But on the other hand...

Despite the whiny-ness of my previous post, I sure am loving our little Colton.   And I'm loving my big kids, too.  To be perfectly honest, it sort of boggles my mind that I have FOUR kids.  When I was a teenager and used to babysit, I would always come home relieved to be done with a job.  It would leave me worrying to my Mom about the fact that I was always so happy to get away from the kids I'd been watching (even kids that I genuinely liked!).  "Mom," I would say, "What if I just don't like kids?"  And she would always reassure me that it would be different some day when they were my kids.   But I still worried.

I shouldn't have.  She was right.  I can never get enough of them...

So here are a bunch more pictures, mostly of Colton.  Enjoy!

Starting to unfurl

My midwife with her latest "catch"!

Getting weighed for his 2-day check-up

Eying Daddy suspiciously during bathtime

Meeting Aunt Natalie

Despite the face Ryder pulls when you tell him to smile, I still totally love this picture

Chilling with Aunt Tracy

I never imagined that I could be so blessed.

Dodging Reality

My Mom and Tracy left last week on Tuesday.  Craig was supposed to go back to work the next day, but thanks to a power line that fell down across the road, blocking access to his school, he got one more day off.  So that left me with only Thursday and Friday to survive on my own.  But now it's spring break, so I'm back to living the good life with an extra set of hands helping me out with everything and little-to-no schedule to stick to.

And it's marvelous (despite the lame-o weather).  AND my wonderful ward family has been bringing us meals every other day, so that has made my life fifty times easier.  But I will admit that I'm sort-of-just-a-little-bit terrified for next week when I will have to be a mother to four children most of the day all by myself and somehow have dinner on the table at the end of the day.  It's funny, because I know how to do this.  I know how to feed and change the baby.  I know what to give Ryder for lunch and when he needs to nap.  I know how to get the big kids fed and Bentley's lunch made, and drop him off at school on time.  I can even do all that and turn around and get Kendra to preschool (sometimes even on time!).  I can!  I know how to sneak in and get my shower (or my nap, whichever seems more important at the time).  I know how to get dinner on the table at a reasonable hour.

I'm just not sure how to do all of these things at the same time.  I didn't think it would be any harder than when we added any of the other kids to the mix until it was time to do it, and now it feels very overwhelming.  It all feels overwhelming.  I have to nurse this little guy every three hours?  For a year?  How do I find time to get anything else done in between all those feedings?  (Or rather, is there a good reason to EVER BOTHER GETTING DRESSED in between them all?)  How do I take care of three fairly demanding kids-- who each want to spend their entire waking time chattering away at me-- when I've been up two or three times in the night feeding a baby?  Or, more to the point-- why do these kids insist on talking to me so much when I am clearly so exhausted?

Anyway, these are the issues I'm worrying about right now.  And next week I'll actually tackle them.  I'm hoping that this is one of those situations where the worrying is worse than the doing-- throw me into the deep end, and I'll muddle through just fine.  It's staring at it and contemplating it that makes it seem so impossible.

Perhaps?

Conversations at Home

Me: Look!  I can fit into my post-pregnancy fat jeans!
Craig: That's great-- they're not even maternity jeans!  Look at you!
Me: I'm just a little bulgy on top.  Oh, well.
Craig: That's okay, I'm pretty sure that's the new style.  You know what they say, "Muffin top is the new anorexia!"


I think everyone should live for that fashion ideal.  (And I really did think Craig was hilarious.  This isn't one of those "isn't my husband awful for saying that" sorts of blog posts, in case you weren't sure.)

*     *     *     *     *   

While my Mom was here, she was telling us about a book my great-uncle, a geologist, wrote called Greenland's Icy Fury.  Except at one point she got the title mixed up and instead referred to it as Iceland's Greasy Fury.  I'm picturing a McDonald's takeover, but I think that title is pretty open to wherever your imagination can take you.  Someone needs to make a movie of this.

 *     *     *     *     *    

Another of my Mom's spoonerisms: I've gotten her started reading the Maisie Dobbs books.  Except she referred to the heroine as Daisie Mobbs.  Close, but not quite...

*     *     *     *     *    

Bentley & Kendra, running into the room filled with excitement, "Mommy!  Mommy!  Ryder learned a new word!  He can say, 'Hate'!!!"

Just what a mother longs to hear...

*     *     *     *     *    

And last but not least, a story with a bit of a backstory to it.  So the other day as Craig was getting ready to bathe the kids, Ryder managed to slam the bathroom door into Bentley.  The doorknob got him right under his eye, giving him quite the shiner.  The next day, when Bentley came home from school I asked him if people asked him about it.  "Yeah," he responded, "So I told them I didn't want to talk about it."  Maybe I should have written a note of explanation to his teacher after all...

Lucky #4

Since we keep accidentally calling him Ryder (Ryder II?), I ought to write down some of the things that make Colton unique, even if he is our fourth child.

So, at only five days old, Colton is already the first in our family to be:

-Born on a week day (yay for Wednesday!)
   *Bentley was born on a Sunday, Kendra on the Monday of a 3-day weekend, Ryder on a Sunday

-Born after his due date
    *Bentley 2 days early, Kendra 1 week early, Ryder 4 days early

-Have positive blood type
    *I am Rh negative, so this is the first time I've had to have a second rhogam shot after giving birth!

-Born the same day that I went into labor
    *All the others I labored all day, and then they came the next day!

-Have experienced every season of weather in a 5-day span
    *Truly.  He was born on a gorgeous, warm spring day.  And since then we've had rain and snow.  Crazy March weather! 

 

This kid is bucking all the rules the others have followed!  He also weighs the most, is nursing the best, and is fortunate enough to have three older siblings who adore him.  Life must be pretty good when you're the fourth kid!


As for myself, I'm in the throes of trying to recover right now.  I felt great the day of his birth, and didn't even need any tylenol or anything that entire day.  But then the next day I made the mistake of visiting my doctor, who insisted on adding some stitches to Tierney's work.  And then I caught a cold (which I'm guessing I picked up at the doctor's), which left me burning and shivering with a fever before settling into my nose so that I simply can't breathe.  And then my milk came in.  Between those three things, I am now a pharmacy on legs-- I can't turn around without needing some antibiotic (for the stitches), or lanolin cream (for the milk), or Kleenex, or Tucks pads (stitches again), or nasal decongestant (stupid cold)...  I'm a mess.  My only consolation is that I'm pretty sure I would have come out of the hospital even worse for wear, so I'm still just counting my blessings that I was able to stay home.

It won't be long before I feel human again, right?  Right?

Colton's Birth!

He's here!  My sweet little baby finally made his grand entrance!  And much less exciting, but I have to point it out: THIS IS MY 700TH BLOG POST!  What a lucky number for such happy news!


Colton's birth was perfect.  Everything about his birth was exactly what I wanted it to be, and what I felt it could be: a peaceful and joyous experience.

So the story, in all its messiness, goes like this:  I'd been having contractions off and on for weeks, but never anything consistent, and usually not even anything very painful.  Mostly just oodles of Braxton-Hicks contractions, although they were getting so strong that it was hard to tell if they were real or not.  After much debate, my Mom and sister finally left Monday night to go to New York.  My Mom was running out of time to visit my other sisters there (who had vacation plans for later in the week) and Tracy needed to get back to work.  They both would have been willing to stay another day just in case, but at this point I felt like I was feeling so much pressure to produce a baby, that it would be easier for them to leave and dispense with the guilt than to stick around waiting for things to start.  I guess I felt like that watched pot that will never boil or something.

Yes, I really was that big.  That's what nearly 10 lbs of baby looks like!

Naturally, as soon as that decision was made, I proceeded to have small contractions all throughout dinner.  But I didn't mention it.  I knew if I told Mom and Tracy, they'd immediately change their plans, stay another day, and nothing would happen.

That night I had some strong contractions for about an hour and a half.  I finally texted my Mom to tell her-- by this time they were in New Jersey.  They offered to turn around and come straight back, but I told them that dying by falling asleep at the wheel would not help anyone out.  And as soon as I went to sleep, the contractions stopped.  So that was the right move.

Tuesday, the next day, was long.  Oh my goodness it was a long day!  It was full of grocery shopping and trying to take care of kids when I had little to no energy.  Walking to Bentley's school to pick him in the afternoon up was sheer torture.  Even trying to make the car stop when I was having a super strong Braxton-Hicks contraction seemed like too much work.  It was not a fun day.  I went to bed that night wondering how much longer I could survive like that.  When Craig's alarm clock went off at 6 the next morning, I woke up because I was having a contraction.  And then they kept coming every 7 or 8 minutes.  And they were strong.  Craig and I spent a few minutes trying to decide whether or not he should go to work.  I was worried-- again-- that if he stayed home, nothing would happen.  But he pointed out that me trying to manage three kids while in labor seemed like a reallly bad idea.  So I agreed and he called in sick.  And naturally, the next contraction was way later and I worried that we'd effectively stopped my labor.  But seven minutes later another one hit.  So I stopped worrying.  And as it turned out, it was a REALLY good thing Craig stayed home.  Otherwise I think he would have missed it entirely.

That was 6:30am.  Around 7 I texted my midwife, Tierney, to let her know what was happening.  I told her I didn't think we'd need her any time soon, but that I was surprised at how intense the contractions were already.  Just a few minutes later I realized that I was bleeding.  And then the next contraction came after only 5 minutes.  And the next came was only 3 minutes later and it lasted a full minute.  I texted Tierney again and warned her that maybe she should be coming sooner than I'd thought.  She wrote back, "Call me."

I waited for another contraction to pass and then made the call.  I explained what was going on.  "It sounds like things are moving fast and I would rather be there for a bit waiting than worry about missing it, so I'll come now.  I'll be in the car, on the road in 15 minutes," she assured me.  I was so relieved.

I tried to keep busy emptying the dishwasher, but I only got halfway through it.  (Craig says that I just wandered away and left Ryder to try and finish without any supervision.  Oops.  He says that was when he knew that things must be close, because I clearly wasn't firing on all cylinders any more.)  Craig ran around getting the kids dressed and fed and calling his parents to come and help.  (That was a great irony-- the last few months, we have consistently reassured them that with my Mom and sister here, we wouldn't need any extra help.  So naturally, we end up calling them at 7:30 on a Wednesday morning begging for help as soon as possible!  They were very gracious about coming immediately and NOT rubbing that fact in our faces!)  At one point I sat down on the couch next to Ryder, who wanted to pretend to take a nap.  A contraction hit, and he began playfully kicking his feet against my stomach, which was awful.  But I was in too much pain to stand up and move.  Fortunately Craig saw what was happening and came to my rescue! 

Tierney arrived at 8:05.  After Craig and she brought in all her supplies, she listened to the baby's heartbeat and then gave me leave to get in the shower.  Up until that point, I hadn't felt like I was allowed to do anything to help with the pain-- relaxing too much might speed things up too fast, so I hadn't really been trying.  But that shower really did the trick for me.  Each time a contraction hit, I'd get down on my hands and knees and rock back and forth blowing through my lips like a horse.  (I read somewhere that forcing your mouth to relax like that-- a singer's trick-- helps everything else relax, too.  So I've always stuck to that.)  And I'd try to focus on how each contraction was one less to get through and that it was opening me up and bringing me my baby.  But I'll admit that I did a little bit of whimpering then, too, because it hurt a lot.  Just before the hot water ran out, Craig's parents arrived around and took the kids to Chick-fil-A to play.  That was around 9am.

When the hot water was gone, there was nothing to be done but get out of the shower, even though I didn't want to.  I was trying to dry myself off, but I was too shaky to do much of anything, so I finally just sat down on the toilet.  And that was where my water broke, right at 9:08.  And then I moved to pushing.

Now this is what I love: as I sat there straining against all those urges and all that pain, Tierney calmly squatted down in front of me, held my hands, and began speaking, "Okay, Alanna," she said, "What would you like to do?  You can have this baby right here if you want, but I think you'd be more comfortable on the bed.  Do you want to try and move or do you want to stay?"

"Let's go to the bed."  I said, and she and Craig helped me back to the bedroom, which was all set up.  But notice how it was my choice?  How she didn't yell at me or coerce me?  How it was calm and everything was fine???  THIS was what I was hoping for!

(Sidenote: as I walked to the bed, I looked out the window and wondered briefly if anyone could possibly see in on this beautiful spring morning...  Um, they certainly would have gotten an eyeful if they did!)

I got onto the bed and began pushing.  And it was AWFUL.  Absolutely awful.  Everything hurt.  Colton's head came out but everything was still hurting and I couldn't understand why.  And then again, very calmly-- but this time a bit authoritatively-- Tierney began talking to me.  This time she said, "Alanna, we need to get this baby out now.  I need you to push now."  Tierney didn't tell me at the time, but his cord was wrapped around his neck, and according to Craig, he was very blue.  As soon as his head was out, she fixed the cord, but he still needed to come all the way out so he could breathe.  Craig says that as she fixed the cord I said "Ow," but I don't remember that or if that was why I said it.  I've always loved how Craig has big, broad shoulders, but it didn't occur to me until that moment that those shoulders could make for an awful delivery.  I certainly didn't feel like I had anything left to give, but there was nothing to do but to keep trying, so I buried my face in my pillows and squealed and moaned while I pushed with whatever was left in me until his shoulders worked their way out, too.  As soon as he was out, he quickly began breathing and pinked right up.  It wasn't until a few moments later that he actually cried. 

He was out.  He was here.  And I was done.  It was 9:18am.  My entire labor had lasted just over three hours.  And all the pain was gone like it had never happened in the first place.  I laid right down on my bed, with Craig beside me, and was handed my little baby and we just sat looking at each other while Tierney placed warm receiving blankets over him and me.

Chunky arms!  What newborn already has chunky arms and shoulders?!?!

Look at that face!

One of my favorites

Tired, but so happy

After a few minutes, Colton began to get fussy.  I tried halfheartedly to feed him a few times, but I was so happy just looking at him that I couldn't bear to sit up and make a full effort just yet.  And newborn cries are so funny-- so demanding and puny all at the same time-- that it was hard for me to take his crying very seriously.  I just wanted to talk back to him!  Eventually I got my act together and really worked on getting him nursing, and after a few tries he latched right on and had a good first meal.  He was a hungry little thing!  That was the best and quickest that any of my babies have ever nursed!  And once he'd eaten, he was very happy.

I handed him over to Craig at that point and let Tierney examine me.  I had a small tear which she stitched up while Craig held my hand (Colton nestled in his other arm).  Once I was fixed up, Tierney examined and weighed Colton.  We'd been making guesses about what he must weigh, but none of us were even close: 9 lbs 14 oz!!!  No wonder it was so much work getting him out!  He weighed almost a pound more than Ryder, and I'd thought Ryder was a chunk!

At this point, we got me tidied up just a little bit and Craig's parents brought the kids back so they could meet their 2-hour-old brother.  Tom and Donna had taken the kids shopping, and they'd each picked out a toy for themselves and one for the new baby, so they marched in very proudly with their gifts for their baby brother.  It was so sweet to see how proud they were and how excited!  Ryder especially-- I'd worried so much about how he would react to not being the baby, but he was as excited as the rest of us, constantly pointing to Colton and squealing, "Beebee!  Beebee home!"

Band of Brothers

So peaceful.  I think he was several hours old before we bothered to put any clothes on him...!

Looking like a chubby old man-- and finally wearing a onesie!

It was exactly as I'd imagined it could be.  It was hard and painful, but beautiful and peaceful and joyous.  I can't think of a better way to welcome a new little soul to our family.

Getting burped

Such a wonderful big sister

Proud big brother

Helping Ryder hold the Beebee.  Who is almost as big as he is!

Welcome to our family, little Colton Robert.  We already love you so much!

A Few Ryder-isms

Ryder is learning new words every day and it's been awfully fun to get a better idea of what's going through that head of his!  Unfortunately, he's also getting more opinionated, now that he can express himself in terms that I actually understand.  So when I tell him it's time to eat, it's fairly common for him to protest, "Play!" and when I tell him it's time to nap (or, in his words, "mop"), he'll shoot back with, "Eat!"  I had no idea he was so contradictory!  Except not really-- his protests are mostly just shouting the word, and then he'll go along with whatever I say it's time to do.  Not like most 2-year-olds at all...

Yesterday he woke up with one eye all crusted over, so I took him in to the doctor right away.  (That was nice having my sister and Mom here for it-- Tracy took Bentley to school, I took Ryder to the doctor, and Mom stayed home with Kendra!  Every household should have a 1:1 child-to-adult ratio!)  While at the doctor's, Ryder apparently picked up on the term "pinkeye" except he calls it "dark eye."  Which isn't an entirely bad description of it, when you think about it.

We have to put drops in his eyes every few hours and he has amazed me by not putting up much of a fuss about it.  Sure, he'll squeeze his eyes shut tight (but who wouldn't, given the circumstances?), but once I pry an eyelid open and get a drop in, he'll invariably burst out giggling and laugh about the whole thing.  He's got to be the only 2-year-old in the world who finds eye drops funny rather than a method of torture!  And since I'm feeling a little short on patience right now (3 days overdue and counting), I have to say that this feels very much like a tender mercy to me.

Other phrases he's picked up on include that the eye drops go in his eyes, "no mouf," and that today "Mommy gas car."*  He's also still talking about how he got to go "Up high!" when we took the kids to a bounce house for Kendra's birthday.  He really did-- by the end of the hour, he could climb up the biggest slide-- about 20 feet up-- without any help.  But then he'll clarify, "Daddy up high!" because at first, he needed Daddy's help to get there.  And of course, when Craig plays his favorite game of trying to eat him, Ryder will now shout (between giggles), "No eat me!"  But he says it totally funny-- like he's a robot who's just putting random words together or something-- so it sounds more like, "No.  Eat.  Me!"  If you can imagine.  (Picture when those voice-activated things read your phone number to you and how they never sound quite right.  That's how Ryder sounds.  Except a lot cuter.)

I know that as soon as this baby comes, my mind will suddenly flip Ryder into Big Boy territory.  So while we're playing the waiting game on little Colton, I'm trying to enjoy Ryder's last days as my baby.  Because he really has been about the sweetest little baby boy ever...



*That's a phrase from my own family-- we always say that we gassed the car.  Apparently the rest of the world has other ways of saying that, but I find this way the simplest and everyone always seems to understand me, so I haven't bothered correcting myself.  And now I get to pass my weird grammar-age on to my kids!  The joys of being a mother!

To Do List

• Buy birth supplies
• Gather them all in one place
• Wash all baby clothes, receiving blankets, burp cloths, etc.
• Clean out carseat
• Put away baby clothes
• Sanitize thermometer
• Fix old nursing bra
• Teach kids to make their beds
• Find birthing ball and inflate it
• Make sure Craig has lesson plans ready so he can take time off work
• Buy new nursing bra (cuz my fix-it job on the old one probably won't last)
• Pre-register at hospital (just in case!)
• Go visit hospital
• Try not to stress out that I accidentally pre-registered at the wrong hospital
• Clean house
• Tell people I haven't had the baby yet
• Get extra pillow cases for warming receiving blankets in
• Wash new pillow cases
• Buy a new nursing cover
• Make granola, stock up on nutritious snacks (like chocolate pudding)
• Have Mom and sister get to town so they can help with everything
• Clean house again
• Get through snow storm
• Keep telling people that he's still not here
• Let midwife go to her conference (just 'cuz we're polite like that!)
• Wipe down all cupboards
• Sew buttons back onto things
• Gently remind Craig to fix the toilet that just broke
• Stock up on milk and bread 
• Stock up again, because it keeps getting eaten
• Give Bentley time to stop being sick
• Clean the house.  Again.
• Get an Ergo carrier from my awesome in-laws
• Do several loads of laundry each day, just in case
• Let people know that nothing has happened yet, but I sure will tell them when it does!
• Obsessively change sheets on bed (because giving birth on a dirty bed is just gross)
• Watch Craig make chocolate cookies
• Give birth

Seriously, kid, what are you waiting for?!?!

Heirloom. Of Sorts.

I blogged once about a muumuu I like to wear when I'm pregnant.  And I like to pride myself that I'm fairly honest with you readers on this blog.  But looking back, I see that I wasn't.  Because at the time I did describe a muumuu that I like to wear.  But the one I described for you (awkward combination of sky blue and lime green) is the one I wear during my second trimester.  The truth is that, for my third trimester, I move on to an older, even MORE hideous muumuu!  I bet you didn't even know such a thing was possible!

This one started out royal blue with bright orange and yellow.  But the blue has faded to purple, especially over my entire, massive tummy area.  And it is a TENT.  Long flowing sleeves, body, everything.  It's huge.  And comfortable.  It's so light (partly because the material is naturally flimsy, partly because it's so old and worn thin) that it practically floats along with me wherever I go.  I'm afraid each time I wash it, because I worry it will just dissolve in the washing machine.

But oh, I love my muumuu.  Even if I find it totally embarrassing and only allow immediate family members to see me in it.  (Yes, I have run and hid when I was wearing it and someone showed up at the door unexpected!)  (It's completely normal to love something and still be ashamed of it, right?  ...Right?)

Anyway.  I found out this week that this thing is something of an heirloom in my family now!  I always thought my Mom bought it in the 70s ('nuff said, right?), but she said it actually belonged to my Grandmother first, who then bestowed it on my Mom when she was pregnant.  My Mom said she thought it was ugly even then, but too comfortable to not enjoy.  When she saw me wearing it and noted its faded state, the first words out of her mouth were, "Wow, it's even uglier than before!"

Yes.  Yes, it is.  But that hasn't stopped me from loving it!

And now, knowing even more of its history, it just makes me laugh.  Some people inherit fine china and jewelry from their grandparents.  In my family, we bequeath muumuus!  What a legacy!

Tug of War

I was supposed to meet with both my ob-gyn and my midwife today, but because of the snow, I only made it to the doctor's office, since that appointment was in the morning while the roads were still  relatively clear, and because it's way closer to my house.  After several more inches of wet, clumpy snow fell, I decided that there was no way I was driving to Marshall to see my midwife, and rescheduled for tomorrow.  We tried to talk on the phone, but the phones weren't working very well, either, unfortunately.  Stupid snow.

But here's the ironic thing: they both want to induce me!  My doctor-- big surprise-- is much more insistent.  He thinks I'm a day past my due date (which I'm not.  Without getting too TMI-y here, let me just assure you that I have a better idea of when I'm due than what the ultrasound says, and my due date is still three days away).  The insurance company has a policy that you can't go beyond 41 weeks, or else they induce you.  But because I've had a prior c-section, being induced with pitocin increases my chances of uterine rupture, so that's not an option.  Medically speaking, that means I'm limited to having my membranes stripped, my water broken, or just scheduling a c-section.  (Booooo, hisssssssssss!)

The midwife is a lot more laid back, but she did mention that if possible, it would be nice for her if I had the baby before Saturday.  In her case, she has a conference all day on Saturday, and would prefer to not be checking her phone every fifteen minutes to make sure I haven't been texting her.  But that's no big deal, she assured me-- the life of a midwife means missing out on stuff like that more often than not.  But she said if I wanted, she could instruct me on how to down some castor oil and/or use some herbal something something that will kick labor into gear.

And compared to having another c-section, drinking a little castor oil actually doesn't sound so bad!

In any case, after all this debating with my doctor, he went ahead and checked me and said that I'm already dilated to a four ("a loose four," were his exact words) and 90% effaced.  "You'll have this baby before Monday," he declared.  He also noted that when they were monitoring me (which they did for a half hour, just in case), I'd had contractions about every fifteen minutes.  But I never felt them.  He said if they started coming every 7 to 8 minutes, to go to the hospital (or, ahem, call the midwife).  But how I can do that when I'm not feeling them in the first place???

And really, more to the point: why are we all worrying so much?!

Really, this comes down to Colton: can't you just make this easier on everyone and make your grand appearance already?

Actually, this makes me think of a song...




Oh, how I love you, Baby.  But...

It's time for us to part...

In the Dark: a Rant Based Entirely on Personal Experience

We need to talk.  About light bulbs.

Seriously, what is the deal with flourescent lights?  Why do they suck so much?  I'm more than happy to use green products, but I expect them-- with all our modern technology-- to be better than what Edison invented 130 years ago.  Instead, what I keep ending up with are bulbs that either flicker as they first turn on-- making my home feel something like a haunted house-- or they start out really dim and then gradually grow to full brightness.  This makes me feel, for the first five minutes or so, like I'm wandering around in the movie Gaslight or something.

They're way too expensive, but claim to last for many more years, so that should still be cost-effective.  Except they never seem to last that long at all.  The first bulb we ever bought claimed a life expectancy of eleven years.  I remember because Craig and I joked as we installed it in Bentley's bedroom that it should last until our kid was thirteen years old!  Instead, six months later Bentley managed to pull on the cord of the lamp, pulling the entire thing to the floor and smashing the bulb.  So instead of testing how long it actually would last, we got to worry about the possibility of mercury poisoning in our toddler's room.  Nice.

Obviously, the fact that it got broken was our own fault.  But the fact that breaking it is a dangerous thing seems like poor planning on someone's part.  And it's not like we can just refuse to use light bulbs in the kids' rooms!

But my experience with other bulbs-- the ones we don't manage to break-- has been that they don't seem to last any longer than the old-school, not-eco-friendly ones.  In fact, Craig even took this picture as proof, he was so frustrated with them:

I believe Craig's words when he snapped this picture were, "Thank you, Al Gore."

Why hasn't General Electric (or any of the other light bulb manufacturers) made a better product-- one that works well, truly lasts longer, and doesn't pose a health risk in the likely event that it gets broken?  Could it be because the government already patted them on the back, told them what they had was good enough, and forced us to buy their crappy product?

Perhaps?

Confirmation

After being very wishy-washy about the whole thing, yesterday I finally toured the hospital where I'm expected to have this baby.  It seemed like such a waste of a beautiful Sunday afternoon to drive all the way to Arlington and spend an hour looking around a place I have no intention of going to.  But since I had Ryder, my insurance has changed which hospital they use, so I'd never been to this one before.   And because the majority of home birth transports are non-emergency, it seemed like a good idea to at least know where the hospital is and what to expect if I end up having to go.   (If there is an emergency, I would be transferred via ambulance to the nearest hospital, Prince William, which is where I went after having Kendra.)  I will also admit that I was a little hesitant to go because I was worried that if the hospital was super nice, I would second-guess my decision to have a home birth. 

That turned out to not be a problem.

Now, in the hospital's defense, I started out already kind of annoyed with the whole situation.  I had to leave straight from church, I'd only had time to pack goldfish crackers to eat when I really should have made myself a full lunch, and as soon as I began driving Craig's car (which I hate doing-- it's so low to the ground and doesn't have power steering, so driving it when pregnant is difficult for me), I realized that Craig had left the tank nearly on empty.  Not a great start!  Then of course, I ran into traffic on I-66 (yup, even on a sunny Sunday afternoon!), so that made me late.  And it turns out that this particular hospital was designed as a maze, with two wings that don't line up in any reasonable way!  Luckily for me, a girl who looked like she was working as a candy striper (do they still have those?) showed up at the same time as me and graciously took me to the lobby.  Otherwise I would probably still be wandering around in the wrong wing, desperately asking Siri for help...

So, yes, bad start.

Eventually I caught up with the tour in one of the L & D rooms, and got there right in time to hear about their visitor policy.  Which was how I learned that because it's flu season, this hospital is currently not allowing more than two visitors at a time.  And they have to be 18 or older!  So my kids wouldn't be able to see me (or their new baby brother) the entire time I'm incarcerted lying in!  Which is exactly what I DON'T want.  Especially for Ryder, who just is too young to understand why his mommy would disappear for two or more days.

As the nurse explained the different laboring positions that will be available "after you get your epidural," I decided to raise my hand and ask: "How do most doctors feel about laboring on your hands and knees?"  At least she was honest, with a simple, "They don't like that."  She went on to explain that they had found that holding Mom's knees up to her face really opened up the pelvic floor and allowed her to push well.  Yup, I remember them doing that when I had Bentley.  It was awful.  It didn't work.  And I had to lay flat on my back.

Second sigh of relief that I'm not going to the hospital.

The rest of the tour was fairly uneventful.  Seeing the tiny babies in the nursery got me all excited.  Seeing the tiny rooms made me appreciate my own bedroom.  And there was no tub in the L&D room (just a small shower), so that also made me appreciate the bathroom situation at home.  All in all, I was so glad I'd gone just because now I am even more certain that a home birth is the way to go.


Trying to leave the hospital and discovering that some bozo had parked at an angle so close to my car that I couldn't even get to the driver's side without going all the way around and scaling a small ledge (38 weeks pregnant) and then could still barely open my door wide enough to get in (I'm not actually sure how I managed to squeeze through when the door could only open about six inches) was just the icing on the cake.  That person is lucky that I didn't key their car.  If I hadn't just taught a lesson on making good choices, I might have...

Overanalyzing Songs (Again)

I'm not super discriminating in what music I'll listen to.  And since the kids are around me pretty much all day long, this means that I also don't "protect" them from my music.  Don't get me wrong-- I'm not listening to anything terribly dirty or nasty.  (And when I listen to Eminem, I make sure it's the edited versions!)  But yesterday morning I was forced to admit that I might need to rethink this policy.

Kendra wanted me to play a song, and when she called it "The Train Song" I told her that I had no idea what she meant, and asked her to describe it more.  She immediately began singing, "You, with your words like knives and swords and weapons that you use against me..."  She was referring to the song "Mean" by Taylor Swift.  I like that song, so I have no problem with Kendra knowing it.  But I was shocked by how well she knew those lyrics.  I don't think I could have quoted it verbatim like that!

So I need to be a little more careful, because apparently she didn't inherit the Bentley Family Curse of regularly screwing up song lyrics after all!

This means that songs like Bruno Mars' "Locked Out of Heaven," where he repeatedly sings that "Your sex takes me to paradise" is not going to be one that I'll be buying on iTunes any time soon.  My kids say enough cringe-worthy things without giving them ammo like that.

But not listening to this song is no sacrifice, anyway, because I hate it.  In the first place, I find the background "music" (dare I admit how curmudgeonly I am by referring to it as "noise"?) pretty annoying, so it was already off to a bad start by me.  But it's the phrasing of the offending line that really makes me grate my teeth.  Because I'm pretty sure that, grammatically speaking, "your sex" refers simply to this person's entire gender.  Which is a pretty dumb thing to sing about.  Sex with [a certain gender] brings you to paradise?  And you think this makes a love song? Come on, Bruno, it really ought to be "sex with you" or something a tad more specific, okay?  No girl wants a song dedicated to her to actually be about her entire gender.  That's just embarrassing.

And while I'm griping about Bruno Mars, I'm just gonna throw in these last two thoughts.  And keep in mind that I quite like Bruno Mars (who I saw perform when we were in New York a couple summers ago!), so I don't mean to sound as nasty as I'll probably come across.  But what is the deal with "It Will Rain" and "Grenade"????  I like these songs.  I think they're catchy.  I listen to them and sing along with them (well, I probably mess up the lyrics, but maybe some day Kendra will teach me the real words).  But if you pay attention to those lyrics, they are some of the most pathetic songs ever written!  I mean, can you think of a worse way to get a girl to stay with you than by telling her how miserable you'll be if she leaves and pointing out how much her parents hate you?  Seriously!  Even if they'd been really happy together, I think that song would kill it!

And "Grenade."  Do you really think that telling a girl how you would do everything imaginable for her but she won't do the same for you is really going to fix this terribly lopsided relationship?  Because I can promise you that it won't.  In fact, I'm pretty sure she already broke up with you, moved out, and probably burned all your photos.  So it's time to move on and stop dragging that piano all over town for what was ended a few months ago.  Let her go, man.  Just let her go.

And this is what I spend my time thinking about, rather than choosing a middle name for my next child.  Or planning birthday parties for the children I already have.  Or doing a thousand other more productive things with my life that I see you people doing all the time.

But really, you see my point, don't you?

Pictures of Stuff We've Been Doing

I feel like we've been really busy, but it's sometimes hard to pin down what exactly we've been up to.  Nothing terribly exciting, but all very lifey stuff that I certainly don't want to forget.  So here are some pictures to show you...


Ryder has been adjusting (very slowly, and with very unpredictable success) to his big boy bed in the same room with Bentley and Kendra:

He loves the idea of the bed, it's just hard to stay put when there are so many fun things to explore in the room...

And every time I turn around, I seem to be bigger.  And this is an old picture, so add a few inches to that tummy in your mind!

We've been having Friday movie and pizza nights with the kids.  I kind of love it.  A lot.

Notice the drop cloths on the floor to protect the carpet!

Ryder does strange things when Craig is asleep, like giving him an entire bag of Chocolate Cheerios to snuggle up to:

I guess I should be glad the bag wasn't open!

Bentley and Kendra have been taking swimming lessons.  For some reason it's very hard to get pictures of this, though:

That's just Kendra there.  Bentley is in a different class and he was too far away to even try taking a picture.

Bentley is helping Ryder to love dressing up, too:

And Bentley has been working hard on learning to read and making wonderful progress.  I especially liked this book report (sorry it's sideways) because of how well he copied the style of the drawings: 

Here's the actual book for comparison's sake.  See how well he copied the elephant?!?!

We've been eating chocolate in a wonderfully messy way that makes us look like we're going Goth:

And Bentley won yet another trophy for his pinewood derby car, this time he got 1st place for the Tigers (his age group) at Districts!  I guess next year we'll teach him how to lose graciously.  But he and Craig sure enjoyed themselves!

We've got anywhere from two to three weeks until this baby comes.  In a flurry of activity yesterday, I pulled apart the car seat and began washing it (this meant finally braving the crawl space, because I decided Craig was never going to remember to do it for me), and finished moving Ryder's clothes out of his "old" room and putting the baby's clothes away there.  Craig did his first stake audits for the church, so we're glad to have that done for six months until it's time to do it again (nice that those are in February.  If it had been in March, I would have had to protest).  And he's also been keeping busy working on this new master's degree.  Me, I keep cleaning the house only to realize that these darn kids get it dirty all over again.  How do they mess things up so quickly???

I also keep wondering when it will finally be spring.  My crocuses are already blooming, but it's been so gloomy and cold I have a hard time keeping the faith that winter will ever end.  The other day everything seemed so colorless I could have cried.  When the baby comes, I'm going to cuddle up with him and an electric blanket, lock myself inside next to the heater, and refuse to go out until it's warm outside.  Doesn't that sound nice (if completely impractical)?


Aaaaaaand, Kendra turned 5!  My little girl is old enough to go to kindergarten next year!  But that deserves its own blog post, so I guess that will be up next!

A Rock and a Hard, Contracting, but Happy Place

I've got about three weeks left to go with this pregnancy, and this is such a weird time to be at, I think.  Because part of me feels like it is so close.  Three weeks out of nine months is practically nothing!  I'm nearly there!  And just before I can begin rejoicing at how close I am, I immediately realize how many things I still need to do before I'm ready for this little guy to come and I start panicking: I still need to put all my birth supplies in one place!  Finish putting away the baby clothes!  Get Ryder's clothes out of the baby's closet!  Wash the carrier and install the base!  Finish re-reading all my favorite birth books and force Craig to read them, too!  Pick a middle name for this guy!  Do a practice drive to the hospital so I know how to find it if I end up having to transfer! 

See?  Panic.  Panic-- when do I have time to do all that when all I really want to do is nap all day?

But when I'm not panicking, I'm wandering around trying to live my life and keep up with the kids and the house work, having more Braxton-Hicks contractions than I ever would have thought possible, wishing I didn't have to wear any of my clothes because none of them seem to fit me any more (seriously-- every time I get dressed for church, I end up looking for an ad for why you should never ever ever ever EVER get pregnant.  That's how big and awkward I am now), and wondering how in the world I can possibly survive another day being this huge?  Walking to pick up Bentley from school yesterday brought on at least 5 contractions (it's not that long of a walk, people!), where I had to slow down to a near stop and lean on the stroller, and I kept worrying to myself that pretty soon I'd have to just give up and tell Craig he was on Bentley duty because I just can't handle walking that far and pushing a stroller any more.

And then I have to remind myself that there's only three more weeks to go.  Quit worrying so much-- you're nearly there.

Which brings me back to the to-do list...  And the wave of panic comes crashing down around me.

Honestly, if I weren't so dang excited to meet this little guy, I'd probably be downright miserable!  But as it is, as soon as I sit down to fold some more baby clothes, I mostly just get all happy and mushy-- he's going to be so tiny!  He's going to be so cute!  I wonder if he'll have any hair, and if it will be dark like Bentley's was or if we'll have another boy with the tiniest blonde fuzz like Ryder had... 

Amazing how you can be so happy and so miserable all at the same time, isn't it?

Eye of the Beholder

A few years ago, my aunt gave my kids a series of books published by the Metropolitan Museum of Art-- one about shapes, ABCs, colors, and numbers.  Being something of an art snob, these delighted me.  So much so that I occasionally have a hard time sharing them with the kids because I'm worried they'll damage such pretty books.

I have a LOT of favorites in these.  Some are pretty obvious-- if it's by van Gogh, Monet, or Degas I'm kind of obligated to love it.  Lots have been new to me.  Like this one, Onions and Tomato by Mary Ann Currier:

I know not everyone loves a still life.  They aren't a particular favorite style of mine, either, although taking humanities 202 did help me at least appreciate them a bit more.  But I LOVE how beautifully Currier painted that onion on the far left.  It's so translucent, it almost glows.  Who knew an onion could be so lovely?  Here's a close-up (only slightly pixelated) for your viewing pleasure:

Seriously!  Isn't that one gorgeous onion???

And now this painting has completely warped me, because every time I chop up a white onion, I have to think of this painting and how beautiful something as simple as an onion can be.

I figure that's probably the highest praises a painting can receive-- it succeeds in showing you beauty in an everyday, simple thing.  Right?

Well done, Currier.  I applaud your still life.

200 Years Too Late

Some time after Craig and I got married, I got it into my head that maybe some day I could write a somewhat fictionalized novel about our courtship.  And not just because I'm one of those mushy types who likes to think that I am about as happy in my marriage as anybody can be.  I also figured the story of dating a total jerk and then finding Mr. Right is one that's worth hearing-- too many girls out there are clinging desperately to a crappy relationship not realizing that a truly happy one might be just around the corner.  (And I read enough advice columns to know that this is true, goshdarnit!)

Anyway.  I figured the story would read better if it were tweaked just a bit here and there.  The biggest change was that I'd have to introduce Craig (as a character) earlier in the novel, or else it would just seem choppy.  You can't go around switching romantic interests halfway through a novel without giving your reader some sort of foreshadowing.  Other than that, the story could probably stand pretty well.

But before I ever actually began writing, I realized that Jane Austen had beat me to the punch.  With Pride and Prejudice.  And Emma.  And the Marianne subplot of Sense and Sensibility.  Plus all the spin-offs done of those novels (the first thing that comes to mind is just Bridget Jones's Diary, but I know there are plenty of others out there)...

So this idea has officially been shelved.

Curse you and your brilliance, Jane Austen!  Curse you for writing my novel 200 years before I got around to it!



My only consolation is that she did a way better job than I ever could have anyway.

A Whole Lotta Random

Here are a whole bunch of things I've been meaning to tell you about:


-You know, I usually feel pretty good when I'm pregnant, but just this last week, I get SO STIFF every time I sit down or lay down for more than ten minutes!!!  Seriously, it takes me a full minute before all my limbs work properly, and for that one minute I have to hobble around like I'm 80 years old or something.  It's getting really annoying.  How does being pregnant make this happen?  Is there something I should be doing to make this not happen?  (Other than never sitting or laying down, that is...)

-Last night I was in charge of the combined YW/YM activity.  Somehow I got it into my head that we should do a walk-through of the Plan of Salvation.  It seemed like a fun idea at the time.  I had no idea how complicated it would end up being-- I had to buy, prepare and bring tons of food.  We had to set up all these rooms to look like the various stages and instruct a bunch of grown-ups what to do and when and everything...  It was the biggest pain ever, although I was pleased with how it all turned out.  (Mostly thanks to the many others who helped me figure out what I wasn't planning very well...)  Anyway, I was exhausted after that was all done.  And relieved to have it over with.

-In fact, apparently I was so relieved that I went to sleep that night and promptly dreamed that I was suddenly expected to perform on American Idol, and I was frantically trying to learn some song and a dance to go with it and all this stuff.  I woke up in a sweat (pregnancy is fun!), and realized that the whole American Idol shindig actually felt less stressful than the youth group activity had felt.  Go figure.

-Ryder is finally starting to get a bunch of new words!  I KNEW I was doing the right thing to put off speech therapy for a bit!  It's really fun trying to keep up with all the words he suddenly knows and will actually say back to me.

-Unfortunately, along with all this vocabulary comes a clearer sense of what he actually wants (and doesn't want).  So he's a little more difficult to please than he used to be.  But he's still a lot easier than Bentley ever was, so I'm not complaining.  At least, not yet!

Here he is looking very tough, considering he's wearing a diaper..

(Time to stretch, before my legs completely lock up on me!)

-And back to that whole thing of walking around looking like I'm 80, I also refuse to go up or down the stairs without a firm grasp on the handrail now.  It's not helping me look any younger.  But even worse than looking so decrepit would be falling down the stairs again, so that's a look I'm willing to embrace for a bit longer.  (Four-and-a-half weeks longer, to be precise!)

-Ryder has also started pretending.  It's so fun-- he'll talk in this high squeaky voice and declare "Puppy!" or "Deedee!" (which means Robot, I don't know why) and then act like whatever it is he's being.  He'll usually squint his eyes up in his I'm-being-cute way while he does it.  It cracks me up-- how can you pretend when you can say so little still?

Yeah, that squinty face!  Also, notice his new Big Boy bed in the background...

-I got a new calling this week at church!  I've actually known it was coming for a while now, but it took a long time to happen.  I've been changed from being in the YW presidency, where I've been in charge of the 12- and 13-year-old girls, to being one of the advisers and working with the 14- and 15-year-old girls.  So basically I'll still be pretty busy and involved, but rather than being in charge of all these activities, I'm in charge of teaching most Sundays and then providing support for the activities.  So it's a few less meetings and a lot less responsibility.  And considering this new baby on the way, it's probably a good change for now...  (Although my friend who just replaced me had her 4th baby back in August, so I am feeling a bit bad for her, even though I know she'll do a great job.)

-Last week was the Pinewood Derby for Bentley's scout troop.  I wasn't planning on going to it, until Craig lectured me on its its importance and explained that any semi-decent mom would be there.  Oops.  The things I missed out on, growing up in an all-girl family!  So I went after all.  And Bentley won pretty much every race, taking first place for his age group.  Which meant we had to go back a few hours later and do it all over again!  And he won all his races AGAIN, which meant that he beat all the older boys, too.  And that was both very exciting for him, but slightly disappointing for us since it would actually be good for him to learn the art of losing gracefully.  (It was also kind of embarrassing for Craig, who figured all the other fathers would be as hard-core as he'd been.  After Bentley won, he worried he'd "helped out" a little too much...)  Anyway, we now have to attend the District Level derby this Saturday.  Here's to hoping that any losing will be done with grace and equanimity by both Bentley and Craig...

After his first win

And showing off his car and trophy after the big win!

-Kendra, meanwhile, has turned into Little Mother around here.  It's kind of awesome.  She helps out and plays with Ryder so well.  She even (successfully!) put him down for his nap the other day!  Just in the nick of time, too-- I can use all the help I can get these days!  Ryder and I will both miss her terribly when she starts kindergarten next fall...

Showing off her princess dress when Grandma and Grandpa were visiting

All right.  I think that's more than enough for now, don't you?  Peace out!

Thanksgiving, Part II

After all the craziness, it was absolutely lovely to just stay put at Leah and Brian's for a couple days and enjoy everyone's company.  Of course, I did my normal thing and took hardly any pictures at all.  So you'll just have to trust me that Leah & Brian, Tracy, Rachael & Ian, and my cousin Jan, plus a couple extra people for dinner were all there and we all had a splendid time together!  And we ate so much delicious food it bordered on ridiculous.  But it was fabulous.

Here are the pictures we did take, though:

Leah and Brian live on a beautiful lake, and Kendra loved making her uncles take her out in the rowboat.  And the weather was so perfect, it made for a lovely pastime!

See?  So pretty!  Being an islander myself, I am SO jealous of their view!!!  Some day I need to live near water again...!

Craig's turkey (with help from Brian and Ian).  He was so proud of how well it turned out!

Eliot very generously shares his new trampoline with his older cousins

Bentley gets adventurous on their slide

So naturally Ryder has to follow suit...

And also naturally, it doesn't go as well for Ryder...  (And we stand around taking pictures.  'Cuz we're great parents like that.)

Cousins watching TV together

Yay for a great Thanksgiving break!  Next up, back to what's going on right now!