. Complete with a bathroom that didn't get cleaned last week and still isn't clean and a fresh batch of head colds. We'll see how it turns out.

How is you all's Lent going? Mine's okay, I guess. I survived PMS without sugar or chocolate. Okay, I'm lying...I had a hot chocolate mix on St Patricks' Day. I told my self it was to celebrate the feast. It was really because I thought I might die without sugar or chocolate. It was not a very satisfying experience in the end. Hot chocolate mixes never are.

I had also had a goal of eating mostly vegetarian during the Lenten weekdays. I am doing better than I thought I would with that. I don't miss the meat that much; the challenge is just finding ways to do without it. I guess I should be nice and share some recipes. Oh, and the reason it's "mostly" vegetarian is because I do cook some things with meat in them, like corned beef hash, and if I am having a bad day with food and don't know what to cook, I am not going to beat myself up thinking of something meatless. I am just going to pull a chicken breast out of the freezer. My husband doesn't deserve bad food. So far, I have not had to resort to that. I've been planning menus carefully.

We came within 4 degrees of breaking a record today, with a high temperature of 78. I was not ready for this, I decided as I went around sweating. I'm actually glad that by the end of the week, we're back to highs in the 40's.

Anyway, here I am...and I hope I will be back later this week with something more exciting, maybe. Maybe.

Barfing our way into Lent

2011-03-10T11:47:00.000-05:00

Written on Wednesday, but I didn't get time to finish it until today.

Well, our Lent has started off nothing like I imagined. We are, as always and among other things, giving up sugar as a family. So today, Ash Wednesday, found us welcoming two 12-packs of soda and two boxes of popsicles into our kitchen. We all have a gastrointestinal virus. Somewhere this morning, about the time Maria and I were curled up in two miserable balls on the couch with Henry, well and happy, crowing between us, my mom called and asked if we needed anything. So my dad brought us pop and popsicles because he is awesome like that.

We had our King Cake over Monday and Tuesday, and it was enormous...I must have halved the dough recipe last time. We ate one last chocolate bar, the last few mini marshmallows, and I snacked all day long because I am giving up snacks. Makes sense, right?

Tuesday was beautiful, and we decided to have the First Picnic (of the year) on the swollen riverbanks. Rivers are more exciting when they're misbehaving. This was also Henry's First Picnic Ever. I packed a baguette sandwich, fruit salad, raw veggies and potato chips for a treat.

Here is a photo of Mr. G. and Maria on the riverbanks last year. It may help you see how high it is now-at least fifteen feet higher. Maybe twenty. It's high. Maria threw rocks.

We played on the playground, from which Maria was dragged kicking and screaming to go for a walk around the track. Then we had our lunch, packed up, Maria fell in the mud, and we headed home. Five minutes into the ride, disaster struck when came The Vomit. Maria was covered in barfed-up fruit salad, which dish she had favoured at lunch. We stopped at a gas station, stripped her down to her undies, and continued. She puked again when we were blocks from home. She puked in the shower while I washed her. She puked on the floor while I dressed her again.

So that, my dears, is how I spent my Mardi Gras...sitting on the couch catching vomit in a bowl every twenty minutes or so, until 11pm when the puking mercifully ceased. My husband got sick at work in midafternoon. My body held out until shortly after Maria's last episode. The last to get sick, I've been the slowest to recover. I am having a really hard time making enough milk for Henry because it is hard for me to drink. I have been unable to eat anything but a small bowl of cereal all day. Maria got a break all night, but by afternoon today the liquid diarrhea had set in. I've put her in a diaper because she can't make it to the potty in time.

Henry hiding from the breeze.

This is my first time being the mama of a household struck with the pukies. I have to say, I hope I get another two years before it happens again. I'm swamped in laundry, got nothing done, missed Ash Wednesday Mass, and am stumbling around dizzy and queasy trying to take care of my children.

I hope your Lent got off to a better start.

Note to Self:

2011-03-05T13:53:00.001-05:00

The next time you are standing in your kitchen wondering why you use an old folding chair you took out of someone's garbage as one of your kitchen chairs (surely you aren't so poor you can't afford a set of matching wooden ones?), remember this:

If this was a nice wooden chair, you'd be crying.

A few things to pray for...

2011-03-01T19:42:00.000-05:00

Please take a moment to offer a prayer for the Temple family. Suzanne is in the process of miscarrying. I know some of you have been in that place before, and prayer is about the only thing that gets you through.

An acquaintance of mine was recently hospitalized with severe postpartum psychosis. Please pray for healing for her, and grace for her husband as he struggles to take care of their baby on his own.

Valentine Cookies with Natural Dyes

2011-02-26T14:55:00.000-05:00

This is long overdue, but I wanted to post about my Valentine cookies. I made my own dye for the icing. In case you're wondering, while I'm not thrilled about eating artificial dye, it is the least of my worries about food. I made my own dye because I saw these cookies and was really impressed by the colours. They have a vibrant beauty to them that I have never seen come from a food colouring tube. I had to try it.

For the cookies, I used this recipe with a few modifications. I used all brown sugar, unbleached flour, and also added a pinch of cardamom with the spices because I love cardamom.

I baked four small red beets in water until they were soft. I then mashed the beets and twisted them in a muslin cloth to squeeze everything I could out of them. That made the dark pink icing.

I used about 1 cup of cranberries with a little water for the lighter pink. I boiled them until they were quite soft, mashed them, and squashed the puree through a strainer.

I substituted the beet juice and cranberry puree for the water in this royal icing recipe. You could not taste the beets in the icing. The cranberry icing had a tart flavour, but it dissipated after the icing dried.

I made a lot more cookies than seen here. I was going to take these to church for the monthly social and I'd chosen some of my least favourites (I kept all the good ones for us, muhahaha!). I photographed them, and then Maria sneezed on them, so they ended up getting eaten by us after all. I did let Maria decorate some of the cookies. I gave her icing in ziploc bags with small holes in the corners. She seemed unable to grasp the concept of holding and squeezing. There was icing everywhere and she was frustrated. I felt bad. I'd wanted it to be fun for her. Next time we do cookies together-Easter, probably-I am going to find some cheap plastic squeeze bottles, which should be easier for her.

7 Quick Takes Friday (37)

2011-02-25T00:35:00.000-05:00

1. So it's Thursday night, and I wanted to clean the bathroom tonight, but the flourescent light won't come on (it does that sometimes). The only other light is too dim to clean by. I guess I'll try again tomorrow, and get a blog post written instead.
I'm also trying not to burn the bread...I keep forgetting it's in there and running to check on it. I'm baking two loaves of simple pan bread and a bunch of pumpkin muffins and mini-muffins.

2. "This should be a Quick Take", my husband said the other night. So it is. He was surfing the internet, and he suddenly started laughing at the titles of the tabs he had open. "You can tell a man is using this browser! Come see!"

The tabs were titled: swapgiant.com, Rifle (wikipedia), English Longbow (wikipedia), a knife website, and Sportsman's Guide.

3. Maria's vocabulary and sentence stucture skills are growing at an astonishing rate all of a sudden. She talks to me! Real talking! It's very exciting. Tonight while we ate our respective leftovers, she asked, "You want taste my chili, Mommy?" I about fell out of my chair. She talks to herself, too. She was sitting on the back of the couch while I spaced out nursing Henry...I tend to space out when I nurse...and I finally tuned in to hear her saying to herself: "I like babies. I like Mommy. I wuv Daddy. Daddy at work. I like cookies."

Cookies and family are on equal ground in Maria's little heart.

4. It's raining...and raining....and raining. It's been pouring all day long. I guess early Spring is here.

5. Another reason I wish that ecological breastfeeding actually did what it was supposed to do for me: having periods as a mother really sucks. We spent two days this week closeted in the living room, me on the couch in a miserable daze, and Maria destroying the place. In high school, I usually just spent a day or two in bed each month. When I worked full time, I overdosed on Advil and hunched in a chair all day. Now, I get to chase a toddler around the house while I'm doubled over in pain. Ugh. My husband called from work and I told him, I wish I am pregnant right now. Aches and pains and all, pregnancy is easier on my body than this. (Boohoo. I am whining and I know it).

6,

Oh yes, I did. I've got the picture to prove it. I even scaled the thing. There were scales everywhere. It only cost $1.99/lb, so I couldn't resist it. Then I was standing in my kitchen looking at a bag containing ice and a rather dead salmon, wondering why I thought this was a good idea. We have enough salmon to eat it once a week for a month.

7. I've finally chosen Colette Patterns' Ceylon dress for Easter. It's more than I wanted to spend, but I could not find a pattern that looked or was 1940's, and had buttons up the front or looked easily modifiable in that regard, and would look okay on me. I hope I like this pattern since I'm spending so much on it. Now, Lent is going to be starting before I know it, and I need to get in sewing mode. For some reason I am so not in it, and I have so much to do.

Happy weekending, all!

"The" dress

2011-02-22T01:08:00.000-05:00

Hallie at the blog Betty Beguiles recently wrote a post about her wedding dress and asked readers to write about theirs. I had such fun reading the comments, I decided to follow along. Of course I am obscenely late, but so is Elizabeth, so I'm in good company.

You can see the top of my dress on the header of my blog. It had a square neckline with rounded edges and a side ruched bodice. The skirt was a-line with a faux wrap, with beading all down the flap. There was beading on the neckline, too, and on the back along the laces. Here's the back:

I had always wanted to make my wedding dress. I knew all my life I wanted a unique wedding, probably either 1940's or Edwardian themed. However, right after we got engaged, I got a new job that was high-stress, exhausting, and took a total of 2 1/2 hours a day of commute time. I felt so jaded by the time I got home at night, I knew I could never make my wedding gown. I let that dream go. I will always be sorry.

One day, a month or so into our engagment, I was off and my fiance was not, so I was bored. My mom suggested we go looking at wedding dresses. I was ready to go see some in person at that point. We had set a budget of about $2000-$2500 for our wedding including honeymoon, and all my online shopping had not fit that. I'd been looking at vintage dresses and modest dresses.

We drove to our city's 'bridal district', where a little street is lined with bridal shops. We learned fairly quickly that all we had to do was ask if they had and dresses with sleeves right away and we'd make short work of each store. Most had not a single sleeved dress, or one or two that didn't fit me. I for some reason never considered adding sleeves or making a jacket. Stupid me.

A regret: I really wish I had bought a full-torso body shaping garment. It might have helped me fit the dress I really wanted. I at least should have bought a new bra that fit well. I wore for my try-on, and my wedding, my current favourite bra which held that position only because it was the only one that didn't droop or ride up in back.

There was one dress I loved that was about 2 inches away from zipping across the bust. Blast big boobs. Discouraged after ten stores and multiple dresses, we finally found my dress marked down, the only sleeved dress in that store. It had been in the window and some of the beads were slightly off white. Whatever. It fit. It looked okay. It cost $300, which was cheap compared to some we'd seen. I just couldn't make up my mind. It was so far from what I had envisioned.

We went to a McDonald's nearby to think. I sat at the table with my mom and sisters and chugged Fanta orange soda and thought. I liked the dress okay. I wanted to love my wedding dress. It was a decent price. The only other bridal shops in town were sure to be out of my range. Based on the fact that I'd fit in any size between an 8 and a 16 that day, I knew I did not trust wedding dress sizes enough to buy online.

I went back and bought the dress.

I'll always be sorry. My dress was pretty but it was not ME. I did not feel comfortable in it.

I did love my veil. I knew I could not, would not wear a veil with a gathered pouf on top. I hate those. I also hate tiaras and headbands. I found a veil in one store that was basically a big square of tulle with rounded edges, edged with wide lace. The lace on the front edge was beaded. It cost $150. I copied that veil, only rectangular instead of square, so it would go all the way down to my train, for $6, beads and all.

I hemmed my dress myself, and placed hooks in the back to bustle it as it had none.

For shoes, I wore a pair of sandals with a slight wedge heel that I got for $10 at Payless. They pinched a bit. I wore a seed pearl brooch/pendant that belonged to a 4x-great aunt (my 'something borrowed' and 'something old' all in one!), which I strung on a white ribbon, and pearl stud earrings.

I'm sorry to sound so down about my wedding gown. I know I looked pretty and that my dress was lovely and modest, but I just feel like I should have somehow made it work that I could make my own dress. Oh, well. Maybe someday I'll do a vow renewal and make a neat dress for that with a theme I like.

Some Sunday Night Quick Takes

2011-02-21T00:20:00.000-05:00

1. Forget I said that about posting every day. It's obviously not happening. It was supposed to be fun, anyway, and if I am not enjoying it than I shouldn't be doing it. Every minute of every day since I last posted, I seemed to have something more important. Like the day I was still making tortillas at 1am...or the day Maria stayed up until 12:20 and I had ten minutes before the Mr. got home...etc.

2. So...here's a quote from Mr. G. "I like to stand around brewing equipment and giggle."

I like a man who is honestly a goof, sees it, and accepts it.

3. Mr. G and friend KH made mead last night. It's a good thing I didn't follow my original idea of removing myself and the children from the house while the brew was being stirred up. It was Men in the Kitchen and it was ridiculous.

"Honey, don't you have ANY spoons bigger than this?" A tablespoon? Sweetie, what do you see me stirring you soup with? And are you blind that you don't see the whole jar of bamboo spoons on the shelf?

"We're just going to cram them into a tea infuser." A half cup of spices. Uh-huh.

"What kind of kitchen is this, anyway? You don't have a measuring cup bigger than 4 cups?"

" Is this a teaspoon or a tablespoon? I think I need a tablespoon. The recipe says 'TBSP'. I think that means tablespoon, right?"

In the end, it wouldn't have happened without me. I even cleaned up part of the mess.

4. Said mead is now fermenting merrily in the dining room. It will be a long while before it's ready to drink, but I'm already licking my lips.

5. They are putting in new floors in Mr. G.'s lab this week in the evenings, so he's working day shift through Wednesday. This is going to be so weird. Waking up alone? Fixing a hot meal at 6 instead of 2? Kids that stay up till midnight? My days are going to be all wonky.

I guess I'd better follow my husband's example and head to bed, so we do not have to figure lack of sleep into the temporary reorientation of my day.

Hope everyone had a pleasant weekend, and that your respective Mondays start out well.

Happy St Valentine's Day!

2011-02-14T13:05:00.000-05:00

A Boy and a Quilt

2011-02-12T11:23:00.000-05:00

I just realised I've not shown you the quilt my sisters made for Henry. They must think I don't like them or something.

After the simple, traditional quilt they made for Maria, when we announced we were pregnant with Henry, they decided to do something brighter and more contemporary. They chose a sampler pattern. I regret that I do not know the names of all these blocks.

Bear in mind when viewing this photo: I took it when Henry was only about 7 weeks old, if you think he looks smallish.

The quilt is completely hand sewn, from piecing to quilting. My sister Therese (Tibby) pieced most of it, and Bee did a lot of the quilting. The other two helped with both off and on. I am impressed with their workmanship.

Lovely!

7 Quick Takes Friday

2011-02-12T01:36:00.000-05:00

1. Blogger wouldn't let me sign in yesterday without throwing me through ten hoops involving my brower's cookie settings (which had not changed). It was like they were mad at me or something. So I read a lot of blogs, and commented on few. Bummer.

2. We are finally getting over our cold. Yay!

3. Wednesday night, my husband called me from work. "They're playing our song on the radio," he said. I was slightly mystified because, like some couples, we do not have a song that we call 'ours'. It turns out, the song was "No Sugar Tonight". I guess during my fertile times, that is 'our song'. Great choice, sweetie. (Not.)

4. I had to laugh at him anyway.

5. We did our St. Valentine's cookies tonight. There was pink icing everywhere. I wanted to take pictures during the icing of the cookies, but there was too much Piglet induced commotion. I'll get some of the finished product so I can show you.

6. It happened, as I knew it would. Conversation between me and Maria as I dried off after a shower this week:

"Mommy's tinh. Henry grink Mommy's tinh."

"Yes, Henry drink's Mommy's tinh milk."

"Henry grink mook." (It rhymes with book). She paused thoughtfully. "Choc-choc mook."

Ladies, I'll have you know, I produce chocolate breastmilk.

7. Sorry for the short, boring takes, but I didn't have time all day to write them and my husband is going to walk in any minute. And here he is.

Resident Gnawer

2011-02-09T23:16:00.000-05:00

Henry gnaws some plastic keys in a sunbeam. If this kid is awake, he is chewing on something.

I still feel like poo from this cold...so this is all you get.

Surveying the Pantry

2011-02-08T23:06:00.000-05:00

I really need to stop snacking, but I forget sometimes. I remember when I realise that I'm standing in my pantry, scanning the shelves for a little something. The thing is, we buy almost no processed foods, so there are not really any little somethings for the grabs in my pantry. Sure, I could go in the fridge and get some grapes or a piece of celery, but I'm lazy.

My husband is a snacker, too. The other day I was in the pantry, and he wandered in. I looked guiltily at him and he looked innocently at me. He's an unregretful snacker. We held hands and scanned the shelves, and I realised that this is a scene we play through on an almost weekly basis. It struck me as very funny.

How it goes is, we both end up in there. Sometimes I guilt us both out of the snack and we just make out a little. Or chase each other out of the pantry with tickles. Or convince each other we can wait for the next meal, and leave the pantry feeling very strong and righteous.Other times we find something to eat. Mr. G. is more imaginative than I am. "What're these?," he goes, grabbing the saltine type crackers I buy for the infrequent times I use them for breading. And we eat Saltines with Nutella on them. I'd never think to do that.

It's little moments like this that suddenly make marriage glow. Three minutes spent scarfing the last of the dates I was saving for granola leave us feeling closer as spouses than the previous hours of daily life. Whether or not the snack included smooches, it left us with more than just calories we didn't need. We bonded while sharing our guilty pleasure. I'm not sure how to put my finger on it exactly, but I do know if I ever manage give up snacking, I will abandon that resolution when I see my husband sneak into the pantry.

snuffle

2011-02-07T23:51:00.000-05:00

image from here

I didn't want to post today.

I don't have anything much to say by now. It's been a long day and I am ready to sleep.

We all came down with colds over the course of the day yesterday. Maria's her usual self, Henry coughs and sneezes and wants to be cuddled constantly, and Mr. G. and I are achy and trying not to be irritable. So today, we ate leftovers, sent Daddy to work, and cuddled. Well, I cuddled Henry and tried to keep Maria from tearing the house down brick by brick. I did get some granola made-we didn't have any cold breakfast food in the house.

Tomorrow will be better, though. I know it. I am going to buy some butter-somehow we ran out-and maybe make English muffins. And even if nothing else happens, at least I will vacuum.

Here's a bit of a funny from yesterday:

After finding lost keys (thanks, Maria! for both loosing and finding) and falling in a mud puddle on the way to the car (again, guess who?) we slunk into church at the Sanctus. Ducked into a pew, and five minutes later Maria is out of the pew again, walking a few feet up the aisle to stand in front of the confessional. She looks at it, and in the Consecration silence, she points and says, "Mama! I gotta pee!"

My daughter thinks the confessional is a bathroom. I wonder what else goes on in that two-year-old head of hers?

Stuck

2011-02-06T15:58:00.001-05:00

....alternately titled: Maria Dresses Herself.

Maria loves the word "stuck". She's always wailing it from somewhere out of sight. It's usually something like two Duplos who are stubbornly refusing to come unlinked, or a foot through a chair back, or a pigtail that she's decided needs to come out NOW.

When she came in the kitchen one morning like this, I was laughing so hard I could barely get a photo. Her arms are pinned to her sides under there.

The Epic Saga of the Acorn Wreath

2011-02-05T15:44:00.000-05:00

I read this tutorial in late fall of 2008 and it became an obsession. I know, I'm strange, but I NEEDED this wreath. I needed to make one. It was too late to get any acorns that fall, so I stored it away in some compartment in my brain until the next fall. I thought about it occasionally. Wreath. Wreath. Acorn wrrrrreeeeeath. Anyway.

2009 was an off year for acorns. At least at my parents it was. Barely an handful to be found anywhere. There were some at the park, but they were all squashed beyond help. So I waited. I bought a straw wreath base at Michael's last summer. It sat on top of my pile of sewing stuff, a promise that one day I'd make my most beloved fantasy real. Okay, not my most beloved fantasy, but this thing was growing to seriously disturbing proportions. Who needs an acorn wreath that badly?

One day in early November this past year, we were at my parents and I set to gathering acorns from the tree in the front yard. Still postpartum enough that my stitches pulled when I squatted, squat I did and grabbed fistfuls of nuts. It was a bumper crop this year. Go ahead and laugh, but I think there is some primitive urge in us that comes out when we're gathering some product of nature, like nuts or berries or even tomatoes. One feels compelled to keep gathering and gathering, and immense satisfaction is derived from looking at the pile of goodies collected.

Tibby and I gathered energetically. The grocery bag was half full. Compelled by this primal urge which may or may not exist, we rationalized that we were going to use all the acorns. We'd crack them, we said. In years past when I had time to waste on such things, I would crack acorns and soak the meats repeatedly to remove the bitterness. Once dried, they can be baked in breads. I was only fooling myself if I thought I had time for tomfoolery like that now. Tibby might have the time, but she definitely does not have the inclination. We then had a full grocery sack. We divided it in half, and I took half home with me. I baked them according to the tutorial's instructions.

One night after my babies were asleep, I assembled wreath base, baked acorns, and glue gun. I spread newspapers over the counter top and set to. Twenty minutes in, I had a third of the wreath covered and things were looking fine. Then tragedy struck. I happened to feel an acorn, and it popped off. Within seconds, I'd popped them all off. Hot glue does not hold onto acorns.

Enraged, I called my sweetheart to vent on him. Ever scientific, he informed me that acorns have enough oil on their shells that plastic adhesives like hot glue cannot grip them. So I went on a quest for the perfect adhesive. I needed something that would hold the acorns, and it also had to be tacky enough to win the battle against gravity on the wreath's sides as it dried. I eventually chose a tube of all-purpose construction adhesive at Home Depot for $2.50.

The adhesive was just gloopy enough for the job. On a piece of cardboard in my living room on night, made the wreath. I did it. Then I took it to the basement and spray painted it with a can of Rustoleum the previous owner of our house left here.

With a ribbon added, it was finally done. I've been laughing at myself this whole while that I let a stupid acorn wreath turn into such an epic tale of obsession, disappointment, work, and finally triumph. Maybe triumph. One acorn fell off last week. If more acorns follow suit, I may actually get angry enough to swear. We'll see.

I belatedly caution you, gentle readers, if you click the link above you may not find rest for years. Beware. And if you leave this post with no other thought than that Emily is surely nuts (haha), please do remember for your own good that HOT GLUE DOES NOT HOLD ACORNS TO STUFF.

I conquered the nuts.

The End.

7 Quick Takes Friday (35)

2011-02-04T23:29:00.000-05:00

1. Wow! I just got online today for the first time and was so surprised to see all those comments. Thank you all for your kindness. I like reading blogs about people's day to day life better than themed blogs that stick strictly to a theme. I thought maybe I was just nosier than I ought to be. Maybe the real thing here is that this is just how women are. We like reading about other women and their children, and the lives they live, even if it's just to comfort ourselves by saying 'her life is just as boring as mine!'.

2. I don't really think my life is boring. It's difficult to find one word to describe it. My time is pretty much all filled up, but with stuff that no one wants to read about. You know what I mean.

3. My sister told me about the Flavia de Luce mysteries by Alan Bradley. I read The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie last week, and picked up The Weed that Strings the Hangman's Bag at the library yesterday. They are quite entertaining. The heroine is adorable (I love how she's so into chemistry-she reminds me of my husband). Good mystery plots, and his writing style is so entertaining.

4. Is it weird that I sometimes crave a certain shape of pasta? Wednesday I kept thinking about gemelli. I hardly ever buy them, but over New Year's we were visiting some friends for dinner and the children's meal was gemelli (the adults got coquilles St. Jacques-mmmm). I saw them and thought, "Hey, I haven't bought those in a while." So I bought a box. It was in the pantry minding its own business when suddenly on Wednesday, I knew I needed to eat those gemelli.

The next problem was how I needed the gemelli.

5. Sometimes I get ideas for dishes in my head. I am always hesitant to act on them in case they are gross, or not what I imagine them to be. I have been cooking long enough, though, that I pretty much know how a dish is going to taste before I cook it, so I should stop hesitating and just cook. This idea seemed foolproof and I went with it. It was delicious. I sauteed some onions and mushrooms, then added an Italian sausage without its casing, some garlic and herbs. Meanwhile, I boiled some asparagus, then the pasta in the same water. Toss the whole thing together with a drizzle of olive oil, a little pasta water, and some parmesan, and there it is. It satisfied my gemelli craving, plus I got to hear Maria say "Pas-ta". I love how she says it. It's impossible to show you on paper. She breaks in distinctly into syllables, and the 's' and 't' are very crisp.

6. I wore a nice skirt and lace-trimmed jersey top today with tights and flats. I haven't dressed up like that on a weekday in a while, though it used to be standard. It felt good. I like feeling put-together and presentable. Having warm legs isn't bad either. Try dressing up someday-you might be surprised at what a nice pick-me-up it is. (Husbands like it too, though considering the current time of the month for me, perhaps I should be wearing burlap or something else similarly unattractive...)

7. My sister Olly gave me some sunglasses. She says they don't look good on her. I doubt they look too hot on me, either, but they keep the sun out of my eyes for free. Or they will if I ever wear them. So far, only my kids have tried them out.

Maria's doing, not mine.

Toodles!

blogging and me: the current situation

2011-02-03T23:59:00.001-05:00

The longer you go between posts, the harder it is to come back. I've been struggling lately with this. I keep thinking maybe I should just take an official break. However, I do like blogging. I also think it's good for me. I read something I wrote several years ago, before I was married. Reading it depressed me a little. It was wittier, brighter, and used better sentence structure and vocabulary than most things I write now. I think I've slid. I'd like to go back to paper journaling, but it is hard now. My hands aren't used to writing with a pen any more. I have to concentrate so hard on writing that my thoughts don't flow well.

Here's another problem with blogging: I am just not sure what I want to blog about. I started this as a sort of journal in place of paper. Then it became a blog about my life and my kids, which is rather narcissistic. I wish it was a blog of cool sewing projects, or helpful advice, or awesome food displayed in awesome photographs, or deeply moving thoughts. I'm incapable of delivering those things, though. See, I'm sort of lost. I guess I just keep posting what I feel like. At least I'm writing.

Which brings me to this. Yes, I know it's already February 3rd. But I decided to set a personal challenge of blogging every day for this month. It's the shortest month of the year, and I already skipped two days of it. Even I have to be able to do that. Scheduled posts are okay. And I keep telling myself that short posts are okay, too. It doesn't have to be a novella every time.

Scheduled posts just might save my bottom because honestly, some days I do not use the computer at all. Where am I going to find time to homeschool in all this? I am in awe of bloggers like Calah. She has three little kids, and she turns out thoughtful, well-written posts on a regular basis. How??? Maybe she's found her kids' off buttons. I've been searching for Maria's off buttons for years and all I've found is a lot of ticklish spots.

So here goes...

Just an average Saturday morning...

2011-01-17T23:25:00.000-05:00

This post, of course, should have been written Saturday afternoon, but I ran out of time to make lasagne and blog both. So blogging got cut out of my day.

After a delicious breakfast (try these, they are wonderful!), Daddy has to go to work to do a STAT test for some silly doctor who just can't wait.

A little piglet playing in the snow on the deck.

Child eating leftover pancake while wearing snowsuit over pajamas, 'cause that's how we roll around here. Too bad the photo didn't have room for the melted snow clumps in the chair she is standing in, or the frozen sausages she flung out on the floor.

Kitchen floor decorated with disposable diapers, raw chicken from the fridge, and blankets. And mind you, we've only been up for 2 hours...

Please tell me I'm not the only mama whose kitchen counter looks like this at some point nearly every day...

At his bath time, I am informed by Maria, now nude from the waist down (it happens sometimes, you just loose your peents) that Henry has 'tinh' [boobs]. Indeed. The confusing thing is, these are baby's tinh, and I wear a pair of baby's tinh, too.

Henry gazes meditatively into the distance while loading his drawers. And yes, I prioritize maturely. I cleaned the kitchen BEFORE I took a shower and put on makeup. :)

I didn't do photos of the rest of the day. It only got crazier from here. What do people with no kids do? I'd be bored if I didn't have containers of raw chicken to rescue from the floor, lost peents to hunt up, and exploding poo diapers.

Our Daily Bread

2011-01-10T00:20:00.002-05:00

My mention of breadmaking in my last post drew a comment from Lucy, who said she wants to begin making bread herself but is intimidated by it. So for what it's worth, here's my take on breadmaking for your family. I'm no expert, but since you're all wives and mothers just like me, hopefully my experiences and advice will be relevant.

We are bread lovers in this house. We eat it with nearly every meal. Sometimes, one of us snacks on a slice or chunk. My husband is known to make and eat toast randomly throughout the day (and night).

Why do I make our bread? Well, it tastes way better than anything store bought unless you to go a good bakery. It's fresh. And it's much, much cheaper. We were buying Pepperidge Farm's whole grain breads at a deep discount. Even that, was $1.39 a loaf. If you buy it at the supermarket, it's over $2.50. That's a lot of money for a loaf of sandwich bread. We're not health freaks, but we do watch what we put in our bodies. The dough conditioners and myriad preservatives in store bread kind of turn us off. I find all those good reasons to make our own bread. We've also found, once you do homemade for a while, you can't go back. It just tastes so much better.

A recipe I ditched in the fall because the one I use now has more flavour. Still a pretty photo, though.

If you are worried about time, remember that I'm mother to one of the most high maintenance, mischievous toddlers I've ever met, plus a 12 week old baby. I'm married to a guy who does very little child care or housework. And I manage it, so you can too (unless maybe you have baby twins or something else crazy going on).

Yeast breads take about 10 minutes of hands on time total. Seriously. Once you've made it a few times, and you know what bowl you like, how the recipe goes, you've got the hang of kneading and shaping, it really takes only that small amount of time, not counting keeping an eye on the baking since that isn't really 'hands-on'. Quick breads take a few minutes to stir up and pop in the oven before a meal. I don't do individually shaped breads like bagels or rolls very often, because those make bigger messes and do take more time. But most people can live without that stuff, of just buy your bagels if you like to have some around.

Not bread. The Christmas pic I sent out, which took 10 takes, was not as good as this one I snapped
on impulse last week.

I have a core of recipes that make up our routine bread eating. When I have time or feel inclined to try something new and different, I do. It's taken me almost a year of making bread to reach this comfort point. It doesn't happen over night. There's recipe experimentation to do. Sometimes you try different rising bowls and different baking pans before you hit on your faves. You have to find out if you like kneading by hand or with a mixer best, or perhaps you will prefer hands for one recipe and mixer for another.

That's another thing-equipment. You can read breadmaking books that have intimidatingly long lists of stuff you think you might have to go and buy. In reality, if you cook, you have everything you need to make bread. Some measuring cups and spoons, a big bowl, and a baking sheet, a loaf pan. Done. You don't even need a mixer for kneading-hands work.

30 seconds later...(she pinched his hand). Just in case you thought they
ALWAYS look that cute.

I borrow my mom's Sam's Club card and get my yeast there, Fleischman's brand in a 2 lb package. It's a lot, but if you are making all or almost all of your bread you will use it in less than a year. Keep it in a glass jar in the freezer. I buy whole-wheat flour online. It is much more expensive than white, which I hate, but it is good for you and honestly, I get tired of all white bread. Whole wheat has an appealing taste. I buy my white flour at Sam's also. My dad said our Sam's is now carrying unbleached, which I am excited about, since I have been getting that on sale at the supermarket. Besides wheat flour and rolled oats, I have yet to branch out into the territory of other types of grain flours. We'll get there. I do use flax seeds for some stuff.

Our favourite 'daily bread' is a slow-rise recipe that makes a round loaf. This is the 3rd recipe I've used for daily bread, and I think I'm going to stick with this one. It's just about perfect. I make the starter in late afternoon, and that rises, then I make the sponge right before bed. The sponge rises all night. In the morning, I knead the dough, let it rise, shape the loaf, let that rise, and bake it. Bread by lunch. I am kind of on an every other day schedule with this one. The starter can be extended and kept in the fridge. I do that, and usually use it two or three times before I start another. I'm still hesitant to try keeping it longer, and I don't always make this bread every other day completely regularly because sometimes...

I have a recipe for a batter bread that uses 100% whole wheat. It is the first recipe without any white flour that I really, truly like. It mixes up in minutes and we have it once a week or so. Some weeks, I make two loaves of a pan bread for sandwiches or just to mix up the routine a little. If a meal seems appropriate with biscuits, I throw in a batch of biscuits. I make tortillas or rotis when I cook Mexican or Indian. (Same recipe, only rotis are whole wheat and tortillas are white). Sometimes for something different, I make an herb-topped focaccia. Every so often, with bean soup or chili, I make cornbread. When there are overripe bananas, I either peel them and throw them in a bag in the freezer to make banana bread with later, or make some that day. I can write a whole post on the fun I've had experimenting with banana bread. Maybe I will!

This past Saturday's handiwork. A regular daily loaf, cocoa bread for the monthly
after-Mass social, and the English muffins in progress.

Once you start making your own bread, you will notice immediately that it does not keep very long. At 24 hours old, it almost needs to be toasted in order to be good. You can look at this as a nuisance, or it might leave you scratching your head wondering just what kind of junk they are putting in store-bought bread that makes it last so long. I store our bread in airtight bags. If you are making more than one loaf at a time to save time and energy and you want to keep a loaf more than a day or two, throw it in the freezer. Even with the best management, home baked bread is at its best the day it is made. This is not to say it's not good the next day, but it's lost it's spark. It's not a big deal to us. My husband prefers toasted to untoasted anyway.

Oh, and the verdict on the English muffins: it wasn't that they were difficult, but cutting them out did take time. So did grilling them-8 minutes per side times some 20-23 muffins. It was a bit of an ordeal. I don't think, at this point, I am going to make them very often.

My breadmaking experience is still enfolding. I'm thinking of trying new grain flours-I'd like to make rye bread on occasion, or incorporate a little millet or spelt. And since English muffins or bagels are getting the thumbs down from me at this stage in our family life due to too much time. I am going to work on producing an acceptable breakfast-type bread that is quicker.

I didn't add recipes because this is already long, and there are plenty of books out there. However, if you want my recipes, you only have to ask and I'll post what I use.

7 Quick Takes Friday (34)

2011-01-07T23:56:00.000-05:00

1. We're sick this week. Maria had a bad cold last week, and I kept feeling like I was going to get it. Then I had a few days go without feeling that way, and I thought I'd escaped. Wrong. Mr. G. and I both got sick on Tuesday. It's a bad cold, with a lot of joint pain. Henry's sick too. It breaks my heart to see him sick so young. He's quiet and more serious than usual, and he snores. Mr. G. took yesterday and today off. Which brings me to:

2. We got "Shaun of the Dead" from the library. I really don't want to tell the whole world that; it's embarrassing. But we finally decided, too many people have told us to see it. It's time. It was sooo stupid, and sooo funny. (Maria fell asleep before the gore began, in case you were worried.) We had fun, though. Every once in a while, it's good to do something harmlessly stupid with your spouse. We laughed at the movie, and we laughed at ourselves and each other for watching it. Homemade pretzels + stupid movie + body pile on the couch in which half the bodies are sleeping= great time. At least I think the kids had fun...sleeping.

3. My husband, bored one day, picked up a copy of "Nourishing Traditions" that I have lying around. I'm almost sorry. He called me on the phone from work. First he told me I need to make more fish stock. Indeed. Then he told me, "We eat too much processed-"and my mind is racing all over thinking "Processed what? What is he going to say? There is barely any processed food in our house." Turns out it is the bagels I buy at Kroger. Easy breakfast. I make all our other bread. It's just hard to make a bread that requires individual shaping. It takes more time and makes a bigger mess. And there's the whole poaching thing with bagels. Not worth it, for the few of us. Now I am not allowed to buy bagels any more. I am going to foray into the territory of English muffins someday soon. Maybe I will be able to make them regularly. He's on me about the stock, though. He wants me to buy fish heads.

4. Getting sick always highlights the one drawback of doing all your cooking from scratch, which is, just that. If you dont' feel good and there is nothing in your house that is ready made, you must cook whether you want to or not. Our fridge is full of produce and our freezer is full of raw meat. I don't have any frozen meals this week. Tonight's menu was supposed to be chicken fajitas on homemade tortillas with all the side fixings. I was too achey to tackle that. I ended up making potato soup instead, but I still had to whip up a batter bread to go with it. I love cooking and eating all homemade, but there are undeniably times when a bag of frozen chicken tenders or something like that might be nice. Oh well.

5. I'd like to keep updating with photo posts, but I don't upload often these days. I am keeping a ton of pictures on the camera because since the computer is still dubiously healthy, I like to have them some other place besides just iPhoto. I need to upload and back them up on a CD so I can clear the camera's memory and it won't take so long to upload. Then I can post more pictures of totally adorable Henry.

6. It's January already! I am trying to start planning our Easter clothes. Early, I know, but if I don't start now it will be halfway through Lent before I realize I'm not ready. I have an idea of Maria's dress. I want to do 1940's for me, but I can't find a pattern so far. It has to open in front. I have one vintage one that works, but I'd have to resize it plus I'm missing 2 pieces. That's too much time investment for me to bother; I just don't have that time. If anyone can recommend a place to purchase vintage patterns, please share!

7. Another thing I'd love input on is books. Reading helps keep me sane. At this point, though it's not ideal, I am looking for entertaining fiction, if it's historical even better, with dirty stuff at a minimum. I can't read total garbage, but I find that picking up Orthodoxy or the Life of Christ while nursing a baby with a toddler climbing on me doesn't do much. I can't devote enough brain to reading. So I have to go for light stuff. Any ideas?

It sounds like Jen over at Conversion Diary could use some prayers today.

The Christmas Re-cap

2010-12-29T00:23:00.001-05:00

There have been several moments in my (fairly new) journey as a parent when a light has turned on in my head, as something my mother did years before finally makes sense. In the days before Christmas this year, I kept thinking thoughts of candles, delicious food, an inviting, tidy house to relax in.

The thing is, if I want the candles, food, and tidiness to take place, the relaxing won't-for me. On Christmas Eve, I was baking all day. Between baking, I vacuumed, folded a couple of loads of laundry, nursed the baby about 36 times, laid out everyone's church clothes for Christmas, ironed the tablecloth, set my hair in pincurls, and made and served dinner. Did mounds of dishes. Threw in one more load of laundry. 1AM Christmas morning found me still awake, waiting for the bread for Christmas dinner to finish baking, so tired I could barely keep my eyes open.

I remember my mom was always the last one up on Christmas Eve night. I remember sitting by the fireplace, enjoying hot chocolate by the tree on Christmas Eve, while Mom ran around the house. Like a nut, I thought then. Like a mother, I know now. I got six precious hours in bed before I was up again, serving cinnamon rolls and coffee to my little family.

Then the usual crazyhouse routine of getting to church (during which I was thinking dreadfully, we have to do this ALL OVER AGAIN tomorrow!). Church wasn't even a break, because I was the mom who spent Christmas Mass simultaneously nursing a baby and restraining a toddler who was hell-bent on running all the way up the aisle to join Baby Jesus in the creche. "Where Baby! Want see Baby Jee-jee! Want see horsies! Want see sheepies! Where moo-moos?"

Get home, change the kids clothes, nurse the baby, redo your hair, bundle everyone up again...

The Christmas party was wonderful, and it was a break for me. My little sisters kept Maria the whole time. I only saw Henry to feed and change him. The food, which (all except for the bread) I didn't have to cook, was incredible. Our friends, who host the annual party with my family and a few relatives of theirs, grilled filets of beef. It was the best meat I've ever had, I think. There was plenty to eat and plenty to drink, and lots of laughter. No presents and the pressure that brings. It was perfect.

The day after Christmas we ate leftovers from the 23rd and watched Joyeaux Noel. That day was actually pretty relaxing.

Don't get me wrong, it was all good, even Christmas Eve and the eve of Christmas Eve. It's just different, when you are the lady of the house. You want everything to be nice for your husband and children, and it's all on you. As you're up to your elbows in dish water, you think suddenly of your mother, and even though she might not be thinking of you, there is a moment where you feel very close to her.

Oh, and I didn't take a single photograph of any of our Christmas doings. Oops.

Pooping does not get you extra candy!

2010-12-29T00:02:00.000-05:00

During a nice normal adult conversation, I interrupted my husband to yell that. I intended to yell it to Maria and then go on with the conversation, but as soon as I did, the funniness of it hit me. I started to giggle, and we forgot what we were talking about. Oh, the things you find yourself saying as a parent!

You know those plaques people hang up with "House Rules" on them, that are supposed to be cute? Rules like, If it's open, close it. If it's left on, turn it off. If it's hungry, feed it. etc. We were thinking about what ours would say if we made one.

1. Pooping does not get you extra candy.

2. Underwear must be worn at all times, except when using the toilet or bathing.

3.We do not mix our dinner into our drinking glass.

4. STAY OUT OF THE REFRIGERATOR!

We thought of more, but I forget them. The first one is the best, anyway. We hadn't been giving rewards for pottying for a while now, but Mr. G got a huge bag of Starburst the day he had to be St. Nicholas at work. Maria gets one for every elimination, but she seemed to think that pooping got two. Sorry!

Anyway, I am having a hard time feeling motivated to blog lately. I don't have much to say. It all seems stupid to me when I do say it. Nothing new really happens. I never remember to download photos off the camera.

Help!

2010-12-16T23:56:00.000-05:00

She's coming.

He knows it.

He knows what happens when she gets there.

And that is our life right now.

7 Quick Takes Friday (33)

2010-12-04T01:08:00.000-05:00

It's actually nearly 1am Saturday. And I just finished the dinner dishes from Friday's dinner. Anyway, I'm at the point of sleepiness where I am feeling a little fogged over. I owe some emails to peeps, but I am afraid of what would end up in their inbox if I tried to write them at this point. So instead I am going to write stuff for the whole world to see in this state, instead of close friends. Makes sense, huh?

1. I went to a very, very cool food store yesterday with my sister Tibby and of course, the childrens. And I got COCOA NIBS! Ladies, you cannot understand how momentous this is. I have been lurking around the Scharffen Berger website for months thinking about buying cocoa nibs, but unable to justify it. But I wanted them so bad. Then when I realised this store actually sells Scharffen Berger chocolate, and the nibs were right there in front of me, I capitulated. I am going to cook stuff with cocoa nibs.

2. Have I ever mentioned that I have a chocolate problem? As in, I need chocolate to survive? I do. I have to be really careful not to eat the whole 3 lb bag of bittersweet chunks I get at Sam's Club plain before I even cook anything with them.

3. Henry and I are really good at nursing in the Maya wrap sling. I could never do it with Maria for some reason. I love it. I don't have to sit in the cold car nursing between stores any more; we nurse while we shop. Cozy inside the sling, Henry goes gulp, glug, snarf, chomp...and little old ladies cast disapproving glares at me. I doubt they'd care if I was eating. Why can't he? It's not like they can see anything, either.

4. Mr G is hunting deer. No luck yet. He said, "I don't like hunting when I don't get anything."

"It's called hunting, not killing, for a reason, dear," I said. This did not improve things.

5. Two kids really do a number on your laundry. Every time I think I have conquered the beast, someone pukes, pees or poops on their clothes and it starts all over again. I am always at least two loads behind. Today I did 3 loads and there are more waiting upstairs. I still can't figure out why we make so much dirty laundry.

6. I'm cold and I wanna go wrap my icy feet around Mr G's warm ones (he's been in bed for hours in anticipation of more huntin' tomorrow). No #7.

'Night!

Happy Advent!

2010-11-29T00:18:00.001-05:00

I've actually had ideas for posts lately, but no time to write them.

Does it get better than this? Because I am okay, but I do not have time for the internet, which is a bit bothersome because I miss all you internet folks. When the kids sleep during the day, I am catching up. When they finally go down at night, I am still catching up. Or perhaps showering. And then the husband comes home, and takes the computer.

I finished the dishes from tonight's supper at 11:30. Mr G and Maria are tucked into our bed. He has a belly ache and she needed someone to sit with her while she fell asleep.

My eyes are tired. My mind is tired, too.

Did you remember to make your Advent wreath? I just made mine when I finished those dishes. It's far from Martha Stewart. Just my pottery wreath with some Douglas fir branches. Very plain. I think I need to swallow my...what is it? Pride? Shyness? Unwillingness to give all of myself? Whatever it is, I need to overcome it and sing around the wreath this year.

I've never sung in front of my husband. Ever. I have given him everything else, but not my voice. I don't know why. I just know that when I try, my voice shakes and I feel hot all over.

Maria needs to hear someone sing O Come, O Come Emmanuel. Since her daddy can't carry a tune in a washtub, her once-upon-a-time choir soloist mama is going to have to man up and sing. I was trying to tell her about how Baby Jesus is coming. She asked if he was coming in a car, and went to the window to check. :)

I hope that you have a holy Advent!

Bits n' Pieces of This and That

2010-11-20T00:24:00.000-05:00

Because I have way more than 7, I think.

Yesterday, Maria's dolly was "kying" while I nursed Henry. She makes it kye sometimes, then finds it and comforts it. I asked what the beebee wanted; usually she says it wants its carseat, though I have yet to meet a live baby that cried to be put IN its carseat. This time, though, she said her beebee was hungry and wanted tinh (her word for breastfeeding). Okay, I said, give it some. I 'nursed' my dollies as a child and do not think it weird like some folks seem to. Maria and her bee-bee disappeared behind an armchair. When she came back a few minutes later, I saw that she had stripped down to her 'unsies' to nurse the doll, who was making loud sucking noises. Maria didn't seem to understand why I thought it was so funny. Things would be pretty interesting around here if I nursed like that.

First braids. Bribed to sit still with Hallowe'en's last lollypop.

I knew I was weird already. I'm thinking I may actually qualify as a freak. One thing that has steered me towards this thought is my abnormal postpartum hair loss. Books say it usually occurs around six to eight weeks after the baby is born. I did not loose any hair after Maria. Then I was pregnant again for three months. Immediately following my miscarriage, I lost a moderate amount of hair for a month or so. I began loosing a lot of hair when I was about 35 weeks pregnant with Henry. It has not stopped. If I didn't have really really thick hair (loosing some is actually welcome) I'd be worried. I loose gobs in the shower. I find chunks on the floor all over my house. The dryer lint trap contains one third my hair to two thirds lint. Poor Henry always has pieces of my hair tangled in his swaddling blanket. Yesterday he was making funny noises while nursing and I realized it was because he was slowly swallowing two hairs along with his milk.

See? Weird, right?

Henry always looks either suspicious or concerned. I would too if that kid^
was my big sister.

Pomegranates are in season. We love pomegranates here. My husband had actually never had one until we were engaged and I bought one for him because I was shocked that he'd never eaten one. He cracked me up eating it because he talked to the seeds, coaxing them to come out more easily. Maria calls them "pieces". Mr G and I each get a half of the fruit and we take turns sharing with her. She feeds herself the seeds with both hands and chants "Want piece! Want piece!" I used to spit out my pomegranate seeds but I eat them now. Mr G always spits his out. Piglet eats hers. On the internet, I read most people eat them. My family always spit them out. They are harmless to eat, just roughage.

Do you eat your pomegranate seeds?

Henry's one month checkup was Wednesday. The kid is enormous. He is 23" long and weighs 12 pounds! This compared to 21" and 8,3 at birth. No wonder he is outgrowing his 0-3 month clothes. I know it's a blessing to have such strong, healthy children.

Henry the monster baby

Repairing our rental apartment is in full swing (yet another demand on my time). We have installed all new entry doors. The ones we took out were original to the house (built 1915), so they were just wood. Now we have nice, secure steel doors with quality locks. We painted them a deep navy blue. I love it. Right now the house is brick red painted brick with cream trim, and the blue doors. When we paint the bricks-another looming enormous project-we are thinking we're going to paint it a soft pale green. I think it's going to be really pretty.

You have no idea how dirty a small Piglet can get when she spends a day wallowing in plaster dust. On days we work on the house, the water runs grey off her in the shower.

If you think this looks peaceful, 5 minutes later she stepped on the lid of the paint can.
Thank goodness we were already planning on replacing the floor she walked on.

Does anyone else out there have to fight their husband to get him to have a haircut? And mine doesn't even have to leave the house to get one. Sheesh. Every single time, it's a battle. He looks bad, I ask, I get put off for two weeks, then when I finally tell him he is not going to bed without getting a haircut, inevitably the day gets busy and we are up late, and he gets mad. (And I write run-on sentences). Here it is midnight, we have a baptism to attend in the morning. The kids are sleeping and I'm all ready-and waiting to take a shower until I've cut it-and he's hiding in the basement doing something he thinks is really important. I asked him a few minutes ago, "What if we are married for fifty years? Is this going to happen every time you need a haircut? Because if so, one of these times I am going to shave it off." He just giggled.

This girl is TROUBLE

Have a wonderful weekend! (Off to physically drag husband to scene of proposed haircut...)

Henry's Birth, part 2

2010-11-14T00:04:00.031-05:00

In the car I tried to relax my whole body and prayed silently for long gaps between contractions. The ride took about 18 minutes; I had 3 contractions and leapt from the car before it was barely parked to get through another one.

The hospital seemed sort of confusing to get into. When we found Labour and Delivery, we went to the NICU nurses station, the L&D rooms’ nursing station, and another place that was not Triage before we found Triage. All the walking was starting to put me in a grouchy mood, especially because the walls were lined with hundreds of tiles in memory of babies who had died there. I did not want to be thinking about dead babies right then.

We got checked in, and arrived in our LDR room at around 9pm. Huge and shiny with hardwood floors, lots of comfy chairs, and a wonderful looking shower, it seemed more like a luxury hotel room. Mr. G. admired the very expensive cabinetry (“solid wood, honey!” and “check out this hardware!”) while I changed into a voluminous hospital gown which I tied on wrong.

My nurse was a guy. I did not feel very good about that at first, but he turned out to be very supportive, competent and caring. His name was Doug but for some odd reason, I kept almost calling him George and thinking of him as George. I think his name should have been George. In fact, in this story I will call him George. It will make things seem right. Mr. G thinks this whole thing is some weird labor brain thing. He is perhaps correct. Anyway…

George got me into bed for the twenty minutes of required ~~torture~~ monitoring. In between contractions, we played twenty questions for the hospital chart. Do you smoke? Do you do drugs? Have you ever thought of taking your own life? And on and on. Then I got a hep lock placed. As this all went on, the contractions were getting more and more intense. Some only had one or two minutes between them; most had 3. I tried to relax, but I had to move something during each contraction, so I slid my feet back and forth in the bed. By the time twenty minutes had become 35 (believe me, I was watching that clock!) the pain was enough that I was having a hard time not tensing my face and grimacing. Mr. G. gave me his hand to hold so I could relax everything else and squeeze him. I probably squeezed him harder than he bargained for.

At long last, George set me free. I bounced off that bed. Then came a surprise: all the time I’d lay there I thought of how badly I wanted to stand up, because surely contractions would feel better standing up and I could deal with them better. Not so. I was in just as much pain standing and swaying as I was lying flat.

Dismayed, I began to doubt. I didn’t know how long I could do this. The midwife showed up right then. After greetings were exchanged, I told her I needed to do something to distract me. Something watery. There had been talk of a tub, but I needed something now and the tub was nowhere to be seen. I wanted to get in the shower. Of course I could shower, she said. She sent George to get a bag to tape over my hep lock and told me perhaps she ought to check me before I got in the shower. Back onto the bed for the second surprise: “Seven!”

“Are you serious?,” I gasped, and promptly burst into tears. Laughing and crying at once, I hugged my husband. Until then, I had not believed that I could do this. I’d been hoping for four or five. A baby seemed within reach now.

In the shower, I tried water on my belly and water on my back and settled for back. I had to keep my right arm, in the bag, out of the water. During contractions, I was feeling a lot of pressure and stretching feelings from the baby’s head. I felt like I needed to bend my knees in order to keep my hips spread further and let the baby move down. To accommodate all these sensations, I held onto a bar with my left arm and Mr G supported some of my weight on my right forearm, so that I could bend my knees and take some weight off my legs. The moving of my feet that I’d began in the bed, I kept doing. It was annoying to me that I felt the need to do that, but I did. Things really began to intensify. I began to moan, and as time passed the moans became more akin to bellows. Between contractions I was embarrassed and kept telling my husband I was sorry to be doing that. I could not help it though. There has to be some outlet for all that pain and pressure.

The midwife came quietly in and out of the bathroom from time to time. She checked the baby a few times with a Doppler, kept me supplied with apple juice over ice chips, and also ran a bag of penicillin into my IV since I was Group B strep positive. She was encouraging, but unobtrusive, and let us do our thing. I was really happy with her level of involvement.

I’d gone into the shower close to 10pm. A little after 11, I was starting to want to push. I had a little cervix left. My midwife told me to wait until the urge was so great I couldn’t hold back, and they set up the bed for me to push squatting.

One of the reasons I had wanted a natural birth was that I wanted to actually experience this ‘urge to push’ thing I always heard about. I certainly felt it. The midwife and Mr G. dried me off, got my gown back on me, and we went over to the bed. I got situated squatting, and with the next contraction did an experimental push. I felt my water break and splatter on the bed, the bar I was leaning on dipped, and suddenly, without the cushion of water, the pain intensified greatly. I am embarrassed to admit that I screamed. The bar dipped lower. I kept wondering if it was supposed to be like that, but I could not let my weight off it because my body was pushing whether I wanted it to or not. It turns out, the bar broke, and the only reason it caught me was because my husband on my left and George the nurse on my right realized it broke and were holding it up through that contraction. So I sat back. I pushed in earnest next time, with a lot of gasping and shrieking. It really, really hurt. I can’t really describe the sensations you feel when your baby is moving down the birth canal. You can feel all this moving, and stretching, and pushing aside of your muscle tissue. I felt like I was tearing in half. After pushing with two contractions, they told me they could see his head and it was nearly crowning. Waiting for another contraction was barely less painful than pushing at that point. I wanted him out so badly. I tried to breath deeply and keep from gasping as I waited, the burning horrible.

With the next contraction, the head was born. Another little push, and there was my baby, purple and pink and gasping. If I was still in any pain at that moment, I forgot it. I was laughing and crying at once for the second time that night. The midwife laid him on my belly, in my arms at last. I looked down, and between his flailing legs I saw what I sort of expected, yet it was still somewhat of a surprise (it still is, every time I change a diaper…I’m just not used to it). “It’s a boy!,” I told my husband. Henry was gurgling and gasping rather than crying, so I held him upright and patted him to help him cough out the fluid.

I held Henry for a little while during which his cord was cut, the placenta delivered, and repairing me began. The pediatric nurse suctioned Henry’s mouth again while I held him, and pulled out a string of mucus. With my permission, she took him to the little alcove containing the baby equipment to suction him better. Quite a lot of fluid came out of his lungs, and he began to cry strongly instead of his previous mewing, wet gasps. He turned a nice red colour. Mr. G and the nurse weighed him and got a diaper on him. The nurse brought him back to me, and he was rooting energetically at her hand. He latched to my breast easily and nursed with great energy.

I nursed and nursed Henry while the midwife sewed me up and she and I chatted about sewing with fabric, a hobby she also enjoys but has no time for. I’m amused now to think of what a picture we made, her sewing up my lady parts, me stark naked because my gown was soaked with blood and since I needed my bottom half bare and I was nursing with my top half. Henry a white bundle on my chest, and us talking about sewing of all things. My husband rocked in a chair beside me and said nothing. Someone brought us cheese, crackers and juice.

When the midwife was done, George washed me up and clothed me once more. We were left alone for some quiet time. Henry and I nursed some more and Mr G and I talked names.

I’d wanted a particular name all through the pregnancy, but Mr G was not comfortable with it. We talked of our second choice, but the baby didn’t look like a Salvatore to me. I couldn’t see us calling him that. “How about Henry?,” I suggested, remembering a name my husband had suggested months ago and we’d written down, but never spoke of again. When I said that, I looked at the baby and thought the name was his. He looked like Henry. We chose Gerard because it was the good saint’s feast day when Henry was born, and my prayers to avoid induction and have a natural birth were answered. And Marie because I want all my children to have some form of Mary’s name in theirs.

George the nurse (who is really called Doug:P) wanted me to empty my bladder before we went upstairs to the postpartum section. Mr G held Henry, who shrieked at being removed from my breast, and George helped me walk to the bathroom. I felt strong and steady, thankfully.

The rest of the story is pretty unexciting. Mr G went home to sleep after they got me into a postpartum room. The hospital food was unbelieveably bad-like I could hardly believe they managed to get food to taste that awful-but the nurses were pretty nice. I spent most of the time with Henry attached to me. He nursed voraciously and constantly until my milk came in Monday evening.

Comparing this, a natural birth, with my first birth, where I had an epidural, is a little difficult because I know the length of my labour with Maria made a lot of things different. I was much less capable of coping with pain during Maria’s birth because I was sleep deprived. However, I can tell you that even at its worst, I do not think I was in much more pain than I was when on Pitocin with a posterior baby. And the pain didn't last long and had an end more predictably in sight, which made it much easier to cope with.

Maybe a lot of women would disagree with me, but I liked knowing feeling for myself what my body was doing during labour instead of having someone else tell me what was going on because I was numb. When you are giving birth, what is happening to you is out of your control. That is scary. When you have an epidural, though, you’re lulled into this false sense of you being able to control what’s happening, because you’ve controlled the pain (or rather let a drug control it for you). You are more IN it when you go natural. You aren’t a spectator at your own child’s birth. Before someone plops a slippery newborn on your belly, you actually feel that baby come out of your body.

This could have nothing to do with the drugs, or everything, but I noticed this: Maria rooted somewhat lethargically immediately after birth, and I had to encourage her to open her mouth to nurse. Henry was rooting, open mouthed, at anything near his head before he was even fifteen minutes old. He was much easier to nurse during those first twelve hours or so than Maria was.

It was great being able to get out of bed and walk to the bathroom right away. It was great to be able to scoot around in my bed and get comfortable in the postpartum room. It was great not having stuff left in my back that had to be removed the next day.

I also loved the post-birth high I got this time. I don’t remember feeling like that after Maria was born. Granted I’d gone about 40 something hours without sleep, but my joy was mixed with detachment. This time, I felt simply over the moon. I couldn’t stop smiling and gazing into Henry’s face, and as I fell in love with my baby I felt terribly in love with my husband, too. In fact, I just loved everybody.

I used evening primrose oil for about a month before Henry was born. Sometimes I took it by mouth, and sometimes intravaginally. I’m not sure if this contributed to how fast things progressed. I’ll never know. I’m not sure if I’ll bother using it next time.

Something I am definitely doing earlier and more often next time I’m pregnant is raspberry leaf tea. I got a box of the tea bags, ridiculously expensive. That stuff did do something though. During the last weeks of pregnancy, I could feel the difference in contractions for a few hours after I drank a cup. Next time I’m being smart and going to the natural foods store for a whole bag of loose leaves, and starting drinking it earlier and drinking more of it.

Somewhere I read about taking alfalfa to help with clotting. I took it in capsule form for the last six weeks before Henry was born. I can tell you, I bled a lot more during Maria’s birth, and my lochia lasted longer. Even in the first hours after Henry was born, I was not bleeding as much as I did after Maria, nor passing huge clots like I did with her. I was down to very light bleeding by just one week, and pink and brownish stuff up until about 3 weeks postpartum. So, again I am not sure the alfalfa capsules did it, but I’m doing that next time too.

I can't finish this without thanking my husband. He never left my side. He did everything I asked him. ("Hold my arm now!" "Give me juice! No, no juice, I'm having a contraction!""Stop touching me!") His very presence was so comforting to me, I think I would not have been able to go natural without him. He was perfect.

Well, that’s about it. I did it! I birthed a baby without drugs. Until he was in my arms, I didn’t believe I could do it. It was so wonderful to get a positive birth experience this time. Up until Henry’s birth, I felt sort of cheated, and like I’d let myself down. I no longer feel that way about Maria’s birth. It was the way it had to be. This time, my prayers were answered, my hopes and dreams were fulfilled. I don’t know why. I am humbled and so grateful that I have been so blessed. I had a healthy pregnancy, an easy birth that went just how I wanted it, and my son is healthy and normal. Why me? So many others are chosen to bear crosses of complicated pregnancies, unfulfilling births, or children with abnormalities. I do not deserve what God has given me.

Henry's Birth, Part 1

2010-11-13T00:04:00.000-05:00

I apologise for the length and detail of this story, but it is partly for my own records. And if any of my readers are like me, you might want details. I love to compare and contrast the births of my two children, and my births with those of other women. It helps you know what’s normal, and what you might possibly expect. Details, I said…and since this is a story about childbirth those details include stuff about blood and cervical dilation and other exciting gore like that. You’ve been warned; read at your own risk.

The night of Friday October 15th, I went to bed with a plan: castor oil with breakfast. I really, really did not want to go that way, but I also really did not want Pitocin on Sunday. During the very early morning, I began to come semi-wakeful every so often as I had a contraction. My back ached between. However, I was tired enough that I didn’t ever wake up fully, and didn’t feel like trying to time them. Maria came over to have me spoon her around daybreak, and between her wriggling, the baby waking up inside me, and the contractions, I dozed fitfully until 9 or so.

Upon waking I discovered that the contractions were about every 4 or 5 minutes. I was feeling crampy and my back ached just enough that with each pain that I needed to stand up. I spent breakfast hopping up and down out of my chair.

I was undecided about the castor oil now. What if I took it and didn’t need it? What if I didn’t take it and it was the push my body needed to get real labor going? I consulted my mother, who of course could not choose for me, and suggested getting the midwife’s opinion.

I decided to wait on that, having an unreasonable feeling that if I let anyone official know I might be in labor, labor would contrarily stop. So I tidied up the house, put away laundry, brewed and sipped my last two bags of raspberry leaf tea, and packed Maria’s bag for my parents. The contractions spaced further apart, 7-10 minutes, without changing in duration or intensity. Bummer. How about a walk?

We suited up in shoes and jackets and set off walking to the tune of the Angelus bells up the street. I stopped and stood, swaying slightly, when I had a contraction. We went to the park, where Maria slid down the slides, which she calls “Whee’s” and we pushed her in a swing. We got home at 1pm, and I’d had exactly 7 contractions in that hour. Not as many as I wished I’d had. After returning home, I went 20 minutes without having a single one. After that, I had none at all.

Disappointed, I placed a call to the midwife on call to get her input. She said she’d probably opt out of the castor oil. Perhaps labor would resume in earnest at nightfall. Perhaps castor oil wouldn’t do it. She said she’d had a similar experience to mine once, and the castor oil didn’t get her labor going. She advised to just rest up-if I wasn’t in labor naturally within the next few hours I knew I’d be in labor Sunday beyond a doubt, and resting would probably be the best thing I could do for myself now.

I mixed hot cream and chocolate for ganache for my husband’s birthday cake, a single chocolate layer I’d baked Friday night. I left it to thicken while Piglet and I snuggled into bed for an afternoon nap. My husband came and woke me presently, whispering that we better make use of our “last chance” before the baby was born, and maybe it might do something to help labour start. (Hope you all know what I am referring to here). So we did, and then dozed together. Out of nowhere, a very businesslike contraction seized my body. And another followed four minutes later. And another and another. Hmm…?

I figured if I called my mom everything would stop. However, a trip to the bathroom revealing a rather copious amount of very bloody “bloody show” made me change my mind. Maybe this was really going to happen. I decided to send Maria off “just in case”, I told my husband. My mom cancelled her Saturday evening Mass plans, packed up the kids, and rushed in a tizzy to our house. They swept Maria out despite my asking them to visit a bit (between contractions, that is). “You better get to the hospital NOW,” my mother insisted. But since I was not really in labor, I told my husband he could go surf the internet and I’d rest.

It was so peaceful in the house without Maria. I vacuumed, and then got a glass of juice and rested on the couch with “Pregnancy, Childbirth, and the Newborn”. I read about breathing patterns in labor. I don’t know if I do what Penny Simkin exactly wants me to do, but I breath very long breaths during contractions, very slowly. I force them out a little hard, which I think is not the idea. But they give me something to concentrate on. It works for me. In the end that’s what matters. I did not read past the active labor section. Somewhere in my mind I believed, I think, that it would be like last time. Why bother reading about pushing when I was going to give in after days of pain and have an epidural with directed pushing? Why bother reading about transition when I’d be drugged and a sleepless zombie like creature by that time?

Contractions continued to come 4 minutes apart. They lasted between 45 seconds and 1 minute. I tried a few different things: on hands and knees. Not cool. I tried my ball. I’d loved the birth ball in labor with Maria. To my surprise, it only made my back hurt worse during contractions. So I stuck with standing, eyes closed, swaying, and rubbing my belly.

Every so often Mr. G called me to come check out some really cool colour of VCT flooring for downstairs. I was less and less concerned with VCT flooring as the minutes ticked by. Mr. G was crushed and stopped calling for me.

We decided around seven to have dinner. My sisters and I had made chicken burritos earlier in the week. I ate a half of one between swaying around the kitchen, while Mr. G. consumed three.

“You are starting to make labor faces,” he informed me after one contraction. They were still coming four minutes apart and about 60 seconds long, but were no more painful than before.

We had birthday cake. I washed up the dishes while my husband read a book. As I finished the dishes, I got a sudden urge to hurry and leave. We closed down the house, and, after several annoying setbacks, set out for the hospital.

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