Anniversary Song

On our anniversary, Luke and Henry went into their bedroom and whispered and giggled a lot. They had the camera with them, and emerged a few minutes later with this recorded present for us.

Yard Work

Okay, why don't I know how to put a line of text under a picture? I need to go look that up. Anyhow, I haven't been blogging as I've been busy trying to get a little yardwork done in between baby care and rain showers. So yes, I've been planting one seed at a time. A little discouraging, but as you can see from the first picture of our yard, there is a lot of work to be done. That is our jeep at the very back of our long, skinny property. Craig was hauling mulch back there. A half-acre yard sounded like a great idea when we bought the house, but I'm feeling just a little overwhelmed right now.

The second picture is the site of our garden before Craig built the raised beds; you can see what it looks like now in the last two pictures. That is our neighbor's house behind the garden. And really, don't you find a gardening man quite attractive? I do.

5 pm Buttercream

Last night at 5 pm--known as "the witching hour" to those with children for good reason--I tried, for the first time, to make swiss buttercream. Do you know about swiss buttercream? I do. I know all about regular buttercream, swiss buttercream, italian buttercream, and french buttercream.

I would like to take a moment to insert a public service announcement: If you are so foolish as to become obsessed with buttercream while surrounded by the chaos of three little boys (well, four, see below) as a checking out/coping mechanism, do not accidentally get sidetracked and type "french butt" into a google search.

Swiss buttercream is made with a meringue that is first whisked over a pot of simmering water. Such a task is not something that one should attempt while bouncing a fussy baby and hosting yet another boy for a playdate. Just to be clear, this upped the boy total in my house to four, ages 4 months, nearly 5, 7.5 and 8. I was also making steak, roasted potatoes and sweet potatoes, steamed green beans, and (boxed--homemade would have pushed me into the range of certifiably insane) macaroni and cheese for dinner.

Thinking back on last night, I wonder why I attempt such things. (The buttercream, by the way, didn't turn out quite right. I think I didn't whip the meringue enough before adding the butter. But I added some powdered sugar and managed to turn it into a fine regular old buttercream.) Here's the thing: my life is chaotic. I think I try to find some calm in the madness, but it is filled with a lot of noise and activity. It isn't that we are over scheduled--in fact, I think I keep my boys' activities to a minimum--but my children are full of energy. They are opinionated. They speak loudly. They rise early. And when I put too much effort into calming the storm, so to speak, I just become depressed. What saves me is going about my own business within the chaos.

And so I bake. I cook. I research buttercream. I scrub the floor. Because it all makes me feel like I am accomplishing something. And I like eating good food and having a clean house.

And you know what? Sometimes within this chaos that is my life right now, I am able to step outside of it all for a moment, and see it for what it is: beautiful, messy, joyful life that is racing along faster than I know.

This morning, we were downstairs looking for Luke's scrapbook. He is apparently having a drawing smackdown with one of the older boys at his school. Luke says he is a better artist than this 10 year old. Luke has challenged him. An outside judge (the 10 year old's brother and Luke's classmate) will determine the winner.

So we were late for school, and we were running down to the basement to find the scrapbook, Henry helping, me carrying Silas. We found it and were running back up the stairs, Luke in front, Henry next, and me in the back, carrying Silas facing outward, as he now prefers. And I saw my little brood, lined up by size, running up the stairs. And I could see them next summer, all three of them with Silas following them himself. And I could see the next summer, with Luke nearly 10 and wanting his little brothers to leave him alone. I could see my life, lined up on the stairs.

And it is amazing. Even if I never master swiss buttercream.

Henry, Man of Mystery

My Henry. He is a mystery to me in so many ways. Luke is predictable. I know when he is going to explode. His patterns are recognizable. I usually know what is going on in his head.

Henry? Not so much.

This morning I was kissing Silas in the folds of his neck while Henry ate his breakfast.

"Mmmmm," I said. "I'm just having a little neck for breakfast."

Henry wanted in on the fun, so he moved in for some kisses.

"You know we are only pretending to eat Silas's neck, right?" I checked. After all, Luke bit Henry's tummy when Henry was about Silas's age after Craig had been blowing raspberries on Henry's belly.

"Of course!" replied Henry.

My Henry, you see, doesn't get carried away like Luke does.

"I can only bite someone's neck when I'm an adult," said Henry. "And that would be a bad choice."

Ahh, the adult choices, adult consequences speech, coming back to haunt me. I hadn't thought Henry was listening as I lectured Luke.

* * *

I have been feeling sad lately because Henry has been such a little boy. His new haircut only confirmed the obvious to me: gone are the days of princess crowns and polka dot pants. Henry is all boy.

But again, the mysterious workings of Henry's brain have surprised me. We were in Target yesterday and Luke was drooling over superhero action figures. Henry glanced down at a display and said, "I have always wanted one of those."

"What?" I asked. I couldn't see anything on the end display that seemed like it would appeal to either of my older boys.

"One of those dogs," said Henry, pointing at what can only be described as a Paris Hilton dog.

"A Tini Puppini?" I asked, reading the label.

"Yes!" said Henry. "They come with so much stuff!"

Stuff like a tiara, a curling iron, a carrying purse.

I have since looked on the website, which I invite you to do for yourself. There is a lot of talk of fashion, doggy divas, and the like.

I just can't wait to see what Henry will be up to next.

I'm Doing Something Right

I'm sorry if you are seeing strange html code in my last blog post. It is showing up when I view my blog from one of our computers but not the other. I don't have the energy to try and fix it right now. I'm thinking of switching to some other blogging format, as I'm having trouble with blogger these days. Any suggestions? It needs to be easy and FREE.

I guess I'm doing something right in feeding my boys. Yesterday, we were on a tight schedule in between school pickups with swim lessons to directly follow. We had just returned home from Henry's school, and I needed to nurse Silas, so Henry offered to pack the snacks for the afternoon.

"Just wait a bit and let me help," I said.

"Mom," said Henry, "Will you just let me do it all by myself?"

"Sure," I said, figuring I could always re-do it if necessary.

Here is what he packed for two little boys: three yogurts, three apples, two oranges, grapes, six foil-wrapped carrots, and two baggies of homemade caramel corn.

I immediately realized two things.

Henry has a good understanding of healthy eating.

And I am clearly starving him.

I'm Back (More or Less)

Wow, it has been three months. I just decided that I was too busy and preoccupied to blog there for a while, but I find that I’m beginning to feel the longing to think again. Just a little bit, though. My writing for the next few months won’t be profound or anything, but I just need to get back to it, you know?

The last few months have been filled with a whole lot and a whole lot of nothing. We’ve gotten back into a routine of sorts, although Silas still isn’t on any kind of predictable schedule. My days involve a lot of baby bouncing with some dishes and laundry thrown in for variety. I think that if it was just Silas around, I could get him more settled into a routine, but with two older kids, it is hard to follow his rhythms in between the big boys’ commitments. Welcome to life as a third child, kid!

Silas is so big now compared to last time I wrote here. He smiles. He laughs. He coos and babbles. He rolls over. Silas adores his older brothers, and watches the world with wide eyes. He is nearly four months old.

I am much more mellow this third time around, but every now and then, a little bit of the crazy creeps in. With Silas, I have fixated on his skin. He has fairly bad eczema on his face, and I get really freaked out about it sometimes. I am constantly second guessing myself, trying to figure out what I’m eating or doing that is causing the rash. The other day I actually spread peanut butter on his leg to see if he broke out in a rash. Yah, I guess I’m not completely the cool, relaxed third time mom that I would like to be.

I’ve been thinking about food lately. I’ve been hearing a lot about the show Jamie Oliver’s Food Revolution, so I watched an episode on Hulu. I liked it, but it made me so upset that I’m not sure if I can watch any more. Some days I think I’m doing really well with feeding my family as healthfully and as ethically as possible on our budget. And other days I think that I let my kids eat way too much processed junk.

Here’s how I’ve taken a small stand lately: Recently, I have decided to never buy a lunchable again. My kids beg for them—I don’t know why—and I used to let them buy one per week. But I’m putting my foot down. Secondly, I will only let Luke buy school lunch once per month. He thinks I’m soooo mean (since there are two school lunches per month that he would like to buy) but until our school district starts providing lunches that don’t include disturbing offerings like the “chicken hipdipper” and a foot-long hotdog, he’s only getting one per month. I know, I know—I need to work on changing our district’s lunches in some way, but I’m giving myself until Silas turns one. These things I’m doing are tiny little steps, but they are my recent attempts at improving our family’s health and our impact on this earth. And we are still doing all the other stuff we’ve always done. Trying to buy mostly whole foods. Trying to buy as locally as possible. Trying to garden (we aren’t great at it, but I figure that we will improve each year, right?) Oh, the garden. I need to work on that. Right now it is a pile of compost. I’m feeling the crazy lurking over my shoulder, the I-have-a-baby-and-won’t-ever-accomplish-anything-again crazy. Like make a new banner for my blog.

Okay, now I’m really rambling. So much for thinking again.

Babymoon

Life is sweet these days. I have always found the newborn phase to be quite challenging, but this time it is wonderful. Silas is a sweet baby, and—aside from a very little fussing when he has gas—he is content to hang out with us when he is not sleeping. But he does an awful lot of sleeping, something neither of my other boys did. And—get this!—he even stays asleep when we put him down. And really, instead of looking at the clock and wondering why time is passing so slowly and when he will get a little bigger, I am gazing down at him today and wondering where the past two and a half weeks have gone.

Silas is our last baby. Of course, this is probably not something one should publicly declare, since public declarations of this sort almost beg for the fates to smite one’s hubris (or something like that). But we are planning on him being our last, so with each little phase that passes I mourn a little. Also, he is our third child, so we are quite relaxed this time around. And then there is the fact that he is so easy. Add to this that my boys are quite enamored of him—I found Henry lying on the bed with him saying, “Hellooo Gorgeous!” over and over the other day—and the fact that Craig was off work when he was born, and that my mother came to stay for ten days. Oh, and my sister comes to help when my mom leaves. And my lovely little community has been so wonderful, with showers before and dinners now, a friend taking our older boys overnight and another giving Luke rides home from school. Do I sound like I’m gushing? I am. I feel like I am living a charmed life at the moment.

And I know that at some point Silas will get sick or Luke will scream that he hates the baby or everyone will have a meltdown the day my mom leaves. But now? Right now is perfect.

Our Baby is Here

Silas David Jens arrived on Saturday! I began having some stronger contractions on Christmas Eve and had some other signs of labor and stronger contractions on Christmas morning. I tried to lay low and things died down by mid-day on Christmas. The next morning, I began having irregular, mostly mild contractions at 8 am. This continued throughout the morning. I was confused, since I have always gone straight into full-on labor in the past. Finally, at 1 pm, the contractions began to get a little stronger. Within the hour I wanted the kids to be gone, so Craig took them over to my friend S's house. (Thank you, thank you, thank you again, S!) When he got home, I was shaking, sweating, and feeling worried about when to go to the hospital, but within a few more contractions I decided it was time. Once I got up and tried to get ready to go, the activity put my labor into major high gear--the contractions were nearly constant and very painful. We called our midwife, who could hear me moaning in the background, and we set off for the hospital.

Once we got there, I walked myself in as quickly as I could between contractions, leaning against whatever I could find when one would strike. At the front desk, we found they had lost my preregistration, and the woman tried to get us to register, but I began leaning on her desk, cussing and dripping sweat, so she sent us back to a room. There, they told me I was totally dilated, and the doctor who was there (since my midwife had not yet arrived) told me that whenever I wanted to push I could flip over from my hands and knees and put my feet in the stirrups. I said something like, "Why? I'm not doing that." His response? "Well, I've never delivered a baby like that. I'm not sure what to do if the shoulders get stuck." I said, "It will be fine," and started to push. My midwife arrived a few minutes later, much to the doctor's relief, and I began to push in earnest. I eventually did have to flip to my back since Silas's big head was turned a bit funny and his shoulder got a little stuck, but he came out just fine after some big pushes. He weighed 9 lb. 6 oz. and his head measured 14.5 inches. It was a little chaotic, but it all turned out fine in the end. We are at home resting and recovering.

Update

No baby yet. My due date is tomorrow, but I don't really expect to meet this guy for at least a week. Henry was over a week late, and I don't have a lot of signs of labor yet. Early in this pregnancy, I thought having a due date near Christmas would be a bad thing, but it is actually great. I got everything done for Christmas about a week ago, and now I'm just enjoying the time with my family (well, except for when the boys are fighting--approximately six hours per day--and Craig is welding in my laundry room). I wonder why I leave everything until the last minute most years? Also, with Christmas to look forward to, plus some fun events coming up that I can attend if I haven't recently had the baby, I'm not feeling impatient. Whenever he gets here will be fine.

House Photos

Because I'm not blogging until further notice--late pregnancy plus Christmas equals general brain fog and exhaustion--I figured I would at least post a few pictures. Here are some shots of our house, which friends and relatives far and wide had been requesting during the summer and fall but have probably given up on by this point. In order from top to bottom: living, dining, kitchen, office. I think the rest of the house was too messy for photos, but there also two bedrooms, a semi-finished basement playroom and T.V. room, and two bathrooms. And a huge backyard. I'm pretty happy with our house.

And if you were wondering about the sheep head, that is an Alaskan dall sheep, which Craig killed and we ate. My husband is so very manly.

Pub Baby Shower

So last night I met up with my pub ladies for our usual once-per-month hang out time. Although I can't drink beer right now, it is still a really good time. And last night they surprised me with a pub baby shower. It was awesome. They gave me some totally cool hand-me-down baby shoes, a hat knit by Patti, a baby book made by Allison, and some wooden toys that Amy and her husband made. And there were, of course, some baby shower activities. It was pretty much the perfect baby shower for a woman about to birth and parent her third little boy.

Good Buddy, Bad Buddy

I mentioned a few days ago that Luke is on the “Buddy Team” at school. He is “on duty” on Mondays, and from what I can piece together, he is supposed to introduce himself to new kids and make them feel welcome, but his main responsibility is to try to solve minor problems on the playground. He had never yet felt the call of duty until yesterday.

Last night as we were cleaning up from dinner, he said, “Oh yeah! I had to help solve a problem at recess today!”

“Really? That is exciting!” I responded. “What happened?”

“Well, Olivia cut Andrew, and he got mad,” said Luke, “So then I told Andrew to cut Olivia so that it would be fair.”

I didn’t know what to say. As I stammered, trying to think of a response that was both encouraging and also expressive of the fact that there might be a better solution than the proverbial eye for an eye in this particular situation, Luke went on: “Yeah, so then Andrew was back in his place in line and I said ‘No more cutting!’”

Whew.

Belly Shots

Craig refuses to take any belly shots for me. He thinks they are "dumb." So here are two pictures courtesy of my children, the first taken by Henry and the second by Luke. Not the best pictures, but they will have to do. I was trying to work the black to my advantage in the first picture, but Henry's height wasn't conducive to a flattering angle. Oh well. Both were taken a couple of weeks ago, when I was 6.5 months along.

October Update

I started this blog when Henry was a baby. I have never blogged through a pregnancy. I am finding it very, very hard. My brain is the cliché of a pregnant woman’s brain. Every bit of creative power that I possess—and this is not a whole lot, mind you—seems to be flowing through the umbilical cord and into growing my new little guy. Oh, and what tiny bit is left is being maniacally directed into filling my freezer with pre-made meals. I am obsessed. So far, I have pesto, meat sauce, black bean/quinoa patties, bean and pasta bake, turkey potpie, spinach lasagna, beef bourguignon, and several different soups. Nesting for foodies!

Luke, while testing us at every turn with bad words and bad attitude, is doing really well overall. He has become a little bookworm lately, reading for long stretches on his own for fun. He loves his second grade teacher and was chosen to be on the “buddy team” at school, a group of kids assigned to help problem-solve on the playground should conflict arise. He even wears a little badge on Mondays when he is “on duty.”

Henry, though, is going through a rough patch. Yesterday he threw several tantrums. He had nearly lost his voice by the evening from so much screaming. And yet, still, he is my little softie. At the end of each tantrum, he would scream, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” And lest you think he has lost all his charm, I should note that his love of sparkly, colorful clothing has morphed into a love of products. He has lotions and potions of his very own. Just today he was trying to convince me to give him some of my nail polish. Preferably the hot pink.

This morning Henry and I put on our warm coats and went outside into the darkness to see if we could spot anything of the Orionid meteor shower. We didn’t see any meteors, but it was a pleasant way to start the day, sitting in the crisp darkness together gazing up at the sky.

October is going to be over soon. This baby is going to arrive before long. I have a feeling Henry's rough patch is going to be a long one. I'm going to try to make as many moments with him as I can for star gazing, for polishing his little boy nails in whatever color his heart desires.

Liar, Liar

Henry has figured out how to lie. And he thinks it is great fun. The other day, he came up to me and said, “Mom! I thought I saw a jellybean on the floor, so I ate it. But then I found out it was a tick!”

“A tick? Like the bug?” I asked.

“No, a tick!” said Henry.

Hmm. Henry doesn’t have the same razor-sharp memory for vocabulary that Luke has, and he often has a hard time remembering the precise term he is looking for.

“Do you mean a tic tac candy?” I asked.

“No, a tick. You know, those sharp things,” said Henry.

“A thumb tack?” I asked, growing alarmed.

“Yes, and now it is poking me in the throat,” he said. I started to get concerned, but then considered the fact that, earlier in the day, he had told me that someone cut his little puppy in half. Henry doesn’t have a puppy. Oh, and the person that cut the puppy in half, reported Henry, was his (nonexistent) stepfather.

So I assume he didn’t really eat a thumb tack.

Since he has started preschool, the lying has escalated to a somewhat frantic pace. After the first day, he told me that his teachers performed a rap song during lunch. Naked.

They found a dead bird at recess. Henry got a time out for not paying attention when his line walked outside for recess (harsh!). They ate candy in class. They watched a movie with shooting in it, but only once, for a “special treat.” The first three might or might not be true. I am assuming the last is not, otherwise I would be putting in a phone call to the preschool director.

I really don’t know what to believe. And I know at Henry’s age, the fantasy vs. reality line is a thin one. I know that. But it gets a little tedious talking to him sometimes. And the thing is, he gets really mad at me if I don’t believe him. I can’t even say, “Oh, wow!” without him feeling as though I doubt his word. Which, of course, I do.

I suppose I should go outside and check on Henry now. After all, his is out there shooting porcupines. Really! He’s serious! He’s not lying!!!

Some Summer Pictures, Finally

In August, we went on a little family vacation to Southern Indiana. We camped in Santa Claus, Indiana and visited Holiday World and toured Squire Boone Caverns. We swam in a lake. I got a tick. The kids ate hotdogs and marshmallows and nary a vegetable. It was the stuff that family road trips are made of.

In Lieu of a Real Post

My friend Amy lives just down the street. I met her about a year ago at a local pub, where a handful of mama bloggers from our neighborhood got together to hang out and drink beer. Amy is a force of nature, the kind of person who sweeps into a room and immediately changes the energy. She’s got a beautiful, quirky personal blog, runs a natural wooden toy business out of her home with her husband (hint, hint, mom—another present for the new babe!) and has her hand in all kinds of other great things on the internet. She just published one of my earlier blog posts at the online magazine Blog Nosh. Check it out!

Summer's End

Summer is almost over. School starts for Luke in three days. We have been doing our school clothes shopping, following our usual pattern of dropping big bucks for Stride Rite shoes and thrifting the rest. I don’t know what happened to Luke, because in the past he couldn’t care less about what he wore, and now all of a sudden he has opinions on his wardrobe. Imagine that! I’m all for letting kids find their own style, but I’m a little worried about Luke’s particular vision for himself. As he was trying on the plain jeans and khakis that I bought him at Ohio Thrift, he looked down at himself and said, “I look like a dork.”

“What do you mean?” I asked. “You are just wearing plain old jeans. Everyone wears jeans!”

“I want to wear ripped pants and a sleeveless jersey,” he said.

Later, when trying on the plain green cotton shorts I had chosen for him, he groaned, “Mommmmm, I look like a jerk! I want shorts with flames and cougars on them!”

Craig needed to buy a few things for work at a department store over the weekend, so I let Luke pick a few things to spice up the boring wardrobe that I had chosen for him. He wound up with some sporty cotton pants, a GI Joe t-shirt, a “jersey” that I told him he can only wear over another shirt, and a typical boys sports-themed shirt. Not bad. We didn’t wind up with the “I love death” shirt that Luke also said he wanted to look for. I’m not sure that they carry this particular shirt in the boy’s department. (FYI, in case you are worried about Luke’s mental health, which I was upon hearing this request, Luke saw this logo on a skateboard and thought it looked cool.)

As fall nears, I’m gestating along nicely. I feel good, am sleeping well, and finally, finally, that nesting thing where I actually want to clean and organize has kicked in. I also am starting to feel like a stuffed sausage. I think my insides are straining against my skin. I have gained twenty pounds, which, for me, is right on track with my usual weight gain, but I don’t remember feeling this full before.

Henry continues to be particularly excited for the baby’s arrival. The other day he was telling me what he wanted for Christmas—being the ever-prepared child that he is—and after listing a few toys he added, “Our baby is going to be the best Christmas present ever!”

“You are right, Henry!” I said, feeling my heart melt a little.

“I mean,” he clarified, “The best present that comes out of your vagina.”

Surprise!

I’m feeling overwhelmed by all that I haven’t posted in the last month. July began with Craig going out of town. As soon as he returned, we moved, had out of town guests (just for one night, but I’m pregnant, so it counts as busy-making), went on vacation, and returned to much unpacking. We welcomed August with a pool party out at my friend’s parents’ lake house, complete with hours of swimming, boat rides and jet skiing. Since then we’ve attended three other parties and hosted Luke’s birthday swimming bash. The summer is nearly gone and here we are sitting in a pile of unpacked boxes. I know the house will be in order eventually, but it is feeling like it is taking so, so long. I plan to post pictures of the new house at some point, but right now it would be rather mortifying.

Through all of the chaos and activity of this summer, there was one date that I focused on: August 6. That was the day of our big ultrasound and the day we would find out if our baby is of the boy or girl variety. We didn’t find out with Henry, and it was a fun surprise. But Craig prefers to know, and I felt like I wanted some time to adjust to the idea of either three boys or an only girl.

While I knew that I would like to have a girl, I thought that I didn’t care too much one way or another. But the thing is, I thought that it was a girl. I really believed that it was a girl, due to some combination of my severe nausea, the timing of conception, and my intuition, which was correct with both of the boys. And Craig KNEW, he told me, he KNEW that it was a girl.

But . . . we have a Scratch. Or a Ryujin, which is what the boys want to name him now, after a Japanese dragon god. Luke tells me that if we won’t agree to Ryujin, he could possibly accept Norwegian Ridgeback as an alternative. And last night, Henry asked me if we could nickname him Hell Assassin. Ahh, life with boys.

And here’s the kind of embarrassing part: I cried when we found out that we are having another boy. I’m telling you, I really believed that I didn’t care one way or another. But I was in shock. And, while I love this baby that is growing inside of me and wouldn’t change him, healthy and wonderful and unique, I have been mourning that fact that I will not be the parent of a girl. But I think I’m mostly over it now. I looked at some pictures of some really cute baby boys in a magazine at the gym yesterday, and that got my baby boy hormones flowing. And I bought him some fleece lined brown leather booties that are so, so cute. Those booties alone are helping a lot.

Scratch Ryujin Norwegian Ridgeback, aka Hell Assassin, I love you. You have been simply full of surprises.

Moving Day

I’m trying to write a quick post since it has been so long since I have written and tomorrow I’ll lose internet service through the weekend. Today is moving day, except that the moving company didn’t show up. “Things happen,” they told me. Meanwhile, before we realized that they weren’t coming, I ran around the house gathering our bedding, clothes and toiletries to take to the new house. Luke followed me around all the while, deciding that this would be a good time for a mother/son heart-to-heart.

“Do the vagina and penis really mesh together during the special hug?” he asked. “Really?”

“Yes, Luke,” I answered, distractedly.

“The penis goes in that little hole?” he asked, incredulous.

“The vagina is stretchy. Remember, babies come out of there.”

Then Luke pretended to faint on the floor, and then he ran to ask Craig the same series of questions. I have to say, I do recommend talking about sex while highly distracted. It relieves some of the pressure, I think.

While the moving company has been a real pain, my friends and neighbors have been lovely during the move. The boys and I escaped the chaos of our house at a friend’s house yesterday. We invited ourselves over, lounged around her yard and ate her food. This morning I called another friend and asked if she could take Luke for a few hours. She swung by literally 10 minutes later and picked him up, where he played happily for hours. One neighbor made us dinner last night and another is having pizza delivered to our new home tonight.

And thank goodness, this all has been much easier because I’m pretty much feeling great these days.

The moving company is coming in the morning. Or so they say.