Oh. My. Goodness. In preparation for a workshop I'm doing this weekend, I stumbled across my old photo-a-day blog. Oh, how I wish I still had time to do something like that. I loved looking at these daily glimpses of our lives from 4ish years ago.
I could look at every photo and pick it apart technically, but I can honestly say that I love these photos more than anything I've taken in the last year. I feel like I've kind of "lost it." I don't feel inspired when I'm behind the camera. Ugh. I hate that.
I feel like my photography has become way boring and my post-processing has become rushed and sloppy. I think that might even be part of the reason it took me forever to send out Claire's announcements . . . I'm not thrilled about any of the photos I've taken of her. The photos I used to take told our story. But now they're just kind of blah. I have the most beautiful subjects living right here in my house, but my mind feels like it's been sapped of all of its creativity.
I wonder what it'll take for me to get my motivation back . . . more time, perhaps? More sleep?
March 24, 2012
March 23, 2012
Dear Jack and Ben, Months 57 and 30
Dear Jack and Ben,
You both are WAY into being super heroes right now. I'm not sure where you learned about Batman, the Green Lantern, Superman, Captain America and the Flash. They aren't in any of your movies or TV shows. You don't read comic books. Perhaps you hear about them at preschool, Jack. I don't really know. But you love to play "super hero."
When I came home the other day and asked you, Jack, what you did with Kelsey, you told me this elaborate tale about how bad guys tried to come and get Claire, but you and Ben put your capes on to protect her and fight them off. When you're playing in the back yard, Ben, I often see you leap from the deck stairs and take off running yelling, "To the rescue!"
I've read a lot of books about raising boys and in them, they always talk about how boys love adventure. I've read about how you both have this innate desire to be a hero and to fight for someone or something. I'd say that I've seen more of that this month than ever before.
I love it that my boys have that need for adventure and the desire to protect. I really love it that you want to defend your sister and each other . . . I hope that continues. But I also hope that your desire to protect others extends beyond your family.
My desire for you boys is that, just like super heroes, you'll develop a 'radar' for finding the people in your lives that need defending. I want you to become the kind of people who look out for those who are in need or hurting. Flying and fighting are great, but sometimes just befriending the lonely guy or inviting the less popular kid makes you more of a hero than anything else ever will.
There will be people in your lives who seem less desirable. Weak. Weird. Awkward. Sometimes even mean or grumpy. And if we're really honest with ourselves, we've all fit into one of those categories at one point or another. Your first instinct might be to avoid them or ignore them. But my prayer is that those will be the people you'll befriend. And that they'll befriend you in return. I don't want you to feel sorry for them or to think of them as less. I want you to remember that God loves you in all of your weirdness and awkwardness. And that He loves them as much as He loves you.
Love,
Mama
You both are WAY into being super heroes right now. I'm not sure where you learned about Batman, the Green Lantern, Superman, Captain America and the Flash. They aren't in any of your movies or TV shows. You don't read comic books. Perhaps you hear about them at preschool, Jack. I don't really know. But you love to play "super hero."
When I came home the other day and asked you, Jack, what you did with Kelsey, you told me this elaborate tale about how bad guys tried to come and get Claire, but you and Ben put your capes on to protect her and fight them off. When you're playing in the back yard, Ben, I often see you leap from the deck stairs and take off running yelling, "To the rescue!"
I've read a lot of books about raising boys and in them, they always talk about how boys love adventure. I've read about how you both have this innate desire to be a hero and to fight for someone or something. I'd say that I've seen more of that this month than ever before.
I love it that my boys have that need for adventure and the desire to protect. I really love it that you want to defend your sister and each other . . . I hope that continues. But I also hope that your desire to protect others extends beyond your family.
My desire for you boys is that, just like super heroes, you'll develop a 'radar' for finding the people in your lives that need defending. I want you to become the kind of people who look out for those who are in need or hurting. Flying and fighting are great, but sometimes just befriending the lonely guy or inviting the less popular kid makes you more of a hero than anything else ever will.
There will be people in your lives who seem less desirable. Weak. Weird. Awkward. Sometimes even mean or grumpy. And if we're really honest with ourselves, we've all fit into one of those categories at one point or another. Your first instinct might be to avoid them or ignore them. But my prayer is that those will be the people you'll befriend. And that they'll befriend you in return. I don't want you to feel sorry for them or to think of them as less. I want you to remember that God loves you in all of your weirdness and awkwardness. And that He loves them as much as He loves you.
Love,
Mama
March 19, 2012
One of my favorite compliments
"Hey mom, can you build this with me?"
"Actually, that looks like something you'd be better off building with Dad," I responded.
"What do you mean?" Jack asked.
"He's just better at that kind of thing. You know how Dad's better at some things and Mom's better at others?"
"Yeah, like you're really good at cuddling."
"I'm so glad you think so! I love cuddling with you."
That was such a great compliment . . . but it didn't stop there.
"You know what else I like about you?"
"What?"
"Your feels."
"Uh . . .my what?" I asked, though I wasn't completely sure I wanted to know what he meant.
"You know . . . your feels. Like when I feel you, you're soft and warm or when you scratch my back it feels so good."
I know the day is coming where he'll be reluctant to hug me and he'll be too big to sit in my lap, so this conversation is one that I'll remember for a long, long time.
"Actually, that looks like something you'd be better off building with Dad," I responded.
"What do you mean?" Jack asked.
"He's just better at that kind of thing. You know how Dad's better at some things and Mom's better at others?"
"Yeah, like you're really good at cuddling."
"I'm so glad you think so! I love cuddling with you."
That was such a great compliment . . . but it didn't stop there.
"You know what else I like about you?"
"What?"
"Your feels."
"Uh . . .my what?" I asked, though I wasn't completely sure I wanted to know what he meant.
"You know . . . your feels. Like when I feel you, you're soft and warm or when you scratch my back it feels so good."
I know the day is coming where he'll be reluctant to hug me and he'll be too big to sit in my lap, so this conversation is one that I'll remember for a long, long time.
Sleep.
Last week, Claire started sleeping 9 - 10 hour stretches, and the boys started sleeping in until 7:30. I honestly feel like a new person.
I thank this weather we're having. Consistent 80 degree highs in March? In Michigan? Unheard of. I'm loving every minute. The 10-day forecast shows a 46-degree high next week and I'm terrified it's going to be the end of this glorious stretch of warmth.
The boys play outside for at least an hour or two every afternoon and I think that, coupled with our "spring forward" have added to their nightly sleep.
And Claire had a stretch over several weeks where she was fussy from 6 - 11 every night. We're not sure what caused it, and in retrospect, I don't think there was any one cause. Last week, I posted about her fussiness on facebook, and within an hour she stopped and hasn't had that evening fussiness since. I've had enough experience to know that just her night-long sleep for 5 nights now doesn't mean it will continue. She could regress at any time. As could the boys.
My post-partum hormones have settled in and I'm in that stage where everything seems worse than it really is. I wouldn't exactly say that I'm depressed . . . just emotional. Added to that is my shoulder pain . . . you know the pain that goes away when I'm pregnant? It's rebounded and it's bad. It's keeping me from exercising as much as I'd like to. With all of the summer weather, I'm lacking clothing that fits . . . which, of course, adds to my emotion.
So, with all of this going on, the warm weather and extra sleep have been good for my mental health.
Kyle isn't coaching baseball this spring, for the first time in the 9 1/2 years that we've been married. I know he misses it, but I'm so grateful. If I were home every night with all three kids on my own, I'd be a mess. So glad to have him home!
I thank this weather we're having. Consistent 80 degree highs in March? In Michigan? Unheard of. I'm loving every minute. The 10-day forecast shows a 46-degree high next week and I'm terrified it's going to be the end of this glorious stretch of warmth.
The boys play outside for at least an hour or two every afternoon and I think that, coupled with our "spring forward" have added to their nightly sleep.
And Claire had a stretch over several weeks where she was fussy from 6 - 11 every night. We're not sure what caused it, and in retrospect, I don't think there was any one cause. Last week, I posted about her fussiness on facebook, and within an hour she stopped and hasn't had that evening fussiness since. I've had enough experience to know that just her night-long sleep for 5 nights now doesn't mean it will continue. She could regress at any time. As could the boys.
My post-partum hormones have settled in and I'm in that stage where everything seems worse than it really is. I wouldn't exactly say that I'm depressed . . . just emotional. Added to that is my shoulder pain . . . you know the pain that goes away when I'm pregnant? It's rebounded and it's bad. It's keeping me from exercising as much as I'd like to. With all of the summer weather, I'm lacking clothing that fits . . . which, of course, adds to my emotion.
So, with all of this going on, the warm weather and extra sleep have been good for my mental health.
Kyle isn't coaching baseball this spring, for the first time in the 9 1/2 years that we've been married. I know he misses it, but I'm so grateful. If I were home every night with all three kids on my own, I'd be a mess. So glad to have him home!
March 7, 2012
Jack's take . . .
ON GETTING OLDER.
Jack: How old are you?
Rose: Really, really old.
Jack: But how old is that?
Rose: I'm 35.
Jack: No way . . . you have way too many wrinkles to be 35.
ON VEGGIES.
Dan: Are you eating your vegetables?
Jack: No. I'm eating carrots.
Dan: Carrots are vegetables.
Jack: No, they're fruits.
Dan: Let's take a vote . . . who here says carrots are vegetables?
*All adults raise their hands*
Jack: Hmm . . . I think we should pray about this.
ON HIS BIRTHDAY PARTY.
"Hey mom, can my birthday theme be "Superheroes saving animals from bad guys.""
"Hmmm . . . how about just Superheroes?"
"Yeah, but I don't think they're very super if they're not saving anything."
Jack: How old are you?
Rose: Really, really old.
Jack: But how old is that?
Rose: I'm 35.
Jack: No way . . . you have way too many wrinkles to be 35.
ON VEGGIES.
Dan: Are you eating your vegetables?
Jack: No. I'm eating carrots.
Dan: Carrots are vegetables.
Jack: No, they're fruits.
Dan: Let's take a vote . . . who here says carrots are vegetables?
*All adults raise their hands*
Jack: Hmm . . . I think we should pray about this.
ON HIS BIRTHDAY PARTY.
"Hey mom, can my birthday theme be "Superheroes saving animals from bad guys.""
"Hmmm . . . how about just Superheroes?"
"Yeah, but I don't think they're very super if they're not saving anything."
Dear Claire, Months 1 & 2
Dear Claire,
I've literally been thinking about what to write to you in your first letter since August 3 . . . the day that we went in for my ultrasound. I had a feeling that something was different when she began . . . but I couldn't believe that we weren't having another boy.
I was all set to have three boys, and was shocked as I saw the technician begin to type . . . "I-T-S--A--G- . . . "
All I could think was "A what? Wait . . . "Boy" doesn't start with a "G". She forgot the apostrophe in 'it's' so perhaps she just isn't that great with spelling and grammar"
But there were no typos. You are a girl. And I sat there the rest of the appointment and watched my daughter wiggle around on the screen. I loved you from the moment that I knew we were pregnant. And I loved you even more as I watched you dance while the technician measured every last bit of your anatomy.
It took some getting used to . . . the idea of having a daughter. I had trouble wrapping my mind around it, and that's when I started thinking about this letter. Would I tell you how inadequate I feel raising a girl? Would I explain that I'm afraid that we'll be completely different and even more afraid that we'll be exactly the same? I spent the next 4 1/2 months imagining what it would be like.
And then you were born. I will never forget the moment that I saw you and heard you because it was the moment that none of my fears mattered any more. The nurses wrapped you up and handed you to me and I couldn't imagine anyone else in my life. I couldn't stop crying. My heart overflowed. You were perfect and you fit perfectly. I couldn't believe that I had ever hoped for a boy. It seemed crazy.
Your Dad and I spent your first night just staring at you and marveling over how beautiful you are. Your brothers came the morning you were born and I was a little worried about how they'd react, but they both held you and showered you with kisses. You are so special to all of us.
In your short life, I've already demonstrated on several occasions that I'm not perfect and that I make mistakes. You'll figure out soon enough that I don't always parent the way I should and that, on some days, it is by the grace of God alone that I make it through the day. But I hope you'll always know that your Dad and I love you as much as we possibly can and more importantly, that there is a God who planned for you and loves you more than we ever could.
You, little girl, were meant to be.
Love,
Mama
I've literally been thinking about what to write to you in your first letter since August 3 . . . the day that we went in for my ultrasound. I had a feeling that something was different when she began . . . but I couldn't believe that we weren't having another boy.
I was all set to have three boys, and was shocked as I saw the technician begin to type . . . "I-T-S--A--G- . . . "
All I could think was "A what? Wait . . . "Boy" doesn't start with a "G". She forgot the apostrophe in 'it's' so perhaps she just isn't that great with spelling and grammar"
But there were no typos. You are a girl. And I sat there the rest of the appointment and watched my daughter wiggle around on the screen. I loved you from the moment that I knew we were pregnant. And I loved you even more as I watched you dance while the technician measured every last bit of your anatomy.
It took some getting used to . . . the idea of having a daughter. I had trouble wrapping my mind around it, and that's when I started thinking about this letter. Would I tell you how inadequate I feel raising a girl? Would I explain that I'm afraid that we'll be completely different and even more afraid that we'll be exactly the same? I spent the next 4 1/2 months imagining what it would be like.
And then you were born. I will never forget the moment that I saw you and heard you because it was the moment that none of my fears mattered any more. The nurses wrapped you up and handed you to me and I couldn't imagine anyone else in my life. I couldn't stop crying. My heart overflowed. You were perfect and you fit perfectly. I couldn't believe that I had ever hoped for a boy. It seemed crazy.
Your Dad and I spent your first night just staring at you and marveling over how beautiful you are. Your brothers came the morning you were born and I was a little worried about how they'd react, but they both held you and showered you with kisses. You are so special to all of us.
In your short life, I've already demonstrated on several occasions that I'm not perfect and that I make mistakes. You'll figure out soon enough that I don't always parent the way I should and that, on some days, it is by the grace of God alone that I make it through the day. But I hope you'll always know that your Dad and I love you as much as we possibly can and more importantly, that there is a God who planned for you and loves you more than we ever could.
You, little girl, were meant to be.
Love,
Mama
March 4, 2012
Two Months Old
At 2 months old, Claire . . .
. . . is super fussy from 6ish to 11ish every night.
. . . sleeps from 11 to 5 and then from 6 to 10 every night/morning.
. . . has the most infectious smile I've ever seen on a baby.
. . . has the most mischievous smirk I've ever seen on a baby.
. . . measures 23 1/2 inches long.
. . . loves to admire and smile at herself in the mirror.
. . . weights 13 pounds, 1 ounce.
. . . has birth announcements that have been printed, though mom is considering having them reprinted because she's not happy with how they've turned out.
. . . has more hair than her oldest brother had on his first birthday.
. . . has the hiccups for a good 10 minutes every time she finishes nursing.
. . . can be most often caught starting at the television and ceiling fans.
. . . has grabbed a dangling toy three times now.
. . . chomps, smiles and slurps every time she assumes the position for nursing.
. . . likes to lay on her changing table.
. . . hasn't quite figured out how to let go once she grabs on to a toy.
. . . is getting better at lifting her head during tummy time, but still screams about 30 seconds into it.
. . . has chubby little rolls all over her thighs.
March 3, 2012
Winner, winner
As with most things in my life these days, I'm late. The winner of the book giveaway is . . .
Angie Peterson! I have your address and will be sending that your way!
If you didn't win, you can still buy it here, or keep track of Ann and all of the crazy things people get in trouble for on here blog here. This week Ann's flying to New York to tape a segment about her book for the John Stossel Show on Tuesday! Get it while it's still easy to find!
Angie Peterson! I have your address and will be sending that your way!
If you didn't win, you can still buy it here, or keep track of Ann and all of the crazy things people get in trouble for on here blog here. This week Ann's flying to New York to tape a segment about her book for the John Stossel Show on Tuesday! Get it while it's still easy to find!
February 27, 2012
Technically . . . that's illegal.
Did you see this article last week? A preschool student's lunch of a sandwich, banana, potato chips and apple juice was deemed "unhealthy" because it didn't include a vegetable. So it was taken from her and she was given (and her parents were billed for) the chicken nuggets they were serving in the cafeteria.
I'm not even kidding.
It made me think of the book my friend, Ann, wrote called "Technically, That's Illegal." She sent me a copy back in the fall and I read it while I was on vacation in October. I found myself both laughing and clenching my fists as I read. I couldn't believe how many ridiculous laws there are and how arbitrarily they're enforced. "You may be interested to know that you're probably breaking the law without realizing it," Ann writes. "You're also almost certainly associating with a bad crowd of friends, as they are probably criminals, too."
The book is "A witty commentary on over-legislation in America, with a focus on a city's little-read municipal codes. This stay-at-home mom takes the dull ride through the codes on her own and shares the gems with the reader, while engaging in experiments and commentary along the way."
Whether you're interested in reading about over-legislation in America or not, you'll at the very least be entertained by Ann's writing. Her sense of humor and wit make this book fun to read for anyone!
Along with my copy, Ann also sent a copy for me to give away to one of you! Wasn't that nice of her? If you want to win your very own (signed) copy, just leave a comment here by March 1. I'll announce the winner on March 2. If you can't wait that long to get your hands on it, go ahead and purchase the book for yourself right now!
I'm not even kidding.
It made me think of the book my friend, Ann, wrote called "Technically, That's Illegal." She sent me a copy back in the fall and I read it while I was on vacation in October. I found myself both laughing and clenching my fists as I read. I couldn't believe how many ridiculous laws there are and how arbitrarily they're enforced. "You may be interested to know that you're probably breaking the law without realizing it," Ann writes. "You're also almost certainly associating with a bad crowd of friends, as they are probably criminals, too."
The book is "A witty commentary on over-legislation in America, with a focus on a city's little-read municipal codes. This stay-at-home mom takes the dull ride through the codes on her own and shares the gems with the reader, while engaging in experiments and commentary along the way."
Whether you're interested in reading about over-legislation in America or not, you'll at the very least be entertained by Ann's writing. Her sense of humor and wit make this book fun to read for anyone!
Along with my copy, Ann also sent a copy for me to give away to one of you! Wasn't that nice of her? If you want to win your very own (signed) copy, just leave a comment here by March 1. I'll announce the winner on March 2. If you can't wait that long to get your hands on it, go ahead and purchase the book for yourself right now!
February 24, 2012
Day 5
On Wednesday, I completed day 4 of Jillian's 30-day shred.
Of course, days 1 - 3 were back in April right before I found out I was pregnant, but I'm still going to count Wednesday as day 4. Several of my facebook friends assured me that this is perfectly okay to do.
It felt so good to be active again and I was feeling so motivated, but on what would have been day 5, I woke up feeling sick. Ben had a runny nose all week, and I hadn't thought much of it. I just thought he had the sniffles, and they'd go away. But yesterday, the "sniffles" took out me, Ben, Jack and Claire.
I had aches, fever, sore throat, runny nose, sneezing and headache. It was miserable. It still kind of is. On top of it all . . . have I mentioned that I did Jillian's 30-day shred the night before? I don't remember my muscles hurting that bad when I did it back in April, but yesterday I could barely walk. It was hard to tell what was hurting from this virus and what was hurting from pushing my totally out of shape body too hard.
Claire slept all day yesterday, and has pretty much been sleeping all day today, with the exception of when I woke her up to eat at noon. She was so pitiful . . . stuffy breathing, glassy eyes, snotty nose, and this pitiful little glazed over smile when I talk to her. Thankfully, her temperature is back down around 100.
The boys, however, were up for most of the night for the last two nights. Kyle and I played musical beds while we tried to help them get comfortable and sleep. They seem to have rebounded, from what I'm hearing upstairs. Lots of laughing and activity. I think we're on the upswing.
Unfortunately, Kyle had a headache and laid down to take a nap an hour or two ago . . . I think we might have another man down.
Day 6 of the 30-day shred might have to wait another week or two.
Of course, days 1 - 3 were back in April right before I found out I was pregnant, but I'm still going to count Wednesday as day 4. Several of my facebook friends assured me that this is perfectly okay to do.
It felt so good to be active again and I was feeling so motivated, but on what would have been day 5, I woke up feeling sick. Ben had a runny nose all week, and I hadn't thought much of it. I just thought he had the sniffles, and they'd go away. But yesterday, the "sniffles" took out me, Ben, Jack and Claire.
I had aches, fever, sore throat, runny nose, sneezing and headache. It was miserable. It still kind of is. On top of it all . . . have I mentioned that I did Jillian's 30-day shred the night before? I don't remember my muscles hurting that bad when I did it back in April, but yesterday I could barely walk. It was hard to tell what was hurting from this virus and what was hurting from pushing my totally out of shape body too hard.
Claire slept all day yesterday, and has pretty much been sleeping all day today, with the exception of when I woke her up to eat at noon. She was so pitiful . . . stuffy breathing, glassy eyes, snotty nose, and this pitiful little glazed over smile when I talk to her. Thankfully, her temperature is back down around 100.
The boys, however, were up for most of the night for the last two nights. Kyle and I played musical beds while we tried to help them get comfortable and sleep. They seem to have rebounded, from what I'm hearing upstairs. Lots of laughing and activity. I think we're on the upswing.
Unfortunately, Kyle had a headache and laid down to take a nap an hour or two ago . . . I think we might have another man down.
Day 6 of the 30-day shred might have to wait another week or two.
February 20, 2012
Dear Bennett, Months 28 & 29
Dear Ben,
I love you. I feel like I need to tell you that now, and all the time, because you've become quite a stinker. Much of the day is spent correcting you and leading you away from trouble, so I need to say "I love you" as much as possible in an effort to balance all of the "No, no" and "Get away from that" that I have to say every day.
You really like to tell us what time things are going to happen, even though you have no concept of what it really means. Over the weekend, I noted how it was so cold in the basement and you let me know that it would "be warm at five o'clock." One night last week when I told you it was time for bed, you told me that "bedtime is three o'clock." You sometimes even look at the imaginary watch on your wrist as you're telling me these things, to add an element of credibility.
You're a silly boy, too. Each and every time I ask you to bring me a diaper so that I can change you, you walk back with a pull-up behind your back and a huge smirk on your face. I say, "Alright, give me the diaper." And then you pull it from behind your back and exclaim, "I GOT JACK'S PULL-UP!" as if it's the funniest trick anyone's ever played. Also, "pull-up" sounds like "pul-yup" and I refuse to correct you because I think it's adorable. We go through this ritual at every diaper change. I can't even get frustrated by it, because you really do think you're the biggest prankster ever and the look on your face is priceless.
You and Jack have a saying whenever you're racing: "Last one there is a stinky shoe!" So, whenever you and I are going upstairs, or out to the car or anywhere, you start running and yelling, "Stinky shoe! Stinky shoe!" giggling the entire way.
Your vocabulary has exploded and you put so much time and thought into putting words together so that they make sense that it's as much fun to watch you talk as it is to listen. You're very deliberate in everything that you say. I love watching you process things.
When we were brushing your teeth last week, you looked up at me and said, "Me love you."
Now, you've been telling us that you love us for a long time now, but normally your "I love yous" come out sounding like "ilouee" because that's how you said it when you first started talking . . . and it just stuck. Most of the time, you only say it when you're leaving, or when I'm leaving, or in response to me.
I looked at you and said, "What did you just say?" And again, you looked right at me and said, "Me. Love. You." Totally unprompted and intentional. Perfectly clear. Melt my heart.
You're so easy to love. I love you, too.
Mama
I love you. I feel like I need to tell you that now, and all the time, because you've become quite a stinker. Much of the day is spent correcting you and leading you away from trouble, so I need to say "I love you" as much as possible in an effort to balance all of the "No, no" and "Get away from that" that I have to say every day.
You really like to tell us what time things are going to happen, even though you have no concept of what it really means. Over the weekend, I noted how it was so cold in the basement and you let me know that it would "be warm at five o'clock." One night last week when I told you it was time for bed, you told me that "bedtime is three o'clock." You sometimes even look at the imaginary watch on your wrist as you're telling me these things, to add an element of credibility.
You're a silly boy, too. Each and every time I ask you to bring me a diaper so that I can change you, you walk back with a pull-up behind your back and a huge smirk on your face. I say, "Alright, give me the diaper." And then you pull it from behind your back and exclaim, "I GOT JACK'S PULL-UP!" as if it's the funniest trick anyone's ever played. Also, "pull-up" sounds like "pul-yup" and I refuse to correct you because I think it's adorable. We go through this ritual at every diaper change. I can't even get frustrated by it, because you really do think you're the biggest prankster ever and the look on your face is priceless.
You and Jack have a saying whenever you're racing: "Last one there is a stinky shoe!" So, whenever you and I are going upstairs, or out to the car or anywhere, you start running and yelling, "Stinky shoe! Stinky shoe!" giggling the entire way.
Your vocabulary has exploded and you put so much time and thought into putting words together so that they make sense that it's as much fun to watch you talk as it is to listen. You're very deliberate in everything that you say. I love watching you process things.
When we were brushing your teeth last week, you looked up at me and said, "Me love you."
Now, you've been telling us that you love us for a long time now, but normally your "I love yous" come out sounding like "ilouee" because that's how you said it when you first started talking . . . and it just stuck. Most of the time, you only say it when you're leaving, or when I'm leaving, or in response to me.
I looked at you and said, "What did you just say?" And again, you looked right at me and said, "Me. Love. You." Totally unprompted and intentional. Perfectly clear. Melt my heart.
You're so easy to love. I love you, too.
Mama
February 16, 2012
It fits
I've never wished for more hours in the day as I have over the last few weeks. Between our jobs, my business, Kyle's school work (as of tomorrow, he'll be a little more than half way done with his master's degree . . . yay!) and three kids, I'm coming up short on sleep. Claire slept from 11 last night to 4:45 this morning, which was a nice surprise, but she has these fussy times every evening starting at 7:30 and lasting until 10 or so. If I keep her in the sling, she'll sleep right through it, so I've been working in the evenings with her around my neck . . . which has done only bad things for my chronic shoulder pain.
Even so, I really like having three kids. It just feels right. Our family felt "whole" before, but now I can't believe we ever felt complete without her. I remember going through all of this after Ben was born, too. She just fits. The other day, I mentioned to Kyle that I really like having three kids.
He went pale and said, "Uh, I'm not sure I'm ready for a fourth."
Whoa. Simmer down. She's 7 weeks old and I'm saying that I'm content with things as they are . . . not that I want to do this all again.
I went for my 6-week post partum check-up, and found myself in tears leaving. The check-out receptionist said, "Well, you're all set! You're done with us for a while!" It hit me like a ton of bricks. The childbearing part of my life is over. That chapter has closed. I'm happy, but at the same time, it brings out my sentimental side. It was like high school graduation . . . really excited to get to this point, but sad that I'll never be there again. Bittersweet. But mostly sweet.
We took all three of them to the hospital yesterday when we took Claire for a routine ultrasound. We ran through a drive thru for lunch and I distributed the food as Kyle drove. We got there and unloaded the stroller, gathered necessary toys, bags, etc and held the boys' hands through the parking garage. We waited and went in for her tests and then left and went to get the boys' hair cut. I nursed Claire while they were in the salon and then we all headed home (but not before stopping for gas and a necessary shamrock shake). On the way home, I realized how tired I was and it hit me . . . we managed to all leave the house for the day together without becoming super stressed or losing it. Were there stressful moments? Oh, yes. But I feel like we're getting the hang of it.
We don't have it all together. My house is a mess. I will always be worried about something having to do with each of my kids' development. There are temper tantrums and there is fussiness. I just keep thinking, "There will be a day when all of this will be over."
At some times I think it with tears in my eyes. And at other times, I think it with a smile on my face.
Even so, I really like having three kids. It just feels right. Our family felt "whole" before, but now I can't believe we ever felt complete without her. I remember going through all of this after Ben was born, too. She just fits. The other day, I mentioned to Kyle that I really like having three kids.
He went pale and said, "Uh, I'm not sure I'm ready for a fourth."
Whoa. Simmer down. She's 7 weeks old and I'm saying that I'm content with things as they are . . . not that I want to do this all again.
I went for my 6-week post partum check-up, and found myself in tears leaving. The check-out receptionist said, "Well, you're all set! You're done with us for a while!" It hit me like a ton of bricks. The childbearing part of my life is over. That chapter has closed. I'm happy, but at the same time, it brings out my sentimental side. It was like high school graduation . . . really excited to get to this point, but sad that I'll never be there again. Bittersweet. But mostly sweet.
We took all three of them to the hospital yesterday when we took Claire for a routine ultrasound. We ran through a drive thru for lunch and I distributed the food as Kyle drove. We got there and unloaded the stroller, gathered necessary toys, bags, etc and held the boys' hands through the parking garage. We waited and went in for her tests and then left and went to get the boys' hair cut. I nursed Claire while they were in the salon and then we all headed home (but not before stopping for gas and a necessary shamrock shake). On the way home, I realized how tired I was and it hit me . . . we managed to all leave the house for the day together without becoming super stressed or losing it. Were there stressful moments? Oh, yes. But I feel like we're getting the hang of it.
We don't have it all together. My house is a mess. I will always be worried about something having to do with each of my kids' development. There are temper tantrums and there is fussiness. I just keep thinking, "There will be a day when all of this will be over."
At some times I think it with tears in my eyes. And at other times, I think it with a smile on my face.
February 10, 2012
Christmas 2011
I realized tonight that I didn't post any photos from Christmas . . . probably because I gave birth 24 hours after I took these pictures and life hasn't really slowed down yet.
OK, first things first . . . the boys have a little Christmas tree for their room and they actually managed to decorate it together without fighting. Doing anything together without fighting doesn't happen that often.
And yes, Jack is wearing a Burger King crown . . . he wore it for 2 or 3 days straight in December.
We also baked and "decorated" cookies. There was way more frosting-eating than decorating, but whatever. They had fun.
And finally . . . Christmas Day!
I'm mildly embarrassed that we bought this for Ben. It's not normally the kind of toy that we'd buy, but he LOVED it every time we passed it at Target, and his excitement when he opened it was totally worth it.
Jack begged for Superheroes, so he got Spiderman and Captain America action figures. There was definitely staring in Toys R Us as I stood there for 10 minutes, pressing the button to make sure I heard every "wisecrack" Spiderman had to make sure there wasn't anything inappropriate.
It was pretty laid back and fun. It really was my favorite Christmas morning ever!
After opening many, many presents that he could have been playing with, Bennett and Kyle did this for a good 30 minutes. I love that boy.
OK, first things first . . . the boys have a little Christmas tree for their room and they actually managed to decorate it together without fighting. Doing anything together without fighting doesn't happen that often.
And yes, Jack is wearing a Burger King crown . . . he wore it for 2 or 3 days straight in December.
We also baked and "decorated" cookies. There was way more frosting-eating than decorating, but whatever. They had fun.
And finally . . . Christmas Day!
I'm mildly embarrassed that we bought this for Ben. It's not normally the kind of toy that we'd buy, but he LOVED it every time we passed it at Target, and his excitement when he opened it was totally worth it.
Jack begged for Superheroes, so he got Spiderman and Captain America action figures. There was definitely staring in Toys R Us as I stood there for 10 minutes, pressing the button to make sure I heard every "wisecrack" Spiderman had to make sure there wasn't anything inappropriate.
It was pretty laid back and fun. It really was my favorite Christmas morning ever!
After opening many, many presents that he could have been playing with, Bennett and Kyle did this for a good 30 minutes. I love that boy.
Christmas Day from Sara on Vimeo.
February 9, 2012
Dear Jack, Months 55 & 56
Dear Jack,
It's begun to sink in with me that you're headed to school next fall. Kindergarten. In 7 months, you'll be spending a good portion of your waking hours in a classroom. We'll be separated all day long.
I'll be losing a bit of my control in your life and that stresses me outa little. I've been trying to find a half day kindergarten program for you, telling myself that it would be a better transition for you and thinking that it's what you need. I'm beginning to realize that it's more what I need than what you need.
Perhaps I'm becoming one of those "helicopter parents" that have always caused me to roll my eyes, but it kills me that I won't know what you're doing all day. When you come home saying something new or doing something new, I won't know for sure where you picked it up. Sure, I'll get report cards and progress reports, but they won't tell me the whole story. When I pick you up from preschool and ask you how your morning was, you usually respond by saying "exhausting" and not much else. I fear that I'll get even less information as the years pass.
I wonder if we've done enough to prepare you. I hope that you'll be ready for being out on your own . . . well as much as a kindergartener is out on his own. You'll be making new friends. You'll have conflict and will learn how to handle it. At some point, you'll get your feelings hurt. There will be peer pressure . . . even at 5 years old. Have we given you the tools you'll need to face all of these things? I guess we'll find out soon enough.
All of this is good. I know that. I know that your life has to move forward and I want that for you. I certainly don't want you living here and sleeping on the top bunk when you're 30. But it doesn't make it any easier right now.
I sometimes worry that I've wasted time. I think about the times you've wanted to read a book or sit in my lap that I've had to say "no" and wonder if I should have said "yes" because those moments are fleeting. I worry that the afternoons that I let you watch tv because I needed a break should have been afternoons that I spent playing a board game with you or drawing with you. Starting next fall, this summer actually, I will never have the time that I have with you now back again. Ever.
I know your brother is going to miss you, too. He'll start preschool and will be having fun of his own, but you two are pretty attached to each other.
I don't know what school you'll be attending. Your dad and I are trying to figure that out and to be quite honest, it's the most stressful thing in my life right now. But I do know that wherever you go, I'll miss you. And I also know that the first few days will be way harder for me than they are for you.
Love,
Mom
It's begun to sink in with me that you're headed to school next fall. Kindergarten. In 7 months, you'll be spending a good portion of your waking hours in a classroom. We'll be separated all day long.
I'll be losing a bit of my control in your life and that stresses me out
Perhaps I'm becoming one of those "helicopter parents" that have always caused me to roll my eyes, but it kills me that I won't know what you're doing all day. When you come home saying something new or doing something new, I won't know for sure where you picked it up. Sure, I'll get report cards and progress reports, but they won't tell me the whole story. When I pick you up from preschool and ask you how your morning was, you usually respond by saying "exhausting" and not much else. I fear that I'll get even less information as the years pass.
I wonder if we've done enough to prepare you. I hope that you'll be ready for being out on your own . . . well as much as a kindergartener is out on his own. You'll be making new friends. You'll have conflict and will learn how to handle it. At some point, you'll get your feelings hurt. There will be peer pressure . . . even at 5 years old. Have we given you the tools you'll need to face all of these things? I guess we'll find out soon enough.
All of this is good. I know that. I know that your life has to move forward and I want that for you. I certainly don't want you living here and sleeping on the top bunk when you're 30. But it doesn't make it any easier right now.
I sometimes worry that I've wasted time. I think about the times you've wanted to read a book or sit in my lap that I've had to say "no" and wonder if I should have said "yes" because those moments are fleeting. I worry that the afternoons that I let you watch tv because I needed a break should have been afternoons that I spent playing a board game with you or drawing with you. Starting next fall, this summer actually, I will never have the time that I have with you now back again. Ever.
I know your brother is going to miss you, too. He'll start preschool and will be having fun of his own, but you two are pretty attached to each other.
I don't know what school you'll be attending. Your dad and I are trying to figure that out and to be quite honest, it's the most stressful thing in my life right now. But I do know that wherever you go, I'll miss you. And I also know that the first few days will be way harder for me than they are for you.
Love,
Mom
February 1, 2012
In 15 minutes or less . . .
Random thoughts on my life right now . . .
- Ben's favorite thing to say right now is, "Knock it off, cheesey head." I don't know why.
- I'm so bad at giving Claire tummy time. Just one more thing to feel guilty about, I suppose.
- Have I ever mentioned how much we love Bob Evans? We love that kids eat free on Tuesdays. We also like their takeout family meals. For $20 we can get a fairly well balanced meal that will give us dinner and two lunches. I asked for Bob Evans gift cards for Christmas. Between those, the meals friends brought us, the few I made ahead of time and camp meals, we only cooked once from when Claire was born through last week. It was awesome.
- Claire has outdone her brothers when it comes to the "biggest poop" award. They're not explosive exactly . . . there's just a lot of it. Last Tuesday afternoon, she started going while I was changing her on my office floor and it was like this never ending fountain of poo. I had to construct a little dam of wipes around the changing mat from preventing the overflow from spilling onto the carpet. I was contemplating calling in FEMA. It was that big.
- I've re-entered that alternate universe in which you talk openly about things like poop and cracked nipples, as if everyone talks about that sort of thing in casual conversation. And only when you see the uncomfortable glances at the floor do you realize that you're snapped back into reality and you realize that you're speaking to college students or single men who are unaware that this universe even exists. Doesn't that make you want to be my friend?
- In the car last week, Ben requested a Katy Perry song. Shortly after, Kyle found a dirty diaper in his pocket that he had forgotten to throw away. I couldn't decide which was more disgusting to me.
- I've always HATED dark chocolate, but around 30 weeks pregnant, I started craving it. The craving hasn't ended. My favorites are the Ghirardelli chocolate squares in dark & raspberry and dark & salted caramel.
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